"I cannot live without books." -- Thomas Jefferson

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Highways, pyscho trucker killers and bad food. America the Beautiful

Scoobs Von Rothstien urged I write a blog about my drive across the country where I sit on a summer Vermont morning with sunlight pouring in through the maple trees, elm and sumac. Thunder storms are predicted this afternoon. All kind of birds come down to the deck here because my sister and her husband feed them and sometimes I feel like I am in the tropics instead of New England because of all the color of these birds, but I am told that the kingdom of the icy north takes hold of this region in an astounding short period of time, somewhere around September. But the autumn colors will do it's thing and all the New York and Connecticut "Peepers" travel up here to see the covered bridges and colored trees and clapboard architecture from the 1700's. And then snow comes, they say it gets a lot of it here. I am told that a whole different variety of birds will appear then. And there is red squirrel and gray and chipmunks which the cats like to catch in sadistic pleasure as only cats do. I love cats but some people loath and fear them and seeing them here, living in the forest, I see what dreaded predators they can be.


I got here by no easy means indeed. Upon realizing I was moving to a rural place I had to come to a decision in California some months back just what I was going to do about transportation when I got to Putney VT. Well I had this car I bought from a surfer back in 2004. It was a real gem, a 1966 Volkswagen Beetle, with surf decals. Before my affliction I surfed. I drove this bug all over the surf spots and it was always a good girl to me. Even when she was malfunctioning she still somehow got me to the beach, or work. Everybody called me Pappy in the surf lineup so they named my car 'The Pappymobile.' I thought it over, I had a little cash, rebuild the old girl and drive her to Vermont, easy enough!
It cost me more than I had expected to rebuild her!

Fast forward.

My car in Glendora California, a dear friend I stayed with. Glendora lies somewhere between Pasadena and San Bernardino off the 210. Everything was ready to go but my friend was not a little concerned about my drivers seat. I tried to get the seat replaced but it being such an old car that was much harder than I thought.
I gave up on it.
I would put pillows on the seat to buffer the bare springs. Yeah, well my good friend gave me a going away present. He reupholstered the drivers seat for me.

Now that is a friend and I want to mention my friend Dana, there aren't too many people in ones life like Dana! How many friends can you count on one hand?

It was June 18th I sat at a gas station in San Demos filling her up. I was ready to go. I emailed my sister saying I was leaving. It was about 7PM on a Thursday. I had 19,425 miles on the odometer (That's not the real miles of the old girl, more like 319,425) and as the day turned to night I was on I15 on my way to Vagas. The I15 goes much further than Vegas. As a matter of fact it goes all the way to the Canadian boarder somewhere in Montana. But I only needed it to get to Salt Lake City. There was no radio in the Beetle, no heat, no reclining seats and no room to really stretch and sleep. But I had my new reupholstered seat!
The only other time I was in Las Vegas before was a stop over at the airport on my way to the east coast on Southwest. I am not the Las Vegas type so I was glad when I passed through there at 3am. I don't know...I kind of expected a desert strip with sixties tacky style casinos out in the middle of the desert, not bloody Los Angeles, no wait! What's that? The Empire State Building? Christ! New York?, No wait! The Eiffel Tower? Fucking Paris?
I was tired, I was driving through night desert with semi's passing me at astounding speeds. I passed over Chaujun Pass going 45 MPH.

The night drove on.

After stopping for gas outside of Vegas the night became "real country dark" to quote Burgeous. Life on the I.15 turns very deserted with nothing, nothing, nothing until you suddenly find yourself in an Indian gambling casino/fireworks sale/food and truck stop and what the fuck ever. I needed coffee...word to all you metro sex, urban flyover coast to coast, living in the middle of it all...Starbucks does end somewhere north of Vegas on the I.15.

The worst coffee I ever tasted! And it actually got worse.

I tried to get some rest on some of the primitive rest stops they have out in the desert north of Vegas but I was not in the mood to sleep so I kept taking off. As dawn painted her rosy finger upon the eastern sky I was entering Arizona which you only kitty corner for about 50 miles but it was a canyon and quite impressive with a rushing river beside the highway.

I was stoked to be out of Southern California.

