Wednesday, September 21, 2011


I miss the smell of books. Seriously.

Ever since I moved to the West Coast, a day hasn't passed when I haven't thought about NYPL
It was my Mecca. My sanctum. And all those wonderful feelings I got when I had a stack of them.
Wonder why NYPL cant open like an ex-New Yorkers branch. *Sigh*

No seriously, f*** kindle. It isn't cutting it man. I tried reading through it on the bus to work. It either gives me a headache or just makes me want to nap rather.

In fact one of the prime reasons that I am so against moving and relocating is having to leave behind a long trail of books. Boo hoo.

Recently, I have been whining a lot. A hell lot. And then today I got nostalgic for some odd reason. I saw someone (for a change) reading hardcover fiction and it took me back to the time when I used to walk to the humble library, couple of blocks from my home. I owned exactly 2 pieces of shirt and one light green skirt. And you know how I felt then? Like the luckiest girl in the whole damn world. Lucky because I got this whole freaking library and I wanted to live there. And read them all up. Not once was I embarrassed about wearing the same skirt over and over again.

Obviously, my dad was very taken aback by this attitude. I would beg, plead, cry, threaten, long as my dad paid my library membership fee. I never once asked him to get me some clothes instead. That really bothered him. LOL.

I used to watch the kind of people coming in and out of the library.

The socialites would choose all the glamor and celebrity magazines.
Girls at call centers would come by for Mills & Boon
Teenagers would gawk at Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys and Sidney Sheldon.
The thriller fans head toward Agatha Christie.
And the more sensible (like me;) would read classics =)

But I tried every one of them. Books were my sanctum sanctorum. My whole world revolved around them.

Wait. I remember this one book. It was a "holy shit this is huge" sort of book. I can't seem to remember its name. It was filled with how stuff works. What the hell was it? I cant remember it now. I was so fascinated. I lugged the giant thing home and spread it on the floor and read it.

I still remember my library card number. And yes, the library still exists. And my card is still there, as of  last November=)

Sunday, September 11, 2011

I left my heart in San Francisco

Hi there you. Yes, you. Whoever you are. Welcome.

No, I am not generous with courtesies. Once in a while, I feel like giving. Giving back I mean. In my own wicked ways. But yes, I am happy to say I have had a break..of sorts. Lets not go there. Meanwhile I found a number of interesting things this week on visiting San Francisco. Some hippie told me that San Francisco actually means the land of black lesbians. Ok, lets not go there. Also, if you are PMSing you can get a prescription to buy weed. Ok, lets not go there either. Wait, what did you say? Your kids read this blog? Oh well they are probably reading "classier" stuff anyway. Internet is everyone's dear friend.

So yes. This break has been good. I have seen breads transform to lobsters and crocodiles.

I have had a 10 year old kid bow down to me at the Golden Gate Bridge and wish me a good rest of the day. (How cool is that, no? I have never had a kid, forget adult, bow down to me and wish me a good day like that....). No, picture not included. It was "in the moment" fellas. In the moment.

Also I saw the cafe where Francis Ford Coppola hangs out. Ok, ok, I didn't see him. But that's where he hangs out ok? Jeez. If you are asking who the heck is he, dont worry. He is probably a wrinkly old guy you dont really have to know about. Or well, just google damn it.

Also I saw random heart figurines here and there....and figured some silently sing "I left my heart in San Francisco". So teary-eyed I was. Until I saw this heart. Nothing shaped like a heart. It is cold, black and stone - yes, my Wall St. friends. That is a Banker's Heart, I am told.

File:Transcendence - The Banker's Heart.JPG

*Pic courtesy - Wikipedia. Yes, I am all about giving Internet, its due.

Then I saw some sleeping figure on top of a building. I don't know what that was about. I don't really care. And I dont have a picture, I cant find it. So lets move on now.

Also there is a church. Yes, I am coming to the interesting part. Yes, I know you would have guessed it is either St. Paul or St. Peter. But it's address, my dear genius friend, is 666 Filbert St. A-ha!

Ok, so what if I didn't visit the Alcatraz. So what if I didn't visit the Golden Gate Park (Actually, I have had enough of parks. Once you have seen Central Park, you have seen it all). So what if I couldn't make it to the Exploratorium. You save the best for later. (No, I don't believe in that. Just saying.)