May. 24th, 2016

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Untitled This is all of the bus in Anaheim that I felt I could capture without being too creepy. I was riding the bus in Anaheim and that's a fair place to start. For want of a book I was riding the bus. It started a little bit before - Saturday, I guess, because I ran out of the house and took a book, nearly finished, and a book, never glanced at. On the plane I finish the one and find I don't like the other, so in Anaheim I find I need a book. So I'm on the bus in Anaheim, but that's not it, the story - I think it starts before that. For want of a book.

On Thursday the book in question is one of mine - the salesman comes & knows just how to butter me up, he brings a copy of one of my books for me to sign. Flattering, a nice flourish, a good touch - we'd made nice on his first sales call, he came to talk to me about things and saw all the D&D stickers on my bag so he must have looked into me and found out that he could buy a book I made and so he did and brought it for me to sign and to pitch me on a deal. Which was nice. I talked to him and got excited about something and left this book at work, this one I've been meaning to read, I left it at work. So I needed a book, distracted and a little elated, I end up on the bus in Anaheim, for want of a book.

Though it goes back further, if I'm honest, it goes back a year to the project I'm on at work, really two years, it goes back to it beginning, and it's because of that project that I was called on to break out of my habits and go to Anaheim at all, it's because of this software & the work I've put in that I've been sent to Anaheim to attend a seminar and meet the salespeople and listen to the luminaries. It goes back to that, at least, that's reason enough for me to be on a bus in Anaheim looking for a book.

Thought that's not it either, there's a further history that puts me on a bus in Anaheim. I think back, maybe 15 years? At least, as long ago as I've been writing in you dear, dear diary.

When Livejournal was new you'd mention it to your friends, you'd meet people and talk them into joining you'd get all of your friends on old livejournal. It wasn't great though. It was a lot like Facebook, back then - you'd talk your acquaintances to joining & they'd have surveys & pictures & ur-memes, they'd kind of fall down in your esteem so you'd be looking not for people but for journals, good ones. My strategy was based around books. I wanted to find other writers so I looked for them.

The trick, my trick - was to looks for people who shared an interest - remember the interests page? Well, once, all those years ago, there was me and one other person who shared an interest, the only two in the whole internet who had an interest in "out of print books" So I made friends with her, random reaching out - and do you know? Girl could write, painted a really interesting picture of life as a young nomadic mother, a wanderer & adventurer, all those years ago. All for a book, an unnamed book, out of print, unknown & certainly idealized, that scent in it, the jagged edged dust cover, the one dented corner, the multicolored stitches in the binding, you know the one, the hard to find, much discussed one, the one you always wanted but can't quite lay your hands to. She liked that book that was just an idea- was interested in it, and so was I. So we became friends - all those years ago, me a rampager, pornographer nightlife hero, her an over the road mystic seeker adventuress. It was a long time before I really understood what she was saying all the time, and probably just as long for her to get my weird idiom.

For the longest time she was my friend on the internet who I randomly knew, had little in common with and who I never stopped being interested in, never stopped liking. Out in Los Angeles she was living her life, at the end of her mission. I remembered then, when she settled by the ocean, I told her about King Sargon the great - the first ruler of something that could be called an empire. He marched to the sea and he washed his weapons in the ocean. He built a tower in the persian gulf saying just that. That he'd washed his weapons in the sea - signifying that he'd conquered all there was to conquer, that he'd gone to the sea and would not war any longer - for what was there left to war against? I remembered thinking of Sargon the great's victory when she settled at the ocean's edge.

For want of that book, the unknown out of print one, for want of that book we became friends. So I think that's as far back as it goes, because I wouldn't have agreed to go to a conference about software, maybe, probably, if it wasn't in Anaheim, and if I didn't have a chance to meet my oldest internet friend in person by going - so [livejournal.com profile] sholanda really, is the reason, at the bottom of it all, why I'm on a bus in Anaheim getting lost and looking for a book.
Untitled

(She's spectacular by the way. A mystery wrapped in a... No, I didn't miss the reference, and I didn't miss a beat, she'll keep you on your toes in the town, she'll take you all around and show you the best places and speak with endearing knowledge & easy friendly familiarity. We've been friends, all this time, we know each other no? And she's spectacular, by the way, with a ready hot coffee and a generous ride from the airport. She's spectacular, and by the way, it's the premise of this whole mention, so, not in fact, by the way, but by way of all of this I wanted to mention how I'd come to the ocean and washed my bus pass in the sea, having no mass transit yet to conquer, having no more friendly pilgrimages to make...) Well, not this week.

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