At the Barnes and Noble, the wind gusts blew

At the Barnes and Noble, the wind gusts blew chunks of concrete onto the sidewalk. I was just two blocks away waiting for a bus and there were police cars everywhere. It was quite

a fiasco. My bus arrived as I averted my gaze from the Barnes and Noble crater. I would now be on Homeland Security's watch list because of my latest book, "Blow up This Book."

"Blow up this book" was similar to destroy this book, however more intense. Each page included instructions from how to make a bomb to how to destroy anything including this book.

The first book "How to blow up this book" was applied to was the very book containing the instructions. The book did not nourish literature. It was a veritable antibook book among

a former monopoly of bibliophilic bibliography. Bookworms hatched the epiphany that, like popcorn, literature fluorished when it exploded. The quest for auto-literuptica had begun.

It was the sort of quest that drives you mad. The sort of thing that wakes you up in the middle of the night, because

you fancied a wee sit on the throne. That's when this life-changing opportunity that only happens once, maybe twice, in a blue moon happens. Meanwhile you're left holding

what I hope is something not a part of your anatomy while the rest are off in the wild blue yonder of new things, people, and experiences. They're taking life to the extreme and

but we couldn't care less. They will leave, eventually, and our little town will be calm and uneventful again, just the way we like...