A Visit to The Last Bookstore

My resent vacation had me traveling through Los Angeles and we had just enough time to visit The Last Bookstore. It is a great bookstore with used and new copies of almost any book on any topic. The main floor has a comic book, children’s, teen, classic, history, and vinyl section. I loved the bank vault door leading to the room of rare books.

I loved the art piece at the top of the stairs, a bookcase surrounded by flying books. I believe it gave off a very Harry Potter essence. There is an art gallery, yarn shop and more books upstairs. Wish I had more time to search though the dollar books in The Labyrinth but there were just too many. I was able to walk through the book covered bridge into the horror room. There was a photo-shoot taking place and a really nice group a people allowing customers to shop while they worked. I didn’t realized until I was looking through the science fiction/fantasy section that I missed taking a picture at the porthole made of books since the shoot was using it. Guess I’l have to return one day and fix that error especially since there are so many books and little time to really explore the changing collection.

When it was time to leave I bought a few books. I loved the counter was made of stacked books. I took a picture of my book stash and I can’t wait to start reading them.

Comic Books!
View from upstairs and this is only half of the bottom floor.
Only three. I held back.
Vault to Rare Books.

        

Then You Come Back From Vacation

I’m back! Didn’t think it was long enough where a reader would believe I abandoned this blog but could understand if you started second guessing my presence here. I was not posting for a bit because I was on vacation traveling. I’ve grown into an untrusting New Yorker and didn’t want to become a silly statistic. For very safe reasons I never posted my far far away-ness on this blog since this is open to anyone and anyone can be mean stealing jerk. I keep a travel journal and though I always fall a day or two behind it’s not because I don’t write everyday. I am the best writer while traveling because I can find scraps of time anywhere on the move to write. I do have some writing material since I’m the most diligent writer away and I hope to use that fire in the future.

Now here is where I beg for patience from you, my reader (if you’re still with me). I have a post I’m working on about a place I visited along my travels but it may take some time to write. Here is my sob story. On the last day of my vacation I hurt my ankle. I don’t know if it’s a sprain. I iced and rested it. It has been five days since the painful klutz move of missing a step and I can walk on it with very little discomfort so I must have lucked out.

The second fun thing to happen back from my trip is I woke up Thursday morning to water dripping from my study’s ceiling. Good news no computers were harmed in the disaster above and the leak (which ended up being little but chaotic) is fixed but computers are disconnected and the apartment is a disaster. Thank invention for laptops. I am sitting in the least crazy room (the bedroom that is stacked high with boardgames, monitors, and desk parts) typing this little blog post. I’m trying not to think about the holes in the next room’s ceiling and the contractors that will need to be contacted so everything can feel less anxious again. I can look on the bright side and say at least I’m writing.

Also, I’m upset because I’m behind on the one classic a month challenge. I have no excuse other than when I travel I write more and read less. I plan on starting my May classic in a few days (still between books) and gracing my reader on my amazing half-ass review. I hope you can forgive the delay. (Is this where I hash-tag my emotions.)

Now, I will enjoy a glass of wine, say good night, and sweet dreams.

Writing Trips

When I had the money some days I would go to the MET. I would find a favorite painting, statue, or place, sit in front of it and write. Sometimes it was just a journal entry, an idea or a story. Sometimes it was nothing. When it was a story it was usually about what I stared at. I loved those days and miss them. I would go by myself. I could take the day and wonder wherever I wanted. There was no worry it wasn’t what someone else wanted to do. All that mattered was what my mind and writing hand wanted to do. Sometimes I would spend hours in one section or at one painting. But sometimes if the day was nice it was through Central Park for some nature inspiration. I hoped nothing would become to familiar or boring. That my mind would clear and my writing would take off. Sometimes I could write pages upon pages. The worst days were when no ink would leave the pen tip.

