Tracks
Listening to: Tom Waits
For some reason it started at the Public Library on 40th st. and 5th. I already have a Brooklyn Library card but I also wanted a New York one. I showed a letter, filled in a form and got my red and blue library card that I immediately put to work by taking Amy Hempel's AT THE GATES OF ANIMAL KINGDOM -- a book that you cannot find under $75 (secondhand, paperback edition.)
But I'm pretty sure it started at the library. It was about to close, a huge line was forming at the desk and I was checking something on the library catalogue. An old man arrived at the computer next to mine and asked me how to access the catalogue. I quickly glanced at his screen and told him he already was on the catalogue's page. I didn't give him an extra second of my attention.
Browsing the LEO catalogue, I started to feel bad. I hadn't even looked at him. I could hear the hesitant clicking of the old man's mouse. He was still lost, no doubt. I couldn't help him, though. It's not my usual behavior. For some reason, his ignorance upset me. On the computer, I closed the window and then waited for my turn at the end of the line that was stretching as far as the elevators. A guard in uniform stood between them, making sure no book fiend would go upstairs. I was pissed at myself for being upset at the old man. As the queue slowly moved forward, the old man was visible again. His computer was the only one to still be on and he was talking to one of the library help.
I had already felt weird before the meeting with the old man. I had felt in a bubble. The incident with the old man just shut the bubble for good. I hardly read on the ride home. Hardly paid attention to what was going on around me.
Going out I didn't feel like walking straight to Grand Central. I ate a burger in a snack on 41th street, seating at a table in the back, watching cars coming out of the underground parking across the street.
When I arrived in Grand Central, I didn't feel like walking straight to the trains either. I lingered in the bookstore. I quickly looked at their fiction selection but only half-heartedly. I felt more attracted to the little notebooks and journals displayed and the photographs and architecture books. Then I started looking for the self-help section (really not my usual behavior.) There were many interesting titles there. Titles that say a lot about "us." By then I was really feeling like shit. Thinking about letters I wouldn't write. Postcards I wouldn't send. I thought about Fitzgerald who is said to have been so lonely that he would send postcards to himself. He would then read them in his shabby hotel room. Read a biography on Fitzgerald and you almost want to cheer at Hemingway's suicide.
I usually shun the "Self-help" section. Also, I usually avoid the "Writing/Publishing section." If you want to be a writer, read. When you think you've read enough, just shut up and write. You don't need to know anything else. You can even skip the first step. You wouldn't be the first one. Anyway, I looked at the titles in the "Self-help" section but there was nothing really for me. What I was looking for was LIFE FOR DUMMIES. Or something like that.
Arrived home and read the newspapers online. Then had a stroke of nostalgia and went on Arte's website, hoping that it would be possible to download the show "Tracks". But of course, it was not possible to watch the show online. This week was on Billy Idol and Adam Green, anyway. But still, it would have feel good to watch the show like back in the days. Also I would have liked to watch the report on female hackers.
For some reason it started at the Public Library on 40th st. and 5th. I already have a Brooklyn Library card but I also wanted a New York one. I showed a letter, filled in a form and got my red and blue library card that I immediately put to work by taking Amy Hempel's AT THE GATES OF ANIMAL KINGDOM -- a book that you cannot find under $75 (secondhand, paperback edition.)
But I'm pretty sure it started at the library. It was about to close, a huge line was forming at the desk and I was checking something on the library catalogue. An old man arrived at the computer next to mine and asked me how to access the catalogue. I quickly glanced at his screen and told him he already was on the catalogue's page. I didn't give him an extra second of my attention.
Browsing the LEO catalogue, I started to feel bad. I hadn't even looked at him. I could hear the hesitant clicking of the old man's mouse. He was still lost, no doubt. I couldn't help him, though. It's not my usual behavior. For some reason, his ignorance upset me. On the computer, I closed the window and then waited for my turn at the end of the line that was stretching as far as the elevators. A guard in uniform stood between them, making sure no book fiend would go upstairs. I was pissed at myself for being upset at the old man. As the queue slowly moved forward, the old man was visible again. His computer was the only one to still be on and he was talking to one of the library help.
I had already felt weird before the meeting with the old man. I had felt in a bubble. The incident with the old man just shut the bubble for good. I hardly read on the ride home. Hardly paid attention to what was going on around me.
Going out I didn't feel like walking straight to Grand Central. I ate a burger in a snack on 41th street, seating at a table in the back, watching cars coming out of the underground parking across the street.
When I arrived in Grand Central, I didn't feel like walking straight to the trains either. I lingered in the bookstore. I quickly looked at their fiction selection but only half-heartedly. I felt more attracted to the little notebooks and journals displayed and the photographs and architecture books. Then I started looking for the self-help section (really not my usual behavior.) There were many interesting titles there. Titles that say a lot about "us." By then I was really feeling like shit. Thinking about letters I wouldn't write. Postcards I wouldn't send. I thought about Fitzgerald who is said to have been so lonely that he would send postcards to himself. He would then read them in his shabby hotel room. Read a biography on Fitzgerald and you almost want to cheer at Hemingway's suicide.
I usually shun the "Self-help" section. Also, I usually avoid the "Writing/Publishing section." If you want to be a writer, read. When you think you've read enough, just shut up and write. You don't need to know anything else. You can even skip the first step. You wouldn't be the first one. Anyway, I looked at the titles in the "Self-help" section but there was nothing really for me. What I was looking for was LIFE FOR DUMMIES. Or something like that.
Arrived home and read the newspapers online. Then had a stroke of nostalgia and went on Arte's website, hoping that it would be possible to download the show "Tracks". But of course, it was not possible to watch the show online. This week was on Billy Idol and Adam Green, anyway. But still, it would have feel good to watch the show like back in the days. Also I would have liked to watch the report on female hackers.
posted by Cecyl at 10:13 PM
2 Comments:
i really like this post
Thanks Hon, but I still feel bad about the "Old Man Incident." I'm still trying to find out what provoked my reaction. Would it have been the same with anybody else or did I recognize in him some pattern at work that deeply upset me for some reason, etc.?
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