Quite A Nice Day.

It was a nice sunny dry October day, so I thought I should get out and about. I caught the bus over to Warminster to meet a friend. Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my bus pass which was a bit annoying because it cost me a fiver to travel both ways. Anyway, I put that disappointment behind me. I was a bit early when I arrived, and I passed the time browsing in the music shop which we are very lucky to have in this day and age. I didn’t know what to buy but I felt obliged to buy something as I had been in there about half an hour. I wanted something by somebody new that I hadn’t heard before. I ummed and aahed for ages and finally bought a CD by Joanna Newsom called Divers. I have heard great reports of her and she has been described as psychedelic folk which I like the sound of. I liked the picture of her on the back of the cd which was the deciding factor in buying it as well. I haven’t played it yet, but I’ll write a review when I have time and tell you all about it.

I had spent so much time in the shop that I was now late. I scurried across the road to Spoons where my friend was waiting. She was annoyed at me for being late, but soon cheered up when I bought a bottle of wine. We sat out the back and enjoyed the autumn sunshine. The time flew by and two large glasses of chardonnay later we were back at the bus stop. After she departed, I still had 16 minutes to wait for my bus, so I went in the Blue Cross charity shop. I found a nice first edition SIGNED! book called The White Book by Han Kang. I must admit that I had never heard of her before, but I had a feeling it was a bit special, so I bought it. When I got home I looked her up in Wikipedia and was pleased to find that she is a Korean writer with a high literary reputation who has won the Booker International prize in recent years. That was a good find. Book hunting is like gold mining. I’ll put the book in my bookshop in the next few days. I might even read it if I have time. Also, when I looked at my emails, I found I had sold two books which was great. That paid for my bus fare, the wine and my cd. What goes around, comes around as they say. I’ll post those books in the morning. After that I had a nice nap. Then I went to the pub for an hour. This evening I listened to the BBC Folk Awards show on the radio. Then I thought I’d write a little blog, which is this. All things considered it had been quite a nice day.

Joanna Newsom.

October In The Railroad Earth.

THERE WAS A LITTLE ALLEY IN SAN FRANCISCO back of the Southern Pacific station at Third and Townsend in redbrick of drowsy lazy afternoons with everybody at work in offices in the air you feel the impending rush of their commuter frenzy as soon they'll be charging en masse from Market and Sansome buildings on foot and in buses and all well-dressed thru workingman Frisco of Walkup ?? truck drivers and even the poor grime-bemarked Third Street of lost bums even Negroes so hopeless and long left East and meanings of re- sponsibility and try that now all they do is stand there spit- ting in the broken glass sometimes fifty in one afternoon against one wall at Third and Howard and here's all these Millbrae and San Carlos neat-necktied producers and com- muters of America and Steel civilization rushing by with San Francisco Chronicles and green Call-Bulletins not even enough time to be disdainful, they've got to catch 130, 132, 134, 136 all the way up to 146 till the time of evening supper

in homes of the railroad earth when high in the sky the magic stars ride above the following hotshot freight trains-it's all in California, it's all a sea, I swim out of it in afternoons of sun hot meditation in my jeans with head on handker- chief on brakeman's lantern or (if not working) on book, I look up at blue sky of perfect lostpurity and feel the warp of wood of old America beneath me and have insane conversa- tions with Negroes in several-story windows above and every- thing is pouring in, the switching moves of boxcars in that little alley which is so much like the alleys of Lowell and I hear far off in the sense of coming night that engine calling our mountains. or the Gate of Marin to the north or San Jose south, the clarity of Cal to break your heart. It was the fantastic drowse and drum hum of lum mum afternoon nathin' to do, ole Frisco with end of land sadness-the people-the alley full of trucks and cars of businesses nearabouts and nobody knew or far from cared who I was all my life three thousand five hundred miles from birth-O opened up and at last belonged to me in Great America. Now it's night in Third Street the keen little neons and also yellow bulblights of impossible-to-believe flops with dark ruined shadows moving back of tom yellow shades like a degenerate China with no money-the cats in Annie's Alley, the flop comes on, moans, rolls, the street is loaded with darkness. Blue sky above with stars hanging high over old hotel roofs and blowers of hotels moaning out dusts of in- terior, the grime inside the word in mouths falling out tooth by tooth, the reading rooms tick tock bigclock with creak chair and slantboards and old faces looking up over rimless spectacles bought in some West Virginia or Florida or Liver- pool England pawnshop long before I was born and across rains they've come to the end of the land sadness end of the world gladness all you San Franciscos will have to fall eventually and burn again.

BUT IT WAS THAT BEAUTIFUL CUT OF CLOUDS I could always see above the little S.P. alley, puffs floating by from Oakland.