guest post 5

More from Kep:

We have this Deep Throat thing going. I am to get a cryptic signal from the Ocean author herself when she is ready to resume her blogging duties. No sign of anything this morning, so here I am posting again.

I woke up this morning thinking that bookstores are overrated. I see it this way: I go to one, I pick something and either it’s interesting and then I am there reading and getting cramps in my legs, how stupid is that, or it bores the crap out of me and I feel like a complete moron, not worthy of the various academic degrees stuck in a moldy box in some basement. (Mom? Dad? Do you know where my degrees are? Yes, I finished school already! Jesus!)

Nina is in love with Borders. She told me that when it was abandoning its original Madison building, she felt emptier than when her last kid left for kindergarten. She has one of those frequent everything cards – buyer, drinker, Internet user, all for Borders Borders and more Borders. Sick.

I asked if she was equally fascinated with bookstores in Poland and France and she gave me one of those “you poor pathetic chump” looks. Apparently bookstore-love does cross oceans. Of course, it’s not like Borders. At Borders you can eat, read, drink and play footsie with your loved one for all they care. In Paris, she tells me, the atmosphere is more serious. In fact, after her last trip to one this past month she wrote me this: God, I love how all the bindings there are so white that when you enter a bookstore you feel like you’re in a book hospital!

These days, she says she is especially drawn to leafing through Gogol. Okay, fine, make me feel like a moron. It’s not as if I hang out at Farm and Fleet on my days off. I have my special places. If I blog here long enough, I’m sure you’ll hear about them.

I need to say this: everything I write here about the Ocean author is true. She swore that if she ever caught me doing anything more than giving slight poetic flavoring to a story about her, she’d fire me without pay (the compensation being our friendship). I take her seriously. Polish women can really deliver on the threats, I’m told.