Pieces Part Seventeen
Apr. 19th, 2006 05:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
measured_wordsWell, better ate than never, right? I am still a week behind, and hopefully it won't get any worse than that. I still have a paper due on Tuesday, though, so we shall see. In any case, enjoy! I am going to go outside and read in the sunshine for a bit :)
Other Pieces
This afternoon I purchased some small picture frames, so that I can set two of the pictures Anna gave me out where I can see them I my apartment. On is a free standing frame for my favourite shot from the album – I presume it must be from this past summer, as Danny looks older. He and Anna are on swings together at some grassy park, laughing or smiling for the camera. She is wearing jeans and a yellow top with green and pink embroidered flowers, and he is wearing red shorts and a red, blue, and white striped t-shirt. Anna's hair is down, and they are both barefoot. It will go on the coffee table in the living room. A second picture, a more formally posed school shot of Danny in a light blue short sleeved dress shirt and navy blue shorts, will go on my dresser. He is smiling there as well, but he still seems more serious. He really does look like me.
Anna also included a wallet sized print of the picture on the album cover. I'm not sure I have any right to it, and so far it has remained in the album. I waver between being overwhelmed by the thought of having a son, and overwhelmed by the distance between him and me. What does he think of me? I am wary of meeting him. Seeing Anna was hard, but we at least already share a connection. How can I connect with Danny? I have no experience with children.
Looking through the album was less difficult than I'd anticipated, possibly because of that distance. I waited until my headache cleared, which wasn't until yesterday. I felt calmer after that, but the episode itself is still worrying – both the headache and my reactions around Anna. I am torn between wishing that I had a better idea of what would pass for normal in this situation and worrying that if I did I would simply act the expected part. It is better this way, but harder.
I wonder what Anna's impressions were. She seemed concerned, and nervous. Was I what she expected? There is still so much to resolve, and so many things we still need to discuss. I don't think she is sure what to do about her family, and neither am I. I still need more information. I need to speak to Victor again, but I apparently need to wait until he contacts me. His blog notes that his company is transferring him, at least, so that should be soon.
I am headed downtown to visit Off The Rack, a small store that specializes in small press books and comics, and also hosts a large collection of vintage comics, magazines, and related paraphernalia. My afternoon is free. I used to come here when we were in the area to see if Dmitri, the store owner, had turned up anything nee I could add to my pulp magazine collection. It isn't a hobby I feel very connected to at the moment, but it is one of the few places in Portland that interested, and was important to, me alone. This is in a sense an experiment – to judge my own reactions and interest and to see if I can feel any sort of connection to people, places, and things that did interest me before. Perhaps I can find something to help fill some of my empty days.
I park in a paid lot two blocks away. I am not even sure that the store will still be open, or what its hours are. If I can at least find these things out, my trip will not be entirely futile. The neighborhood has changed some. This lot is larger, as an older brick building has been replaced with a four story modern structure that takes up less street frontage and provides more space inside. As with most buildings in the part of town, the bottom floor hosts a few small businesses (a chocolatier and a boutique selling locally produced glass crafts), with offices (a law firm – Tate, Greyson & Amberly) above. Some other buildings have been renovated, and some of the businesses I recall have moved or closed.
There is a fair amount of foot traffic at the moment, which seems to be mainly professionals. There are a number of eating establishments in the area, and at 12h52 they are probably returning from lunch. Other people are presumably in the area on other business, as I am. The street apparently has more permanent residents as well – I can smell urine and other human filth wafting out of some of the narrow alleys between the buildings, and there is other evidence of the homeless – some thick cardboard stashed inconspicuously behind a dumpster hiding a bundle of blankets. Down the street three blocks, I see a short woman wearing a motley collection of flannel shirts rifling through a public trash receptacle for recyclables.
The people I pass all ignore me – I am never notable, and especially not when I wish to be anonymous. This is usually convenient when I am simply passing through some place and don't wish to be harassed. Anna used to tell me that I shouldn't discourage such minor human contacts, because it was good to be reminded that other people were real, and of the commonness of the human condition. She would often tell me about how she was approached by some person in apparent need, and bought them lunch, or coffee, or even liquor. It made her feel good, to help on such a small scale. These same people simply never approached me. I told her, and believed then, that I had a larger picture in mind. A technological solution for everything.
