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Kindl(e)-ing – The Haitwo

It’s a Brave New World!

Just adopt our fantastic

Plastic point of view…


Dial E- for Evil…     Part the Second

Back to the I-Pad for some Nook-ie


A Brave New World?

I’ll hold my breath, E-rat, but I don’t think it will get better. [1]

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I am not about to jump on the e-book e-band e-wagon!


I am having trouble enough wrapping my head around the latest trend of a book cover’s need to graciously announce to me that it is indeed ‘A Novel. [2] Call me old-fashioned. Why would I give myself over to the E-side?


No amount of gigas of convincing will work. I won’t be going back to your I-pad for any Nook-ie.


I will not be moved; I will not be shaken.


I will tell you why.


Hell no – I won’t glow!


I like to curl up with a good book, not a flat screen thermonuclear reactor.

It probably isn’t THAT bad, but I’m just a wee bit nutso. Remind me of the fact that my cell phone is giving me a tumor via my ear canal and I will immediately cast it aside in horror and return my eyes to the road. My ear will tingle for about three days until I ‘goldfish’ [3] that little factoid and resume my cellphone lifestyle and textual relationships.

It’s not that I’m a Technophobe; I’m more a Tumorfreephile.

I fall asleep with books and wake up with them either on my head or being utilized as a pillow booster seat. I dread the idea of some variety of Kindley ™ product pulsing by my face all night like a lightbulb and latex creation from circa 70’s Doctor Who. [4] Best case scenario: I’d wind up with <> burnt on my retina as a permanent after image.

Thank you-no!


I am not a Nook!


I will be the first to admit I have never had a love affair with Barnes & Nobles. I’ve always been a Borders girl and really have a bad case of ‘Readers without Borders’ Syndrome.


Dear Borders,
I’m sorry using my 25-50% off coupons every week made you go bankrupt.
It was really super fun while it lasted!

 P.S. I miss your Sugar and Spice holiday coffee drink. I bought a quart of the syrup for 3 dollars at the bankruptcy sale and it doesn’t taste the same. I like to believe it is from the lack of love and not the fact that it was 6 months past expiration.


I have had to return to a Barnes & Nobles world with my tail between my legs and we are mixing as well as Merlot and late night e-mailing.


I have also encountered The Nook Man.


Firstly, Sir, your waving of your little device in my face while surrounded by two stories of books is a little too ‘Le Roi est mort, vive le Roi!’ paradoxical for my tastes.

Secondly, you are kind of a d*ck!


I guess looks can be deceiving. He looks like Burl Ives.

Hai Kulture, Pop Culture, Entertainment, Humor, Poetry, Essays, Television, Cryogenic Burl Ives

That’s close (but without the ‘snow face’)

So more like…

Hai Kulture, Pop Culture, Poetry, Essay, Enterainment, Television, Humor, The Cryogenic Stages of Burl Ives

Eh, close enough…

I don’t think it is beyond reason for me to expect him to be holly and jolly and not douchey and well…douchey.

I’m pretty much black and white. I love many, many things and hate the remainders. (Pudding: YUM! Rice Pudding: Abomination!). There is no middle ground and I am quick to judge. Once you land in my mental Gitmo, you aren’t likely to see the light of day and feel the warmth of my sunny disposition again. On my first queasy return to the dark woods and green mile carpets of B&N, in the very first minute, I witnessed this exchange:


Poor Confused Woman with Child: Can you tell me where the art books are?


Nook Man in all his Nookiness: The information desk is over there. *sniff*


Oh-that sniff. Never, never, never punctuate a sentence with a sniff. I may be a little over-sensitive to snifferage as I am often mistakenly mistaken for a person who may steal from your establishment [5], but I’m not unreasonable. I’ll forgive high pollen counts, flu face fauceting, I-just-rubbed-my-cat-all-over-your-face issues, and nostrils packed with The Anthrax. This was the sniff of privilege. This was the sniff of ‘I can’t be bothered’. This was the ‘I am Nook Man-hear me sniff!’ sniff.


This was the sniff of rude. Welcome to my circle of enemies.


He knew damn well where the art books were. He is an employee of the store. I can’t believe all he ever does is march up to his little oh-so-clever Nook nook every morning and begin to play with his snake oils. Not to set foot anywhere else is just a wee bit too Kafka-esque for anyone. Even if he was unsure, it was merely a matter of ‘upstairs’ vs ‘downstairs’ to hold the side of nasal dismissal and be passing helpful.

He became the bane of my Barnes and Nobles existence right then and there. Now, as I pass through the double double-doored vestibule lined with ‘Please Steal These’ short-listers, I take pause. I prepare for battle. Directly across from the entrance he waits behind his little wall, smug and sniffing with a penchant for sweater vests like it’s College Fair Day and he has a pamphlet too precious to spare me for an institution I had better safety net more than the Wallendas did.

I am ready for you Nook Man. I push past the 3 dollar Self-Henna kits that call to me. I bounce through the heavy doors with some difficulty, as they aren’t very bounce friendly. I stand directly across from him. I feel the brief intake of air across my cheek as he prepares a sniff. Innocently, I turn my head from side to side, as if getting my bearings and say ‘a-hole’ just under my breath as I bounce off to my desired bits of shelvery.

