frustrated journeys

I go to used bookstores, libraries, thrift shops, etc.

I can not find any Beat Books or Brautigan, or Hunter S Thompson. It's frustrating as hell. I envision these moments of discovery as though they were episodes of some reality TV show about book scouts (ha ha ha) and the reality never matches the fantasy. I do, however, find rare WWII books like Evidence in Camera published in Great Britain in 1958 and signed by the author. And I sell it for $48.00. That fantasy makes for a nice reality.

But I thrive on the what seems to be very elusive stuff. I don't care a spit for most of the books out there (and seemingly neither does anyone else, which is why there are so many copies of them out there)

Someday! SOMEDAY!

when one loves books

A mountain of books

A mountain of books fell on me. Not literary, thankfully. But it certainly feels like that's what happened. One minute, it seemed, I was going with the flow and the next I have hundreds more books in my house and not many are leaving. WTF!!!! Okay, I found a few new place to dig for books. Not telling where until I am done mining them myself but they are close-by and untapped. I actually found a Hunter S Thompson book at one of the places! At the other place I found an ARC of JOHN KEROUAC's first novel. That's worth some loot!

At the same time, I feel a bond with every small press and unknown publisher out there who made great books that no one has ever heard of or read. The marketplace that is American can be a cruel bitch, heartless and downright cold. Audiences are fickle and uneducated. Writers are decades or centuries ahead of their "fans", if they are lucky to have fans.

And so it goes. A book runner, a scout, doesn't have the luxury of sentiment though. He looks for a book that will pay for his rent or his addiction. My addiction is the hunt, the moment of discovery, the pursuit. I don't NEED books. I desire them though. Greatly desire them. On days when it's raining though, I linger inside and climb my mountains. Reaching the peaks, I wonder how much higher I can build them!

i sent my fictional accounts elsewhere

Orange Backpack
OB

to my humbly captive audience

over the past few years I have been bubbling an idea around in my head to write about an individual who was a book scout (married and stay-at-home dad) who makes some particularly foolish decisions that lead him and his family into harms way. International intrigue, spy networks, that sort of rot.

i wanted to figure out if having an using a real blog in a fictional enterprise is kosher. It seems to be so -

we are on.


My own "book fetish" as it were was only unleashed in 2001 when I spent the summer working at a recycling center outside of Philadelphia a few days a week. I was paid very minimally - except that I was also allowed to take donated books as part of my "pay". I gained a lot of weight that summer. No, I didn't get fat but the farmhouse where I was living at the time began to fill up with books. A lot of books. Dozens at a time. Paperbacks, mostly. The classics and oddballs. I was amazed what people dumped at the Center. Books that Auntie Em or Ralphie Boy had their closets, or attics, or basements -

I watched in horror as others at the Center ripped off the covers of Hard Bounds and toss the pages in with old newspaper for pulping. It was like they were killing defenseless animals. Of course, some of the books were mildewed, soiled, highlighted, water logged. BUT STILL! On principle alone I started to "save" books. I vowed to find homes for them somewhere. Used bookstores. Then a few years later, online.

the reason I asked....

...is because I am working on a novel with some real-world elements in it and I wanted some idea of how do prepare for the possibility that people reading the novel would then click onto the real sites and blogs

would it generate interest in things that I (or the main character) find interesting?

wondering...

in a book of fiction, is it acceptable to use real blogs or website addresses?