Not long I was in Utah, summer eastern sun in my eyes. Salt Lake City 465miles. It's an hour later now too. I'm in Mountain time sucker! My Pappymobile may be passed by every goddamn car and truck on the road but shit! She's getting almost 40mile to the gallon up in these elevations. I'm getting 400 miles out of a 10 gallon tank? Gas has gotten cheap here too.

I like republican states! Gas is alway cheaper in republican states! 2.35 a gallon !

The interstate 15 up through the middle of the state of Utah, north towards Provo and Salt Lake City is just spectacular. It runs through high range land with ranches and mountain ranges covered with snow, rushing creeks and lakes, sheep, cows and goats, I was getting horny!

Outstanding in their fields!

I stopped at a truck stop for more coffee. It was there that I had two revelations;
1. I had so looked forward to the old truck stops that I experienced when I was a young man hitchhiking across the USA. The old counters and booths with the home cooked meals and the whole breakfast in America experience. Short stacks, hash browns , eggs biscuits and gravy and coffee, OJ, the bouffants on the waitresses chewing gum...

Gone are the days!

Now there are 3 different trucks stops. They are not truck stops, they are called 'travel centers' and they cater to car traffic as well as truckers. They are something like a mall. Some with a McDonald's or a Burger King, Pizza Hut, Quisnos and Subway. Usually some horrid excuse for a sit down restaurant with that cheap hotel junket buffet type vomit inducing fake eggs and pancake stuff sitting for hours in a steam table. As I traveled farther in the hopes that I would eventually come to some old fashion middle American food I realized that the corporate junta has spread to the highways too. I had no choice but to not really eat. Just bad coffee. Did I mention that Starbucks was not included in these travel centers?

Farmer Brothers, Scoobs! Farmer Brothers. Don't know what I'm talking about? Scoobs knows.

2. I was watching the national news some months back in the comfort of my snug Hollywood apartment and a report came on that brought my attention to. The FBI has about 500 unsolved murders on their hands. It seems body parts have been showing up along the interstate highway system in just about all 50 states.

Maybe not Hawaii, but who knows.

The FBI are assuming that there is a serial killing ring of long haul truckers that are victimizing prostitutes that solicit trucks (known as lot lizards), stranded motorists and hitchhikers. It is hard to catch them. You pick up your victim in, say, Pennsylvania, murder them in Indiana, cut them up in Missouri, and dispose of them in Kansas.

This is not urban myth!

The FBI have a special task force just to solve these murders. I was thinking of this at the first stop I made in Utah. I spied a trucker buying tobacco and gum, He was young with curly blond hair and I just couldn't imagine this guy a serial killer but I did read half of American Psycho and you never know, does one?
When I got to Provo I took a short cut to skirt around Salt Lake City to meet up with I.80 which would take me all the way to Ohio so I took a tourist mountain route that was very enjoyable and my beetle kept puring along at 6000 , 7,000 ft above the old sea that I used to greet every morning at sunrise for a surf.

I entered Wyoming and started to fall asleep at the wheel but the shoulder was grated so it woke me up. I decided to get a motel. I slept all the rest of the afternoon and then woke up in the night and watched TV and fell back out. But woke refreshed and ready for another day of travel.

There actually was a Starbucks in this town but they were not opened.

If I move back west I would like to get a place in Wyoming but Wyoming, Dick Chaney's home state too, being the least populated state in the country has room in all it's natural beauty for only two kinds of people.

Ranchers and movie stars.

Maybe psycho truckers too. I think it's kind of a well kept secret kind of thing. Very conservative, cheep gas and all. I went over 8,000 ft passes with the beetle going 25 MPH with a 40 MPH headwind. I pulled into a gas station and there were these two kids, both about 19. One had a cowboy hat on and as they totally ignored me and chattered on about girls and this and that the one without then cowboy hat asked the one with the cowboy hat if he was going to Casper to ride the rodeo.

They got to be kidding!

Now I was getting a little crazy. You know, with a car I didn't know would make it, I was tired, leaving my home, so I say; "Excuse me, but I couldn't help overhearing...you ride the rodeo?"
The kid with the cowboy hat looked at me with suspicion and not a little indignity. The other spoke up. "He rides the bulls."

