Barnes & Noble: perpetual canvas

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It occurred to me.

I like walking around places like the bookstore. I like messing with people.  I like taking pictures of stuff.

Trifecta, people.  I’ve found a regular feature.

I’m thinking, once a week, I’m going to waft into my Barnes & Noble and do stuff.

And by “do stuff, ” I do not mean to imply some circa-1970’s reference to copious cocaine expenses out of the corporate petty-cash fund.

I mean “perform some kind of experiment.”  Maybe talk to a few people.  Ask them a question and take a microcosmic, cultural core-temp.  Maybe I will plank in the middle of the floor. Maybe I will walk around and photograph books.

Maybe I will walk up to people and beg them to help me reach President Kennedy, and “advise him against going to Dallas” right near the “Paranormal” book section.

By the way, a lady watched me take a picture of that Satanic Bible.  I looked at her and said, “They grow up so fast.”

Anyway. Barnes & Noble will become part of this blog’s mosaic.  I’m going to use it as my own personal canvas. Maybe I will perform freudian subterfuges, Pavlovlian ruses, utilizing Euclidian precision with an almost obscene amount of Sophoclean dramatic flourish.

Or, I might just be weird.

Occasionally,I might even broach a serious subject.

NO–not politics.  Well, I will at least try to keep politics out of it.  But you never know when someone there’s going to hit you across the face pachouli-laced,essential oils molotov cocktail for asking too many questions.

 

This entry was posted in Books, Reading, Uncategorized, Writing and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Barnes & Noble: perpetual canvas

  1. Helene says:

    Yes! You need to do this–and keep us updated. Of course, you may want to switch up your venue or you might get a reputation…unless, of course, you want a reputation.

  2. Steve says:

    Sounds like fun. Where I recently started to work, I’ve become known as the person not to talk to among the staff. They all think I’m doing some sort of psychological experiment on them. One day I decided to sit behind the doctor’s desk like I owned it, and waited for him to walk in so I could see his expression. When he came in, to his credit, he didn’t show much of anything on his face. He later admitted he felt something rise up inside of him when he saw me sitting there. He has himself boxed in, sort of fortress like, which is something I pointed out to him that is indicative of a need he has to have a barrier between himself and anyone else. I’m having a lot of fun there!

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