cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Roughly, With One Hand Pennsylvania is apparently flooded. The whole eastern part anyhow. My trip with Mary and F is now canceled, as is the art show. Well. I was reflexively disappointed but in further reflection I don't think that I give a shit. If anything its easier. I'll save a little money. This afternoon I went into town to mail some stuff back to my publisher. They sent me 30 pages of book plates, 6 to a page, to personally sign. These will be affixed to books for signed editions, which seems like a really half-assed way of accomplishing the sale of signed books but its not my publishing company. I just cash the checks, write the books, and sign them. I had all of these book plates to sign. I went to the Tea House and I ordered a Lion's Head beer because I didn't want any tea and also because the beer was less expensive. I sat there on the couch and autographed all of those book plates. A thin woman with a fine round ass stood at the counter watching me out of the corner of her eye. She had a French accent. She walked over and sat beside me and sipped her tea, glancing furtively at what I was doing. I didn't want to be rude or arrogant so it wasn't for me to explain what the fuck I was doing. She sat there and sipped her tea and watched me sign my name some hundreds of times on these book plates until every curve of my signature became nonsensical and crabbed to me. I waited for her to steel up the nerve to ask me who I was or why I was doing this. I suppose that she could plainly see that these were book plates and that I was autographing them. But she said nothing to me. I thought about grasping her slightly pointed chin roughly with one hand and pulling her toward me and kissing her on the mouth. 10:36 p.m. - 2011-09-08 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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