It's a sign of the times that I have a go-to book for the worst heatwaves. Fante's descriptions of a winter in Colorado have been known to give me the shivers. My beloved copy spent some time at the long-gone, legendary Earthling Bookshop before I found it in Paris.

On books that help me ignore a heatwave. The Eve Babitz letters arrived this morning, and I've already slipped between its cool covers. When I opened the door to the postman this morning he said, "Let me guess, a book?" Indeed. "It's very effective in the heat!" Also yes.

As seen from a café in San Sebastián last month. It did my heart good to be in a place where solidarity with the resistance is not criminalized.

Once a book scout, always a book scout. A pretty good haul considering I plucked them from a farmhouse deep in the heart of rural France.

I remember sitting in a cave, drinking a Guinness (because why not go out happy?), and reading a special edition of Libération printed in ice blue. The power of this image was such that I wanted to crawl inside its pages and sleep there.

Just finished cleaning up one of my typewriters, and am more than chuffed with the results. Now to replace the plastic bobbins with the real deal. This Baby's got wings.

Just a few keepers among the stacks.

I found a few keepers among these dusty stacks, and some cat toys for the feral babes who live next to my house.

Of course, I'll ask the mayor of the village if that's all right before I make any sudden moves, because that's how you do it in rural France.

Took a leisurely drive to a nearby village to check out their little free library. I like to spike them with excellent books, and occasionally I find something good to take home. This one was sweet, but in dire shape. I swept up a bit, and am thinking of making a project out of cleaning it up.

Spotted in a punk bar in Paris.

Harley Elliott. Poet. Artist. Man of Kansas.

Spotted in a tiny town in southern France. I, a native Chicagoan, took off my White Sox cap and held it against my heart in tribute.

I opened my front door to the postie who was smiling and holding out a big box to me. He asked how many books were in there. I said just two, and sorry for the weight, but it's Sherlock Holmes. He smiled again and said bonne lecture!

Mom. At 18, she was a bartender for the Outfit in Cicero. When I came along, she was a young widow of a small-time mobster in Chicago. She rarely spoke to me of that time, no matter how many questions I asked. But it was fun watching mafia movies with her. She'd say, "Well, that's some bullshit."

I tend not to talk about where I've been because I'm too busy learning about where I live now. One of the best bookshops I've seen in all of my travels is just around the corner in this village.

Found another excellent bookshop tucked away in a medieval village. The house is surrounded by roses, and everywhere I looked there were good books and smiley people. My old friends in Paris are waiting for me to get bored with country living and come back to town. I don't think that's happening.

In southwest France, a couple of cats sitting pretty between the lavender plants. My boy is the one in the middle looking pensive. It took a while, because he's a princely character, but Bébé finally decided to hang out with the four ferals who live next to my house. #caturday

From a Chicagoan in France: When I wear my cap I may be breaking their law against wearing ostentatious religious symbols in public.

From 101 Poems Against War (Faber and Faber, 2003)

And then some. I made a funny, joyous sound when I opened the mailbox today. There's even an inscription to Bucky from Tinker circa 1965. After I read it, it will live among my small but mighty collection of John D.'s books. Thanks once more for the tip.

Back in my bookshop days, I often said that pocketbooks are the perfect technology. It's still true. Today's reading, and a few pics of my collection:

I'm thinking of Adrienne Rich more than I usually do.

One of the perks of being a kid in Chicago: these two had a show on the local PBS station. It was clear they didn't like each other and I thought that was hilarious.

When I left Paris for the countryside, a brilliant artist told me she regretted not spending more time in my bookshop. To console herself and give me a parting gift, Jena Pham Selle designed a LEGO set. For #InternationalLegoDay here's my old bookshop in bricks. That's me in the stripey shirt.

Hi you! I would, but I couldn't find the build instructions, so I'm reluctant to take it apart. I consoled myself by building few other sets. Do you still take commissions? I'm on a Lego roll here in the peaceful countryside. Oh, and I send you about 6 retroactive Happy Birthdays. xo