Beats

"The primroses were over."

-- First line of Richard Adams' Watership Down

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Beat our chests and sang as stars in the basement today, rocking the Native American (New Agey) choreography and lyrics as bookworms peeked around the racks from the book sale. The back room special gave cost-cutter customers a deal and a half: Fill a bag and pay a buck. I filled a bag just now, nabbing Joyce's Ulysses and a compendium of children's folk tales. Earlier today, I dropped just under five bucks for fourteen plays and books, among them my fave, Hearts in Atlantis by Stephen King, in hardback, in pristine condition. The stuff you can buy for a few bits these days...

Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, by Annie Dillard, and a Solzhenitsyn play, among the rest of the dirty dozen, will serve as book and shelf in my humble little literary corner, beside the gridiron vent, where my paperback buds sit in three not-so-neat piles on the floor: drama, classics, ought-to-be-classics.

Book purchases can be such a rush for me. Today's splurge (grand total: $5.75, or about 27 cents per book) began with four quarters taken from the bottom of my bag during a morning break. I was back at lunch with a five-dollar bill. When five o'clock rolled around, I snuck back into the back room to look at the books in really bad shape, where I rescued several. I feel like I've adopted about twenty little orphans, with the happy and firm resolve to make them take care of me.

Why check out books for free when you can buy them for cheap?

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Now it's off to the northern blue and white, the glittering Wal-Mart on I-71, the Chimney Rock of my life. My list includes: new wallet, new planner, new bed/sheets/pillows, engine coolant, bath mat, showerhead, trashcan. My wallet has--literally--worn a wallet-shaped hole in my khakis back pocket, like a little trapdoor on my right asscheek. The money deities are telling me something.

Begun to start days now with McDonald's iced coffee (hazelnut, vanilla, or caramel) and yogurt. This new breakfast regimen has me doubting my manhood, but lunches are cheap and arresting: Kroger's dollar-each microwavable cup meal deals fuel my half-days of rehearsing.

Also bought my first six-pack since Hillsdale. Leinenkugel Sunset Wheat, standing cold in the fridge like foxholed soldiers in the Argonne, waiting to be found, uncapped, and emptied.

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Piano concert tomorrow downtown. Gonna bust out the suit and tie (another first since Hillsdale), drink a highball like some kind of dandy, and probably sit between an old woman with gout and an elitist yuppie from Mt. Adams. With Hillsdale's wonderful ID card (no expiry date, folks), I still get student tix.

A journey into Lexington, KY, to see Tory awaits me on Saturday. My gas tank is ready.