God Kills Another Puppy

I was once lamenting the impending demise of Acres of Books with fellow bibliophile Val (not Kilmer) who remarked: "Every time a bookstore closes, God kills a puppy." If this is true (and I see no reason why it shouldn't be), then Heaven's doggy door will be a-swingin on Saturday, when Borders on Third Street Promenade gives its employees their last bag checks.

Since Borders is a mega-chain, not a unique treasure, though, maybe the puppy won't be quite as lovable as the one dispatched in Acres' honor. Maybe a puppy less like this:

And more like this:

Cute, but not unbearably so.

Whatever the associated puppy looks like, the closing of a bookstore is always a sad thing. This sadness is usually associated with an uncomfortable elation, since bookstore closures are often accompanied by closing sales. And, with such ridiculous savings to be had, the life of a vulture is a little less... um... gross.

Anyway. Carrion bird metaphors aside, bookstore closing sales are freaking tasty treats. Borders @ Third Street is offering 40% off everything, except Paperchase items, which are 75% off. Plus, all the fixtures are on sale, prompting me to ask Brian on more than one occasion: "Yes, but what would you do with it?"

I browsed half-heartedly through the shelves, which were, on Tuesday, already sparsely populated mockeries of their former selves. A half-dozen books from various sections in the store would be stacked on a random shelf among a haphazard collection of DVDs, greeting cards, and the occasional coffee cup. And everywhere were books I'd seen elsewhere and thought about getting: the Hapa Project's book, collections of religious scriptures, novels I might one day want to read by authors I know I'd love if I just gave them a chance. I had to keep reminding myself that 40% off was 60% on, and if I only half wanted the book... well, you do the math. And I was doing the math on a small stack of treasures when I was pleased to overhear the following:

Sixteen Year Old Girl: Oh my God! I love this guy!
Obliging Father: I don't know who that is.
SYOG: William S. Burroughs? He was one of the Beats.

SYOG went on to give her father a mini-lesson on Burroughs, the Beats, and the significance of the newly published And the Hippos Were Boiled in their Tanks. It was so cool. In the end, the line was just a little bit too long to convince me to whip out ye ol Visa card. And I was happy to leave my stack of treasures behind, in the hope that another girl and her father might bond over them and the closing sale that made them 40% more buyable.

Here's to books, and bookstores, and the puppies whose fates to theirs are forever tied.

Day Seven: Little Shar Goes to the Game!

The morning of Day Seven broke lazily upon us in our free-upgrade-mini-suite-more-like-mini-sweet. We returned the favor. Lazily we enjoyed the delicious hot shower, our first since leaving Robyn's apartment. Lazily we munched a real breakfast at the hotel's diner. Not as lazily for me, I suppose, since I have decided to do as the Romans do and get caffeinated while we're in the Pacific Northwest. We packed up the car (we're taking votes on what her name should be, by the way) and barely made the check-out time at noon. Just a three hour drive to Seattle, so we could afford to be lazy. And, since Portland's paradise was our first real bed since our first night on the road, I think we rather needed it.


Before we left Portland, we stopped at The Grotto, an absolutely amazing Catholic shrine carved into the woods and stone. It was gorgeous. The surprising sun that had greeted us when we awoke this morning had melted back into the gray, wet afternoon, trapping the sacred place in a heavy stillness unbroken by the few dozen tourists and pilgrims who dotted its 62 acres. My feelings about religious sites tend to be complicated and clouded with different parts of my brain trying to talk at once. So I'm not sure I know what to say of The Grotto. I will say it is beautiful and save the rest for when you and I have a conversation.


As I guess will be the way of this road trip, we careened from the meditative quiet of The Grotto to interstate traffic. The sky dripped wetness on us throughout the drive, threatening to drown out Matt Dillon as he read Kerouac to us. But, just as we entered the metropolitan area, the skies cleared and we saw Seattle. We'll see more of the city tomorrow (our last multiple-night stay until we get to Providence). Today, we rushed to check in to our hotel (more on this tomorrow as well) and then hopped on a bus to the Sonics game at KeyArena.

