Jontue Notes
About four years ago, when I was still working at the library, my friend and then co-worker Bryan gave me a little notebook he had found in the bin where the Friends of the Library dump rejected donated books. Some of the coolest donations came from there, and they never saw the light of day unless you rescued them. Bryan and I both got brand-new 1000-plus page Scientology Handbooks, and Bryan also found me a copy of Iggy Pop's photo-autobiography "I Need More." I guess those Friends of the Library cats aren't up on the up enough to recognize greatness in glam rock and proto-punk when they see it.
So anyhow, Bryan was usually the one who scored the best finds in the discards. But this little notebook that he gave me wasn't too special or crazy or anything--just a slender notebook, about 4" x 6", with a navy blue cover decoraterd with flowers. It said "Jontue Notes" on the front. I started carrying it around in my backpack so I could record my brilliant thoughts at any possible moment. Here are a few (and remember, this is circa 2001/2002).
-I was at the bank. The teller called me Mrs. Bir. He called me Mrs. Bir.
-Every time I walk byt the Eddie Bauer store in the mall, I am overcome with sensation I will spy Tom Waits shopping there.
-This morning I ate applesauce and two tuna fish sandwiches on hamburger buns...the queerest breakfast ever.
-The Gideons had a Mercedes with a trunkfull of Bibles.
-How often is something okay when you say it is? Hardly ever. I hardly ever mean it.
-I walked to the library to put a video in the bookdrop. It was 6:07 and some smoke-stinky alcoholic woman was pawing at the door, trying to get in. I was going to tell her that the library was closed, but then I smelled a strange smell, a rotten floral small that was intense like ammonia. It disgusted me so that I could then not even look or speak to her. What would she have heard, anyway? She gave up with the door and walked away. So did I. I realized I was walking through a small puddle, and wondered if something above was leaking. But it was her. As she scuffled off, a stream of hot piss cascaded from the leg of her jeans. I realized that was what I was walking through, and I thought to myself, "I hate homeless people."
So anyhow, Bryan was usually the one who scored the best finds in the discards. But this little notebook that he gave me wasn't too special or crazy or anything--just a slender notebook, about 4" x 6", with a navy blue cover decoraterd with flowers. It said "Jontue Notes" on the front. I started carrying it around in my backpack so I could record my brilliant thoughts at any possible moment. Here are a few (and remember, this is circa 2001/2002).
-I was at the bank. The teller called me Mrs. Bir. He called me Mrs. Bir.
-Every time I walk byt the Eddie Bauer store in the mall, I am overcome with sensation I will spy Tom Waits shopping there.
-This morning I ate applesauce and two tuna fish sandwiches on hamburger buns...the queerest breakfast ever.
-The Gideons had a Mercedes with a trunkfull of Bibles.
-How often is something okay when you say it is? Hardly ever. I hardly ever mean it.
-I walked to the library to put a video in the bookdrop. It was 6:07 and some smoke-stinky alcoholic woman was pawing at the door, trying to get in. I was going to tell her that the library was closed, but then I smelled a strange smell, a rotten floral small that was intense like ammonia. It disgusted me so that I could then not even look or speak to her. What would she have heard, anyway? She gave up with the door and walked away. So did I. I realized I was walking through a small puddle, and wondered if something above was leaking. But it was her. As she scuffled off, a stream of hot piss cascaded from the leg of her jeans. I realized that was what I was walking through, and I thought to myself, "I hate homeless people."
posted by Lefty at 8:45 AM
1 Comments:
i used to get to those book donations before you or castro did. summer evenings i'd get home from work and my room was an oven. so i'd open up the windows and walk from A street to the main library and head into the back alley.
when people died, or whatever, someone would come up to the back doors of the library and leave tons of books in boxes. sometimes the heroin addicts were there before i was rifling through the goods. one of them explained that they could take books over to treehorn and sell 'em. cash for smack.
i got some great stuff out of there. one of my favorites is a 1950s study of 'social deviance' and as an extra added bonus it came with an anti marijuana broadside from the 1930s stuffed into the inside jacket. the pamphlet was interesting because it really opened my eyes to how long the so-called drug war has been going on, and what a complete failure it has been...
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