The Syncope, the In-Between
I’m sitting here trying to pronounce the word hh, a time dipthong, the death rattle. I’ve had this cold or flu bug for five days now and since it’s at the weird voice/annoying cough phase, my death rattle is coming out just dandy. Waking up mornings in a loopy Nyquil daze makes browsing the Interstitial Library an infinitely more tangible experience.
Adding to the confluence, or convergence, of all things, the Interstitial Library is comprised of books that have been disappeared, or have undergone deaccession. I think this library includes books repurposed as air-conditioner supports and redistributed on book swapping sites.
Recently someone installing more bookshelves for me suggested that I consider getting rid of a few books. Hah! I’ve told you how I feel about that. Books disintegrate. I own some so old they’re dissolving on the shelf. I just try not to trouble them, to move them too much. I can tell by their bloated bottom halves and peeling spines when they’ve been dropped in the tub, or left in the sun. Someone smart told me, “screw the wheel, in a book you know the world, the thoughts, can have a conversation with someone a thousand years ago. That’s an invention.” It’s true, read from The Pillow Book, and tell me that this lady’s writing, her observations and lists of things hateful, things charming, don’t hold up. How wonderful, really.
I’m coming to realize I fetishize not just my beautiful special books, but the messy ones with too many tears and dirty glue from mark-down stickers, fragile books whose covers hold on with barely more than static electricity. I like their smells and jaundice, and just knowing that the books would taste sour if you held them in your mouth. New books taste more like communion wafers.
One day I’ll decide which book I can’t part with, and have it made, all shallow empty “you’re job is to look pretty and say nothing”, into a handbag. I met Cailtin at an Etsy party, and love her “rebound” purses. To do this, I will have to buy a new book, or request one of her. It would never be possible for me to do this to a book I own, and therefore have a relationship with. That’s how it is for me.
For my treasured darlings, I have dreams for a magical day when I can have (that sounds like “i can has” but i only mean i will need to “have” it built because I suck at that stuff) magical fabulous bookshelves built into my stairs (in my fantasty brownstone, because we’re dreaming now).
i’ll help you build that staircase.. feel better, xoxo
Sorry to hear that your feeling ill. And I definitely agree about not getting rid of books. I just redid the shelving in my room recently, and as I banged away, I was also asked if I would consider giving away some books.
Never I say, never!
- Spider
PS This is Miguel from the LWC conference back in November. We talked as you volunteered, and you taught me some basics of HTML. Sorry for my disappearance.
Hey Miguel!
Lovely to hear from you. It’s definitely reassuring to know I’m not the only one who feels that way.
Nevah!
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