I can see Off The Rack's storefront from here. The building has been repainted, but looks largely the same. There is a sandwich board on the sidewalk outside, just as I remember, listing the wares available inside: comics, magazines, rare books, materials from independent presses. A younger man with dyed black hair is exiting the shop and turning up the street away from me, looking over a purchase of comics judging from the size of the brown paper bag. I'm not sure if I would or would not prefer that there be other patrons around when I go in, but the business was never brisk and it is more likely to be empty.
The store window currently displays a number of large cardboard cut outs of some popular characters from the 50's and early 60's – Superman, Batman, the Flash, the Phantom, and some more obscure figures I don't recognize. In front of this assembly are three easels featuring local independently published books. I push open the door, which chimes electronically. Inside, the shop looks much as I remember it. The layout is the same, with a stand displaying newly released magazines and comics to the left, a locked glass shelf with various collectors' items in the centre and to the right, alphabetized drawers of back issues of the titles carried here. The counter is directly at the back of the store, in front of the entrance to the back room where more valuable items are kept.
I don't recognize the girl sitting at the counter. She is young, probably just out of high school. Her hair is a dark blonde, cut short to frame her face. She looks up from a book and smiles politely. There is a slight resemblance between her and Dimitri, but she is too young to be his daughter and too old for the next generation removed. Perhaps I am imagining it. I know that if they have anything I might be interested in, it will be kept in the back. She perks up a little more as I approach.
"Hello, can I help you?" She sets her book aside.
"Yes. I haven't been in here in quite some time, but I collect old pulp magazines."
"Oh, okay. Do you have an account here?"
"I used to, but it has been a few years now." Almost seven, in fact. This place seems unchanged, save for the girl. The world goes on.
"Well, give me your name and I'll check anyway. My uncle hates throwing things out."
"Daniel Graves."
She nods. "Are there any particular titles or issues that you are looking for?"
"Any of the very early editions of The Avenger, and… any of The Shadow magazines."
"Okay, I'll go check." She stands – she is fairly short, another resemblance to Dimitri -and steps into the back room.
I remember exactly what was in my collection before. I wonder if Anna still has it. Some of the issues I had were quite valuable, including all of the Shiwan Khan stories. Maybe I should start again, if this is even something I want to do. It's expensive, and I'm hardly settled at the moment. I turn to look through some of the collection on display in the center cabinet. Some of this I recognize. On the top shelf is an autographed picture of Bruce Lee as Kato, addresses to Dimitri, with an appended "not for sale" notice. Beside this are several other framed autographed prints, including a more recent one of Bill Campbell as The Rocketeer from the 1991 film. Below this are a number of cast figures and other paraphernalia from various comic books, most of which I don't recognize.
The clerk returns after a few minutes with something in hand, and sets it gently on the counter top.
"Guess it has been a while since you've been in. We do still have your file, but it stopped being updated a few years ago. Looks like a lot of the stuff that was flagged for you got sold off over e-bay, but we do have this."
The Shadow, December 15 1942, The Money Master, is sitting in a clear plastic bag, backed with a sheet of cardboard for protection. On the cover, a swarthy man in a red smoking jacket sits at a semi-circular desk, leaning on a stack of bills. He is impaling a smaller stack with the tip of a wavy bladed dagger, and other piles of bills and coins surround him. In the background, a blue eyed silhouette of The Shadow watches him from the darkness.
I have read most of the magazines, when they were available as online reprints. This is from the war years, and the villain is a German financier. I remember the story – it has a good fight, and an appearance by the "real" Lamont Cranston. The experience was never the same as reading the actual magazines though – the reprints only included the stories, never the codes, advertisements, and messages allegedly from The Shadow himself. I remember that sense of enjoyment, of feeling a closer connection to the characters, to the stories, and to the era that produced them, but it isn't the same as experiencing those feelings again. Perhaps it is enough for now.
"How much is this one?"
"Two fifty five. It's in good condition, if you want to look at the pages… There is a small crack in the spine, though."
"That's fine. Do you still carry the archive boxes?"
"Of course." She seems quite pleased at conducting such a simple sale. I could examine the merchandise more critically, but the prices here have always been reasonable. The condition isn't what interests me, in any case.
"I'll get one of those as well."
"Great! Does it matter what color?" I shake my head. "I'll just be a second then."
While she returns out back, I count out the money, including taxes and estimating the price of the box. A few minutes later, I exit the shop with my purchase, the magazine tucked safely in the flat black document box. I will try reading it tonight after I have finished framing the pictures.
