Sunday, 1 June 2003

Went to the li­brary again. Got Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon; The Complete po­ems of Carl Sandburg; and a se­lec­tion of short sto­ries by Philip K. Dick.

As I was check­ing out, I was checked out by the li­brar­i­an.

She hit on me last time I was there as well. I was wear­ing me Heathen T-shirt, and she said some­thing about lik­ing it, but not hav­ing lis­tened to the al­bum. David Bowie’s lat­est has been out for a year by this point.

She com­pli­ment­ed my shirt [plain black po­lo] this time as well and then com­pli­ment­ed my book choic­es. Its pret­ty creepy get­ting hit on by a li­brar­i­an, es­pe­cial­ly one that is at least ten years my se­nior.

There is a cute li­brar­i­an there, about my age, who is quite help­ful, but I’m a bit scared off by the old one with the glint in her eye. There was al­so a cute girl in church to­day. I won­der if I’ve just got cute girls on the brain. I ex­pect ’tis so.

Cool Pynchon phras­es so far: 

wast­ed gods urg­ing on a tardy glac­i­er

the usu­al loud-mouthed American ass-ban­dit­ry