A real fucking cowboy!

'I'm impressed!' I said to the young guy with the cowboy hat. He gave me a smile and I got back into the Pappymobile and headed east. That made my day!

I was very near Nebraska when I stopped for more gas. I noticed a bar right behind the gas station.

I needed a drink.

There are no bars anywhere in Los Angeles like the bar I went into. There used to be, but LA has become way too fabulous for a redneck joint like this one. It was great. Big titted girl bartenders , snooker tables, pool, no import but plenty of Coors and Bud and Gold which I had a shot of. Truckers and sod busters, shit haulers and oil field workers. I would say the whole bar made up a full mouth of teeth. But who am I to observe such a mean thing,

Mean but true.

I got to talking to a guy who'd spent a long time in the military and saw duty in Viet Nam, Granada and the first Gulf War. He was very smart, knew American history really well. Just got back from Texas to get some kind of license to haul hazardous material. A real redneck but I have noticed that rednecks are a friendly lot just as long as you don't start shooting off your mouth on all those yuppie things yuppies talk about in LA, New York or Vermont for that matter.

Sure as hell wasn't going to give a dissertation about the 40 year anniversary of the Stone Wall Riots.

The closet is a necessary tool for for a bar like this. I could have stayed longer but I saw myself getting drunk and perhaps if I had stayed longer I could have gotten to know everybody but that just did not happen. I had to move on, across into the plains of Nebraska with rain falling as the night fell. I was tired and my mind was swirling with visions of gruesome crimes committed my psycho trucker killers and as the rain increased I found a very pleasant rest area away off the interstate, quiet with cars with sleeping people in them and some trucks too.
I forgot my fear of the psycho trucker killers and fell asleep in my front seat for a few hours .

I awoke to meadow birds in the dawn. I took off and hauled ass across Nebraska, stopped for more gas and bad coffee and kept going. As the late morning pushed it cleared up and got really hot and humid. I knew that I was leaving the west. That old familiar sticky humidity that is so prevalent in the east was beginning to take hold. I road and road, got to Omaha in the early afternoon, I crossed another time zone. I was hungry and had a horrible all you can eat fathers day special (it was indeed fathers day). I hardly ate anything. I had the shits and I was just not having any of it. I longed for In and Out, I longed for Pochito Mas, I longed for Trader Joes! But only this lousy road food, it really sucked.

And still no Starbucks!

Across the Missouri River! I was getting there, the beetle just purred, I talked to her, told her how much I loved her. I remember her down at San Onofre and up at Malibu, I still had some sand in the car. And here she was getting me to the east coast. Across the Missouri, the mighty river where Merriwether Lewis and Clark passed over 200 years before.
I stopped at a small motel in Iowa not far east of Omaha, took a chance with it. The owner had a cheap room and a Harley Davidson. He was from California originally and moved to this picturesque hilly corn growing region with his wife 20 years ago. Even said he surfed at one time.
I would have stayed an extra day there if I had the time and money. It was a nice place, Air conditioned with cable TV and wi-fi and a fridge to put beer in. I was watching Da Vinci Code (what a piece of shit!) when the locals at the station came in and said that there were tornado warnings up on the north 40 and folks up there had best get into their cellers.

WOW! Todo! Are we in .....?

The next day was a Monday and a hot and sticky affair. I drove to De Moines and went for more bad food and motor oil for the beetle. De Moines seems OK. A lot of people liked my car there and a couple of midwest guys asked if I wanted to sell the car.

I didn't.

And across the Mississippi I went. So goddamn hot I thought I would die. And I was in Illinois now and I was warned that the I.80 was under construction and that I had maybe to think about an alternative to Chicago but I thought the girl at the store daft and wrote it off.

I was sorry I didn't listen to her!

I won't go into the details of what I went through but imagine the 405 closed at Sunset and all traffic being diverted into a detour at 8am in the morning and having it 95 degrees.

I had maps, I got around it.

