The people from the west West Coast Print Center are leaving the East Bay. Over the years they've printed books for lots of small presses, including a couple of my books. My favorite library call partner is A the punk. He picked me up in the Moe's van (I hate to do the driving. That van is a death trap!) and, after a couple of wrong turns, we arrived at the storage space, out near Jack London Square.

Mostly fodder (footnote: fodder--useful, sellable books with no collector's value. Examples: Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Marx, Joy of Cooking...). A bit of a slog, lots of boxes. I could take a nap and do the buy at the same time. A the punk is thinking hard about lunch, I can tell. It's getting late, too.

Long about the 13th box I hit on a stack of Kelsey Street Press books (take note, poetry fans). Barbara Guest, Dale Going, Mei-Mei Brussenbrugge ( I love typing her name), illustrations by Kiki Smith. I'm not a Kiki Smith fan, think of her the same way that I think of Anaheim, California. Why the fuck is there an Anaheim, anyway? The world doesn't need one. Kiki, though, has a big following, and I'm not paid to be an art critic. These books will be of interest to legions of small press fans. Tomorrow night I'll put them on the poetry cart, second floor.

Pam is interviewing used book people for her blog (and a possible book). My interview is the first one up. I sound pretty articulate. Good editing, I guess.