Back when I first started working in this area (and was driving from Timonium to Bethesda), part of the marketing push for E. Lynn Harris’s newest book featured this image prominently on a Metro ad:

And it freaked me out, man. Also, the eyes tended to track you wherever you were in the train.

Anyway, for those who don’t know, Harris is an author of genre fiction usually described as “Urban” or “African-American.” (I have my own feelings on how the Bookstore organizes this category, but I’ll save that for another post.) Mr. Harris died this morning during a publicity tour on the west coast.

I haven’t read any of his books, but he’s one of the more popular authors from that section. This actually surprised me, because of all the news lately about feelings in the African-American community regarding homosexuality: his books deal with “black, gay culture.”

As you might imagine, after reading the article, I immediately called over to the Bookstore to let them know. Unfortunately, there’s nothing like a death to inspire people to pick up an author’s works.

Karaoke is singing. I mean, bad, awful, oh my god chop my ears off or pour quick-set concrete into them singing, but singing none-the-less!

Singapore. Little city-state deal somewhere in Asia. Name starts with sing. SING.

You’d think nothing would go better together than Singapore and karaoke.

The annual summit of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) is held to coordinate action on such weighty topics as democracy, economic integration, and climate change. But since 1995, every diplomat worth his or her salt has known that the real reason everyone attends ASEAN is for the infamous skit in which the pan-Pacific power elite get to ham it up, summer-camp style. But don’t think it’s all fun and games. When national pride and diplomatic standing are at stake, skits are serious business.

…Notorious killjoy Singapore cut out the skits at ASEAN amid suggestions, including by ASEAN’s secretary-general, that the song-and-dance numbers were getting too competitive. Sadly, the world won’t get to see if Hillary Clinton can top her predecessors.

But no.

I am not a coffee person. Like, at all. I don’t like the taste, the sight, and especially the smell of coffee. In fact, when I started working at the Bookstore, I had to avoid the cafe because the entire area reeked so much of coffee that it made my stomach churn.

It’s funny, as I’m a generally unhealthy person: I mean, I drink milk, I drink water, I walk to and from destinations as much as possible, but I still eat crap food, drink too much beer and too much soda, and I could probably find time to spend in the gym if I was so motivated. But in terms of keeping my eyes open, I prefer to actually shut my eyes and take a long nap on my Metro ride to or from work.

So, really, the only offering that could possible get me through the front doors of a Starbucks, is this:

The Seattle-based company is testing out a new concept in its hometown: coffeehouses that also serve beer and wine and host live music and book and poetry readings. You know, like what a local coffeehouse used to look like — before Starbucks

Mmm. Beer!

Ironically, I am currently reading “How Starbucks Saved My Life” by Michael Gates Gill [shameless pimping](we’ve got lots of copies of the paperback in our bargain section – $3.99)[/shameless pimping]. Although his prose is a little clunky, and it has a tendency to read like a promotional brochure, it’s redeemed by the tale of how a successful man in his 60s found happiness working in a coffee shop after losing his well paying white-collar job.

In the same way Gill finds satisfaction schlepping lattes, I’ve mentioned a few times to colleagues at the Office that I get most of my job satisfaction from my blue-collar job at the Bookstore: I think that’s because, instead of just typing names and numbers into a web-content database over and over again, I am actually able to feel and see the results of a long Saturday shift: the sweat on my collar, the customer with the anal sex book she couldn’t find, the naked homeless guy running around the store screaming “Wheeeee!”

I have no desire to work at Starbucks.

I can, however, walk into our cafe on occasion. But I never get coffee.

Also, the Bookstore licenses with a Seattle-based coffee chain for the in-store cafe. That chain is owned by Starbucks. So, I guess, technically …