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Archive for the month “December, 2012”

Adrift on a sea of fictitious sports

I am adrift as such, infuriated and distracted and left to seer both sides of myself in the sun. A seer of observations for a day in the library:

The man sitting across from me has cold eyes, but they could be the eyes of cold concentration as he looks for dead letters amongst the porn queens.

The librarian is not sexy from the front, but when she turned and walked away I saw the strap marks of her sunburn and wondered if she fell asleep reading in the sun.

Another man near me doesn’t know that I am watching him. He is in a chair on the lower level and he is reading a book. He wears a vinyl jacket from the 1970’s and has a grey beard. He has nice hands and taps his toes as he reads.

A tall pretty girl walks up to where many people are sitting. She wants to be noticed but also doesn’t want to be noticed.

Some people have facial features that they have created over years of certain thinking. Some people look puzzled but it is just that their facial muscles have re-aligned themselves.

It is rare to see someone in a library actually reading a book (except vinyl jacket beard man) but not rare to hear the sound of children saying ‘read this one mummy’. As far as things children could be saying, this is a most pleasant sound. I would argue for a ‘please’ in that child’s request however.

Many older men carry those coles green bags around. You know the ones.

The librarians have this secret world that involves subtle looks and gestures adn only one librarian has glasses on.

I want the Italian nonna who has come in to give me her secret recipes. She carries magazines in her hand and disappears around the corner.

I think it would be easier to pick up, to ask someone on a date at the library than anywhere else.

The librarian with the glasses looks like a ‘Michael’ and just wants to go home.

The red-headed librarian reminds me of someone. He could join the other man in the 70’s vinyl jacket and they could go dancing. I imagine he has birds and lives in a flat with a disco floor in the kitchen. At night he likes to bake cupcakes and he sometimes binges on them. One of his parrots choked on a cupcake and died and so that is why there is a stuffed parrot in the lounge.

I have just spotted another librarian, she is drinking coffee or tea in the back room. She wears big brown cowboy boots and has that super cool stance that says ‘yes I work in a library…not bad hey? She is leaning on the doorway and then goes forward to a customer who is asking her something. The librarian twiddles with her special librarian passbook card thing that hangs around her neck. She is thirsty. She wants more coffeeeeeeee. She drinks more coffee. She crosses her arms. and looks bored now. She removes something from her teeth with her tongue and goes into the back room.  She now cradles the coffee in both hands.  Her big silver earings jangle as she shares a joke with someone invisible behind the door.  I wonder how long it takes her to get dressed in the morning.

Ahah! A grandma comes in looking fabulous. Oh I love her dress. She has lovely white hair and gives me the look of a lady well-refined and not necessarily into being sweet and friendly just because she’s old. I suspect she has gumption.

Of all the places

Hello dear readers, whoever you are and wherever you are. I’ve been away from the internet for sometime and mostly because I’ve just moved to the beautiful city of Melbourne. I’m totally besotted with this place. And it has been so long since I’ve written a few good lines that I”m hoping I can write some down here. But where to start? If only I could gather my thoughts and make some coherency possible.

 

Random thought starting now.

montaigne image

I have been reading Montaigne’s book of letters and essays. Just perfect bed time reading in fact. It’s a monstrous book of more than 800 pages and when the librarian joked and said ‘bed time reading book’, I replied, ‘well…actually yes’. I can’t recommend his essays enough, not so much in the vein of Jerome K Jerome’s “Idle thoughts of an Idle fellow”, this 16th century aristocrat displays humility and candidness. Of course this isn’t to say  Jerome K Jerome is not candid, for both share that particular flavour of essay writing, or ‘idle writing’ of everyday thinking, of the foibles and idiosyncrasies of human beings at their most candid with disregard for how loveable they may or may not appear. Montaigne’s work is also enjoyable as he is a great scholar of Greek philosophy and general history and he has an ability to apply these rather obtuse or seemingly inhuman figures like Alexander the great to everyday musings on death, sadness, bravery, etc. Most of the essays I’ve been reading are just little but by no means trite exegesis meanderings with titles like, ‘On Sadness’, ‘On solitude’, ‘On the role of kings’…that kind of thing.   And because these essays traverse quite some years it is enjoyable to see the development of his ideas on subjects, the release of his obsessions on other subjects, as if with old age he becomes more flexible and open.

This seems to happen a lot to people as they get older. But some older people become as inflexible as their gnarled fingers. Anyway I thoroughly, most assuredly state that by reading Montaigne you will feel a certain kindredness, if not on every subject, then on some.

 

irrepressible

 

I’d also like to recommend the book, ‘Irrepressible: The life and times of Jessica Mitford’.It’s written by Leslie Brody. I’ve been obsessed with biographies from a very young age. My favourite books were as a child ‘Fantastic freaks’ and ‘Famous Crackpots’. I loved reading about the ‘weird’ . Weird, the word, I have  been informed by my husband, derives from the gaelic word for Goddess.  Think of Shakespeare’s ‘Weird Sisters’.  But it is an ancient word. Anyhoo I digress! Now this character is not so much weird, as wild, Jessica, or Decca left the wealth and stifling comfort of her aristocratic family to runaway with a lover and become a swindler of sorts, living by her beauty and gumption and travelling all across the world. She was awoken to the spirit of socialism at a young age, at the same time as her sister Unity was awoken to Nazism. It is horrifying to see her sister become a favourite of Hitler’s and how this tore at Decca’s political activism as a stoic and passionate campaigner for socialism and an end to fascism. She was so courageous, and never looked back with many regrets. Well at least that’s the way the tale is being told. I haven’t finished the book but if you need a book with a fine female heroine…

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