I just received word from the bookstore that I visited not two weeks ago that the book I had reserved just hit the shelf. It was excitement and anxiety rolled into one.
I was looking for Lang Leav’s poetry book titled “Love and Misadventure” for the past two weeks. I had just known that she was looking for it since August last year and I was surprised that she was into poetry books at all. Maybe I still had a ton to know about her. She and I have been friends for a lot of years and it’s time I give back something to let her know that she’s special to me, too.
Photo by northwardnimbus
The moment I got the message, I immediately replied and told them that I was going to pick it up first thing in the morning. I did, although I got to the bookstore in the afternoon. I found myself running or if not, walking briskly to get to the store as fast as I could. I was sweating. The bulbous cold drops of sweat were clinging on my forehead. I was anxious alright.
The book was actually published by Lang Leav upon seeing that the Tumblr posts she put up quickly gained popularity on the Internet. Her poetry and short prose posts generated hundreds of notes that turned into hundreds of thousands. Love and Misadventure is a book about love and loss. Leav’s simple approach to poetry and the focus on the topic of love became easily identifiable to lots of people who read her posts on Tumblr.
She published the book and it was a hit. It must be really good that my friend actually wanted to buy it. As I said earlier, she was not one to be quickly hooked on poetry. The book must be special or the memory that gets her to want to read it. It made me curious but a lot more anxious since I wanted to give her a gift that she’d actually like, especially since it’s almost her birthday in two months.
And as soon as I got to the store, I talked to the attendant and told her that I was there for the book. She courteously nodded and told me to wait for a while as she fetched the book. There it was, a slim red book with a pensive illustration up front. There was no denying that my friend was in love. I was happy for her and quickly paid for the book and said thank you to the polite lady at the counter.
The book was placed inside a brown paper bag bearing the name of the bookstore. I held it in my right hand and noticed my palm mark on the bag. I was sweating again. Anxiety. You sly dog, you.