I was staying at my brother’s apartment in the interim but it was already three days past our move in date. As Adam, the previous tenant, and I sat in the mostly empty apartment, she repeated that she was doing us a favor by making it easy for us to move in, that she saved us a significant sum of money by not having to get a broker, that we actually owe her. During a pause in the argument I offered that you do things because you want to, not because of their exchange value. That if you expect to get something back, you’ll be disappointed. Brooklyn, New York.
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The space was rented and Adam was amassing books. I started the work of getting the walls into paintable shape, and with the keys, would let myself in by nine. Adam was mostly absent during this part and all of a sudden I felt like an employee. That, but I was also personally invested in the store as poem or process. There is a line on the ceiling, where the purple tin meets the white plaster. The paint follows the curve of heavily layered caulk, letting the brush settle into the contours of aged plastic through the slow and steady press of attention.
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My brother sketched some designs and measurements on the unpainted walls with a pencil. Adam wanted the shelves to run the entire length of the three walls, and we figured the height of each section as a length of a pine board. I had lobbied for used bookshelves, to spare the construction labor and wood. I didn’t consider myself a motivated carpenter and worried that Adam would abandon the project in the middle. Who would do the work? Adam insisted and we built the shelves with a short tutorial from my brother. It took about a week. Staining them took another week, but I cut out in the middle.
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My brother sketched some designs and measurements on the unpainted walls with a pencil. Adam wanted the shelves to run the entire length of the three walls, and we figured the height of each section as a length of a pine board. I had lobbied for used bookshelves, to spare the construction labor and wood. I didn’t consider myself a motivated carpenter and worried that Adam would abandon the project in the middle. Who would do the work? Adam insisted and we built the shelves with a short tutorial from my brother. It took about a week. Staining them took another week, but I cut out in the middle.
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Adam and I were having a drink after the bookstore had closed for the night. At that time I had other work, and with him running the store by himself we didn’t spend much time together. We started talking, then arguing about placing a foot mat at the entrance. The conversation shifted into a discussion of limits. Adam’s insistence that the facilities are relatively low on the priority list and my insistence that the space is as important as the books. Dogs pay little attention to birds. Men to bugs. In terms of poetry, the bookstore as an extension of the imagination.