With the Chicago skyscrapers in the distant I got into Indiana and now it was shakedown time. After living in the big, big west for all those years I almost forgot about the eastern turnpike system.
Indiana is nothing special except for South Bend and Notre Dame where the great Joe Montana went to college and sharpened his skills to become the greatest quarterback of all times.
I passed South Bend and saluted the Fighting Irish and all the other greats from that school that have graced our national winter TV sport.

Same shit across Indiana and then on to Ohio, another turnpike, More psycho truckers, not bad looking though, another 10.00 dollars and then the unthinkable....

My generator light goes on!

In an old Volkswagen this is a serious sign. I pull over on the Ohio Turnpike and grab a flashlight and open the rear engine to examine.
Nothing serious but serious enough. One of my brushes is going out. That means that the generator is not regenerating, that means my battery will be dead in a while. It is the middle of the night. I am using my headlights and turn signals, the battery will be dead in an hour. I jiggle around and press and I find a paper clip from Book Soup in my glove compartment and
go back to my engine and jerry rig the sucker and the generator light goes out. I am somewhere near Cleavland, the light goes back on, on the side of the road. Jerry rigging some more, get it jerry rigged fixed.
Cleavland Ohio, home of rock and roll hall of fame. Why Cleavland? Why not Sunset Strip? I think it might have to do with the fact that, after all the hype and money, rock and roll will be nothing but a garage thing from anytown USA, anytown UK. Seattle, Philadelphia, Liverpool, Leeds, Bad side of any free world town or village. So why not Cleavland, I believe it was there the first rock concert in the 1050's happened.
Dawn in Cleavland, I think of all the steel workers, the shipping and industry that have abandoned The City of Lights for China and Mexico. What is there to do in Cleavland?

Go the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame dummy!

No time for that, got to keep trucking, what with a jerry rigged generator?

The hardest part of the trip was the ride across the State of New York (another turnpike). At last there was Starbucks at the stops, I needed it. I was back in civilization. I was in Hillery country and the State went on for hundreds of miles, hours and hours and it might have been Texas, it seemed to never end. Expensive place, the state of New York. I was born in the next state south, Pennsylvania. It all looked familiar. My childhood in the eastern woods, the elm and the maple, the poplar and mulberry, the creeks that westerners call rivers. I used to run off to woods like that and play and smoke cigarettes. I was coming home.

Vermont just about 60 miles.

I cross the mighty Mohawk River in the Catskill Mountains. The towns all familiar names. My reading of the revolution in 1778 brings these towns to light. I see signs for Ticonderoga, a great American Victory, the one that brought the French into the war for without them Washington would have been defeated.

Albany at rush hour!

Rush hour is just about the same in any city.

I cross the Hudson River, not as big as it is in the City of New York. I am off the interstate and traveling a two lane now. West Point is not very far. I travel along gentle farm land and suddenly I see a sign...


I drive to Bennington and see a pub. I park the bug and go in for a beer. The bartender is the owner. He saw my car and my plates.
"You drove that car all the way from California?"
"Yes I did." Says I .
"How long you here for?" He askes.
"Rest of my life as far as I know."
He smiles, nods his head;
"You'll like it here....winters are rough though"
That's all I hear!

So here it is Scoobs.

Thank you patient readers.

RIP M.J. I drove past Gary on my way out of Chicago. You see? It always has humble beginnings - Pappy

Friday, June 26, 2009

Gothic Charm School

When I was a preteen my genteel grandmother gave me a well-meaning tome geared towards teaching young maidens polite social etiquette and propriety. It was riddled with table manners, outdated modes of custom and in general not very helpful. If only she could have given me this wonderful book instead:

Gothic Charm School: An Essential Guide for Goths and Those Who Love Them
by Jillian Venters

This is a wonderful “guidebook” for the subculture for all ages and from all sides of the cultural fence. Teeming with well thought out insights from multiple perspectives it enables the reader to better understand motives and perhaps could aid in smoothing out many awkward situations faced by Goths an “non-Goths” alike. How many times has a non-Goth walked up to you (a Goth) and stated the ever obvious “Halloween is over!”? Or had a delightful child run up adoringly while the very alarmed parent pulls them back in horror hoping you wont eat them before they can save their youngin? This and many other common/awkward/amusing scenarios are laid out, with motives and suggestions bequeathed to us by the Lady of Manners to aid us in our spooky walk of life, and to aid others when encountering us. Along with her social advice she adds some wonderful suggestions for wardrobe choices, makeup, music and reading. There is really nothing the Lady of Manners has not thought of. Top all that off with the wonderful illustrations by Pete Venters makes this a wonderfully whimsical and informational book!