I looked for someplace closer. I use to write at the Starbucks by me. It was a long walk, and a noisy place. Before people yell at me for not supporting a nearby cute Mom and Pop cafe there isn’t one near me. Still this Starbucks feels like a homey cafe.  Maybe it’s the small town feel surrounded area or the baristas who seem to know many customers that come in by name and their drink. All that’s missing is the to stay (London style) ceramic mugs. I liked the ambient cafe noise. I liked hearing the sound of steam hitting the milk as coffee foam was made and the people around me working or talking. In the cafe I could people watch. I liked catching meet and greets, business deals taking place, the old men playing chess or children and teenagers giggling and laughing just a little to loud. I liked being able to get any type of coffee or tea creation. Probably the one thing I never went for that most did was the free WiFi. I found it easy to shut off Internet access and write. I stopped going because of bad weather, calorie intake, and maybe that one  nosy interrupting person.

Next I tried the library. It seems it has been the one place I have always had trouble writing. In one library I couldn’t get any work done. One of the Assistant Librarians knew me from around the neighborhood and would love to chat with me. He was loud for the library and even said embarrassing, inappropriate things that got looks from other patrons and workers. Needless to say it made me feel uncomfortable. I tried to be polite but it was an every visit occurrence so I stop going to that location and tried another. I realized from another library location I have always believed libraries are too quiet. Hearing every turn of a page can be maddening when I’m trying to write. I look up from the screen with every movement.

I think the best writing I do is when I’m on vacation or away. A new city, place, and constant stimulation. I know what I have to write about and the short amount of time I have to write.  It’s not story writing but journal writing and who cares? I write like a fiend. (Sorry for the cliche). I don’t care about imperfections just as long as I get everything I want to remember down. The air, sights, sounds, and the events of the day.

Lately I’ve been writing from home. I make my own tea and use the Coffitivity or Rainy Cafe website to get the ambient sound I need to write. When I need to leave I take a walk around the block or to the dog park to clear my mind. It always helps to watch my dog, Lana, run free from the leash and tumble around with her doggy friends.

Do you find going someplace helps you write? What place has inspired you? Or do you need complete silence to get words down on the page?

Writing Fever

I write better at times away from home. Is it the clique atmosphere that makes the brain click and starts it running with poetic verse? Or is it the different location. The place that is not your own. New sensations? If it’s the nature noise and the city quite or the drown of the city’s loud buss and the stillness of the rural areas. Away, the words come. The mind loosens up. There is distance between your T.V. or fast internet and you can’t drift away from the page. The clock’s clicking doesn’t echo or count down but the word count increases.

Look At This Mug

A great gift for a wanna be author is this mug I got from my Other for my birthday. A favorite on my Etsy list, now I own. If you want or you know someone who would like fun mugs like this one you should check out LennyMud. All ready it is keeping me company while I try and type all my novel ideas. I am nervous about my clumsy ways but I have promised to use it. Not let it sit up on a shelf as if untouched equals protected.

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I don’t think I will be posting next week since I will be on vacation and I don’t know if the wifi is free where I’m going. Also, I have a belief vacation is to get away from it all and not be working. Also, vacation reminds me how much I love staying off social networks and being away from the stresses of the everyday grind.

Hope everyone has a good week!

A Travel Book Can’t Tell You Everything So I Tried

I wrote a topic for Fodor’s forum. After my recent trip to Germany I spontaneously stopped at Schloss Harburg. I was upset and shocked that the Fodor’s edition I carried with me mentioned the location of the castle on the map but had no information listed in the book. Not every adventure is planned and it was a nice stop after a long time stuck in the car. When I returned home I looked on their website to see if I was more prepared and looked be for leaving was the information attainable? But the Fodor’s website offered no information. So I wrote a forum topic on Schloss Harburg. It is my first attempt writing travel even if it is a forum. Check it out. Leave comments. Hope it helps others looking for this same information. Tell me what you think.
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Schloss Harburg Southern Germany

Can’t Get Out

July 1, 2012

She had the idea that maybe she would leave. If not today then Thursday. She would drive to Boston, walk around town, and take pictures. She would climb the tower again and look around a city going about their business. She thought about the city that had people with purpose.

The more she thought about it the more she knew she wanted to visit a city she hadn’t see. Not Boston, Atlantic City, or Washington DC. She knew she shouldn’t keep thinking of running away to get away from her problems. She knew they would just follow her. She was forever trapped to be unhappy. She thought, I guess it is better to be loved even if you didn’t really love back.