A Travellerspoint blog

Powell's Bookstore, a place to murder Time

sunny 80 °F

September 13, 2012
Location: Aaron Emerson's House, somewhere North of Portland
It took me a long time to get back to this blog. I've been writing everything by hand, and even now am relaying the following from my notebook to cyberworld.

It's really amazing to me how I can be so tired all day and now that it's time for bed I am completely uninterested in sleep.
We woke up here this morning, in Aaron's house. It was 11 AM, and well deserved after a night of champion-drinking whiskey and wine. We all had stomach aches from picking at our Old Chicago leftovers before going to bed fully dressed. It was the kind of hang over that your body can feel even before you wake up. Around 9, my zombie alias dragged me to the kitchen to chug water and then slumped back in be before alertness could kick in. When Aaron opened the door at 10, there was no going back. We drove him to work and GPSed the nearest Qdoba where I ate an entire 1000 calorie order of Queso Nachos* to avoid the oncoming dry heaves. Afterwards, Zac pulled into the nearest place with wifi and I curled up in the back of the Astrovan nursing my fetal food baby. It was too hot too sleep without shade so I called my mother to make the time pass painfully slower. I tried not to move at all, in fear that I had just paid 7.00 for cheap Mexican food that may make another pass. Luckily, I digested quickly.

We drove back across the bridge to the "city" part of Portland. Our eyes were set on a staple in the PDX community called Powell's Book Store. We were told not to pass it up, and declared a nerd day to find the perfect book. We were only slightly motivated by the fact that lately, we ended each day having racked up several periods of 15 minute segments where we didn't partake in filler conversation. At this point in the trip my voice is his voice, and his is mine. Our stories are of the same people, places, and mishaps. We feel the same about unnecessary chatter in the less vibrant parts of long days, and have started to share quality quiet with one another. Thus, the book hunt.

When we got to the bookstore we were overwhelmed with the smell of parchment and printing press. The place is swarming with Oregonians of all sizes, and equal volume tolerance. We spent the first 30 minutes perusing through the New York Times bestseller shelf, reading bits out loud to each other from books we judged by title. My personal favorites were
"My Heart is an Idiot"
"I Can Pee on That, and other Essays by Cats" and
"Go the Fuck to Sleep," an adult bedtime storybook unsuitable for any parent.
We filled the basket with potential choices and booked our afternoon, literally.
Hours passed as we sat in Powell's cafe, reading a few dozen pages out of every book we grabbed. I was relaxing to get away for a second, and get lost in these stories. Like RandomHouse on crack, we must have debated between half a dozen books for 3 hours before deciding. Zac chose a Bill Bryson novel about traveling across small-town America. Great writer, on sale, cant go wrong. I chose Tina Fey's latest book, "Bossypants". Terrible title, terrific book. I will finish it by tomorrow, making it the fourth quickest read of my life.

Posted by Further 20:51 Archived in USA Tagged bookstore portland bill tina bryson powell's hangover fey

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