Jillian and Pete Venters will be signing this unique creation at Book Soup this very Saturday the 27th at 7pm!

-Wednesday Mourning

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Tosh's Picks for the next two weeks

Silent Ozu: (DVD)
Sounds like a machine gun, but it is more powerful than that. Yasujiro Ozu is one of the great Japanese filmmakers..No, one of the great filmmakers in the world. Rarely seen, but much admired the silent era of Ozu’s films are basically dealing with the family unit, and how small things in life can somehow affect the big picture. “I Was Born But…” is a classic look at children doing what they do best – causing chaos!

Ugly Man” by Dennis Cooper
No one writes like Cooper, and the dialogues, which on the surface sound shocking, are actually hysterical. No one captures the gay (or maybe not) male stoned Teenage voice of his characters. Murder? Why not! Or whatever. The beauty of his work is that there is a lot of tenderness, but you have to let it absorb in your system like a fine glass of brandy.

“Big Money” by PG Wodehouse
You want to study writing? Read Wodehouse, and you will get an idea how genius works its magic. 1930’s depression is a great era of suffering and. …humor. This novel by Wodehouse is partly romance, farce, and biting satire on upper scale British life.

“Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom” by Pier Paolo Pasolini. (DVD)
Based on Sade’s writings. Mega-degenerate film of excess and wasted passion during the Italian Fascist era. Sex as seen as a tool of control rather than passion. The great Italian writer/filmmaker’s meditation on sexual perversity and the roots of Fascism.

“Justine, Philosophy in the Bedroom, and Other Writings” by Marquis De Sade
Sexual energy as a political, aesthetic, and acts of protest against a world that doesn’t realize that they have a penis and vagina. Sade is not only a dirty old man, but a philosopher who understood his times (French Revolution) and place.

“Concrete Island” by JG Ballard
Ballard was one of the few great visionary writers who can capture the horrific dread of everyday life. Imagine you being in a car accident off the side of the freeway, and how would you get back to life. Or life as lived under the Freeway passage. Remarkable nightmare of a novel.

"Nancy Book” by Joe Brainard
The great poet (and artist) obsession on one of the great iconic comic strips of the 50’s Nancy. But Brainard sees Nancy in a very different light. Light witted with a tinge of outrage, Brainard’s work is masterpiece-tastic.

"Girl Factory" by Jim Krusoe
One of the great living American writers, Jim Krusoe tackles the issue of a yogurt shop and manufacturing young ladies in its basement. Witty, funny and profound.

“The Alcoholic” by Jonathan Ames
The God-Like genius of Ames. His graphic novel is hysterical/sad but mostly (really) funny.

“Catalog L.A."
The French argues and shows Los Angeles is the art capital of the world. The one essential book to have in your art library.

"Autumn in Peking” by Boris Vian
Dark funny if one mixed the Marx Brothers with an adventure novel. Vian is a superb writer and wit.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Book Soup Totes and T-shirts!

Need a great gift for Father's day? Why not treat pops to a fantastic Book Soup T-shirt! Our extremely comfortable, lightweight shirts are now available in all sizes.

We carry two different styles: the unisex T-shirt with a crew neck

and the women's shirt with a slightly scooped neckline

We are also selling Book Soup tote bags

Imagine strolling along the farmer's market with this fabulous bag on your shoulder. Or maybe you want to carry your lunch to work in this lovely canvas tote rather than waste paper bags. You can even come into the store, buy a bunch of books for your dad, and carry them all out in a hip Book Soup tote! A fancy tote full of books for your bibliophilic father! What a perfect gift!!

While you're at it, you should check out the wonderful selection of Father's day cards we have in the store. I'm sure dad will really appreciate it!!

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Happy Bloomsday!