Wow. I have to say that my very first NBA game was a rousing success. My recent months have been full of high school and college basketball, but I've never really followed the pros and haven't cared about a game since Shaq left the Lakers. Add to that the fact that Mike prepared me for a blow-out game, with Seattle losing in a high-scoring fist-fight against Denver, and you can see why I was a little wary. By the end of the first period, though, you can bet I cared who won. Mike's writing about it right now for LBPostSports, so you can read more about it there. Lemme just say two words to sum up the greatness of this game: double overtime. Let me add two more: Suuuuuuuuuuuuuper Sonics!!



I don't want to close out today's blarg without calling your attention to a very important issue. Pacific Northwest people are creepy. They're creepy, and they're pale, and they move silently through their gray cities like horrible mist monsters. Also, they seem to think I'm someone they know. I had three separate people "recognize" me today, and you can bet I didn't like that. Beware!

Today we listened to: more of On the Road, MTV Unplugged in New York (Nirvana), and 58 minutes of basketball stadium songs (most of which involved clapping and shouting).

Mystery words for today: "Basketball fouls: a cost-benefit analysis"

Check out Mike's blog: astoriedyear.blogspot.com

Reading By 9 Book Drive

So, I think I can pretty much promise that this is the last time I'll advertise a Borders promotion on my blarg. "This" here refers to what will make up the remainder of this blarg, not my mentioning of the fact that, starting on the 28th, the bags of Lindor balls (yum!) will be 75% their regular price, and thus only a buck and some change. Oh sweet, delicious heavens (or, as the official Lindt chocolate website describes it: "endlessly smooth and creamy... Lindor")!

The real reason for this blarg is to discuss one of the hands-down coolest things I've been a part of at Borders since I started. It's the Reading By 9 Book Drive, and it's a means by which customers can donate books to Los Angeles-local schools in an effort to promote literacy. Borders is partnering with the LA Times and Scholastic Publishing (which is matching book donations 1-to-1) to try and answer the staggering statistic that four out of every five third-graders in SoCal can't read at their grade level. I think it's a pretty great program, and it's been awesome to watch box after box fill up with donations of The Berenstein Bears and Dr. Seuss. My favorite thing is getting to pick a book for a customer who is willing to donate but doesn't feel like picking a book for themselves-- I'm putting books that helped make me love reading into boxes to send to kids who haven't yet gotten the bug.

My favorite customer response so far has been this one:
Me: We're having a book drive this month, trying to help kids in the area start reading by nine. Would you be able to help us out by donating a book for about 4 bucks?
Stressed Mother: Well...
Adorable Daughter: Do it! You should do it!
Stressed: Okay, what book do you want to donate?
Me: We've got some Magic Tree House books here. Do you like those?
Adorable: Yeah! Magic Tree House!
Me: Hmm... we've got one about pirates. How about that?
Adorable: (gasps!) No...
Me: What about dinosaurs? Do you like dinosaurs?
Adorable: Yeah! Dinosaurs!
[I ring up the purchase and give the mom a sticker that reads "I shared the joy of reading"]
Stressed: (smiles at daughter) You did a very nice thing today, honey. You helped someone else learn to read.
[Adorable smiles][Exeunt]

My least favorite customer response?
Me: We're having a book drive this month, trying to help kids in the area start reading by nine. Would you be able to help us out by donating a book for about 4 bucks?
Ornery Liberal Old Lady: No.
Me: Okay...
Ornery: The government should be giving the schools books, not us.
[transaction continues as per normal][Exeunt]

