Gathered together, they formed a second group of bookstore people. George would send them upstairs to lodgings of greater prestige: a brass bed, and a bathtub surrounded by curling photographs in wooden frames while the tumbleweeds would roll together in a pile below. As writers they were rarely very established, and perhaps not all that published—or at least, not in any great commercial capacity, and not by major houses.
Nor even were they very sexy, though they were, much to the distress of the sexy kids, not infrequently quite sexual in their literary imaginations What?
Now we all know who an angel is: a spiritual being believed to act as an That these men were "angels in disguise" is plain from the descriptions given when. in my eyes Oh angel in disguise You're just an angel in disguise . you'll hear angels cry On the road we must follow the dark lord will come And for ever.
Older people think about sex too! I remember a poetry reading given one time by a weathered hippie with a gray beard and an indigo headband, in which he explained, with exceptional gentleness, how the poem he was about to read was written in Spain, concerning the afternoon he and his friends had been walking down a mountainside, and, as they descended, they had become—quite naturally—naked, and started making paintings with different parts of their bodies. He had painted one, which had seemed just so beautiful, using the end of his penis.
And so on. These unestablished writers fell all over the map in terms of style, interests, erudition, and form, though all shared being quite far out. It was a community of fringes, and while their writing may not have been very proficiently executed with respect to a target market, as an expression of human emotion in words, it was almost never without sincerity, nor without the power that comes when any living presence is captured in a work of art, no matter how cobble-stitched or personal.
How many of them will, like Melville or William Blake or the Gawain poet, be unearthed in some forgotten attic in a future century, or pulled from a box on the banks of the Seine and vaulted thence into the canon as some indeed liked to think or dream , is yet to be seen.
But George did. His haphazard treatment of cash was due in no small part to his hatred of being inside a bank. In fact, and for all his avowed communism, he hated having anything to do with anything that smacked of institutions or bureaucracy. His response to what was required of him by regulators was a complex mixture of subterfuge, evasion and intransigence.
Until I got good enough at it for him to trust me to make them up alone, and hardly have to touch the ledgers himself. The beleaguered accountant we passed them to was left no doubt wiping his glasses, and tearing what was left of his hair. Rather, in an important and inescapable sense, it was impossible for George to run a bookstore in the way that places like Waterstones do. For all that George was eccentric, as well as, by turns, hilarious, cantankerous, mischievous, sweet, exploitative, perverse, capricious and hugely hugely generous, and—though he surrounded himself with people—more shy than many recognized or thought, he was all these things not by posture, but inveterately so.
And as such, he was someone who was magnificently unable do the things that society, quite reasonably perhaps, would ask and expect of him. It was the brightest element of his sparkling genius, and the first lesson many of us learned from him. George, and the bookstore he invented, were an astonishing source of inspiration for the bales of young dreamers who tumbled through. But contact with the bookstore exposed them to a different universe, and it changed a lot of them. It was a lesson in how to build a life without following everything the world can immediately think up for you to do or say, and as such, it was immensely powerful.
And for every one of them, the world is a more interesting place. For the literary non-greats, the older dreamers, awaiting their discovery, or quietly growing older without needing it, the lesson was less one of entrepreneurial zeal than of soft spaces. These were people who were already making their own unconventional way through life. Not a few had been younger dreamers, and had been touched by George decades previously. What the bookstore gave to them now was a continuing means to go on being who they were.
It was one in a network of places and communities that made it possible for them to exist on the fringe, and for their existence to be acknowledged. And whether bad writers or good, the world is more interesting place for each of them too. And for another, in offering them an occasional yet deeply true home, the bookstore stayed true to itself.
And the crazies, as crazy people do, reached from end to end of a bewildering spectrum. Not crazy enough to be put away, but enough for most people to want to shut them out.
I spent hours talking to them, less with willing than because, during my shifts, I was effectively nailed to the desk. Because they were, like all people, social, and needed someone to talk to, just to know that they were there. Most usually they deliver a message to us, when we need it the most. This message comes from the divine source Gods or Goddesses. Contrary to the common belief, Angels are common in many ancient religions.
The very depiction of them come from the Ancient Greek religion. Goddess Iris whose sacred flower is Iris , is a winged deity — messenger who delivers important messages to humans from the Gods of Olympus. Do you wanna read more interesting winged deities — angels?
So no. Angels do not come solely from Christian or Hebrew religions. They disguise themselves and transform into humans or even animals in order to deliver a message. Imagine a Winged Angel appearing to you and telling you anything. Angels do not try to force us do something. They advice us. This is why they disguise.
In this way, Angels do not mess with free will. They can affect us in so many ways. Find out how Angels can help or show their presence here.
Yes you do have a Guardian Angel. This Angel is always there protecting and advising you all the time. You can see him in many disguises trying to communicate with you. See here how you can communicate with him. You feel trapped into dark feelings and thoughts of despair.
You may be going under a mild phase of depression or even worse. You feel like you are walking on a dead end road. Suddenly, a stranger asks you for directions. You turn your head and try to help.
Makes you feel Alive. It was another nightshift and you return home. Exhausted from all the paperwork you had to sign earlier plus the extra work you had to do tonight. This was just another day. You hardly ever think of anything else, rather than your obligations. But something strange happened yesterday taking the tube to get back home.
Something different. There was a lady standing opposite you. Suddenly, she looks at you. You feel something you were not supposed to at least not after 10hours at work. The splendour of innocence into her eyes influences you. You head back from the gym and your body hurts like you had been in a car accident. You play hard, you work a lot, you hardly ever sense more than what your daily schedule approves you to.
While you walk back home, you see a beggar in the streets. You search your pockets and you give him some change. By that time your nose starts to catch more scents than usual.
You can actually smell the rain again after many many years. Moreover, a song is stuck in your head.
A happy song which uplifts your energy. You might be feeling old for a long time.
Only focusing on boring tasks and house chores made you forget everything about. However, you went to pick up a small bag of rice from the super market. Searching for what you wanted might took you a little more than usual. Then you asked for help. A tall handsome man told you he could help you find it.