Dispatches From the Public/Public Library
October 25, 2010 in Tales From The Bookery
Before embarking on my current(-ly stalled) career, I worked in a large, public university library for four years. Like, eight floors’ worth of books, and hundreds of thousands more in storage. Although we were there primarily for use by students and faculty, we also had a lot of community borrowers, since anyone who was a resident of the state could get a borrower’s card. The community borrowers were, by far, some of the weirdest fucking people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.
Think of it as a tropical Overlook hotel. No snow, but still plenty of phantoms and murderous impulses. The sky is always red or orange, and the intricately designed flora is always ablaze, night, day, whenever.
The journey to hell and back is paved with rough drafts and outlines, and all along the way you’re met with Samaritans who’d just as soon shank you than give you constructive feedback. There’s also shrubs and trees that scrape you up something fierce. Not to mention that the fire is always burning, and when you stop it feels all the hotter so you press on, only to find that it’s just as hot when you press on as it was when you weren’t making any tangible progress.
