I would like to write a book with this title – the pages would be blank, and other writers/journal keepers could figure this out for themselves. Maybe I could put together an anthology with the three best pages, writing or art, would work.

When John McPhee spoke on the radio, it became evident to me that he thought about ideas in the same way I do. He said that a writer may come up with a thousand ideas but only be able to act on one because writing and fleshing out ideas takes so long. This is why I admire the writings of those who’s books I’ve managed to save. They have each acted upon one of the thousands of ideas that has come their way.

Me, dispatches are it right now. I am hoping that because the books are now mostly shelved (there are just a few boxes of nonfiction left), I’ll be able to resume writing fairly soon. I need to get back to work on “Shelf Life.” There are stories that need to be told, and in such a way that I’m setting the record straight about how this all began.

I did get a bit discouraged when the Rasmuson Foundation turned down my artist award grant request. I really thought I stood a good chance. Not only was the project that I was writing about good, but the writing was good.

In such instances, the best one can do is pull themselves up by their bootstraps and move on. While writing the last sentence, what came to mind was something I saw in Dartmouth, NH, at an international night, many years ago. The South African dancers walked in unison and beat out a rhythm on their gum boots. I found this to be extremely riveting. They were all very lanky, so their moves appeared to be very graceful.

Today was fun in the a.m. and not so much fun in the afternoon. This morning I was in the shop, categorizing the nonfiction. There seemed to be a steady stream of visitors. Timothy took a look at the Alaskana books and said that most seemed like they should go on the shelves. Cherokee came in with her weed wacker, and I assisted her in fixing it. Alicia cleaned and stamped books. Robert came and took books. A woman came in, wanting particulars about dropping books off. It did feel like a book shop today.

The afternoon – I relieved Bea, who had been Friday Fling all morning. I’m having a hard time with events – it does not seem to me that people are as appreciative as they ought to be. Some take books and don’t even say thank you. Then, I went to distribute and discovered, in Vagabond Blues, that someone left two very large, very heavy boxes of books behind for us. Grr, grr, grr.

My last stop was the Bugge Park Library, where a woman was sorting books that she’d pulled out of the library – they were on the ground. It was raining. She said she replaces the books once a month and then takes the older books to the local thrift store. What is wrong with this picture? I’m still attempting to figure this out.

Next: 206. 7/29/23: Build it and they WILL Come