Worn Collars - Part Eighteen - "The Wicked Inherit"

Worn Collars

Part Eighteen

"The Wicked Inherit"

            The wicked inherit the books.

            The wicked inherit your books.

            The biblio bodies of the dead

Are taken off their shelves

And put in boxes

In the back seats of ‘cars’

The books are driven around

            In the boxes

            The boxes are shown

            To

            Who?

            The wicked

            Inherit the books.

            After the failure to ‘want these books’ followed by the discovery that these books ‘are worth money’ that continues to the boxed books traveling about... to be sold for this ‘worth money’...  Steadily they (the books) approach their ‘we are’... ‘getting rid of the books’.  After unloading the boxes of books the ‘we are’ turn their back to the boxes and walk away.  There is no ‘looking back’.  The wicked are done... inheriting the books.

            In an early chapter (Part Five), I reminded by declaration that “books are burned” and “readers are beheaded”.  Perhaps rash that seemed then?  Perhaps now (this far along in this rare book epic) it seems to be ‘more sense’.

            When I die my book body will be... put in boxes and driven around seeking their ‘worth money’.  Then my book body will be ‘getting rid of’.  Setting the boxes “out” at the landfill assures that the moment they ‘getting rid of’ turn their back... my book body will, again, be carried off.  Instead of a ‘landfill’ option, perhaps my book body will be a “sold” at a charitable holiday book fair.  Or “sold” at public auction.  Rarely “sold” by private treaty?  No... most inherited old books do not garner that.  Their spine ends never get raked by a professional’s eyes, especially by one who pees on the leaf pile too (Part Seventeen).  I may say this because I know this because I... do this;  buy dead men’s books by private treaty.  “I never” “anyone”.  “Ever”.

            Arlington St. John knew all this.  So do the other ones.  Benton Shelby “understand fully”.  He never did anything about it (this understanding).  He left it (his biblio body) “exactly”.  I, as I’ve explained, extended his biblio body the sensitivity of continuing his “exactly” as I boxed, moved, barned, stacked and ‘fortressed’ “HIS BOOKS”.  Then I started going through ...all of the books this dead man “put together” (his words) “in my (Benton) lifetime.”  I am doing a fine job of looking at ... every single book... one by one.  Benton was crazy:  He left notes in the books ...about the books.  I read all of those notes.  Generally its bibliognoste stuff that is “super makes sense” to

            Someone like me.

            “A real plus” having Benton’s whole biblio life work ‘penciled in’ the ...his old books.  Why he didn’t write up a penciled folded paper notice about the Byron and Scott early American editions in their shoe box?  I... guess he just never got enough of them together to “shelve” and ...no... he knew exactly what was ‘there’ and where the shoe boxed there was...:  It was “there” ...too.

            You read.  You die.  You are beheaded.  Your books are taken to the landfill (burned).  Unless you have a book room

            That is “good enough stuff” to causes other ‘old book men’ to

            “Show up”.

            A whole life time’s work.  Opening the door to ‘his book room’ there is a rush of

            A whole life time.

            Past me.

            Can I imagine someone giving me their entire lifetime’s work inclusive of little penciled clues “about”?  CAN I?  Of course, Stupid:  I LOOK FOR THAT.  I hunt that.  I understand the scarcity.  I understand the endeavor.  I judge the ability... by furtive glance of the spine ends shelved.  I... have identical cardboard boxes that make all traces of the visible spine ends ...disappear... “forever”.

            “We are so glad to get rid of those books.”

            They never say “We are so SAD to get rid of HIS books”

            No.  Never.

            As a reader... Benton was beheaded.  Long ago.  He never ever mentioned what he was reading to the “anyone” ever for decades.  “They think I’m an idiot.  I am.” he told me.  Before his books were burned I rescued them.  Then I peed on his leaf pile.  No one at all ever mentions any of this to me at all?  Actually one old fool; a rotten man who was a rotten book collector... said to me one day “Someone got his books.  I bet it’s you but I don’t know for sure”.