Other Pieces
This afternoon I purchased some small picture frames, so that I can set two of the pictures Anna gave me out where I can see them I my apartment. On is a free standing frame for my favourite shot from the album – I presume it must be from this past summer, as Danny looks older. He and Anna are on swings together at some grassy park, laughing or smiling for the camera. She is wearing jeans and a yellow top with green and pink embroidered flowers, and he is wearing red shorts and a red, blue, and white striped t-shirt. Anna's hair is down, and they are both barefoot. It will go on the coffee table in the living room. A second picture, a more formally posed school shot of Danny in a light blue short sleeved dress shirt and navy blue shorts, will go on my dresser. He is smiling there as well, but he still seems more serious. He really does look like me.
Anna also included a wallet sized print of the picture on the album cover. I'm not sure I have any right to it, and so far it has remained in the album. I waver between being overwhelmed by the thought of having a son, and overwhelmed by the distance between him and me. What does he think of me? I am wary of meeting him. Seeing Anna was hard, but we at least already share a connection. How can I connect with Danny? I have no experience with children.
Looking through the album was less difficult than I'd anticipated, possibly because of that distance. I waited until my headache cleared, which wasn't until yesterday. I felt calmer after that, but the episode itself is still worrying – both the headache and my reactions around Anna. I am torn between wishing that I had a better idea of what would pass for normal in this situation and worrying that if I did I would simply act the expected part. It is better this way, but harder.
I wonder what Anna's impressions were. She seemed concerned, and nervous. Was I what she expected? There is still so much to resolve, and so many things we still need to discuss. I don't think she is sure what to do about her family, and neither am I. I still need more information. I need to speak to Victor again, but I apparently need to wait until he contacts me. His blog notes that his company is transferring him, at least, so that should be soon.
I am headed downtown to visit Off The Rack, a small store that specializes in small press books and comics, and also hosts a large collection of vintage comics, magazines, and related paraphernalia. My afternoon is free. I used to come here when we were in the area to see if Dmitri, the store owner, had turned up anything nee I could add to my pulp magazine collection. It isn't a hobby I feel very connected to at the moment, but it is one of the few places in Portland that interested, and was important to, me alone. This is in a sense an experiment – to judge my own reactions and interest and to see if I can feel any sort of connection to people, places, and things that did interest me before. Perhaps I can find something to help fill some of my empty days.
I park in a paid lot two blocks away. I am not even sure that the store will still be open, or what its hours are. If I can at least find these things out, my trip will not be entirely futile. The neighborhood has changed some. This lot is larger, as an older brick building has been replaced with a four story modern structure that takes up less street frontage and provides more space inside. As with most buildings in the part of town, the bottom floor hosts a few small businesses (a chocolatier and a boutique selling locally produced glass crafts), with offices (a law firm – Tate, Greyson & Amberly) above. Some other buildings have been renovated, and some of the businesses I recall have moved or closed.
There is a fair amount of foot traffic at the moment, which seems to be mainly professionals. There are a number of eating establishments in the area, and at 12h52 they are probably returning from lunch. Other people are presumably in the area on other business, as I am. The street apparently has more permanent residents as well – I can smell urine and other human filth wafting out of some of the narrow alleys between the buildings, and there is other evidence of the homeless – some thick cardboard stashed inconspicuously behind a dumpster hiding a bundle of blankets. Down the street three blocks, I see a short woman wearing a motley collection of flannel shirts rifling through a public trash receptacle for recyclables.
The people I pass all ignore me – I am never notable, and especially not when I wish to be anonymous. This is usually convenient when I am simply passing through some place and don't wish to be harassed. Anna used to tell me that I shouldn't discourage such minor human contacts, because it was good to be reminded that other people were real, and of the commonness of the human condition. She would often tell me about how she was approached by some person in apparent need, and bought them lunch, or coffee, or even liquor. It made her feel good, to help on such a small scale. These same people simply never approached me. I told her, and believed then, that I had a larger picture in mind. A technological solution for everything.
I can see Off The Rack's storefront from here. The building has been repainted, but looks largely the same. There is a sandwich board on the sidewalk outside, just as I remember, listing the wares available inside: comics, magazines, rare books, materials from independent presses. A younger man with dyed black hair is exiting the shop and turning up the street away from me, looking over a purchase of comics judging from the size of the brown paper bag. I'm not sure if I would or would not prefer that there be other patrons around when I go in, but the business was never brisk and it is more likely to be empty.