Sweet, sweet subliminal victory!


Recently, for some reason, he was dressed in Darth Vader garb, but with his ‘Burly’ countenance looked more like an off his meds Lucas shambling about a Skywalker Ranch BBQ. Steeled by the sugary liquid courage of two raspberry Italian sodas, I approached, feigning interest in his Nookery. I flashed him my most Industrial Light & Magic of smiles and with eyebrow arched at his wardrobe, simply informed him: ‘That’s not really working out for me…’

Exeunt Hai and Bouncing.


I’m loathe to admit this, but if Nook Man was indeed a more ‘the holly and the Ivesy’ grandpa character, he might have an e-customer in me. Every year, Yukon Cornelius and the gang decorate my entertainment center. I would have trusted this chap on beard alone with the same unquestioning acceptance I give a waistcoated snowman who leaves snail tracks in the snow without any means of momentum. Sadly, his tale of ‘Bumbles,’ told by an idiot lantern, is full of light and pixels and signifies nothing.


I’m Uneasy Being Green


Pop Culture Hai Kulture Essay Humor Poetry Entertainment Soylent Green Meme

Soylent Meme


People have tried to convince me that e-readers are green. I think I’ve bundled enough newspapers and separated enough glass from plastic to read a book and still hug a tree. Books (and probably the occasional 3 dollar Self-Henna kits) are pulped and repulped daily to make – get this – more books! They have a life cycle and I’m fine with that. I don’t want to tread on any butterflies in that regard. [6]. I don’t really know if green is the new black. Soylent Green was about as green as you can get and that was made out of SPOILER ALERT. [7] I don’t really want to munch down on Edward G. Robinson with as much gusto as I would give the opposite of Fig Newtons. I don’t know what Soylent Read is made out of, but I know it’s not paper. [8]


Angry Birds and Albatross


I already have a plethora of albatrossi around my neck.

Is someone really going to steal my stupid book with the wizard on it?


Pop Culture Hai Kulture Haiku Essay Poetry Entertainment Tech Humor

Rhyme of the New Technology


  Hai Kulture Poetry Pop Culture Essay Humor Entertainment  ‘Hey there Kindle Lady! You look real sassy! Do you know where I am? I’m over here, splashing around in the sand and the surf! Do you know where my stupid book with the wizard on the cover is? On my chair! Come on and join me! I give your Kindle a 98% chance of *poof* before your toe hits water! [9]




You had better chain that albatross round your neck like a wallet in a nu metal band.


There’s Sex-e and there’s Sexy.


There’s no E- in aphrodisiac.


Books are sexy. The smell of books can be intoxicating. The scent of a bookstore always tickles my nose like the faint musk on an absent partner’s bedside. I have dreamt of walking through bookstores in varying amounts of underthings. I have felt the breeze of turned pages kiss my skin. I have heard the lover’s whisper of word laden parchment as it unfurls. I have pulled volumes atop me to feel the weight of their embrace. I have danced forbiddenly amongst shelves in my nightscapes.


Radio Shack- not so much.


I’m buying an ethernet cable-why do you need my address?




E- and I- and You – Not Me


Books hold too much life to be binaried by I’s and E’s. They tell stories. Characters grow, live, laugh, cry, and die amidst their pages. An author, a person, a human being shares these tales, binds a glimpse of their soul between two covers. Books are to be held and to be loved.

When is a book not a book? When it’s a download. When is a bed not a bed? When is a chair not a chair? When it’s a museum piece. Behind velvet ropes there is functionality without any use. We can look, but we can’t really touch. How much can be felt without truly feeling.

How can I bury my nose in a book when all I’ll do is smudge the screen?


I fear for the words on glass as much as I do for the ones behind it.

 —Hai [10]/[11]





Meta-Notoriety    (↵ returns to text)
  1. No offense, Aladdin, I’m more a ‘Never had a Friend like Me’ girl. *wah wah wah waaaaahh wah* I love that part!
  2. Really? REALLY?!?! I never would have known!

    I operate under the assumption that anything that truly feels the need to announce that it is ‘A Novel’ will most likely wind up as ‘A Coaster’.

  3. I transit very poorly from short-term to long-term memory. Sherlock Holmes described the human memory as an attic and I can never seem to pull the string hard enough to get those weird folding laddery-step thingies to fall out of the ceiling panel-mabob.  I call it ‘goldfishing’. My friends call it ‘quirky’. My mom calls it ‘the implication of recreational drug use’.
  4. Oh BBC Radiophonic Workshop – was there nothing you couldn’t do with discarded washer woman gloves, Christmas lights, and a never-ending supply of abandoned gravel pits!
  5. These strategically ripped tights are the retro-grading height of geekanista people! I’m not the bloody Artful Dodger!
  6. ‘The Sound of Thunder’ by Ray Bradbury. Step on a crack – you break your mother’s back. Step on a butterfly – yu fook upp evreetheeng!
  7. Hai Kulture, Pop Culture, Haiku, Poetry, Essay, Humor, Entertainment, Film, Soylent Green


    C’mon! Am I really spoiling anything here?