            I didn’t say anything.  Arlee didn’t know Benton very well any way.  Benton thought Arlington was ‘an idiot’.  Arlee didn’t ever ‘get close’ (visit Benton’s book room).  Arlington was never gonna pee on the leaf pile.  That, right there, is... you know:  “obvious”.  If Arlington “got” Benton’s books... that would be a ‘wicked inherit the books’?  Yeah; it would be.

            Benton knew that.

            Arlington knew that but would never say it.

            I’ve never said anything about this until right now.  I mean:  Not a lot of people are gonna understand what’s going on here.  That’s why; that’s what I figure, becomes a good reason to write this down here.  Stuff’s going on with old books that if... I don’t write it down... your not gonna ever notice it.

            After the beheading and the burning; that carnage... the old rare books “from that”... “go on”.  One by one, book by book... I take a look.

            At the book

            One single book

            At a time.

            “Fine”.

            Then I sell it; that one single book.

            Or try to... sell it.

            No one reads because they are beheaded so most books are not ever read so “no one needs them” and that becomes the way books are.

            Except for the finite destiny of the curious “I want them” (old books) of bibliomania.  Deep in the forest of beheaded readers and burned books are... old book rooms.  It’s funny... in my old book room how I ‘know all this” and “work at” “getting rid of” my books all the time... everyday... only to have become progressively aware that... I am not ‘going to make it’.  I, too, will leave a mismanaged old rare book room biblio body that I did very hard try to ‘not have happen’.  I am around (“of”) my books all the time and... so... I do ‘get the picture’ and realize fully my failure.  I, the other day, ‘cracked’ a box and “GOD DAMN” if there is not “WONDERFUL STUFF” in that box... that I said to myself that if a bookman was to ‘carry off’ just this one box ‘why he’d’ FOR MONTHS afterward.  I know because it has, many time been ME that “did that”.  Right now as I type this off I sit surrounded by THOUSANDS of ‘old books’ “IN SIGHT”.  Yes:  That many... old books... to be boxed up and ‘gotten rid of’... even thought I will spend the rest of this day like every day “TRYING” to “SELL THEM”

            Beheaded readers... do not read... even if they tell you they do.  They burned their books anyway.  Everyone talks to beheaded readers all the time.  “No one knows anyone who reads.” Arlington repeatedly said to me for ...forty years.  Benton didn’t even bother with that crap.  He closed the door to his book room and snuck out the back door to pee on the leaf pile.  He left notes for me in his books like “appears to be an unrecorded second state of the map.  Notice Errol (New Hampshire) is in larger type than the *** copy”.

            And no one will care a ‘one dollar’ about that note, that map and the that book that the larger type “Errol” “is in”.

            No:  They will not.

            That closes the door.

            Okay everybody, I will show it the other way.  Have you ever tried to sell a true ‘rare book’ ‘worth money’?  HAVE YOU?

            No.

            In order to do that one has to... have a rare book...; find a rare book... then get that rare book... and discover the ‘rare’ of that rare book and... it’s a lot easier just to take the boxes of OLD books around and ‘show them’, then ‘give up’ and ‘get rid’ of them... at the landfill (of one sort or the other).  Why don’t I say that the rare books are ... left to the rare book... room... shelves?  And that is that?  Unless they are ‘on the loose’.  I spy a rare book on the loose ...instantly... simply because there are very few rare books... ‘on the loose’.  There are abundant old books.  But no ‘rare’ books.  What is a rare book?  It is a book that is sold.  Very few books... old books... rare books... actually “sell”.  Is it rare-er to sell a rare book than for a book to be rare?

            Yes it is.

Worn Collars - Part Seventeen - "Uneven Circumstance"

Worn Collars

Part Seventeen

"Uneven Circumstance"

            I find myself; a bibliognoste (Part Two footnote), before the reader as

            Uneven circumstance?

