Wednesday, July 27, 2011


JUST came back from my last trip to the bookstore.  It looks like a dump, empty shelves, no gardening magazines or books.  Sixty percent of everything gone.

One good reason not to be proud of being borne here is a culture of obtuse arrogant fools, flag flaunting for any stupid sport event or astronauts and no FUCKING LIBRARIES.

Borders was the only place I could go check what was going on, taking notes or a reference to widen my interests in different fields.

The music stunk, the crowds, particularly children and adolescents acting as in a public park, which is culturally acceptable even in university libraries when I was a student, and even today.

The native book sellers always whining about the competition, multinationals, a little bit of this, a little bit of that, will not take advantage of that sad, trapped consumer,  lacking them balls, imagination and capital.

One thing I will never missed were the pastiche books from 2uglas Kndelabro, the national horticultural jester par excellence.

Who is going to visit the rat holes in Rio Piedras without elbow room, a book repertoire mostly on sociology, literature, politics, history and so on as an offer.?

I guess I am doomed having to find an alternative for those times when I feel I have to leave the premises to feel some printed paper in my fingers. One of the most gratifying memories along me short tempered, irascible dad, the auto repairman, from my dusty childhood.

One thing I will never miss, are the tons of useless books on display from the horticultural jester 2uglas Kndelabro. 

   Borders. RIPSniff sniff.

that is thtat.

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