The store window currently displays a number of large cardboard cut outs of some popular characters from the 50's and early 60's – Superman, Batman, the Flash, the Phantom, and some more obscure figures I don't recognize. In front of this assembly are three easels featuring local independently published books. I push open the door, which chimes electronically. Inside, the shop looks much as I remember it. The layout is the same, with a stand displaying newly released magazines and comics to the left, a locked glass shelf with various collectors' items in the centre and to the right, alphabetized drawers of back issues of the titles carried here. The counter is directly at the back of the store, in front of the entrance to the back room where more valuable items are kept.
I don't recognize the girl sitting at the counter. She is young, probably just out of high school. Her hair is a dark blonde, cut short to frame her face. She looks up from a book and smiles politely. There is a slight resemblance between her and Dimitri, but she is too young to be his daughter and too old for the next generation removed. Perhaps I am imagining it. I know that if they have anything I might be interested in, it will be kept in the back. She perks up a little more as I approach.
"Hello, can I help you?" She sets her book aside.
"Yes. I haven't been in here in quite some time, but I collect old pulp magazines."
"Oh, okay. Do you have an account here?"
"I used to, but it has been a few years now." Almost seven, in fact. This place seems unchanged, save for the girl. The world goes on.
"Well, give me your name and I'll check anyway. My uncle hates throwing things out."
"Daniel Graves."
She nods. "Are there any particular titles or issues that you are looking for?"
"Any of the very early editions of The Avenger, and… any of The Shadow magazines."
"Okay, I'll go check." She stands – she is fairly short, another resemblance to Dimitri -and steps into the back room.
I remember exactly what was in my collection before. I wonder if Anna still has it. Some of the issues I had were quite valuable, including all of the Shiwan Khan stories. Maybe I should start again, if this is even something I want to do. It's expensive, and I'm hardly settled at the moment. I turn to look through some of the collection on display in the center cabinet. Some of this I recognize. On the top shelf is an autographed picture of Bruce Lee as Kato, addresses to Dimitri, with an appended "not for sale" notice. Beside this are several other framed autographed prints, including a more recent one of Bill Campbell as The Rocketeer from the 1991 film. Below this are a number of cast figures and other paraphernalia from various comic books, most of which I don't recognize.
The clerk returns after a few minutes with something in hand, and sets it gently on the counter top.
"Guess it has been a while since you've been in. We do still have your file, but it stopped being updated a few years ago. Looks like a lot of the stuff that was flagged for you got sold off over e-bay, but we do have this."
The Shadow, December 15 1942, The Money Master, is sitting in a clear plastic bag, backed with a sheet of cardboard for protection. On the cover, a swarthy man in a red smoking jacket sits at a semi-circular desk, leaning on a stack of bills. He is impaling a smaller stack with the tip of a wavy bladed dagger, and other piles of bills and coins surround him. In the background, a blue eyed silhouette of The Shadow watches him from the darkness.
I have read most of the magazines, when they were available as online reprints. This is from the war years, and the villain is a German financier. I remember the story – it has a good fight, and an appearance by the "real" Lamont Cranston. The experience was never the same as reading the actual magazines though – the reprints only included the stories, never the codes, advertisements, and messages allegedly from The Shadow himself. I remember that sense of enjoyment, of feeling a closer connection to the characters, to the stories, and to the era that produced them, but it isn't the same as experiencing those feelings again. Perhaps it is enough for now.
"How much is this one?"
"Two fifty five. It's in good condition, if you want to look at the pages… There is a small crack in the spine, though."
"That's fine. Do you still carry the archive boxes?"
"Of course." She seems quite pleased at conducting such a simple sale. I could examine the merchandise more critically, but the prices here have always been reasonable. The condition isn't what interests me, in any case.
"I'll get one of those as well."
"Great! Does it matter what color?" I shake my head. "I'll just be a second then."
While she returns out back, I count out the money, including taxes and estimating the price of the box. A few minutes later, I exit the shop with my purchase, the magazine tucked safely in the flat black document box. I will try reading it tonight after I have finished framing the pictures.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-05-10 06:07 pm (UTC)"The street apparently has more permanent residence as well" - should it be residents?
"because it was good to remember that other people were real, and of the commonness of the human condition." Is there a word missing in this sentence? It seems a bit off.
"Bruce Li as Kato, addresses to Dimitri" - Isn't it usually Lee? And addressed.
"I could examine the merchandise ore critically" - more
So, how much is Daniel you? ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-05-10 06:13 pm (UTC)But the Shadow is something I think he would like, and also suits him. Come on, having the power to cloud men's minds and using it to fight justice? With Science? Although in the pulps he didn't actually have the power to cloud men's minds, but still. :D