The most famous day in literature: June 16th 1904:
Leopold Bloom wakes up, eats a kidney for breakfast, attends a funeral, contemplates his wife's impending adultery, befriends a drunken poet, and wanders Dublin's redlight district.

It's also the date when Bloom's creator, a Mr James Joyce, first strolled his fabled city with Nora Barnacle, whom he would soon make his wife.

Celebrate the day by picking up Ulysses. Experience a true gift to the English language, impress your friends and build upper body strength all at the same time.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Rudolph Wurlitzer

Rudolph Wurlitzer is a writer's writer, which in my opinion is usually a good position to be in. As a scripwriter he wrote:

Two-Lane Blacktop, perhaps the ultimate 1970's American classic film. With James Taylor and Dennis Wilson. We have this DVD in the Criterion edition.

But he also wrote a series of novels:

"The Drop Edge of Yonder"


Among his fans are Dennis Cooper, Thomas Pynchon, and Michael Silverblatt (Bookworm). He also co-directed and co-wrote the film "Candy Mountain" with famed god-head photographer Robert Frank

So for those who are interested in 1970's Hollywood/New York counter-culture Hollywood, Wurlitzer is your author. Oh, and yes he is related to the Wurlitzer Music Company.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Tosh Talks: Devid Lynch, Sparklehorse, & Dangermouse. Episode 4, 12, 12, 14?

Tosh on David Lynch's Dark Night of the Soul. This episode is fantastic, if we do say so ourselves.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Proud and pink. 40 Years of Struggle

It was June 28th 1969 2 or 3 am on a Saturday morning. New York sweltered in the grimy, humid heat that you can only get away from in an air conditioned enviornment. It was the West Village and there was this gay bar on Christopher Street at Sheridan Square and 7th Avenue. The bars were opened until 4am. It was air conditioned and crowded. The jukebox was grinding out Supremes, The Temptations and Mary Wells. Earlier that afternoon on June 27th, on the Upper East Side at 81st and Madison there had been a funeral service for gay icon and movie star Judy Garland who a week earlier had died of an accidental overdose of barbiturates. This did not seem to dampen the mood at The Stonewall. It was the same routine as every weekend. Gay bars were the only place where men and women, attracted to their own sex, were able to freely associate.
The police had a routine too. In the 1960's something had happened too American Cities. Racial violence, urban decay, drugs, hippies, queers and a whole host of other degrading phenomena had driven the larger part of the white population out of the cities and into the suburban communities where post world war families could live in tract peace and raise their families without worrying about pushers from Harlem or subversive ideas freely attained on the inner city streets
In 1969 there were gay bars in just about every major city in America. They were largely owned and operated by the mob who gave payola to the police for protection from harassment for it was still illegal to be a homosexual in most of the USA in 1969. But this protection only went so far. On election years politicians had to make a stand, or popular moralists full of vitriolic righteousness printed in the local papers reminded the officials of their duty to give the cities back to the good people of this country. Or it was just time to clean the streets. Or maybe the owners were just not paying up. So any of the mentioned was the motive on that Saturday morning on June 28th 1969 when the police raided the Stonewall.

