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The prodigal bookseller returns

So except for the occasional Twitter update, sent via my cell phone, I’ve been more or less silent online since Thursday night. That’s because I forgot my laptop’s battery at home and didn’t have nearly enough power to see me through all my days in San Jose. I tried updating on Friday, my birthday, but that was when my laptop finally decided to give up the ghost and shut down all on its own. It’s incredible how quickly it went from three hours of power to two, then from thirty minutes to five — incredible enough, actually, that I don’t think I’ll ever quite trust those remaining-battery-life indicators ever again. Certainly, the next time I travel, I think I’ll remember to pack the battery and its power cord.

(Then again, who knows when the next time I’ll travel. I have all this vacation time saved up, but I’m not convinced that even Capfest 2010 is going to happen.)

Anyway, Friday was an interesting day, not least of all because it was my thirty-third birthday. Many thanks again to everyone who wished me a happy one, and sorry I wasn’t able to respond the day-of. Like I said, I was down to an ever-dwindling number of minutes on my laptop. The whole day was a little unreal, which I guess is only appropriate enough. I slept okay the night before, though I did wake up often throughout the night (as I would every night I was in San Jose) — once a little before five o’clock, when my cell phone began to vibrate with an incoming call. As near as I can tell, it was a wrong number from New York; I recognized the area code but not the phone number, and they left no message. It was an odd way to start my day…even if I did actually go back to sleep and start it officially a couple of hours later.

I woke up properly sometime after seven and, after getting showered and dressed, went downstairs in search of breakfast. As luck would have it, the restaurant hostess seated me directly next to my boss, who hadn’t yet ordered and invited me to join him. I had some very tasty eggs Florentine, and we chatted amicably for awhile before heading upstairs to start selling books. (Well, he mostly attending sessions and meeting with authors, while I did almost all of the book-selling.)

Around lunchtime, when we went to talk with some authors and the foot traffic at the booth ground to one of its periodic halts, I headed outside — specifically to the San Jose Museum of Art, which was directly next door to my hotel. Mostly because it was directly next door. At Heather’s suggestion, I mostly spent what little time I had there investigating their Real and HyperReal exhibit, and Ben Rubin and Mark Hansen’s The Listening Post. It’s an intriguing installation, coalescing odd yet captivating music from the chaotic chatterings and yearnings of internet chat rooms. It’s a surprisingly effective piece, and I would have liked to stayed longer, but my time was limited.

After the museum, it was a quick walk to Johnny Rockets for a burger and vanilla Coke for lunch. As luck would again have it, that’s where my boss and those authors were also having lunch, and I was two-for-two in my inadvertent stalkings for the day.

Then it was back to selling books (and reading Kaleidotrope slush when there was nobody to sell to) until 5 o’clock. After that, I went back to my room, called home to say hi and, of course, wish the dog a happy birthday. (Did I mention our dog and I share a birthday?) Then a grabbed a quick(ish) bite to eat at a nearby Mexican restaurant — at least partly at Generik‘s suggestion — and then went to the Star Trek exhibit at the San Jose Tech Museum. It wasn’t right next door, but it was right across the street. The exhibit was neat, although I think ultimately a little too expensive just for the chance to see props and costumes from the TV shows and movies. Like a whole lot I saw of San Jose, it was fun but not exactly the sort of thing that, by itself, would get you to visit the city.

I capped the night with an IMAX showing of Star Trek at the museum’s theater. I wish I could say the problems I originally had with it were less this time around, or that the movie lent itself to the splendor of IMAX. But while I still recognize that fun to be had in the movie, the things that were dumb the first time around were just more so the second time. And J.J. Abrams’ ungodly love affair with the lens flare got to be just a bit too headache-inducing on such a big screen. It wasn’t at all a bad movie, although I found the necessary brain-shutting-off a little tougher to do, and probably enjoyed it a little less.

After that, it was back to the hotel to iron my pants for the last day of the conference and get some sleep. It maybe wasn’t the birthday I always imagined, and it was a little lonely all by myself in a strange town — when I wasn’t, of course, accidentally shadowing my boss — but it wasn’t exactly half bad either.

Saturday, by comparison, was very uneventful. My boss left a little before noon, and I sold books until 3 o’clock, after which I boxed everything up to be shipped to the warehouse in Kentucky or our office in New York. And Sunday I spent mostly traveling, first from San Jose to Los Angeles, then from LAX to JFK. I got home a little after 11 and had a bowl of cereal for a late (or very late, depending on the time zone) dinner.

Today was mostly spent just laying about. I went to the bank, shopped for some new pants, and discovered that my car battery has almost certainly died. I’ll probably want until my father’s home — he picked me up at the airport last night, but now he’s away on business — then give it a boost and go buy a new battery. Man, with my laptop, my cell phone (briefly), and now my car, I haven’t been having too much luck with batteries lately.

Still, as the fortune cookie from tonight’s dinner out reminds me, “The real test in life is not in keeping out of the rough, but in getting out after you are in.”

Anyway, San Jose was really nice.

Book sale

I slept okay last night, though more out of quantity than quality. I kept waking up every hour or so throughout the night for some reason, but I think I slept at least eight hours altogether. I was up a little before seven this morning, wandering downstairs soon after in search of the conference and the books I needed the hotel to deliver to our tables. The conference is actually in a separate tower, and it was almost impossible not to get turned around looking for it. Even after the first time I found it. This is a really nice hotel, but it can kind of a maze. (And I’ve been to Atlantic City and Vegas, where the hotels are purposely designed to make it tough to find your way off the casino floor.)