I hate to tie things together that aren't necessarily really related [she lied], but this reminded me a lot of that pesky third Noble Truth. Adorable and her mother recognized a problem and did something small to help. Sure, one $3.99 book is probably not going to change a life (although it very well could). But think of how much positivity was generated by that interaction! Adorable got a sweet sticker and got two adults asking for her opinion on something Important. Stressed got to think that her daughter was really, excitingly awesome and Good (plus, she racked up some valuable Borders Rewards points). The cockles of My heart were glowing buttery golden by the end of the conversation. And this is all besides the book donation itself, which generated a book in the hands of a kid, a matched book donation from Scholastic and a percentage-of-sales cash donation from Borders, Inc. By contrast, Ornery saw the same problem and talked herself out of doing anything about it. She got upset because of The Way Things Are and left the register stickerless and in a classic Liberal Old Lady huff. I was generally annoyed at the situation because Ornery, under the guise of social awareness, had passed the buck, leaving the hypothetical kid bookless just because she didn't think it was a situation she could (or should) change. Yeah, realizing there is a problem is the first step. Realizing that the problem has a cause is the second. But unless you're willing to recognize that something can be done to solve the problem, we're just going to be stuck in a golf cart with stuck in the mud, inventing new fuels to keep the wheels spinning endlessly, but refusing to get out and push.

This is a cheap, easy, and convenient way to generate a little positivity in the world. Plus, you get a sweet sticker. Do it! And pick up some Lindor balls while you're at it.

Oh, the things I have forgotten!

One thing I do enjoy about my job is the people I work with. One of my supervisors is always really willing and (gasp!) actually interested whenever I lecture him on why, exactly, his reference to some aspect of Eastern religion is horribly misinformed. The first time this happened was when he teased that his karma had run over my dogma and I refused to let it go until we were spending our lunch hour discussing why time is like an apple.

Today, he described himself as a fat and happy, like Buddha. I sighed and rolled my eyes dramatically. Yes, I'm an annoying jerk like that. But (honestly!) only with people who secretly, on some level, enjoy it. I explained that the "fat and happy Buddha" was actually a bodhisattva named Budai, a Chinese version of Maitreya, the buddha-in-waiting for our world system. The obese joviality of Budai was no accident of the glands; he acted the clown to make his lessons all the more meaningful when they finally hit home to all of the I-know-betters out there. Then we talked about all of the vastly different ways to be a Buddhist. Buddhism, the Middle Path, is an umbrella for extreme ascetics and those who use sex and other worldy delights to keep the body occupied and set the mind free. "In order to be considered a Buddhist," I said, "one only needs to be believe in the Four Noble Truths, even if it's a unique interpretation of them."

I followed that rather learned-sounding statement up by listing these truths. Or, rather, I tried to. But (oh horror!) I could only remember three of them! Blarg! I've been out of school for too long! Hours later, I was finally able to recall the one I'd missed. It was the third one. The first two state that 1) Life is suffering and 2) Suffering is caused by desire. The fourth says that the way to end suffering is the Eight-fold Path. This leaves the one I'd forgotten: 3) There is a way to end suffering.

When I first remembered it, I scoffed. My first thought was: well, that barely counts as a separate one! But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it's really just as crucial as the others. It doesn't take much to explain the first two. Just a good hard look around is enough to see what's meant by the first. People are sad and lonely, sick and in pain, and (and this is a maxim!) "that's life." And, if you never wanted happiness, it wouldn't hurt so much when you didn't get it. And the fourth truth? Well, that's just religion. That's the pamphlet once you've got your proselytizing foot in the old widow (or recent immigrant)'s door. But the third truth is the crucial balance between blissful ignorance and despair. This isn't a religion of hellfire and brimstone. It's not about groveling and wishing in the hopes of not being condemned to eternal teeth-gnashing. Life is suffering, yes, but there's a way out! Suffering isn't the end-all of existence. It's not the final victor. Or, at least, it doesn't have to be. The fourth truth tells you the solution, but telling you there is a solution in the first place is maybe even more important.

I left a note explaining all this in my supervisor's mailbox, so he'll have plenty to think about before I get to work at 4 tomorrow. As for me: I realized today that I miss learning. I miss school and having to add new knowledge to existing foundations. I think my existing foundations are losing their structural integrity. I think I might have to crack open some old textbooks before my next lecture.