I honestly don’t know what happened to me. I use to drive drunk, have unprotected sex and smoke a ton of weed. Today, I get my kicks by chasing rare books. I’m sure I’m a big disappointment to my friends back home.

I attended the annual rare book fair at the Park Avenue armory. Holy Mother of God what a show. When it comes to rare books I have a rather weak disposition and it was probably not wise for me to walk into a large room filled with temptations. But I am happy to report that although I had a few moments where I was woozy and weak, I successfully fought off all attempts to rationalize a purchase.

The one item I would have loved to own was a set of early (1966) broadsides by Charles Bukowski in PERFECT condition in a custom made clamshell box. But at $37,000, it was easy to say no. Here are a few fun items. You can click on these pics to for a better look.

A first edition of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night. Not one of his masterworks but just look at the design on that jacket. Beautiful.

It seems to me that authors don’t take pride in their signatures like they use to. Here’s a signed copy of The Beautiful and the Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald signed in 1922, the year of publication, in his hometown of St. Paul Minnesota. Look at that handwriting and signature!

Hemingway was another author whose inscriptions have an art-like quality. Here’s an inscribed copy of The Green Hills of Africa by Hemingway signed in Key West in 1936.

Here’s another example of Hemingway’s signature. This is a signed first edition of For Whom the Bell Tolls. Isn’t that grand?

This is a first edition of Ian Fleming’s Casino Royal—the first (and most violent) Bond book. The jacket was designed by Fleming and the phrases in the wreath reads: A Whisper of Love. A Whisper of Hate. I love that. The price is a measly £18,750.

The fair is mainly about books, but there are also autographs, some artwork and other sundry items. Here’s a manuscript leaf in Mozart’s hand from the Serenade in D Major. Take it home and hang it on your wall for only $195,000!

I just had our taxes done. Last year, we had to write the I.R.S. a check for $4,000. This year, I am getting a $1,000 refund.

“Why the difference?” I asked Tim the Accountant.

“You suffered monumental losses in your equity accounts.”

That was 2008 for a lot of people, I suppose. But I’m happy about the refund. It’ll come in handy.

Here’s a fine example of the difference between a John Lennon lyric and a Paul McCartney lyric.

In Getting Better off of Sgt. Pepper, we hear:

It’s getting better all the time
I use to get mad at my school
The teachers that taught me weren’t cool

Do you see what he did there? He rhymed school with cool. Right out of the ole’ rhyming dictionary. The teachers weren’t cool. That’s kind of obvious, don’t you think? Can you guess who wrote that? A little later in the same song, we hear:

I used to be cruel to my woman I beat her
and kept her apart from the things that she loved
Man, I was mean but I’m changing my scene

Holy shit! He went from thinking school wasn’t cool to beating his woman! That’s quite a leap, don’t you think? I think we can guess who contributed that part of the song. It sure ain’t the guy who would go on to write:

You’d think that people would have had enough of silly love songs
I look around me and I see it isn’t so
Oh no.

More likely, it’s the guy who would later write:

Father, you left me but I never left you.
I needed you but you didn’t need me.

I found this beauty while perusing the want ads:

Label Room Coordinator: New Jersey. Manage inventory of labels. Recv. labels from PO’s Issue/return labels to/from packaging work centers. Create/print labels & UPC codes for colognes/cosmetics/lotions.

Oh, my God! It’s as if Dickens was having a nightmare about Kafka reading Bukowski’s Factotum.

Tell the little ones to stay in school.

In the middle of this road we call our life
I found myself in a dark wood
With no clear path through.

Dante Alighieri
The Divine Comedy, “Inferno”

* * *

I hadn’t mentioned this before but back on December 6th, I lost my job.

I worked for investment bank behemoth Morgan Stanley and for 18 months I watched as the company dissolved around me. I survived several rounds of layoffs but was finally shown the door.

I began my job search on December 7th. It has been a relentless, exhausting grind without pause or success.

My best job lead just blew up. It was my greatest hope for employment and it’s gone. I’ve had dozens of interviews over the past three months that have resulted in little more than a smack in the face with a brick.

We got a call from 7-Year Old Daughter’s first grade teacher. She was concerned because Daughter walked up to her and said, “My Daddy got fired and nobody wants him.” I tried to explain the difference between being laid off and being fired, but children do not deal in subtly. She only understands that Dad doesn’t leave the house in the morning anymore.

I sit at the dinner table and look at my two beautiful little girls and wonder how I’m going to provide for them. It feels like someone ripped my heart out of my chest, put it in an empty paint can, filled it with thick, black tar, soldered the lid shut and stenciled “DESPAIR” on the front.

The economy in New York is a shambles but I bear some responsibility for my predicament. I was complacent and allowed my skills to atrophy. Mrs. Wife has been a rock but I can barely look her in the eye. I read the papers and realize that hundreds of thousands of people have lost their jobs, but this is my story.

The healthcare premium for my family is $956/month. We’re just a simple, middle class family.

What am I going to do?