Holiday gift

I worked a bunch at the bookstore this week, longer days than usual because of the holidays. It’s been really fun to see people shop with a vengeance rather than just casually browse, although I don’t mind it when people browse either. But it’s definitely exhilarating to hand someone a book, and you just know it is exactly what they need or what that loved one in their life would want, and then they just do as I suggest and buy it. Amazing! I feel so productive.

I hope everyone’s cool documentary filmmaker sister-in-law enjoys Just Kids this holiday season, and no, I do not think you should feel guilty for buying a copy of A Visit from the Goon Squad for yourself even though you are supposed to be shopping for other people.

I really like it when boyfriends come in and want to buy supportive holiday gifts for their girlfriends. That’s really sweet. And I have a deep, deep admiration for all the people buying the new Mark Twain autobiography for their dads (it is always for their dads) for Christmas, because that is one heavy book they’re going to have carry all the way to South Carolina.

I also gave some random customer permission a few days ago not to go home to Indiana for the holidays. He had just been there in September! It’s not like he never goes. I could tell he was a good son who just needed a break already.

Anytime anyone needs any permission for anything, let me know.

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I haven’t been doing much of anything else. I ate some fried chicken and had drinks with Molly and met the dog she’s watching for the holidays, a big, friendly guy named Jack.

Julie took me to the movies and we saw “How Do You Know” which was terrible, boring, not funny, a waste of everyone’s time who made it, which is a shame because that is one adorable cast. I think what bothered me the most about it is that I did not for one second believe anything that was going on. I could not lose myself in it at all, which was the goal of going to see it. I just kept thinking: somebody wrote these lines for these people to say, and now they are saying them, and we are supposed to hear them and feel a certain way, and I can mostly recognize how we are supposed to feel, but just the fact that I am even thinking this means IT IS NOT WORKING.

Bad movie. Bad, bad movie.

I read Wendy’s new book, The Wilder Life, and it is so funny and smart and well-written I think she should win an award. Damn, she wrote the hell out of it.

And there will be a meeting of the tribe tonight at Temple Bar and Hung Ry. I love going to Temple Bar always, because it is my favorite bar in New York, but I especially love going during this time of year because nothing says, “When the fuck is the holiday season going to be over already?” like a martini the size of your head.

And that’s about it. Days drag on. Coffee in the morning. Too much wine/cheese/bread consumed at night. Little notes left here and there. Maybe a few good ideas. Please don’t ask me how I am doing unless you really want to hear the answer.

It’s clementine season though, so at least there’s that.

(12/23/10) | 1 Comment »