    (I hope you had fun doing that Mr. Hartman. You always made me smile. 🙁 )




  9. I just returned from a beach vacation with every stupid book with a wizard on the cover intact. <<Click Here for Booyah!>>
  10. I’ll continue to fight the good fight. But my heart is heavy, for I know, Dear Reader, that in a way this message was brought to you today by the letter
  11. Ku-dos to ‘The Balcs’ for  giving me the idea for this piece during a 5 minute text conversation that started on Huxley and degraded to a want of mini nachos.

Kindl(e)-ing – The Haiku

Page turner? <Tap Screen>

Books dwindling Kindl(e)ing

All Pulp’d Fiction


Dial  E  for  E-vil…     Part the First

Fahrenheit 1832


I enjoy books.


I like to turn pages. I like to hold books. I need chaperones in bookstores, as I wear my old coat to buy the new book. When I travel, books are security. [1] I can always retreat to the safe haven of dog-eared page 112 in a strange place. At home, I stack and shelve good books, like a Collyer Starter Kit. [2] I throw bad books across the room. I  awake  on the sofa to a book on my face and reading glasses pokes to my side more times than I care to mention.


I like to read.


And mostly, I read garbage. [3] / [4]


Cast aspersions and arch eyebrows all you want at wizards, dragons, and vampires – the song remains the same: I enjoy books. I like to read.


Reading is FUNdamental


Reading is a rainbow.


I said: ‘Reading is good. Can we start the story now?’


Sure, here’s the story…


Just let me find my book.


The thing is – I can’t. On a recent Amazon mousing-spree, I discovered two new words for my urbane dictionary. Well, two words and a not-word bit:

e-book only 


Look at that ‘e hyphen’. *shudder*

It doesn’t belong there. It just dangles like a hair to be plucked, a hangnail to be trimmed, a strange alphabetic blotch you better have checked by your physician. Your book has a growth and it’s not long for this world.

My books were gone. [5] Well-they were there.  Let’s not split e-hairs. I just couldn’t get them in the mail. I just couldn’t hold them. I just couldn’t love them. My books had become The Boy in the Plastic Bubble [6]

The Amazon screen just stared back at me coolly. It didn’t understand me. ‘You can still have them’, it seemed to say with a mocking, haughty flicker,’No fuss. No muss. No mail.’

‘The time has come to futureproof your reading, Sweetheart…’

‘…or weren’t you aware?’

‘Just wait five seconds for this little bar to fill and…’

My palm slapped the screen as if to cover a cathode monster’s face with no afghan at the ready. The static monitor charge tickled my fingers like the coax of a faltering, unfamiliar lover.

I buried my face in invisible pillows to avoid the smug wink of the monitor and the inevitable subliminal sales pitch as old as time. Words used to convince and cajole since Neolithic wheel salesmen walked the Earth, hair slicked back with  primordial ooze.

‘You know you want it…’


It didn’t know me.


I wanted fuss. I wanted muss. I wanted packages.


I wanted books.


Things to read. Things to hold. Things to love.


Not things to click or slide or flick or drag.


Things to open.




Books are meant to be opened –  for they are gifts.


I Sing the Body Electric!


And turn a deaf ear to the sirens’ call of the Body Electric-Electric…

Pop Culture Haiku Literature Tech Kindle Entertainment Humor

Fahrenheit 1832 


(To Be Continued)






Meta-Notoriety    (↵ returns to text)
  1. Books are grand security blankets. However, Sir Hops-a-lot, valiant Knight of the Pond Table, always does his part at night.  He lost an eye defending me during the Great Shadow that Looked like a Clown Attack of  ’80. I love you – Sir Hops-a-lot!
  2. Those Darn Collyer Brothers (’47, Columbia Pictures) I have been told I would straddle the hoarder fence, if there wasn’t so much junk in the way. I’m fine. I just have stuff. I haven’t taken to booby-trapping stacks of old newspapers. Now, Ariel the Mermaid-she’s a hoarder. Go intervent her.
  3. Wizard or Dragon on the cover? Check. Enticing cover art that looks like it should be called ‘The Wizard’s Concubine’ and has nothing to do with the story? Check. Possible vampires turned private investigator? Check. My reading list is about as predictable as plucky hero amnesia in a JRPG.
  4. I’m not alone. Most of The KuJo read garbage – *ahem* – ‘escapist literature’. Seward was reading Unexplained! Strange Sightings, Incredible Occurrences, & Puzzling Physical Phenomena! New Edition! by Jerome Clark the other day. He said he appreciated the front cover enthusiasm.  
  5. The majority of the middle rungs in Glen Cook’s Garrett P.I. series.  Noir detective in a fantasy setting? These books-so not garbage. Check them out!

    (While you can…….)

  6. Ohmygah! Travolta carrying paint cans in the opening of Saturday Night Fever : cool. Travolta flopping and rolling down the street carrying paint cans with the aid of a robo-rubber glove sticking out of the side of transparent beach ball : e-books.
  7. The temperature at which Silicon burns.  Truism. I crunched some numbers.

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