            Boorish babble about odd volumes and their forlorn concerns

            Left me peddling the circumstance of ‘hundreds’ of ‘boxes’ of ‘old books’ with the

            The probability of the unknown possibility that the boxed books hold on to

            The second (and ‘lost’) volume “SOMEWHERE” while I KEEP the first and found volume in the shoe box ‘with the others’ as a ‘best plan’ (Part Sixteen) and then suggest that I

            Should fret about

            Dieing ‘before’ I ‘go through’ all of the ‘hundreds’ of Benton Shelby’s old (rare)...purloined by I... book room’s ‘content’

            To see

            IF ...I... can be a “FIND THE SECOND VOLUME”.

            Helping to ‘uneven’ the circumstance is that the found volume is volume number two so the missing volume is volume number one so I am

            “Looking for the first volume of a two volume set that I have found the second volume of:

            This early American edition... legal or illegal... edition (?)... of  Sir Walter Scott’s

            ROB ROY.

            HERE NOW the uneven circumstance becomes very clear for delineation for

            One is still back there hoarding their “WHO WAS ROB ROY?” (Part Sixteen)?  That is... one has no book, no odd volume book, no two volume book set or... even inkling of early American ‘pirated editions’ and their ‘they collect those?’.  AND the legal editions too (“they collect those”.).

            Oh.

            SO.

            Okay

            I AM ROB ROY (Macgregor).

            May I ask... who are you?  Are you Francis Osbaldistone... who marries Diana Vernon?  OR are you Diana Vernon... who marries Francis?  It does not matter...

            Because you ‘do not know’.  But let me assure that those who biblioclose THEIR door on YOU... do know... Scottish... English... American... editions.  Pirated editions.  Permission Granted editions. “Copyright” editions... and... Vague editions.

            Francis marries Diana?  No... Diana marries Francis.  It all works out in the end:

            Volume one is found and reunited with volume two and

            I am Rob Roy Macgregor... the outlaw who

            Purloins old book rooms

            For money.

            There we are.  Or is it HERE WE ARE.  IT’S ABOUT MONEY.  It is so much easier... when its about money.

            The ROB ROY set is ‘worth money’?

            No.  If no one knows who Rob Roy is... so... why would they “pay money for that”?

            Meanwhile.

            (What is this ‘meanwhile’?  EVERYTHING is meanwhile... in old books

            And their uneven circumstance.  So let me... not be... too ‘meanwhile’).

            So... meanwhile...:

            Arlington St. John’s of HIMSELF shows a Rob Roy HIMSELF.  How did he get all of those boxes of books on floor of the right front room of his house (Part Sixteen)?  Why... that rotten man... peered into the ‘show him’ box of old books that the book sale committee head called him ‘look at’ and

            He did.  Look in that box.  And then he told her that if THIS box be a THIS box like the rest of the “HOW MANY BOXES DID YOU SAY?” “SHE DIDN’T KNOW” boxes then... Arlington said... “SHE PROBABLY CAN SELL ALL THE BOOKS for quite a SUM”.  “SUM”... (and/or “SOME”) is a word related to money that Arlington was always skillfully bantering.  “OH FINE YOU TELL HER THAT WOULD YOU PLEASE ARLINGTON”.

            After saying “Thank you” and changing his ‘sum’ to ‘some’ regarding the money of these books in boxes he ...scampered off... as only Arlington scampered... to the ...nasty domestic state... of the “We are getting rid of the books” (Part Sixteen) boxes of old books and

            Stated concisely that... inclusive of the “uneven circumstance” of the “household library” these “all of the boxes of books ” he “could find a (“Ahhhh”) home for” from a “BUYS BOXES OF USED BOOKS ALL THE TIME” and “PUTS THEM IN HIS BARN” for... “some” “small sum”...

            “IF YOU CAN BRING THEM OVER TO MY HOUSE I’LL CALL HIM RIGHT AWAY I WILL TELL HIM FOUR DOLLARS for EACH BOX for as MANY AS YOU CAN GET FOR ME.

            That turned up as thirty-two boxes but she brought four more boxes by four days later... too.

