Book collector van nuys how to#
You are just doing the one thing.īack in my bookmobile days, I didn’t even know how to dream up the bookstores I’d encounter in my life. You don’t think in terms of atmosphere or vibe or user experience. You forget to watch if anyone is watching you love it and forming ideas about you as a result. What a joy to be so in love with something that you disappear inside of it.
And she cares less about that than most adults I know. I love it even more because she is just entering the age where she’s starting to learn that other people will try to decide if the things she loves are cool or not. And I love her so much for loving this thing I don’t understand. There are a million of them, they’re tiny, and they are the most pointless thing I can think of. If you don’t know what Shopkins are, they’re. Last Christmas, I found my niece asleep with the Shopkins Collector’s Guide, Volume II clutched to her chest. I don’t know why we ask other people to do the same. I don’t know why we’re still making our preferences about everyone else. It’s a lucky, lucky thing to find something that absorbs you completely. We want to like the right things in front of the right people, which is weird, when you think about it. We spend so much effort convincing people that our passions are at least endearing, if not worthwhile. Or you’ve never described a favorite anything as a “guilty pleasure,” trying to reframe your very real enthusiasm as an ironic quirk. Or you’ve never been cornered by someone at a party demanding to know why you’d ever prefer your neighborhood over their neighborhood. And don’t tell me we’re not, unless you can tell me you’d read literally any book you own on public transportation. Why we’re still like this as adults, I don’t know. I got teased for the romantic ones, which isn’t shocking for third grade and certainly didn’t do any long term damage, but it was my very first lesson that it’s cool to love some things and lame to love others. In those days, I searched for titles that inspired me–something Victorian or something funny or something tragic or something romantic. And between that and all the brown/beige, Bargain Books brings on a powerful sense memory of my childhood bookmobile–of how my heart would catch fire every time I stepped into that too-close space, too-full with books, smelling of dusty pages. The need to be seen reading a zine in the cool part of town.īut Bargain Books doesn’t go out of its way to offer you atmosphere, or even the used-book version of atmosphere. attempt to fill a need greater than books. The atmosphere is brown and honest and smells like aging paper.īargain Books does exactly one thing: It sells used books. File boxes sit on the floor, loaded to the brim. Inside, you find much of the same: books of every genre lining the perimeter of the narrow shop, a center bookshelf dividing the space in two halves, volumes packed tight in every available nook.
By the front entrance (which is so plain-Jane old school it looks hip and retro) are their actual bargain books, sorted into boxes and shelves and a paperback rack. "Rick has a voice and style of his own.Bargain Books is a little used bookstore tucked away sneakily on Friar Street off Van Nuys Boulevard. In a live environment I find Rick delightfully funny and arrestingly poignant." - Dan Nichols, Touring Jewish Musician His poetry surprises us with a unique perspective that is both tender and wise. "I know of no other poet able to establish intimacy with the audience as fast as Rick Lupert." - Brendan Constantine, poet, teacher, Red Hen Press and Write Bloody Publishing. "Rick Lupert is a writer's chef" - Derrick Brown, poet and publisher, Write Bloody Publishing "One of my favorite poets" -Amber Tamblyn, author and actress "One of the smartest, funniest poets around." -Alexis Rhone Fancher, poetry editor, Cultural Weekly, seven-time Pushcart nominee Follow Lupert through Japan with his signature wit and poet's eye as your guide, as he stands in the mysterious "stick line", as indescribable food is put in his mouth (and described anyway), as a monkey crawls on his head, as Hiroshima looms at the end of it all. Rick Lupert's 25th collection of poems and latest travelogue written in Japan while visiting Tokyo, Kyoto, and Hiroshima, follows in the footsteps of Richard Brautigan and is loosely inspired by his title The Tokyo-Montana Express.
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