Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: literature (Page 27 of 39)

True Lies and other Honest Observations.

Time changes things. Hey. I used to be 165-pounds and thin. Well, relatively thin. Since then, some time has passed. Things change. In the race between grey and bald, I used to root for grey. Now, I’m just pulling for a peaceful draw. Maybe a tie ‘tween the two. Resolved quickly.

I’m old enough to remember when women used to wear underwear on the inside – like, Under their clothing. Then along came the singer/performer Madonna and the cones. Like I said. Things change.

Thongs used to be footwear. Now, thongs are… –well, you know. Probably, Madonna wears hers on the outside. I don’t keep up with her that much. On her feet are flip-flops, probably. Not sure when that changed, but like I said… (Time changes things, in case you’ve already forgotten.)

Perceptions change too. I remember when – well, we don’t need to go into all that. I’m guessing if you put ninety seconds to it, you can remember a couple of your ways of thinking that have changed. Hint: Remember that guy Santa? Tooth Fairy? Not every perception is so grandiose as that which led to the discovery of the New World. Remember that one? Perception: The WORLD is FLAT.

Oops. Wrong-a-roo.

Concede the point yet?

Enough build up. Time has passed, but some things are the same. In particular, they have not released an Anniversary or otherwise-altered version of James Cameron’s movie TRUE LIES. When it is shown these days, is still the same film that was released back in 1994. Just as a reminder, that was the same year that Nelson Mandela won a majority vote in South Africa, when Blacks got the right to vote. Ireland and Northern Ireland called a cease fire. (Some of you are young enough to know nothing of the Troubles.)

OJ Simpson set out in his Bronco in the most-covered non-action video of all time, as he raced (sort of) to keep away from police over the murder of Nicole Brown Simpson. Kurt Cobain committed suicide, former president Richard Nixon died, and Michael Jackson married the daughter of Elvis Presley. (He was still alive, back then.)

I know you’re catching on how those events seem like long ago. In fact, they were – relatively speaking.

So, when I was watching the James Cameron movie True Lies, with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis, I was actually viewing it with new eyes. The events of that particular year didn’t play into the thing. No politics. No pressure. No hype.

This doesn’t happen often, I promise you. But I laughed out loud. It’s an action movie. But, it has more than its share of laughs – more than many films labeled as “comedy.” Remember, Arnold was strictly an actor when this was filmed. Not former governor of California. Or governor of California. He was actor-Arnold. That long ago.

The website Rotten Tomatoes has its infamous Tomatometer that rates the reactions of critics and audiences. True Lies has a 72% and 69% score. One of the rare occasions when critics like a movie more than regular viewers. I’m thinking both were a bit jaded. But, the scores are recorded and they are on the internet and cannot be withdrawn.

I – for one – would give the film a much higher score. But I have the advantage of time. As in, the passage of time. Times have changed. The film hasn’t. It’s a funny, action-packed movie. The Feel-Good movie of the Summer? I dunno. But I laughed. Out loud.

Perceptions.

A lady came in to the bookshop looking for old history books. A home-schooler. She didn’t want anything new. “They’re changing history,” she said to me. And, you know, she’s correct. What with political correctness and social responsibility there are difficulties owning up to the past. So we change it.

I just finished reading a history from an area of the south not particularly noted for grand race-relations. It was clear that the authors were aware of that fact. There were numerous occasions in which historical civic actions were purported to have been influenced by sympathies for a race-relations cause. Hard to swallow and I hated to brand it as such, but I thought: Revisionist.

The narrative written on the electronic-pages of the internet will be around forever (assuming that those predictions of the total-global-electronic-apocalypse are incorrect). Those ratings, praises, condemnations, thoughts-in-passing, curses, slanders, praises, observations (even this one) may ultimately be absorbed into the total human educational posture. Our collective history. History.

Be careful in stating what you mean. And be careful to truly mean what you state.

I’ve got Scooter Libby’s tell-all, and other relevant offerings (I don’t really, but do have some really good reading… And that’s no True Lie.) Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street, Broken Arrow, OK!

Apologies, from the orphans and myself.

I confess to it. I did it. Blame no one else. My apologies.

John Fogerty (and Creedence Clearwater Revival, or CCR as we hipsters used to call them) posed the musical question – Who’ll Stop the Rain? – back in 1970.

In mid-Summer 2013 in Broken Arrow, OK… I did. Sorry folks, I know we needed it, but I wanted to keep the driver’s seat dry and – without thinking – I strolled out and rolled up my car window.

Oops, and – again – sorry about that.

Nothing like anticipating a thing to kill any chance of it. As I look out the window now, even as it approaches dusk, there is nothing to be seen but blue skies over our fair city.

Sorry.

It would not have happened except for the fact that it is Sunday, store closed, day off, and here I am working away at the front counter. Pricing books and running them out to the shelves (maybe that’s a stretch. Limping them out quickly is probably more accurate), I noticed the cloud cover and thereby completed my rain-killing activities. I actually held off washing the car, which would have guaranteed a downpour.

Sorry.

As for the work aspect on the day of rest: I managed to get the huge backlog of books sitting around in stacks at the front of the shop on the shelves. I unpacked ten boxes of new arrivals and stacked them for sorting at the back. I inventoried (perhaps) three boxes of the new arrivals.