            So... obviously... I

            Was the guy

            Who buys.

            Arlington suggested the ‘sum’ of “four dollars a box” “AFTER I TAKE OUT ANYTHING I WANT.”

            I said “Ok”.

            I was Rob Roy.  NO ACTULLY Arlington claimed that he was the outlaw Rob Roy and ...as of Robin Hood TOO.  Merrily he groundhoged (Part Sixteen) the boxes.  That; his groundhoging the boxes of books... is about money.  For him.  For me.  He even groundhoged the four boxes that ‘came in’ four days later.  “YOU CAN HAVE THOSE.” He said.  “THERE’S NOTHING IN THEM”.

            So the uneven circumstance of the boxes of books and the uneven circumstance of what to do about them was cleared up by Arlington.  No one ever mentioned the boxes of books again.  Even I didn’t say anything to Arlington about them... ever again.

            It was six years before I ‘happened upon’ the missing volume one of the two volume Philadelphia 1821 edition of Scott’s ROB ROY.  Actually... I think it was seven years.  But... because I put the first odd volume back in the shoe box... I was able to put them back together... ‘in a few days’ ‘when I got to it’ ‘while I was out there’ (in the barn full of ...boxes of old books).  Please understand that this went so well because of that old shoe box that Benton Shelby had used.  That shoe box did not ‘fit right’ into my book-packing-boxes so... was ‘always kept out’ and was ‘floated on top’... of my book box fortress (Part Fifteen [A]) of Benton Shelby’s old book room books... in boxes.  “Floated up on top” so I could ‘see it’ and just had to ‘jig it’ with a stick to ‘get it’ (Benton’s old shoe box with his ‘set them aside’ Byron and Scott ‘early American editions’.  The box created an uneven circumstance... but that worked out okay in the end.

            I have always used the same size and shape; ‘identical’, boxes for ‘extracting’ (my title) old rare book room contents... from estates.  In fact I use that for ALL estate content books, printing, paper... et all.  They “fit better’.  I’ve used the same boxes over and over for years.  One box is emptied so goes ‘back on the (empty box) pile.  My book box fortress’ are never uneven... unless they have a ‘float’ up on top.

            I still have the Rob Roy set around.  No one has bought it.  Not that I’m pushing anyone to... buy it.  For money.  I told you already:  It is worth... “NO MONEY”.  And that’s what you want.  Right?

            From ‘old books’:  You... want... money.

            And you will get that.  Sort of.  Getting money... from old (rare) books... is an

            Uneven circumstance.

            I, myself, prefer to be a little snarl... lee... on the ‘practice’ of ...turning old (rare) books into money.  What is my ‘snarl-lee’?  It is ‘I don’t mess around’ with the “YOU” and the “YOUR RARE BOOKS”.  If... from my vista, you ‘don’t know’ then... you don’t know.  Rob Roy be damned... I’ll rob you

            Roy.

            Arlington, to his credit, understood this; the uneven circumstance of our intercourse.  And, as I mentioned (Part Sixteen) I will be returning to his ‘flee’ and ‘pretend’ too (Parts Two & Three).  But, by his old up-his-sleeve ‘sum’ and ‘some’ trick, I, through uneven circumstance, did get the ‘best’ of the boxes.  You think Arlington is going to take away the ‘good’ books?  HE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT WAS.  Box after box. 

            Adjusting, uneven circumstance IS where ‘good’ old ‘rare’ books... that are “WORTH MONEY” come from.  They do... not... come from pat sources.  A pat source, for example, are vendor’s table tops at flea markets; an ‘old book’ ‘sitting there’ ‘for sale’.  “No.” describes that tome’s... uneven circumstance.  IF... it were a “YES”... it would already be ‘gone’.  The hang-fire-time... in that setting... of a ‘yes’ is... “No; none”.  One must do better than that... and do that better very well... in uneven circumstance.  An example?

