Misadventures of the Monster Librarian

CONGRATULATIONS to COLLEGE KIM & JESSE MARRIED Today! If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, (love) is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails. If there are prophecies, they will be brought to nothing; if tongues, they will cease; if knowledge, it will be brought to nothing. For we know partially and we prophesy ...

Les Paines de Picasso, 1954, Robert Doisneau I stumbled across this picture tonight in my wanderings. Have always loved it. I was going to post the e.e. cumming's poem about Picasso, but realized I already did ( here ), which is actually great because it led me to a stash of Pablo Picasso's very own poems! Enjoy! "whisper" the shiver of hands blind without memory and so, friendly still yet sweet like the words forgotten to the tremble of lips quiet there are no surprises here rest your eyelids until they become stone rest your heart until it stops (it beats now only for itself in some secret place) --Pablo Picasso Pic found here .

Yes, yes, I am still stuck with art on the brain. Stumbled across these gems. The above picture reminded me of work, titled: KITCHEN, Pablo Picasso. The other painting, Woman with a cat, Fernand Leger , looks like me on the weekends--reading with Bravo our cat.

I loved the way that the sun felt on my face in southern Spain; much like my surroundings, it felt foreign. The sun there even seemed to seep into my skin and brain and be speaking in a foreign tongue. It browned my skin as it whispered to me, wandering alongside me--a companion--as we explored Moor-inspired old towns; over bridges, old and new: "hola amiga, te extrano mucho." I wish I could be in Spain right now, instead of glued to this desk chair in the library. *Sigh.* I am feeling wanderlust again...hmm... I am thinking of Spain because I was reading about/ooking at paintings by Picasso because I was reading e.e. cummings',  "Picasso." (My mind sometimes reminds me of the Laura Numeroff series , If you give a moose a muffin , et alia. Picasso is someone I have always admired--we met when I was a Spanish student in high school--because he always told the truth of what he was seeing. Picasso painted beautiful, breathtaking things: dancing, love, music, food...