I was shelving books at work today and I noticed an elderly gentleman sitting in a chair near the cafe with a book open in his lap. He held the book loosely, though, and his head was tucked low in his chest, eyes closed. I wasn't sure how to react to this. On the one hand, it was a quiet morning and old people are prone to sleeping at feline intervals (exempli gratia, Grandpa Simpson). On the other hand, I'd rather not have a segment of the greatest generation clocking out of this mortal coil in the middle of the store. I mean, what do you do? I could mix up an emergency espresso de cardiac in the cafe to get his heart pumping again a la the OD scene in Pulp Fiction. I could also put a note in his pocket stating "do not resuscitate", and then conveniently excuse myself for a 15 minute break when the paramedics arrive. That'd make 'em think. Ultimately it was a moot point when he woke up a few minutes later and shuffled out of the store. What a pleasant way to go, though- sitting in a bookstore with nothing better to do. It's better than Vitto Corleone got, at least.

The rest of the day was similarly uneventful, but with nothing else worth expounding on. I bought Mule Variations by Tom Waits yesterday and I'm quite happy with my (riaa-free) purchase. Also, go check out my brother's blog in the links column. He's the best writer I know. He's been editing nearly everything I've ever written on-line since we had Prodigy back in the day, so his grammar is gospel and I'll fight anyone bare-knuckle who disagrees.