            When... after ingratiation... I visited Benton Shelby’s book room... over and over... for decades.  I soon noticed and denoted that “there is a door to the outside” in the room and that... was a, being ‘behind’ but not quite ‘the back’ of the house... would be and could be... from stepping out the door... a... traveling at a diagonal... to a “leaf pile” (composting organic yard waste gleanings) ‘at the edge’ of the... ah... ‘property’ ‘tree line’.  SO... Benton... I learned... “preferred” to go out the door to the ‘leaf pile’ to ...pee.   “Ho, ho, ho” and I, too, became an allowed ‘that’ too.  Like I said:  “Ho, ho, ho”.  So Benton raked around the yard and put his rakings there too.  And the neighbor’s dog’s dog shit too.  (Benton hated that dog).  So he peed there.  I peed there.  Ok?  This is about uneven circumstance... for getting ‘old rare books’ ‘worth money’.

            So Benton used a rake from the garage.  One of several.  This went on for... well... three decades.  The ...ah... ‘neighbors’ starting “GETTING” “LEAF BLOWERS”.  They no longer raked leaves.  Benton always raked... his... leaves.  And put them where we peed.

So Benton’s dead.  I got the contents of his book room.  His wife sold it all to me.  She said she “had other people look at it” but... ah... I don’t feel she did.  Anyway:  I got it.  I made the boxed books fortress in the barn.  I floated the shoe box up on top.  Done deal.

            Like... three years later she comes around to “CATCH YOU” and says she’s moving out, selling out, moving to a ‘smaller place’ “near my sister”.  “Yeah, OK.” I ‘bought her out’; the “STUFF” “LEFT” in her “HOUSE”.  She didn’t have any real antiques... but the house had fifty years of ‘single owner occupation’... with no uneven circumstance.  That kind of place has a lot of ‘quality’ ‘stuff’ like... rakes at the back of the garage that were ‘hardly ever used’ kind of “STUFF”.  Like...  The guy (Benton) had an old L.L. Bean hunting jacket (and boots; don’t forget the boots.  They all have the boots).  He wore it once a year ...for four days... over forty years... and his wife hung it up in a closed door closet on the first floor of their home... for the rest of the year...:  You get the idea?

            So I’m in the back of the garage ‘cleaning out’ the rakes.  So I’m handling the rakes and I “REMEMBER” Benton, his raking, his leaf pile, ‘out back over there behind’, the book room, us in there, the door, going out the door to the leaf pile, to pee, doing that for years and how THAT

            Uneven circumstance; I being allowed to pee on the leaf pile too... “GOT ME” the contents of Benton’s book room.

            THAT is the ‘uneven circumstance’ one needs to find... old rare books ‘worth money’.

            I set the rakes in the truck bed and then... went out back to Benton’s old leaf pile and

            Peed on it.

Worn Collars - Part Sixteen - "Fairy Handkerchiefs"

Worn Collars

Part Sixteen

"Fairy Handkerchiefs"

            The ‘any’ old (rare) book room is now understood to be

            Precious cargo

            By me.

            And the ‘you are’

            Excluded

            Is understood too.

            “HOW (rare book) CRAZY” “Was it”

            “IN THERE”

            I determine and my quest is for

            “Yeah:  THAT crazy”.

            The fairy’s handkerchief is dropped.

            The fairy is understood

            To be of a higher world

            Than that of mortals

            A mortal may see the fairy’s handkerchief.

            May even see the handkerchief dropped.

            If the mortal picks up the handkerchief

            The fairy who dropped it

            Becomes a mortal too.

            Picking up a fairy’s handkerchief

            Is very difficult to do.

            I have always liked the fairies’ handkerchiefs.  I never try to pick them up.  I bend over and study them.  I wonder how my hand would ‘ever could’.  I do, too, see the fairies’ handkerchiefs... as a parallel in my old ‘rare’ book day.  So many old books are dropped... by old book fairies.  I see the old books and I often see them dropped.  I know the difficulty of picking them up.

            But I pick them up.  An old ‘rare’ book is the same as a fairy’s handkerchief.  When I pick it up... it becomes a mortal.  And picking up a truly old ‘rare’ book’... is very difficult to do.  Most old books are not rare.  They are fairies that become mortals.