Would have done more, except I could tell they would require some reorganization of the shelves. Man. One thing does lead to another. Had to change the height of the shelves in several bookcases, dig out additional shelving from the back of the storage closet, clean everything as I moved it, and re-align the inventory. New signs had to be hand-labeled. Nothing too big when considered alone, but – as a project – enough to make an eight hour workday out of a store-visit on my day off.

While checking in the orphans (the books, you know, are like children in my custody and care while I prepare them for new homes), I realized that some of these are the final glimpses of our past. A good many of the books on the back table will never be digitized by Google or Kindle or Kessinger or anybody. These little orphans in my custody are truly – orphans.

Many are recollections of pioneer folks who lived in the times of our grandparents and great-grandparents, who took the time and effort to record on paper their stories. It’s clear from looking at the interior that a number of these have been typed by hand (on that old machine called a typewriter, which was like a keyboard without a screen, digital memory, or insert-mode). The subject? A specific and localized region of our US. Some of these contain history of Oklahoma and Indian Territory. Some are recollections of a family’s involvement in the history of that time. Some are from Arizona and New Mexico. There are books on this table with original source material from Nebraska, Minnnesota, and Illinois.

There is a book about the early history of a Caribbean island – not one of the tourist traps – with information that will never be found by the Google digitizing radar. The second image is a book by a woman in NW Oklahoma who chronicles her family’s life in that area, with details of the local history – facts that will be lost unless this particular orphan finds a good home.

Among the stacks in the image are several signed copies, including a memoir by the mother of Dr. Karl Menninger, an eminent psychiatric pioneer who autographed the title page with a note of his connection to the author. Getting a signed copy on your Kindle, Nook, or iPad just won’t be the same.

It made me a little more optimistic about the many shelves of dinosaur-style inventory I maintain. I understand the convenience and trendy-ness of electronic reading devices. Looking over and handling my physical inventory, for me, is a sensory connection. There is a place for plastic books displayed on a digital-file optimizing glass, with touch control. I know that. I can appreciate that. I just can’t believe it means there is no place remaining for paper-and-cloth-bound books in the digital age.

Maybe I’m in charge of protecting the orphans who won’t be a part of that assimilation. If any of you have concerns, their safety is well-placed, and I do my best to vet new guardians before letting them out the front door.

Come visit! (I’ll keep the orphan’s singing to a minimum!)

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 S Main Street, Broken Arrow OK!

Can’t Park? Snark!

Snark. Sounds like the noise that smart-alecky friend uses to follow up his low humor. SNARK. SNARK. Or, maybe – drawn out – like, SNAAAAAARK! It could have swimmers scrambling out of the surf like crazy.

Panicked-sounding fellow: SNAAAAAARK!

Beach vacation-ers, in unison: WHERE?

Surprised-sounding fellow: Why, right here, of course. My guitar is badly out of tune.

Snark. The guitar-tuning miracle. Install the shiny little battery, clip it to the head of the guitar, and twist those little pegs. Somehow, it knows what string you’re messing with and the little tune-ometer (like a speedometer, only for sound. That’s what I thought of anyway, when I first saw it…), the guage, I suppose is more accurate – lights up to indicate flat or sharp. All green? Perfect tuning for the string.

I’ve had guitar tuners in the past. Most have worked only with guitars set up to be used with amplifiers. Plug the cord in to the guitar, the other end into the tuner. Tune away.

Snark? No chords. No muss, no fuss.

To me, these little inventions are more fun than all the Angry Birds you can throw a stick at. (Or a rock, if that’s your phone-app’s version.) And unlike Angry Birds, when you’re finished playing with it, you have actually accomplished something other than wasting time.

And why am I playing with guitar tuning?

Partly because I am currently waiting for some bookbinding glue to dry enough to move on to another part of the project.

And partly also, because of the jack-hammering, dirt-scooping, power-generating machinery that is causing the jam-up on Main Street today. The street-landscaping project is in full bloom and the varieties of big yellow equipment are rumbling around like dinosaurs on steroids. There are a couple of lots open, but on-Main street parking is sort of a challenge, at times.

The UPS man bustled in, shaking his head. His sixth attempt to bring in my package. No place to park. Front is jammed. Back, too. The gas company chose this week to move and re-set all the gas meters in the alleyway behind the buildings. My car is baking in the sun about a block away, by the park. Couldn’t get around the dinosaurs to reach my back door and its parking spot.

The Tulsa World ran a nice story this morning about the progress. Of course – progress – is a word that has to be used in reference to the long term. Veronica Reyes is quoted in the article and sounded both optimistic and upbeat. She’s the owner of Fiesta Mambo, a business on the east side of Main, where there is currently no parking at all.

I’m with her. When it is all finished, the Rose District is going to be Mah-vuh-luss. We’re all going to love it. Ms Reyes has booked a band for Thursday evening at Mambo (on Main) and a number of other merchants are having First Thursday specials. (This month, on Second Thursday, since the traditional late-night affair fell on July 4th.)

Honestly, I believe it’s worth the slight inconvenience of park-and-walking a little. The Mambo chimichanga is a tasty meal and a real value at the price. Same with the treats at Nouveau Chocolat. Main Street Tavern continues to draw customers for its dining offerings.

I imagine we’re all having up and down days, what with the construction. Tuesday was a jump and run-to-keep-up day here at the bookstore. Today?

I’ve got the books, just need some sand for a summertime beach read. I could yell SNAAAAARK!

And get this old guitar tuned up.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main, Broken Arrow OK!

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