get'n books on my sassy shelf

Today, hanging out with the mother on MLK day, I end up after a somewhat harried search for somewhere to eat lunch quickly without having to resort to fast food, at, of all places, Denny's. Home of the American Slam meal, 20 percent of the proceeds of which go to the Urban League's educational efforts. A bizarre coincidence (I say this because we had both already forgotten about the chain's spotty past with regard to racism, and because we both had been to Denny's maybe once in our lives) and one that resulted in a pretty miserable dining experience for us.

Highlights included a dining room that was about 80 degrees, despite it being maybe 40 tops outside, a table next to the kitchen door and all the ensuing noise, a lot of colicky children and old ladies, and a woman in a different uniform, presumable the manager, who would occasionally step into the room and look around sluggishly with a look on her face that could only accompany a mental sigh meaning "Oh Christ, this is what my life is all about." Throw in a carpet that may have been dirtier than the one in my bedroom, my mother's observation that the restroom was less than pristine, and I could only thank the chain diner gods that I'm not horribly germphobic.

Also today, on same trip through the suburbs with same mother, I spent some time in Borders, and found that for perhaps the first time ever I was pretty unsatisfied with spending time in a bookstore. I trace this somewhat to the fact that I'm bogged down with things to read right now (and overdue library books), but more so to the fact that I work with so many books anymore, I can't find as much pleasure in being surrounded by them. Don't get me wrong, I'm not turning antiliterate here, I just am feeling worn on the experience of being inundated by text. I also don't ever want to see contemporary popular fiction, because that's the shit that is most often missing from the shelves at work and also is the hardest to get from other libraries. You are the bane of my existence, Dan Brown.

I found refuge, though, in the magazines, which I don't see as many of, and which I could leaf through and see people I know (in MRR, for example, and in Skyscraper, which featured a Modey Lemon interview with Charissa's pics from roundabout a year ago).

Also, a stop at Half Price Books netted me a few dollar records (The Supremes, Carly Simon) that are a little scratchy but hey what do I expect, paying a dollar and all? And also a book about medicinal herbs and one about Gourmet Vegetarian Feasts, the usefulness of which is yet to be determined.

Now I have to knuckle down on this article I'm working on in a molassesian manner and also play lots of rock this week.