A police raid on a gay bar in 1969 could end a career. It could ostracize, disown, institutionalize, cause suicide and just plain hassle people. Being homosexual was not an accepted life style. The word faggot was freely used by the press, on television by celebrities, politicians, in the movies, The New York Times, on the radio and in music. It was an accepted term much like the 'N' word was 50 years before. The homosexual was the most hated segment of our society. Even the most liberal minded people in those days were split on the idea of homosexuality so when the police descended on the Stonewall Bar on the morning of June 28th 1969 something happened that shook the world.
The queens fought back!
They fought back with bottles, highball glasses, bar stools, and what ever they could get their hands on. They drove the police out of the bar, the riot spread to the street where others quickly caught the air, pent up anger, sick of the harassment the riot lasted 3 days. This was the beginning of the modern gay movement.
Today we still fight. I was talking to friend the other day about Prop 8. He was distraught about the supreme court decision. Being a gay parent to a 16 year old teenager and has taken the Proposition 8 decision to heart because he feels he has been personally attacked for what he takes as a normal way of life. He lives in a nice community outside of Pasadena, his son attends high school and dates girls, he is well respected by his neighbors, pays taxes and lives with his lover. This man cannot get married?
"Are we ever going to be treated as human beings.?" He asks. I thought it over. I was not in the riots but I was around at the time. I was 17, hard to believe I was ever that young, I saw the aftermath of the riots and a year later I marched in the first Gay Pride parade up 7th Avenue to Central Park where we stood amazed in a park Meadow (I believe it is called Strawberry Fields now). Here we were. There must have been 10,000 of us. Today the parade has millions in all major cities.
Yes! We will defeat Prop 8. Yes I know, the majority of the people voted yes to ban gay marriage. The people voted for slavery once too. the people voted to jail anyone suspected of being communist as well. That did not make it right. We will defeat Prop 8, inch by inch, voter by voter, door to door, slowly but surely. I urge everyone to think strongly on this issue, it is not just about men marrying men and women marrying woman, it is about the basic rights of all men and women to stand in equality without a religious or moral judgment dictating to us what we can and cannot do. It's funny how the right always screams about government intervention but seems to approve of it when it comes to gay rights.
There are parts of this country where we still can loose our jobs because of who we are. There are parts of this world where we can still be put to death for who we are. The struggle continues.
Please join us in our celebration of our 40 year struggle, through AIDS, through religious intolerance and social disapproval, we are still here. We are everywhere!

Monday, June 8, 2009

More Moleskin obsessions!

I am kind of in shock and much in love with the thought that so many people are obsessed with moleskin notebooks. I ordered at least a zillion of them for the store, and they are all selling. There is something so obsessive about the design of the notebooks as well as sort of an inspiration for those who need to express themselves. It's a great movement of sorts.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Tosh Talks: The Ferus Gallery

Our Book Buyer Tosh Berman has started his own book show! Here we have Tosh's first episode... sharing in a series about art books on art in LA. We begin with the Ferus Gallery... Let us know what you think and please make requests of future books!

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Rescue Doggy staying with Book Souper, needs forever home!

Hi all...

Those of you animal lovers who enjoyed our little video about our rescue event may want to know about the lovely Lucas (pictured above), who was featured prominently. Our own Ruth has been fostering him since the event, and is looking to find a forever home for him. Here is Ruth:

"We are fostering a two year old male chihuahua who is pretty sweet--loves to snuggle and sit in laps. His main quirk is a total aversion to cameras so I have to get by with this image which isn't bad but it hardly captures his goofy, fun, amusing and lovable personality. I hope that someone is looking for a little pal and that we can help make a match. He normally lives at a rescue agency but there are so many other dogs there he was getting overwhelmed (according to the lady that runs the rescue) and we agreed to foster him for two weeks. He was adopted and brought back after a year but the details are sketchy. Those fine folks named him "Lucas" but I think he deserves an update. He stays nearby when he is off the leash and he doesn't pull or act crazy when he goes on walks.

Let me know if anyone wants more information, more "average" photos, or the number of the rescue lady.

Thanks for considering him,

check out this little video of Ruth's poor husband trying to get around his love to do some physical therapy for even more reasons to bring him home:

Monday, June 1, 2009

Pets for Adoption at Book Soup

Last weekend, Book Soup hosted its first pet adoption event. Here are the highlights and the pets that were up for adoption. Look for more events in the future!

Books I think about while at the BEA Part 1

i think the title says it all: "Stanley Kubrick's Napoleon" The Greatest Movie Never Made." This is something so fantastic, that I want to stay alive at least till this book comes out this fall. This is the ultimate obsessive book on Kubrick with respect to his research and thoughts on a film he never made. Documentation, the script, his notes, landscape photos, costumes, you name it and it's all in this incredible book. I saw parts of it at the Taschen office, and it's superb. Really superb.

Emilio Pucci, the out there designer of designers in a beautiful designed format. Italian go-go with the the brightest colors on this planet. Beautiful, beautiful, and beautiful.

A limited edition of Dennis Hopper's photographs. I saw a version of this at the Taschen Soho office, and its amazing.

Alex Steinweiss is the god-like genius with respect to album covers. My mouth was watering, and it's a limited edition of 1,500 copies.