I'm sure that I have said more than enough about this part of town. But I haven't hit City Lights yet, so hang in there.
The early SF Chronicles - Vol I Observations - is moving into Vol II Living. Look for more characters, more color. And the truth about the weather.
At the poetry festival last year, I heard brilliant readings, I discovered the downstairs of City Lights after years spent up near the light, fiction, and poetry.
Tonight, was Taco Tuesday.
That's right - $1.50 tacos at the taco joint next to the famous Condor (you look up why; I'll save it for another post...research we'll call it). For far too long, week in and week out, we kept forgetting about Taco Tuesday. So tonight, when 826 Valencia sent us simple donors a notice that they were doing a reading in our 'hood, it was just the right time for some cilantro.
A Mandarin Jarrito and two tacos, some futbol, and quick pacing and I was upstairs for a reading by Daniel Alarcon from The Secret Miracle. The room was packed, people all the way down the stairs. My heart hoped for bookstores in that moment.
In Paris, I got into a long conversation that day the iPad was announced. The store owner threw up his hands, "That's it!" Used bookstores, any bookstores he felt, were finished. We talked on books we loved, on stores we cherished, and I threw my usual "but it will be okay" out there. His 'stache frowned. This was a revolution and the digital medium would take away his space in the world, the magic of books.
I was of that generation he thought was fleeing (or fine, perhaps just a bit older) and still cherished the feel of the pages against a rocking finger, waiting to get to a stopping point, living within it. Beyond what virtual reality could create with its surface color and constant ads. And by nature, automatically installed distractions. I wanted to believe in hope (call it an '08 election season hangover).
Back at City Lights, Daniel read from authors across the globe - their thoughts on writing a novel, on writing at all.
I loved Bellatin's poetic response, flowers used to explain the sentiment deeply behind each action (or inaction) of a writer - or of his writer's heart. Here is one of my favorite quotes of the night from someone in the anthology: "Writing in a coffee shop is like taking a long shit in the median of a highway." I can't recall the author but damn if I am not going to get started on this book right now to find out.
I wandered back downstairs, and though the cash is low to nonexistent to in the red and due elsewhere, I made the purchase. I chatted with the store manager, who had quite a crowd that night but these are still the times we live in. The bookstore is a solid staple, bigger than itself yet stealth and quiet, black and gray - coming to life within and in the texts you take home. May we all read on.
Comments