The Martyrs
Empty martyrs,
blind guides,
maddening to pin down;
Wildly inconsistent
but others only pretended piety.
Questions divided
to find a clear answer,
Rituals culminated
in spite of all this,
Convincingly argued,
they celebrated
as a sacrament
such contradictions.
As I returned from taking photos of the booths and chairs, the disparity between all that beautiful new furniture in the public area and the horrible, mismatched crap we worker bees are stuck with was kind of glaring. (The photo is a little blurry, because I was in non-flash stealth mode.)
As promised, the new booths in the 3rd floor study area.
Wells Library Facade from the 3rd Floor Landing
As I was standing on the back landing, a coworker came up the stairs and stopped to talk. He said that he’s worked there for years, and he’s never stopped to look out that window before. I can’t imagine being that oblivious to your surroundings. I look out that window every single day.
These are the old chairs, from the study carrels. They’re lined up and ready to go, presumably to IU Surplus.
I had a peanut butter sandwich and tomato soup for supper. Miss Brown, who is spoiled rotten, waited patiently for me to give her the end of my sandwich. It took her about 20 minutes of lick-lick-licking to get all the peanut butter off the roof of her mouth.
Empty Booth by Wetsun, published under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license
They’ve been tarting up the west side of the 3rd floor. The old study carrels are gone, and in their place are some lovely new booths. I swear, it looks like some sort of breakfast dive.
Pictures shall, of course, be forthcoming. In the meantime, I’ve trawled Flickr for IHOP photos.
The Heretics
collage and watersoluble crayons in altered book
9 3/8 x 11 3/4 inches
The Heretics (a found poem)
When discovered among themselves –
Grudgingly respected,
Arrogant upstarts who threatened
the message,
Engaged in conversation with
such dissident seekers
With deeper insights
derived from deeper mysteries –
For the first time
The heretics speak to us
in their own words.
I’m a little ambivalent about how this turned out, visually. I’d probably change some things if I could. It’s a start, though, and starting is always the hardest part.
I should also point out that I cropped and pasted the two pages together, so that there is no gutter or white space. I had to scan them separately, because the book is too large to fit on my scanner bed. Didn’t I say that the next book was going to be small enough to fit? I lied.
Ever since I got home, about an hour ago, it’s been steadily raining out back. Meanwhile, the sidewalk in front is bone dry. Apparently, there’s a tiny little rain cloud stalled over the back field.
I had to make a quick stop at Target last night. ‘Tis the season, so the parking lot was packed; the only spots open were at the very back. As I was walking toward the store, I noticed an elderly woman wandering around, looking kind of lost and forlorn. I asked her if she’d lost her car. She described it to me and apologized for being stupid. I told her not to worry, it happens to everyone. I walked down the row with her, looking for a maroon sedan with a 7A plate. It was only about 10 cars beyond where she’d been standing, so she would have found it on her own, but it was nice to feel helpful.
I forgot about the incident while I was shopping, but was reminded again when I left the store. For a moment, I thought, “That’s going to be me in 30 years.” Then, as I was standing around looking for my damned car, I amended it to, “Hell, that’s me now!”
