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Declaration of Independance
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Found
- Hits: 1953
Now we all know the story of the Declaration of Independence that turned up at a garage sale, don't we? If we don't you can read it here: http://www.sothebys.com/liveauctions/sneak/archive/declaration.html. But read the first article - according to the Wiki, 200 copies were printed, only 24 are known to exist. Do the math.
(Note: The blog will probably be on a bit of a US theme for the next week or two as I slowly disgorge the contents of my vacation: Driving, Philadelphia, Rural New York, 100's of yard sales along the interstate and time only to stop at a few....)
Up at 4:30 AM
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2082
Up at 4:30 AM, unable to get back to sleep.
I've been short on sleep ever since this "vacation" began, but there is much to do and I lay in bed, trying to get back to sleep and there's a tightness in my chest that reminds me I must quit smoking, must exercise, and I make my lists and plot my plans and worry that this is what it feels like to have a heart attack (it probably isn't, I know, but if you haven't had one it could fool you...).
I must get a job, new job, any job, a job I love. A job that pays well, not the best in the world, but that leaves me time to think and work on other things. But that has to wait.
I must get theater tickets. Soon, today, commit to this, get it done, life awaits.
I must write, transcribe notebooks filled on vacation, notebooks under the desk that have lain there forever, ever since I was a child.
I must move to the new place, now empty, awaiting me, there's much to be done there and I am saved some slight labors by the fact that I have have worked so often that I've never unpacked from my last move. This new move, it will keep me busy but it's not the end of the world.
Breathe, deep, this tightness in the chest, it's caused by my not breathing, breathing, deeply, I forget to breathe, remind myself.
There are the lists of things to be done in the new place, the agreement, I have plans and there are lists to be drawn up.
Thrift shops, but I have no muse at the moment, am loathe to acquire new things when I still haven't rid myself of the old. I must take in some watches for repair, art projects forever on hold, stale writings awaiting transcription in notebooks...
And I think about departures and arrivals, the coming and going of relations, about the dentist who's first visit I survived but has me scheduled for many, many more, and there are countless distractions that need be sorted, I think of absent lovers cold in their graves and warm in their beds and eventually I just give up and make some coffee, start the day, 4 hours sleep with no hope of a nap but I have only to stop thinking of things and begin...
For Sale: On Fire! - 1 Queensize Antique Wrought Iron Bedframe
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: For Sale
- Hits: 2672
Price: $685.00
Queen Sized??: I'm glad you noticed. Originally the bed was a double, but sometime in the forties it was converted to queen size by the local village blacksmith. That alone would cost you $685.00 today, so it's a bit of a rarity.
FAQ:
Where will you sleep?
Aw, shucks, thanks for asking. Actually I've acquired a smaller bed that better suits my monastic lifestyle. If Pretty AND Smart should call she'll have to get used to sleeping in close quarters. Although given how long it's been she shouldn't count on sleeping.
The Bedknobs?
Yes, very astute, it has bedknobs. You know, when things were good I never thought to rub them, and when things were bad I just slept. Buy the bed, give them a rub and tell me where you end up.
Why would I buy this original Antique bed when for $2000 or more I could buy a cheap third world reproduction from Chintz and Company?
You're logic is inscrutable. I have no ready answer, apart from you'll certainly enjoy walking across the new $25,000,000 Pedestrian Bridge in downtown Calgary.
On Fire?
"This bed is on fire with passionate love, the neighbors complain about the noises above..."
- james: Laid
Not this bed, not anymore. But before we blame the bed let me explain:
Read more: For Sale: On Fire! - 1 Queensize Antique Wrought Iron Bedframe
The Vacation
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2177
It's begun.
Anticlimactic, somehow, there's still things to be done, organized, plans to be made....
The landlord returned this morning, got me out of bed, the plumbing has been fixed, a few trial flushes of the toilet confirm it and I'm glad, I can take my morning coffee in the house...
I leave for work early, a couple of estate sales I want to hit, nothing too fine, a few trinkets for the daughter, I'm too late for the real treasures but I don't care, I'm soon to be on vacation and there will be treasures enough...
Work, all the staff restless, resenting every table that comes in. We've lots to do. The evening passes, slowly, very slowly, time trickles to a standstill, everyone is restless. The Bosses Nephew is bored with his current girlfriend, she's been around a week and has grown too attached, he's already planning a replacement while he comes and rubs himself against my leg. I make a mental note to take him to the Rocky Horror Picture Show, he hasn't seen it, all these women he's going through, the double pierced ears with overlarge faux-diamonds, the chest waxing, eyebrow plucking, mascara, it's time to help him out of the closet. The Rocky Horror Picture Show will be his ticket.
He's got it rough, the owner has assigned him a large list of chores to be done while he's away, paint the fence, paint the restaurant, and there's the problem of the homely dishwasher house-sitting to be dealt with.
Franco, he's out on the street, shouting rude things in Italian at pretty girls walking past. He can't wait for it to start, will be complaining the moment we're back of his boredom.
G - G hasn't got any plans, wants to get out of town, maybe will go work with a friend in another restaurant downtown for a week.
Everyone wants out and the night passes too slowly, a few regular customers who tip exorbitantly, trying to help the staff through the famine of the next 3 weeks, well intended but somehow insulting at the same time: 1 customer slips $100.00 to Franco - "For his family" while we're closed, Franco's excited, I'm less so - "Don't you find it insulting that he doesn't think you have the sense to budget for your vacation yourself?" I ask him. He hadn't looked at it that way. But it's the last night before vacation and all the regulars are a little bit more generous than usual.
After work, finally after work, we all go for drinks, "The Rusty Cage" on 16th Avenue NW. It's quiet, only a few people, the music loud, we retire to the basement for a drink. We sit, quiet, the bosses nephew is off, grouchy, wants to go dancing, none of us are in the mood. It's strange, this, the longest you go without seeing anyone here is a day, 3 weeks will seem like an eternity, the hostess, the hostess leaving for a better job, came in in tears tonight, saying goodbye was hard - "I know it's been a shit show and you're all fuck-wits but I'll miss you..." she says, and I understand.
Franco and I bid G & Nephew goodbye, I pick up my bag and walk home. My thoughts are elsewhere, not on vacation, making notes on a pad of paper. Past Aquila Books on 16 Ave, their fabulous window display, Bell Jar, $250, silvered ("and what, then, is the point of this" I wonder...), odd scientific instruments, beautiful and curious things that jog the imagination, 10 years of garage sale finds at 100 times the price but it's an inspiration to look, and I wonder what treasures (if any) I'll turn up on my vacation....
And now, 2:33 AM day 1 of vacation, outside there's heat lightning, light splashes of rain, I'm writing on the computer, time passes...
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