Sunday, October 19, 2003
 The New Orleans Public Library had its annual book sale this weekend. I managed to buy more books, cheaply of course, all which are homeless on our bedroom floor as our bookshelves are already filled. One lucky find: Sarah Vowell's newest, The Partly Clouded Patriot, in prestine condition. I was reading it while S pumped the car with gas; from nowhere, it seemed, water drops landed on the car window casting jagged lines across the opening page, a quote from Whitman's Memoranda During the War. It was a beautiful, clear-skied day.
This image struck me for some reason. It's a telephone pole along the natural levee just west of New Orleans. I took the picture while S was walking the dog. We had dinner at a divey place across the street, the Rivershack, that specializes in hamburgers with the promise "We cook it just the way you want it,", though all three of the burgers we ordered came out well done and only two were meant to be so. A silly, minor complaint, though. They filled us up.
The levee at dusk. My mind's as dim as the light in this picture, it seems, after finishing Lethem's The Fortress of Solitude today. The book will stay with me a while; I don't want to let it go yet.
This question mark was carved into the picnic table we ate dinner at tonight. Nothing else around it, as you can see. 
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