            In cardboard boxes

            In the backseat of cars

            That came

            “From my mother’s house” (Part Nine).

            Et al.

            Many mornings, everywhere I go I ...see and find... handkerchiefs dropped by old book fairies.  Old books and old book fairies are, some mornings ‘everywhere’.

            “ISN’T THIS ONE GOOD?” one mortal said to me about a book that was a fairy’s handkerchief until they

            Picked it up and

            It turned into a mortal

            In a cardboard box

            In the backseat of their

            “MY CAR”

            “IS FULL OF BOXES OF BOOKS.  WHERE CAN I LEAVE THEM?”

            “Not here.  Today.  The book sale is not until JULY.”

            “WELL THERE ARE A LOT MORE OF THEM HOW MANY BOXES...

            I DO NOT KNOW”.

            “WELL LEAVE one OF THE BOXES HERE AND I WILL HAVE OUR

            OLD BOOK MAN LOOK AT IT AND TELL ME WHAT TO DO”

            “WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER BOXES?”

            “JUST WAIT A DAY OR SO AND I’LL LET YOU KNOW.  MR. SAINT JOHN IS VERY GOOD WITH OLD BOOKS.”

            Those (all the boxes including the unknown ‘HOW MANY BOXES’) all ended up on the floor in the front right room of Arlington’s home.  The housekeeper was ‘rip shit’ (my words).  Arlington didn’t care and just groundhoged*** his way through every box in two days after calling me up to “TAKE AWAY THE REST AFTER I TAKE OUT WHAT I WANT”.

            I showed right up but he (Arlington) “wasn’t ready”.  These kind of old book guys are never ready... for anything.  So I ‘furtive glance’ (Part Fourteen) pretty good.  I left.  I came back the next day.  I ‘bought it all for a song’.  Arlington didn’t care a hoot.  He didn’t even pay a song.  He didn’t even know what he bought.  Or care.  All it was was “some dead guy’s old books” ‘room’ anyway.  His people cleaned it out and hated doing that “work” too.  What ever Arlington said; what ever offered-cash price he gave, was

            “FINE”.

            Pretty cool huh... the way that works.  I never saw the books Arlington kept out for himself until after he was dead.  He put them in boxes with the other boxes down in the basement by the furnace (Part Fifteen [D]).  It was... like... only... two boxes.  You know:  “ONLY”.  So I pretty much got the whole old book room... of the dead guy... just as Arlington got it and then

            MESSED WITH IT.  “Jesus”.

---

*** : To ‘groundhog’ is to rout through... usually “boxes ‘en stuff.”.. for ‘treasure’ while pushing the majority ‘rejected’ behind one forming an ever longer terminal moraine of, well... ‘rejected’ ‘stuff’ in a not-sorted state beyond the ‘groundhoged through’ effort.  This is a ‘I see it all the time’ state of stuff for I.

            So how am I supposed to know what he took off.  The rest of the MOST OF the boxes was “local history stuff”.  You know:  Maine Local History... Books.  So that’s not so bad.  For a song.

            It’s just that it goes on like this.  All the time.  Everywhere.  Fairies dropping handkerchiefs.  And Twiddle and Dee TRYING TO PICK THEM UP.

            (?)

            “Is that what they’re doing?”  No.  It’s worse than that.  What they’re doing is like a kid dumping over their mom’s china cabinet in the front hall or dragging a nail down the side Dad’s new car or... YEAH IT’S IN HOUSE...:  I mean... they do it themselves in there (the house) by themselves.  I mean KNOWING they are doing it?

            YEAH:  They are “getting rid of the books”.

            So I go out in the morning and look at the fairy handkerchief the FAIRIES

            DROPPED.

            And I try to pick them up.  That is... You know:  The ‘rare’ ones.

