Here We Go Again
I am anti-lockdown. I will continue to sell books on the street unless the police tell me not to, although I realize it may lead to illness and even death. The Chinese really stuck it to us.
From nypost.com, edited by yours truly: New Yorkers are still fleeing the city during the pandemic. More than 16,000 apartments are empty, most in 14 years. Rent for a one-bedroom averages $3064, significantly cheaper than last year’s $3595. That’s more than double what I would be willing to pay. I’m so lucky to have bought and paid off my co-op. My maintenance is a shade over $500 a month. How many are paying as little as that for housing in NYC? It’s like saving a thousand a month.
Friday night’s Netflix movie fix was frustrating, as the disc froze twice, once early, once late. When I tried to fast-forward, it went back to the start page. I pressed play and fast-forwarded through the 35 minutes I’d watched. The second time it happened, I tried to find a chapters section. There was none, so I gave up on the movie with about 20 minutes left. Beanpole (2019), the title character, is the story of a young woman who suffered a severe concussion while operating an anti-aircraft device during WWII. Not fully recovered, she has a tendency to freeze at times. She works in a hospital in Leningrad, treating wounded soldiers. Although the tone is grim and the pace slowed by drawn out scenes, it is interesting, different. It is the brainchild of director Kantemir Balagov, who also co-wrote the screenplay. It is his third full-length feature and received lavish praise across the pond. I hadn’t seen a Russian film in a long time. This young man may have a long, distinguished career ahead. If need be, he should move west. Here is the star, Viktoria Miroshnichenko:
As I was going and coming in my car, I encountered the longest line I’d ever seen. Everyone seemed Asian and in possession of a shopping cart. The queue stretched from 86th St., around 24th Av, and all the way up 85th St.. I assume people are stocking up again, given the lock-down. This morning at 6:30 there was closer management of lines at Stop n Shop than there’d been in a while. I wonder if the shelves will begin to empty again. Bummer.
It was a gorgeous day. My thanks to the intrepid folks seeking good books on the cheap and to the gentleman who donated a bag full of mostly young adult novels, who didn’t have the heart to follow his wife’s instructions to simply throw them away. I still had my mask pulled down. I think all of my customers were wearing one. I didn’t drawn any closer than arm’s-length-plus. Here’s what sold: The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie and Ellen Forney, Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton; Slaughter House Five by Kurt Vonnegut; three hardcovers in Russian; a collection of plays by Ibsen; and Scarlett by Alexandra Ripley, a sequel to Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind.
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