Staffers (not me) go. If I go to library school, will there still be traditional librarian jobs in twenty years? (No.) That's a excellent question I would ask of a senior librarian if I was twenty-five and looking into serious student debt. I can't wait to say that in the same room with senior librarians. And what the fuck does anyone want to ask me? that I can answer in front of senior librarians.
I said yes. I am told I can, at any time, change my mind and say no without taint, and of course there would be lasting taint, faint taint but permataint, but that's not why I said yes.
- I want to see if I die writhing from writing work.
- I never will write work, why worry, again.
- Cancels why I said yes, yes?
- Welcome to our global censorship and surveillance program.
- Private capital scam.
- The periodic table of psychopathy.
- Time and plenishment.
- Demon-haunted world.
- Slow motion guns of August.
- What music does America love best? Of these 50, I own no music of any of them. I haven't even heard of 40 of them. This is not to say it sucks - though the ten I do know I think suck - but to note how out of touch I am.
- New SPARKS!
- I said yes while I was on vacation. Yesterday was my first full day back. If I'd waited until noon yesterday, I'd have said no.
I just didn’t get it—
even with the teacher holding an orange (the earth) in one hand
and a lemon (the moon) in the other,
her favorite student (the sun) standing behind her with a flashlight.
I just couldn’t grasp it—
this whole citrus universe, these bumpy planets revolving so slowly
no one could even see themselves moving.
I used to think if I could only concentrate hard enough
I could be the one person to feel what no one else could,
sense a small tug from the ground, a sky shift, the earth changing gears.
Even though I was only one mini-speck on a speck,
even though I was merely a pinprick in one goosebump on the orange,
I was sure then I was the most specially perceptive, perceptively sensitive.
I was sure then my mother was the only mother to snap,
“The world doesn’t revolve around you!”
The earth was fragile and mostly water,
just the way the orange was mostly water if you peeled it,
just the way I was mostly water if you peeled me.
Looking back on that third grade science demonstration,
I can understand why some people gave up on fame or religion or cures—
especially people who have an understanding
of the excruciating crawl of the world,
who have a well-developed sense of spatial reasoning
and the tininess that it is to be one of us.
But not me—even now I wouldn’t mind being god, the force
who spins the planets the way I spin a globe, a basketball, a yoyo.
I wouldn’t mind being that teacher who chooses the fruit,
or that favorite kid who gives the moon its glow.