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Waystations

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Saint Louis Stars

Did you know Saint Louis is named after the French King Louis the 14th? I didn’t. And he isn’t the only celebrated personality connected to this fine city … Introducing a portion of the Saint Louis Walk of Fame ….

You may not recognize this last fellow, but a star he is. I met AJ for the first time in Greece back in June 2004 at Atlantis Books. His brother Craig, who loyal readers of this journal will remember, is one of the founders of the bookstore project and Craig arranged for me to sleep at AJ’s house.

AJ is in Saint Louis attending Washington University – one of the top ten schools in the United States, though the one on the list you are most likely not to have heard of. He lives in this incredible mansion-house with three roomates and epic rooms and stained glass windows. Among his other endeavours, he is an a capella singer and I have a fiendish idea. Remember my friend, the burlesque star Lily Vanderloo? She is currently putting together a new show. What would be better than a burlesque show with an old school/new school barber shop quarter performing between acts? I am totally getting on this idea …

One final note of pride. As a rapidly again fellow, I was somewhat intimidated to be out carousing with vigourous young college men. I am pleased to report that I not only beat AJ at darts, I also drank him not just under the table but into the bathroom as well.

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Cowboys

You know how people say you should get off the Interstate so you can see some real America? Well, you should, ’cause then you see cowboys.

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People and Animals

Ever noticed how happy animals tend to hang out with happy people? In Denver, I was hosted by a lovely woman by the name of Nancy who had this incredible friend Buddy (pictured). Nancy works with wildlife in Colorado and is a tremendous traveller, having just spent two months in Europe. I have been endlessly blessed to have these types of people open their homes to me.

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Onto Salt Lake City

The drive out of Vegas is incredible, with stretches of desert which become running hills which become red cliffs.

But I was more aware of the moral contrast, going from Vegas, a city renowned for its vice, to Salt Lake City, renowned for Mormonism. Having read Under The Banner of Heaven and heard Craig Walzer’s tales of his Mormon inquiry last summer, I wasn’t sure what to expect but the city welcomed me. First, there was the very touching gift of free parking for everybody for the entire month of December. Nice.

Then, there was the King’s English Bookstore. This is a haven of good books, progressive politics, and stunningly good people. The founder, Betsy Burton, has just written a book about her store called The King’s English: Adventures of an Independent Bookseller, a book which has quickly found a place in my heart. There was a Christmas party at the store, so I was sitting there drinking wine, talking death penalty with a district attorney who had just written a book about a famous Salt Lake City murder, being charmed by all these lovely bookstore people (see the photo). I decided Salt Lake City is a damn good place to be.

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Will Murray

When I submitted my manuscript to St. Martin’s, my editor, Mike Flamini, was incredibly supportive. He only asked for a series of small fixes along with one major change: he wanted me to cut a chapter. That chapter was about my trip to Spain with my dear criminal lawyer friend Will Murray. In the end, I agreed with Mike that it was superfluous and since then Will has been dining out on the story of being cut down from a chapter to a few paragraphs. Though, of course, considering the scandalous behaviour I recounted in this chapter, he should be happy with that development.

Will flew out to San Francisco so he could ride along to Las Vegas with me. The times were suitably debauched, though Will greatly impressed me with his stamina when he worked the black jack table until 9.30 in the morning, pocketing an astonishing 125 dollars.

This is him in a cotton field a couple hundred miles outside of Vegas.

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Las Vegas

When I was in Chico, Quinn told me an interesting story. Chico is a huge university town with tens of thousands of students. His ladyfriend Karisha is incredibly in tune with the natural energies and Quinn says that she suffers bouts of stress every December and January because she absorbs all the tension of the students who are frantically preparing for their exams.

I have always believed in the auras surrounding people so this story made sense to me. It made twice as much sense after Vegas. The second I got into the city, I felt irritable and annoyed. I needed an immediate drink to take this desperate edge off and then a bunch more to keep it off. I think I was absorbing the negative energy of the city.

The place abounds with pawn shops and loan joints and these places that will give you money if you sign over your car to them. My first night there, I was amazed by how many beautiful young women were sitting alone in the casino bars at two in the morning until I realized they were all working. Maybe gambling and prostitutes sounds glamorous in a lad’s magazine, but it is desperate and hollow when you see it up close. That part of Vegas has a total bad vibe to it and trying to mask it with the fake Eiffel Tower and all that other Disneylandesque crap is like putting lipstick on a decomposing corpse.

The only positive part of the city’s vibe was that when you encountered something good it stood out because of the contrast. That was the case with the Reading Room, the bookstore where I had an appearance. It is in the Mandalay Place casino and was put there because the casino’s former general manager was a literature nut who attended the writer’s program at the University of Iowa. The bookstore is a haven of sanity amid the gambling madness and it is staffed by tremendously kind souls. This is a picture of two of those souls, Michele and Heather. Sadly, there eyes appear demon red, but that is my damn lack of photography skills, not a reflection on them. They are both beautiful young ladies.

All in all, a bookstore in a casino is a pretty odd experience. My picture was up on the main casino neon board, alongside the Wayne Newtons and Howie Mandells. Just a few steps from the bookstore door were jangling rows of slots. (This is a fuzzy picture of Will in front of them. More on him soon.)

But, another tip of the cap to the power of a bookstore: once inside and browsing the shelves, the entire casino disappeared …

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© 2010 Jeremy Mercer. Website by Strangecode.
photo : Stefan Bladh

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