12:34 PM: At The John G. Oden Public Library
On my lunch break. I've had a truly exhausting morning. Three people came into the library today, and they all wanted a book each. I hate it when the library's busy. Don't these people realize I have better things to do than trot around finding books for them? I'm sixty-two years old and I deserve a bit of peace and quiet.
What do they mean by checking out books, anyhow? The books in here are right where they belong: on the shelves, in alphabetical order, nice and tidy. I can't bear to look at those empty spots where books have been taken away. It's like the whole shelf has cancer.
1:20 PM
I'm at the counter again. There's another person here, squawking at me for some book or other. I think I've nearly convinced him that I'm entirely deaf and he'd do better to go and find someone else to help him. A few more moments of ignoring him ought to get him to go away.
Good heavens, could he stop ringing that horrid bell? I'm right here! Oh, yes, he thinks I'm deaf... best not react...
1:23 PM
He's stolen the desk pen! He's stolen the desk pen! He ripped the chain right out of the socket and stole the desk pen! Thief! Now he's shouting at me; young people can be so rude.
“WOMAN, I” breath, “AM LOOKING,” breath, “FOR A BOOK!” pant, pant. Dear dear. He doesn't sound very healthy at all. And he's waving the pen about.
“Young man, there's no need to shout, I can hear you,” I said. He turned a funny color when I said that; I can't imagine what's got him so worked up.
“I'm looking for a book.” He sounds rather strained. Perhaps he has constipation. I've seen ads for medicine that helps with that sort of thing.
“Well then, there's some over there.” I tried pointing to the shelves furthest from me, but he didn't seem to get the hint.
“A particular book.”
A particular book, he says. Picky picky. “Well what's the name of it?” I might as well just get him his silly book; he's obviously not going to go away otherwise, and would he stop waving that pen about?
“Well, I can't remember the title, but it's got a brown cover with a black spine, and I can't exactly remember what happened but I'm pretty sure it turned out that she was his mother.”
I hate people.
2:40 PM
At last! That man has gone. It took me nearly an hour to track down the book he wanted. “It turned out that she was his mother.” Good grief. I've got the desk pen back, too; I've duct-taped it back to its mooring. With any luck, the head librarian won't notice it.
When I was young, no men acted like that lunatic, blundering in and demanding a book like that. In the good old days...well, things were...good... and just as soon as I've remembered exactly how good they were, I shall write about it.
2:45 PM
Still can't remember the good old days.
2:51 PM
I've just had a horrible idea. What if there weren't any good old days? What I've been sixty-two years old forever?
2:55 PM
I feel ill.
3:30 PM
Went home on sick leave. Fed the cats, put on carpet slippers and fingerless gloves. I think I shall have tea and cheese and crackers. I hope I still have some cheese.
3:32 PM
No cheese. None at all. I shall starve and waste away and no one will care. I'm going to bed. When I wake up, I'll probably be dead. Good night.
15 years ago
He sold his original Turkish coffee for only 25¢ a cup and had been since the '70s.
ReplyDelete"Good afternoon, Ms. Evans! Care for kahve?"
"Greetings Mr. Alwyn! Care for kahve?"
Many people pushed past and ignored the wrinkly 60-year-old Turk.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteAN EXCERPT FROM "The Badger and the Dragon, or Meeting the Neighbors"
ReplyDelete...I quickly walked past him and collected my necessaries at the Big Dolla. Since the public library is right next door I decide it is about time I make another blog post. The same old woman is at the checkout desk as the last time I was here. The expression on her face says, Do you want to ask me for something, because too bad, I've had a bad day so I don't see why anyone else should have a good one; you can't possibly understand the hardships I've been through, so don't even bother trying.
On my previous visit I saw her verbally assault a small boy for attempting to return a book without the little cardboard card that no one uses anymore to keep track of how long a book has been checked out. I managed to sneak by unnoticed that time. This time, I was not so fortunate.
AHEM. Her glare is about to catch my sweatshirt on fire.
Umm, I say.
How dare you enter MY library so scruffy and dirty looking has everyone in this world lost any sense of decency I'm an old woman I don't need to be putting up with this a beard like that probably is a carrier of diseases and Lord knows it would probably only take one good disease to finish me off worse is that a bag of FOOD in your hands yes I think it is you should know food isn't allowed in a public library you might attract rats or more people like yourself though I shudder to even think the thought you might even touch a book which would be more than my old heart could bear.
Finally she took a breath and I take the opportunity to tell her the food is all still in its packages. She just scowls. I tell her I only want to use the internet. She mutters something about freeloaders and waves me inside.
This all I have time to write today. Once the machine is up and running I'll post again. Meanwhile, I'd like to leave here before the librarian decides my bones would make good flour after all...
excerpt from Storming:
ReplyDelete"Hey! Hey Jack!" I call out. He doesn't turn his head; I suppose he doesn't hear me over the storm. He seems in a hurry to get somewhere. I mean, everyone outside in this weather is in a hurry, but he seems especially frantic. He is probably headed to the library. That's where I always see him anyways. That would explain why he is in such a rush; if he is too wet, Ms. Evans, the librarian, probably wont let him come in. She would probably think he was purposefully trying to make her job harder.
Macy lightly bounded down the stairs of the Wilshire apartment building. After a big breakfast and a routine check of her radio wave receiver, from which she expected a massage from her friends in the sky any day now, Macy was ready to start a day's work at the public library. Edith, Macy's supervisor, never paid much attention to the tall girl with limbs that stuck out at awkward angles, giving her the look of a very large stick figure with frizzy blond hair. But macy liked it that way; she enjoyed her privacy, and since the library was by no means a popular place for the people of this block to visit, she was able to get much quality time in with her favorite books...
ReplyDeleteSaddened, Macy entered the library only to be scolded by Edith for her tardiness. Macy apologized numbly, hung up her coat, and grabbed a small stack of returned books waiting to be shelved.