Now I Have Nothing to Talk About

Today, I went to the Rancho San Diego Library and, striking out there, I then drove to La Mesa. There I found a charming used bookstore called Maxwell's. The only problem was that the parking out front was metered and I didn't have any change. Driving around the neighborhood I realized that block after block, parking was a privilege reserved for the specie rich. I think a city should warn visitors when there is absolutely no free parking.

I ended up parking across the street, going into a cafe, and buying coffee to break a twenty. All of this, so I could put a dime in the meter, walk across the street, get excited by the window selection, and come to find out that they are closed on Mondays.

I wanted to get my dime's worth of parking so I sat at the cafe and enjoyed my coffee, bitter and bookless.

More than little discouraged I decided to go to a Barnes and Noble down the street. I don't normally like to go to these large commercial retailers. With such an extensive selection there is less of a thrill. Treasure hunters need only a familiarity with the English alphabet. Furthermore, the excitement of the find is immediately curtailed by the price. Seriously, $23 for a paperback? And if the author is deceased who does the money go to? The store gets a cut but does the rest of the profit go to the publisher or the decendents? I just found out Hemingway's granddaughter is a runway model, which means there is a good chance she uses drugs and I don't know if I can support that.

On top of all these disappointing revelations, there is the complexity of their offerings. For instance in Barnes and Noble, "30% off Best-Sellers" is still a rip-off. "Former Best Sellers," I have found, is a good place to start but not quite as good as "Publisher Surplus." The deceptively innocuous table titled "Beach Reading" is anything but and I am always fearful for the future of books on the "Last Chance" cart.

Today my perusal of the "Last Chance" cart was blocked by a three high school kids with bibles. Starbucks is literally taking over the store. I dodged an employee at the ominous Nook display to find, in the "Bargain Priced" section, that Barnes and Noble had "rediscovered" Roland Barthes, tacked on an intro by Susan Sontag, and was having trouble getting rid of the copies at $5.98!

I spent some more time looking around and when I got to the front my total came to $16.35. In my pocket was what was left of my twenty after coffee and parking: one ten, one five, one single, one quarter and one dime.

Part 4: Moving Out

I arrived in Ithaca last Monday and for the most part, cannot distinguish the days between now and then. The lack of a schedule coupled with the construction crew kicking me out of my apartment each morning, meant that I spent my time listlessly checking of to-do items and wandering around to my favorite Ithaca haunts. I even fell into an odd rhythm and as I was in constant search of free wi-fi, I saw my friend Trevor every morning at Starbucks and my friend Nate every afternoon at Collegetown bagels.

Yet, as much as my days blended together there are some especially fond and distinct memories I have of the time:

• wandering all over campus in search of the relocated Cornell Dairy Bar and then napping under a tree on top of the bookstore (the Cornell bookstore is under a grassy hill) after my ice cream
• going with Steve to get pizza-subs from the Shortstop Deli, asking the movie theatre employees to let us in with them, then eating pizza-subs and watching Inception
• sitting in the late afternoon, on the Collegetown Bagels patio at the entrance to Cornell, alternating people-watching and reading
• evicted by the heat, one night I wandered down to the commons where I sat in an air-conditioned sports bar, eating french fries, drinking a beer and reading Anna Karenina
• cashing in TWO full coffee cards
• using Steve's car to run to Five-Guys after having hauled numerous boxes to the Post Office

Overall, the experience was relaxing and rewarding. Being in Ithaca gave me even greater strength in my conviction that I had made the right choice. Furthermore it was perfect summer weather and knowing that my time in Ithaca was coming to a close, the experiences were all that much better.

The last night Steve and I headed up to Trevor's house to hang out at the lakeside (see above). The weather was perfect and we sat talking, eating, and drinking until night came. Trevor and Steve both brought their guitars and I had the grandest time name country songs for Trevor to play. I can safely say that it was the perfect end to an era.