I Fail at Librarian

Josh just got a new apartment. Jon and I decided that this necessitated meeting up and forming a team for an IKEA trip, since clearly the person with the most common sense out of our group of friends could not pick out coffee tables on his own. And clearly, when the three of us meet up, only good decisions follow.

Between the three of us, we did get Josh pretty much furnished and, miraculously, got all the furniture into his chibi-Saturn sedan. (Fuck you, Euclid! Geometry is no match for our combined might!) However, while picking out Josh's stuff, I got a bookcase.

This is a problem. Yes, I needed a bookcase, since my other ones are either a.) stuffed and b.) so stuffed I can only use part of the top shelf or it'll fall over. But I'm picky about my books. They're already alphabetized and organized by fiction/non-fiction as well as subject. Now, since I have another bookshelf, this means MORE reorganization! And everyone knows it's just silly to merely throw books back on shelves without at least reading a bit. That would be like blitzing by a friend you haven't seen for five years without even waving!

In short...most of my library is now in the middle of the living room floor, my poetry books are still in a box on my radiator, and about 3 books have actually made it off one shelf and onto another. I, however, am constantly tripping, stubbing my toes, and falling over the books, but am also happy as a well-read clam.

One of the poetry books that DID move was a Whitman compilation. Crazy man. Half of the time, I wonder if bookstores should include a free hit of pot with every book of his poetry or (worse) essays they sell, because it would probably make more sense that way. Every now and then, though, he manages to say something absolutely perfectly.

"When I Heard at the Close of the Day" (Whitman, 1900)

When I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv’d with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy night for me that follow’d;
And else, when I carous’d, or when my plans were accomplish’d, still I was not happy;
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health, refresh’d, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the morning light,
When I wander’d alone over the beach, and undressing, bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought how my dear friend, my lover, was on his way coming, O then I was happy;
O then each breath tasted sweeter—and all that day my food nourish’d me more—and the beautiful day pass’d well,
And the next came with equal joy—and with the next, at evening, came my friend;
And that night, while all was still, I heard the waters roll slowly, continually up the shores, I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands, as directed to me, whispering, to congratulate me,
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night,
In the stillness, in the autumn moonbeams, his face was inclined toward me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was happy.