Misadventures of the Monster Librarian

And since I am still moving and haven't had time to write more, here is another gem. Re-stumbled upon this tonight.     From "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" ...The impalpable sustenance of me from all things at all hours of the day, The simple, compact, well-join'd scheme, myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated yet part of the scheme, The similitudes of the past and those of the future, The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings, on the walk in the street and the passage over the river, The current rushing so swiftly and swimming with me far away, The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them, The certainty of others, the life, love, sight, hearing of others. Others will enter the gates of the ferry and cross from shore to shore, Others will watch the run of the flood-tide, Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east, Others will see the islands lar...

I moved yet more stuff into my little cabin last night, and yet I still have a few more boxes to go. The goal, nay promise to RugbyGirl, is that I will be entirely moved out by tomorrow afternoon. Working at the new library gig tonight (not so new anymore...over a month now :) and then off to a holiday party at a fellow farmer's house, then tomorrow begins my 3 day weekend. And so, while I am still occupied and not posting much, enjoy this gem from myfirstdictionary blog.

I am finally living the Thoreau dream...well, kinda..I am not totally apart from others...though was he really? More on this soon, but it is late and I work at 6:30am and need some zzzs!! "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my n...

"At the fishhouses" Although it is a cold evening, down by one of the fishhouses an old man sits netting, his net, in the gloaming almost invisible, a dark purple-brown, and his shuttle worn and polished. The air smells so strong of codfish it makes one's nose run and one's eyes water. The five fishhouses have steeply peaked roofs and narrow, cleated gangplanks slant up to storerooms in the gables for the wheelbarrows to be pushed up and down on. All is silver: the heavy surface of the sea, swelling slowly as if considering spilling over, is opaque, but the silver of the benches, the lobster pots, and masts, scattered among the wild jagged rocks, is of an apparent translucence like the small old buildings with an emerald moss growing on their shoreward walls. The big fish tubs are completely lined with layers of beautiful herring scales and the wheelbarrows are similarly plastered with creamy iridescent coats of mail, with small iridescent fl...

Frost At Midnight  The Frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry Came loud--and hark, again ! loud as before. The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, Have left me to that solitude, which suits Abstruser musings : save that at my side My cradled infant slumbers peacefully. 'Tis calm indeed ! so calm, that it disturbs And vexes meditation with its strange And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood, This populous village ! Sea, and hill, and wood, With all the numberless goings-on of life, Inaudible as dreams ! the thin blue flame Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not; Only that film, which fluttered on the grate, Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing. Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature Gives it dim sympathies with me who live, Making it a companionable form, Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit By its own moods interprets, every where Echo or mirror seeking of itself, And makes a toy of Thought....

"Seeker of truth" seeker of truth follow no path all paths lead where truth is here e.e.Cummings 

  I needed a shot of some girl power tonight and I found it in this kick ass picture by Amanda Visell .  I have been feeling all of these things lately. And I have finally been feeling stronger, recovering from my week long cold; feeling buoyed and very supported lately by some great friends: Best friends L, K, College Kim and Mummy Dearest. Thanks ladies! Together we could run the world!