But I did eventually find the conference, and get our pallet of books sent over, and I spent most of the morning setting up the exhibit, unpacking boxes and arranging books and catalogs in what I hoped was a sales-encouraging display. It was a little tough when conference attendees suddenly swarmed the tables, and I had to tell them we weren’t opening until noon and could they, you know, please get out of my way? It’s tough to sell books when the order forms are still inside a box and the “exhibit” is still just random piles of books. But luckily it’s not such a big exhibit, and I finished up by late morning and could go grab an early lunch.

At noon the sales began in earnest — though, given the nature of this conference, there are long stretches when it’s pretty quiet. My boss turned up around two o’clock — which is good, because I was starting to wonder if he’d even arrived in town yet — and we closed up shop around 5 PM.

I walked around San Jose for just a little bit, though never more than three or four blocks from the hotel, and then I wandered back to grab some dinner at the hotel’s fancy Chinese restaurant. What can I say? I’ve been jonesing for a little moo shu pork lately. After that, it was just back up to my hotel room. I’m going to try for a little more local exitement tomorrow night — it is, after all, my birthday — but tonight I mostly felt like coming back to the room and reading. Right now, I’m sort of half-(or may just a quarter)-watching Fringe, which I’ve been kind of meaning to give a second chance. I wasn’t crazy about the pilot, but I hear it actually got kind of interesting after that. But midway through the second season, after a tiring day of selling books to psychologists, and with the sound on mute, probably isn’t the best way to get caught up.

I think now I’m just going to get ready for bed. I forgot the power cord for my laptop anyway, so I have pretty limited battery power to see me through the next couple of days. That and, well, I’ve been on my feet all day and I’m kind of tired.

As a matter of fact, I do know the way to San Jose

Today was a day spent in airports, first in New York, then in Minnesota, and then briefly here in San Jose. I’m a little bit exhausted, though luckily, because of the time difference, I should still be able to get a decent night’s sleep. I’m not completely sure where the conference (and moreover our exhibit booth) is located in the hotel, and there’s some question about actually getting our books to the booth and some unexpected handling charges I need to square with our New York office. But the conference is in the hotel, so I don’t have far at all to go tomorrow morning.

I finished reading The Subtle Knife along the way and started reading The Lamp at Noon and Other Stories by Sinclair Ross, one of the books that Heather sent me for my birthday. I brought it along in no small part because it’s the lightest of the book, but I am really enjoying it so far. Here’s a little bit I liked from “Cornet at Night”:

For a farm boy is like that. Alone with himself and his horse he cuts a fine figure. He is the measure of the universe. He foresees a great many encounters with life, and in them all acquits himself a little more than creditably. He is fearless, resourceful, a bit of a brag. His horse never contradicts.

But in town it is different. There are eyes here, critical, that pierce with a single glance the little bubble of his self- importance, and leave him dwindled smaller even than his normal size. It always happens that way. They are so superbly poised and sophisticated, these strangers, so completely masters of their situation as they loll in doorways and go sauntering up and down Main Street. Instantly he yields to them his place as measure of the universe, especially if he is a small boy wearing squeaky corduroys, especially if he has a worldly-wise old horse like Rock, one that knows his Main Streets, and will take them in nothing but his own slow philosophic stride.

Meanwhile, I wasn’t really up to sightseeing this evening, though I am in a nice section of San Jose, and it looks pleasant enough, at least from my hotel window. I got some room service, and I’m getting ready to fall asleep. Actually, I was getting ready to fall asleep a few hours ago. I’ve kind of lost completely track of time in all the flying.

My bags are packed, I’m ready to go

My flight to San Jose isn’t until 11:30 tomorrow morning, so I don’t have be up too early. It’s going to be a long day after that, though, pretty much nothing but travel. I’m supposed to get into Minneapolis-St. Paul around two o’clock, then fly to San Jose three hours later. It will be around ten o’clock New York time when I finally touch down in California, but luckily I won’t have to be at work (in the same hotel I’m staying at) until eight o’clock Thursday morning. I’m hoping I’ll get to see a little of San Jose while I’m there, despite being at work (selling books at our exhibit booth) until five o’clock every day, but there’s no guarantee. It’s not exactly how I’d like to be spending my birthday — I can think of a few other places I’d prefer this free trip to be sending me — but, then again, it is a free trip, and the work itself isn’t too hard, so I’m not exactly complaining.

I get back late Sunday night, which is one of a couple of reasons why I’m taking next Monday off. I think I’m going to take my laptop with me, and I think I’ll have internet access while I’m away, but if you don’t hear from me between now and then, don’t worry. All is well. I’m selling books and meeting authors.

In the meantime, did I mention I announced the final table of contents for Kaleidotrope #8? Because, well, I did.

Offgassing?

Today was about as typical a Monday as they come. And there isn’t a whole lot to write about it because of that.

Even my “Forgotten English” desk calendar isn’t much help. Today’s entry is all about euphemisms for intestinal gas, starting with “wamble” — “pronounced wammle and meaning “to move with wind, as the intestines” — and ending with a short history of the vapours:

At that time, fretful women of the upper classes treated and avoided those psychosomatic conditions by donning heavy petticoats and underwear to help disguise and absorb their bodies’ offgassing.

You know it’s desperate times when the blog turns to the farting women of the 18th century for content.

I’m a little nervous about my trip to San Jose on Wednesday and a little unsure how I’m going to spend my off-time, including my birthday, while I’m there. Plans to meet up with some friends local to California ultimately fell through, so I’ll be on own most of the time. My father reminded me this evening that I have in fact been to San Jose once before; when I was younger, we visited the Winchester Mystery House, which I remember, if not in great detail. I’m a little disappointed the house closes at five every day that I’m there, meaning I won’t get a chance to take a cab over and visit.

Anyway, that was Monday.