            After settling down... forty years ago... to complacent acceptance of these purposed settlement terms; fairies drop handkerchiefs and a very few of them are rare... as opposed to old... books, I may try to discover those and pick them up.  Doing that, I turn them into ‘mortal’ ‘old’ ‘rare’ ‘books’ and... It’s actually worked out pretty well.  Most of the other people most of the time (read: all of the other people all of the time) fuss with picking up handkerchiefs they “think” are a ‘rare’ book.  I will give an example.  Back in Benton Shelby’s shoe box (Part Fifteen [D]) I found one volume (“Vol. II”) of Scott’s ROB ROY with a Philadelphia 1821 imprint (English first edition 1817) in attractive original printed paper covered boards with an original binding calf spine with gilt gold title.  No big deal especially if it’s ‘an odd volume’ (volume two only).  I mean... ‘you know’... ‘six bucks’.  Maybe.  So why did Benton put it in the box with the other Byron and Scott American imprints.

            BECAUSE IT WAS ONE.  TOO.

            “Well it’s only volume two”.

            SO WHAT HAPPENED TO VOLUME ONE?

            HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW.

            That’s right:  How am I suppose to know?

            So what does that mean?

            It means that HERE IS A DROPPED fairy’s handkerchief of a... single old ‘volume two’ of an early Philadelphia imprint of Scott’s ROB ROY.  Should I put it in a ...cardboard box full of ‘other books’ and put that in the back seat of my car?  And drive around showing it to people?  HUH?  Well... that’s what happens... most of the time.  Then the old book gets put on the dollar table... that gets reduced to ‘HALF PRICE’ on the “LAST DAY” of the “BOOK... SALE”.  Everyone who looks at it (the odd ROB ROY volume) concurs and actually often verbalizes that it is “TOO BAD” “YOU DON’T HAVE THE FIRST VOLUME”.

            How do you know you... they... them... THE... OLD BOOK ROOM... ‘does not’ HAVE THE “volume one”?  I HAVE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN Full taped closed and stacked in the barn BOXES OF BOOKS from that book room.  Did Benton have ‘the first volume’?  Did he ‘separate’ intentionally or unintentionally the first volume from the second.  Or did he put the second volume ‘in there’ with the other Byron and Scott books ‘incase it’ (vol. I) ‘turns up’.

            “Turns up where?”

            HOW AM I SUPPOSE TO KNOW.  But... like... I should... WHAT?  Make a career out of finding volume one?

            No.  Not happening.

            Set it aside and ‘look for’

            No.

            Keep it together in the shoe box of Byron and Scott?  Probably the ‘best plan’.

            And... how many years do I have to go through the rest of the 127 boxes “LEFT” from the ...Benton Shelby’s ... old book room... I ‘CLEANED OUT”?

            What if I die first?

            Then some other old rare book fairy handkerchief picking up fairy hunter and gatherer... is

            WHAT?

            It doesn’t matter.

            As long as I was able to keep the door to the old rare book room closed so

            (The They)

            Are kept out.

            That is what this is all about:  Finding the your inner volume one to go with your inner volume two of

            “Scott’s ROB ROY?”

            I know:  “WHO WAS ROB ROY?”

            You say.

            Rob Roy, ‘volume two only’, is a fairy’s handkerchief.

            Try picking it up.

            It’s not easy to do.

            It’s a very sympathetic world; the old book room.  Now that you know what one is and will notice it.  You will notice it (“them”) now.  Slowly you’ll turn your head away when you are ‘ushered off’.  No... you didn’t even ‘pull a volume’ that ‘caught your eye’.  The whole old book room just slipped through your fingers.  Old books slipped through your fingers.  “I should have started this thirty years ago” I hear said.  “I”;

            “I don’t know what I was thinking”.

            And your outside the front door and the sunny summer day shows that they have “just mowed the lawn” “probably yesterday”.

            “When they die what will happen to the books?”

            I will put them in cardboard boxes in my barn until I die.

Arlington put his boxes ‘down by the furnace’ until he died.

 It’s a blast

            Doing this.

            (Picking up fairy handkerchiefs).