Today I wrote a rather long epistle to the 2/3 of the Trinity not sitting in my kitchen, complete with anecdotes and much love, and compiled an excellent mix for the 2/3 of the Trinity who can listen to heathen music right now. And then I realized that my printer was out of ink, so I went to campus to print up the epistle and blog posts for Kapka, who's trapped in the MTC.
I printed the epistle and then decided to check the library for a book of poetry criticism I've been wanting to thumb through. They didn't have it, but I found a few more titles and headed up to the fifth floor. I found the PS 325 section just fine and took my sweet time selecting books. Then I headed for PS 3515. I found PS 3511 and then nothing. And then PS 3657 or something. So I walked back to the reference desk and asked for help. (See--I can ask for directions!)
The nice man at the desk checked the call number I gave him and then walked back to the shelves with me, but went in the opposite direction of where I had been looking. For some twisted reason there is a tiny corner of shelves that includes PS 3515. I was grateful for his help and made some crack about "so this is why no one reads poetry anymore." He smiled and then said, "Actually, there's a better reason why people don't read poetry anymore, but I don't think you'll want to hear it."
Jerk.
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4 comments:
Why is this guy working on the fifth floor?
Response, "yeah, I know, most of the intelligent Americans died before 1900."
Where are you, eg?
eg, you are amazing.
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