iPod Stuck On Repeat, or Still Playing That Song by U2

Stay with me on this one. There's a story and I'm a storyteller, so we'll start with that.

Last week I posted a tale of how I couldn't find Edward Abbey's "Desert Solitaire" for sale in San Francisco. I got lots of great advice, from the Healer on where to find it with Amazon, to this bit of advice from a friend of mine:

Just do what I do - put a hold on it in the library web site. This makes them do the searching in those outlying branches, and if they find it, ship it to your local library at no cost. This eliminates the risk of "I spent two hours on Muni and now it's not on the shelf WTF?"

You're going to see how ironic this all is in about a paragraph. Or two.

So yesterday we were having some things done at the apartment in the morning and I thought to myself, how can I turn this into an adventure for me? I thought, hey, where is that Abbey book I wanted? Which branch of the library? And found out it was in West Portal. Now, I could have followed my friend's recommendation, but I had a hang-up: you mean I'm having someone drive this book to me? This book is an environmental treatise about how they are paving over Arches National Park so that people can wheel themselves up to nature instead of discovering it through roughing it, and I'm supposed to wait for someone to pave the way to the book for me? Seems sacrilegious to what I was supposed to be learning from the book. I felt like I'd be booking a room in the Marriott to read about Walden. (By the way, I have journeyed to Walden. And I've done the Marriott thing. Poor comparison.)

Besides, I had unfinished nostalgia with West Portal. West Portal during the day reads like a forgotten Main Street--families and markets and bookstores and an old, cramped movie theatre. So here was my plan for yesterday:

1. Write at Starbucks, check.
2. Look for the next Maupin book in the "Tales of the City" series, check. I also found a book on the sales table called "Baseball Haiku" that I couldn't resist. (Yes, I looked for Abbey. No dice.)
3. Lunch at Mozzerella di Bufala, where they make my favorite spaghetti bolognese, check.
4. See the last Harry Potter film, check. (Which, by the way, was my first one in a theatre.)
5. Visit Walgreens, check. (West Portal has the Walgreens in the City. Very very little of their garbage is locked up. I love that Walgreens.)
6. Go to the library and pick up "Desert Solitaire."

Yeah, that last one is missing the "check."

It was on hold and in transit. Now, Glen Park library has it. I could have it driven to me. Or I could have tried to hunt down Glen Park Library, before some nimrod put it on hold. And I say "some nimrod" with all of the love in the world, because before I started this crusade last week there were missing copies from the Main Library and four "Check Shelf" copies at the other branches. Now there's ONE open at Glen Park. In other words, between my feed on Twitter and here, I've started a movement.

Well, a four-book movement anyway.

Yes, I said FOUR book movement...because there's more.

I had a lovely day in West Portal, regardless of the main purpose getting lost in the shuffle. I came back to the apartment, changed into cooler clothes (summer sneaked in for a few hours yesterday), and watched "Shrek Forever After" on HBO On Demand. About an hour into the movie my Twitter feed revealed to me a reply from an inquiry I sent a week ago, from a challenge to Green Apple Books and Booksmith--Green Apple had "Desert Solitaire." (Booksmith never said boo, which is odd considering I've talked up their store on the Examiner before.)

I waited until the movie was over and took the 44 bus down to Green Apple. I looked. They didn't have it. (By the way, if you look under their website and click the little "Other Editions of this Title" link, it says they still have it today.) So I went to the counter. Inquired. Told the lovely young lady where I had looked, after a smart aleck behind me said, "Why don't you look under Abbey?" The lovely young lady behind the counter said it might be in the mass market field guides on the floor next to the nature section I looked in. Excellent. I went back up and looked there. Nothing.

I left the library giggling. I left Green Apple ready to cry. Either someone saw the Twitter exchange and bee-lined it for Green Apple, or Green Apple has no frickin' clue of half the titles in its repertoire. (Both are highly possible.) You may ask, Sarah/Jo/Sadie, when you go into these bookstores, where are you looking for this book? It's non-fiction, so here's where I look:

• Nature
• Environmental
• Memoir
• Biography
• Travel
• And, if I get desperate, I assume the worst possible intelligence in the bookstore clerks and look for it with his Fiction

Here are my remaining options:

• Wait for the hype to go down and for me to catch up on the rest of my reading (I now have a stack of books up to my belt buckle), and then go get the damn thing from the library in a manner that would make Abbey spin in his desert pyre--by transferring it to my local branch.
• Order the thing from Alexander's, which has never promised me anything or ignored me for any reason, read the book when it comes in, and donate the book to the library, which obviously needs it.
• Order the thing from Amazon, to ship to me, and wait for Abbey to strike me with lightning. Read the damn thing and donate it to the library.
• Wait and finish the book when I go back down to see my brother again. I think he has the only copy I'm able to touch, but it could have been a mirage.

I like that last one. Kill two birds with one stone, by the method of airline fuel. Curse you, Abbey.

By the way, the Carlsbad Library, my brother and sis-in-love's local, also has just one copy. And it's on hold. Okay, I'm back to giggling. You'll have to wait, Edward. I'm on a quest, and it doesn't involve Amazon or Borders liquidation or empty promises. When you're ready to drop back into my life, I'll find you.

I will climb/Highest mountains/I will run/Through the fields.

And yes, this book is JUST...THAT...GOOD.

Onward, dear reader.

P.S. - This is still the inspiration of where the title of today's Life For Rent comes from. Since we had the Boss last time, thought I would go with the original this time.