In dual lawnchairs without even an umbrella as protection against the against the scorching NY summer sun she and her partner are peddling books. He could easily be her husband or her brother as they are equally toothless, sunbaked and bedraggled. Her shock of frizzed white hair sits atop her head in lopsided ponytail. Her skin looks like a distressed leather jacket. She’s stretching out her poor tanktop with tits like sad beagle ears. This woman was the highlight of my day. Not only was she the nicest salesperson I met all day (I admit that not a hard accomplishment in Manhattan) but she sold me these three gems:
Gotta’ read the (modern) classics!
At $12 total thats a steal even for street vendor prices.
I don’t admit regret much. But one thing wish I did was take school more seriously when I was forced to labor thru’ it. I’m no slouch in the reading department but I totally do myself a disservice plowing thru two old Jackie Collins novels a week just to fill my reading fix. (Only the old ones, tho’. Her recent stuff is crap. More on that probably later.) So I guess this is me making amends with my brain by feeding it only babyfood.
And for addictively watching Daisy of Love.
(Call me, Flex! ill b ur gurl)
(sidenote: i tried to read One Hundred Years of Solitude once in college… in Spanish. Needless to say I overshot myself there. I’m good. But not that good. Less Than Zero was a timely find as I just watched American Psycho for the first time last week. The Jong… well, I want to see what the hubub was about. The back cover says theres a “… wild sexually exravagant bolt across Europe” which souds alot like classic Collins. Technically I’m cheating.)