Dec. 6th, 2012

little_tristan: (Book Reading)
I've thought about this a lot and it's the best answer. Bookstores have to be busy and profitable, and librarians are bound by all sorts of actual laws and bullshit local politics. I wouldn't be good at either of those things.

But if we were rich and could afford to run a business at a loss (or arrange it as a proper tax shelter), I'd run a private library. It would start with my books, of course. Most of them would be available to check out but a few would be for reading on the premises only. The antiques and the ones that are already falling apart. Some would be in display cases and not touched at all.

Really, it would be a book club. Not like a group reading the same book book club. A club of book people. Like a wine club, or the reading room of a country club. There would be yearly dues collected to buy new books and replace lost or damaged books. But I'd screen the members carefully and try not to take any who would lose/steal/damage my books. Repeat offenders would be kicked out.

It wouldn't replace the public library, where they have ten of thousands of books and millions more available through the CCRLS system. It'd be more the kind of place you'd go after you hit the public library to read your new books without the distraction of a hundred people going in and out. The furniture would be comfortable, the lighting plentiful but understated, and there might be a fireplace with a dignified painting over it.

Also, as a private entity, I could probably have resident animals without all the legal hassles that public businesses deal with. But it would be ridiculously accessible. The restroom would be huge and there would always be a very polite and dignified employee to see that everyone's needs were met. A library butler.

There would also be a room that members could reserve for private book clubs or writing workshops, whatever they needed a space for. So long as it was quiet and related to the purpose of the club.

The club might sponsor a discussion group or have guest writers visit, but I'm not sure. Perhaps once there was a certain number of members we would vote on that. I'd consider one discussion meeting a month and one or two guest speakers a year.

I like going to those things sometimes, but it also seems that talking about books and writing eventually supersedes actually reading and writing. We couldn't risk alienating the people who joined to have a place to go and read when they can't do that at home. It must always be a place to escape to, never from.

I've been thinking about this off and on for a good ten years, but always more in the winter. And when the arch-nemesis is being especially awful. Yesterday was one of those days when I just wanted to go somewhere and be alone with my books. And at least half of a really good chocolate cake. Homemade. With possibly lemon frosting between the layers.

I would serve things like that at the library club. Members would eat for free.
little_tristan: (Default)
I wish Protestants would stop using the term Immaculate Conception. It's peculiarly Catholic doctrine and they don't know what it means. It sounds good but they're really just perpetuating the confusion.

I also wish Supernatural had come up with a different word for what they call purgatory. Purgatory is a real word. It has a long history and a well-defined meaning. The place they're talking about is not it. So far as I can tell, their purgatory is purely an invention for the show--given that the monsters who go there don't exist--so they could have made up a name for it rather than appropriating an unrelated word.

These things don't offend me as a Catholic. They offend me as a student of the English language.

The atmospheric pressure is changing. It's killing my sinuses and I want to go to bed. This is the only time I still miss Steve. But I don't miss being lifted at arm's length.

There was another dust-up with the arch-nemesis this morning. He got all petty about the amount of stuff I had cluttering up the counter in "his" bathroom. (A bottle of body wash, a bottle of hair oil, a razor and a box of replacement blades.) I was taking the dogs out and found my things in a box of trash he'd gathered up and left on the shower chair in the hall.

He said of course I could put the important stuff back in the bathroom, but where? Not on the counter. He just cleaned it! And the medicine cabinet is too shallow and the shelves too close together, and he just cleaned the windowsill, too, and his stuff is under the sink, but I can put it anywhere else if I just tell him where!

I assumed it was a rhetorical question. He did suggest that, since I use those things so rarely, I should just leave them on the chair. In the hall. That gets knocked over at least twice a week by me or the dogs (or Russell, in the dark).

That seemed to be the one last humiliation that it was still possible to avoid, so I took my stuff to my room and am trying to figure out a way to transport it back and forth easily enough that Mark won't get pissed off every single time I take a shower. Or worse, put it back in the bathroom (where it belongs) so I can pick it all out of the trash again in a couple weeks.

In less cranky news, stamps came today so I'm going to mail holiday cards tomorrow. It'll be a good project while I wait for Tammy. This week I'm going to ask her to do the stuff I felt too guilty to ask for last week, since I felt too guilty to ask anyone else, either.

There were two Discover magazines in the mail. I just subscribed a few weeks ago and recently got the November issue. Today I got December and January/February. I forgot they do that, use up as many of the issues you've paid for as they can with ones already printed. It's cost-saving without being a complete ripoff. At least to me. I like missing out on as few as possible.

Sort of on a whim, I subscribed to Mother Jones yesterday. I wasn't even sure what it was until I saw it on Amazon. If asked, I'd have guessed newspaper. I've seen it sourced in a lot of really interesting articles on the web and their information generally holds up. I'm hoping it's less pretentious than The New Yorker. The a-n makes me read some of the articles and explain them to him. He only knows what about half the words mean. It takes forever.

(Off, crankypants! Get back!)

Hours later, my headache is mostly gone and there is promise of food soon. Not food that I love, but certainly edible and nutritious food. If Ranger steals another pork chop right off the broiler pan, I'll try to get a picture.

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