Summer Anvil Drop
I took this snap just as a watermelon exploded all over this car that was being softened up for the Annual Anvil Drop that happens at the tool shop just down the road on Washington Avenue. When the Anvil finally fell the car was annihilated. There was a band in the back playing the “Anvil Drop Anthem” while the crowd milled about eating hot dogs and ogling the latest line of Mikita power tools.
Before The Drop, I was out of the office looking forward to my mid afternoon cigarette but found someone had puked all over my favorite smoke spot. The smell was so bad I had to wondered on. I walked down to see if the the book seller was open down the road. He’s been holding a piece for me there for over two weeks. He’s got hours posted but never keeps them. As much as I admire his casual style, it’s been completely annoying as I’ve been to his shop several times lately and he’s not there. Finally today he was open. He said he’d been taking a few sick days and admitted he’d been a little lazy lately. He’s an odd duck but I enjoy hanging out with him. He was very excited about some new titles he had gathered over the weekend and wanted to show them to me. Pretty uninteresting stuff. A weird mix of bad philosophy, German auto manuals from the 70’s, some architecture stuff I had never heard of and some old bibles. It didn’t really matter tho, I knew he wouldn’t sell me any of the stuff, had I been interested. I really don’t know how he stays in business keeping the odd hours he does and refusing to sell anybody anything when they do finally want something. Usually after I rummage through his small dusty stacks and I find the one gem that I want to buy, I’ve still only got a 50/50 chance of him agreeing to sell me the damn thing. I just don’t think collectors like this guy have any business being in business. But, whatever, it’s also a quality I admire in him. I see him as this cultural magistrate who gets to deem whether I’m worthy of his product or not. It’s an exclusive club. Lucky for me, he’s beginning to take a shine to my worthiness.
After convincing him out of some of his precious stock, I headed up to the post office. The line there was horrendous. I hate standing in line. I argued with a guy about the merits of the LeBron James draft. This guy was convinced he was the second coming of Jordan. I didn’t think so. His girlfriend kept putting in her two cents on the subject by telling her man that he (referring to me), “don’t know nothin’ about no Michael Jordan”. Which is true. I can’t argue with her there. But when I’m stuck in a damn line at the post office I tend to start some shit just to entertain my boredom.