5:33 AM
I still feel a little sick, but I must bravely forge through the day. It is my duty as a public servant of the library. People depend upon me. I must be a good example.
5:40 AM
I hate the world.
6:45 AM
I shall have to go by the grocery store today after work; all I have is crackers, cheese, apples, and some canned food. And milk and tea, of course. If Mr. Yilmaz sees the inside of my refrigerator whilst he's fixing the heater in the living room--you never know, with foreign men--then he might think I'm strange.
6:50 AM
On the other hand, he's foreign. Perhaps cheese and crackers and apples is a normal diet in Turkland.
6:55 AM
Turkey. Took a moment for my geography knowledge to kick in. Either way, I'd best just get some food. In case he's hungry. I ought to be hospitable. After all, he will be fixing my heater.
7:oo AM
Good lord, Zeppelin--one of the cats--is stuck in the lampshade and he hisses at me if I try to get near.
Ah. I see what's happened. There was a moth flitting about around the light bulb and Zeppelin...oh dear. He's much too fat. Hence his name, of course--perhaps "Blimp" would have been more appropriate, but somehow that sounded... insulting.
7:03 AM
He's broken my lamp! Furry bastard! I tried to help him out, but nooooooo, he had to go and break the dratted lamp! And he's still stuck in the lampshade.
7:12 AM
I have succeeded in wrestling Zeppelin from the lampshade. I just grabbed the lampshade itself and shook it like mad and he--eventually--popped out. Now I have to clean up the mess and get to work on time.
12:40 PM
Work has been boring. The only (relatively) high point was when a woman named Marie came in and returned Lord of the Flies. She was in here yesterday, when she checked out the book, but she doesn't strike me as the reading type. I tried to offer to help her find some book that might interest her, but she said no and left.
12:43 PM
I've been plotting dinner for tonight just in case Mr. Yilmaz stays for dinner.
12:45 PM
Which he damn well better, because I've spent all morning plotting and it's going to take all afternoon to cook it. I've written down some foreign-looking recipes from a cookbook I got in the World section, and I'm still looking. I hope he appreciates my cultural sensitiveness.
1:12 PM
Couscous? Idly? Dosa looks good. I'll make dosa. It's Indian food, but India is fairly close to Turkey. It's on the same continent, at least.
3:20 PM
I've left the library to Macy and I'm getting the ingredients for dosa. I hope it's foreign enough.
15 years ago
2. An old woman riding a bike - Her grey hair is pinned up neatly. She looks very severe, but I have a sneaking suspicion it's just a front. She likes things the way she likes them and she doesn't take shit from anyone. I can see that in the weave of her cardigan. I hear her cry as she almost runs me down, "Sidewalks are for moving, not for dawdling!"
ReplyDeleteIt was 6:30pm when Altan packed up for the day. He was sleepy and didn't feel like waiting for the cool of the night when people might be more inclined to buy his coffee. He had that nagging feeling one gets when one thinks one might be forgetting something. He tried to not think about it, but it was ever so persistent. Altan stopped by Jorri Ray's on the way back to the tower and grabbed a small, wilted salad and a piece of cherry pie to go. The broken down truck was still across the street.
ReplyDeleteBack in his apartment, Altan ate quietly, content with the day. After his meal, he completed his prayers and tidied up. He then just stood, staring out the window, knowing he'd done everything that he'd needed too, but he still felt like he was forgetting something... it was 8:36pm. Sighing, Altan went to bed.
Macy walked into the library for another day of work. But something was different today. No one was there. It was normal to not have any customers, but where was Edith? She was always here to harass Macy first thing in the morning about being late or for her poor work in shelving books the day before. There were shouts outside, which Macy followed over to the abandoned parking lot across the street. She spotted Edith. But what was she doing? The scene in front of Macy became clearer. There was a fire. Huge tendrils of yellow and orange flames licked the early morning sky. Edith was dancing around the fire, yelling something Macy couldn't make out. There were men too, but they weren't joining in with Edith's the dancing and yelling. They were throwing things into the fire.
ReplyDelete"Cool," Macy thought. The beauty of fire had always enticed and mystified her. She walked closer, hoping to join in.
"Macy!" Yelled Edith. "Stop them, Macy! They are burning my precious books! My books, Macy!"
So that's what the men were throwing into the fire. Macy caught the title of a book one man was about to throw in. It was entitled Aliens Walk Among Us. Furious that any human would be so insolent as to burn her favorite book, one which was vital to uphold the integrity of any library's collection, Macy tackled the man.
"Good, Macy!" She heard Edith yell over the crackle of the fire which was now next to Macy's head!
Cursing her head of large frizzy blond hair, Macy scooted away from the fire, but she was too late. Her hair was ablaze. Screaming at the pain as the flames burned her scalp, Macy ran out of the parking lot despite Edith's shouts for her to stop being silly and dunk her head in some water.
My feet carried me to the library all by themselves.
ReplyDeleteNice out today, the doorman said as I left Wilshire. He was right. Blue skies and warm weather forced me out of my customary sweatshirt.
On the way there I passed an odd woman on the sidewalk. Something told me she was the one, the one who'd taken the two. And yet, my feet kept going, unperturbed.
What kind of January is this? I said to the librarian when I entered. An attempt at casual conversation.
She stared at me, squinted one eye. Maybe she was contemplating ordering me out of the library again. Maybe she wasn't used to being asked about the weather.
The kind that kills, she said.
What?
Plants. Kills plants. They'll all thinks it's Spring, and sprout out of their little hiding places and then, sooner than you can say Thanatos, it'll be cold and they'll die. They'll freeze, and whither, and die cold, lonely little deaths.
Without further comment, she returned to shuffling a stack of papers on her desk. Paperwork, I supposed, though she didn't seem to be making any move to do anything with it other than shuffle it round and round until the end of the world.
I spent the next few hours aimlessly wandering the library. No research project today; not on water molecules or numbers or any other ephemera. Just picking books at random from the shelves, examining covers, author names, trying to pick something to read. They say you can't judge a book by its cover, but you don't really have any other choice.
Eventually I settled on one with a blurry image of someone's face on the cover. He was wearing glasses, but where the eye should have been, instead there were the waves of the ocean. Finding a warm corner to sit in, I began to read. It was a story about a Japanese kid. He was running away from home. I read and read.
At first I promised myself I'd go back to work on my project after a few hours, but I couldn't draw myself away from the book. I couldn't draw myself away from not doing anything. I smiled, stretched, inhaled the book smell, and gave in to temptation.
As the pages and hours crept by I could feel the heat slowly pulling down my eyelids . . . I fell asleep . . . and dreamed of nothing at all.