Bookbinding Begins / Off To Italy

The great TV network ARTE is doing a lot of rock and roll retrospective this month, and a lot of that is about Elvis. I was watching a bit of it this afternoon but then it was time to run an errand.

Walking down the sidewalk, I heard an Elvis tune coming from an open window. I thought: It's a long time since your last day on Earth, Elvis...an even longer time since those days at Sun Records, and an even longer time since that day in Tupelo when you and your [soon-to-die] twin were born.

Well, hell. Everyone's atoms disperse sooner or later; there's no escaping that fact.

Yet here's your song, 35 years after you died, coming out of a window in Vienna.

Well, long live The King.

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I dropped off the paper to Thomas The Bookbinder this afternoon...told him basically what kind of book I want then said: "As for the rest, why don't you feel free to experiment and put your own artistic touches to the book? How about if I give you 20 Euro extra and you just do what you want?"

"Yah, great! I'll make a good book for you."

We talked about "art." I put the word in quotes because I don't know what "art" "is", and I don't think anybody else does, either. I know what a painting or a photo or a sculpture or a movie "is", but when do these things go from there to "art?" There's no hard and fast rule and therefore, to me, the entire thing is a bullshit construct. But to save time in conversation, I use the word when I mean "stuff you think up, then produce." Which, if you think about it, could be, literally, a turd. And most often is, at least figuratively.

I told him I posted his BUTTERBROT video appearance on this blog, and my paisan Mod, after seeing the video, talked about books and how cool they are and how beautiful they can be when thoughtfully produced. (I love the Bukowski books done by Black Sparrow Press, for example---cover design, printing, the whole shit.) Thomas said: "Ummmm, yah, there are bookbinders and I do that sort of work but I also sometimes creatively modify books in an artistic way. My mother is a painter and my father is a writer so yes, it is natural I should do this. For thirty years I have done this."

 I did something for thirty years once, but I only achieved an average level of competence and I haven't done it at all for five years or more. I sometimes wish I could be really good at something but it looks like I'll have to settle for average. That's how it goes---you won't hear John X songs coming out of a window in Vienna 35 years after I'm dead, that's for sure. And that's for the best, because there are way too many turds floating in the pool as it is.

I gave Thomas some money up front, he gave me a receipt, and I told him I'll call him when we return from Italy.

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B and I are going to Italy until Sunday after next. So the blog is suspended until our return, when I'll do my best to catch up.

My buddy Will wants lots of pictures of Italian women. It's an inexpensive gift and won't crowd my suitcase, so I'll do what I can for him.