The other side of the river

 

 

The less content you have the more you have to say

 

I try not to get too worked up about it...

My job is at the library, but I work for The County.

The County has a big new... thing, and we at the library are part of the pilot for this... thing.

So there was an hour long Zoom about it today. I was supposed to go to it, I think. So I went to it.

There were two ladies that looked alike on the Zoom. One was sort of a younger version of the other. They talked for an hour about the new project that we're the pilot for. There was also a bald man who was part of the two lady team, but he only talked when the time was up.

The term "People Leaders" was used.

And that's pretty much it. 

I have no idea what any of it was about. 

But no worries. 

There will be two more one hour sessions about it next month.

Me doing comedy at the front desk of the library

 

I have been listening to the audiobook autobiography of Mel Brooks, read by Mel Brooks, All About Me. I find it sometimes quite funny, and I enjoy it immensely. But I must admit that as I am moving into his later career, and as many of his storytelling tropes reappear for the 11th or 12th time, some of the bloom fades. One thing Mr. Brooks likes to do is tell an often funny story about himself from real life, even sometimes just describe a bit from a movie of his being watched by an audience, and then conclude with a some highly congratulatory bit of commentary, usually something like:

"Needless to say it was an enormous hit!"

or

"People laughed so hard they fell off their chairs! It was very gratifying!"

or

"I've never seen people laugh harder in my life. It was a riot!"

As I was thinking of telling you my own story of a bit of comedy from the front desk of my library, all this Mel Brooks stuff was very much on my mind.

So here's what happened.

A co-worker and I were at the front desk of our library and it was very busy. All of the sudden there was even more of a rush and we found seven or eight people quietly clustered in front of our desk, all edging awkwardly toward us, trying to work out among themselves who was first.

Right in the midst of this someone's phone started playing a song. It was a ringtone of some kind of classical music, fairly portentous, and just audible, and with everyone gathered so closely it could have come from anywhere. 

But no one reacted. 

So I looked questioningly into the sky and asked "Does everyone hear that music, or is it just me?"

Nobody laughed.

It was a hit!

The graffiti wonderland

 

You may find today's pictures dizzying. But even though I could show a couple of photos that establish the area in which the following photographs were taken, I think it would detract from how it all really feels. My own sense when I stumbled upon this iron bridge underbelly along the Mississippi River was one of almost confused delight, and so these pictures will do their best to evoke the same in you.

I have, multiple times, shown you pictures of graffiti, as I am a fervent admirer. But those pictures were all focused on pieces, and on the work of graffiti artists. The pictures below are of an area, of the overall effect of the chaos of graffiti. I have not shown pictures of a chaotic graffiti area, full of tags and graffiti scribbles, because I usually find that ugly. It either detracts from a somewhat pretty area, adding shabbiness and hostility (Rome is sometimes prey to this), or it simply adds ugliness to ugliness. But here it works beautifully. And it almost feels like everyone is in on it.

It is a collective, accidental, on purpose, phantasmagoria. Of course the complicated iron trestle bridge work plays no small part in the wonderful, disorienting, psychedelic effect.

More library hijinks

 

This is a very, very slight sketch I dreamed up in the ample, aye voluminous time I had at the front desk of the library this afternoon while a woman searched endlessly for her card. It goes something like this:

Patron: I would like to check out these items please.

Me: Sure. I just need your library card.

Patron: (Rifling around in her purse for a long time) Hmmm. I usually always put it in this same spot.

Me: That's okay. Take your time.

Patron: (Continues digging in purse for so long I begin to regret my encouraging comment). I'm sure I put it in here! It was just in here yesterday.

Me: If you can't find it I can use an I.D. instead.

Patron: Oh. That's great! Now let me see. My license should be right here. (Digs around in her purse some more, with both hands up to elbows. It's not going well). Where on earth is my license?

Me: Do you have anything? I can really use any kind of I.D., a credit card maybe? A piece of mail I could probably work with?

Patron: (Continues rooting around in bag). Well surely I have something. Ugh! (Roots about in her purse for quite a long time).

Me: A scrap of paper with your name on it? A monogrammed keychain?

Patron: (Continues looking fruitlessly). I can't believe this!

Me: Do you have anything, anything at all in that purse?

Patron: (Lifts up purse, turns it over, and shakes it over the counter.) Nope, nothing. It's completely empty.

End scene.

Things you can't do in an Alabama library

 

Despite the title, maybe you can do this in an Alabama library. The range of my library work experience is extraordinarily narrow even as it is unfathomably deep.

A woman came up to the front desk with a wide-eyed three-year-old child. "You are here for a momentous occasion." The woman proclaimed. "This is her first time at a library and she is amazed!" 

I looked at the small child. The small child looked at me. "You will be a full-fledged socialist in no time at all." I said.

Now that I think of it, I should have given her a sticker.

Shangri-La revisited

Today we continue with our photo essay of the hidden Shangri-La (that might be redundant) that I recently stumbled upon on a very nearby walk. It seems exceptional to me that I missed such a nearby and remarkable place, but the world really is like this. Hidden miracles, almost always around like someone just kind of forgot them there, and can't be bothered to pick them up, are all around us really. It's all kind of...

wonderful.

These pictures are more of the same type from yesterday, although I do think we venture in a couple of the pictures to a special, new area from the very end of this tiny paradise. It is a bit of man-made graffiti wonderland about which probably more later.