day two hundred eighty-six.

i think these reviewers seriously hate all books.

(book on the human body, 1960s)

"duh."

day two hundred fifty-three.

sometimes our books come with hand written notes on select pages, from those who reviewed them in the past.

let the nitpicking ensue:

fiddler's fancy

by julia montgomery street

c1955

some instructions:

and a bit of shock and indignation from a book on plants:

a very busy week, now reaching its halfway point.

when i have too much to do, i often block out time to watch the movies i've seen before, as if seeing even fragments of the familiar will order my thoughts in some productive way.
it only works sometimes.

day two hundred thirty.

(i'm looking at you, jessica)

i started work this morning, in the land of snarky reviews pasted into books and odd subject matter:

then my bank was inexplicably playing "up" to an audience of no one.

dinner.

long day, but i returned home to mail and the soundtrack of sufjan's ode to the apocalypse.
a good start to the semester, i'd say.

day one hundred seventy-eight.

announcement in my residence's elevator:

so truez, internz.

i went to h&m and had thai food tonight with library interns jessica and nicole.
it was my second trip to kanlaya, but this time i ate something called "tofu kapow" (and kapow it was).
my brain has already fast-forwarded to the weekend.
is it weird that i'm sad about missing the mundelein munch?

day one hundred.

this is a book from 1951 featuring real animals. i can only imagine it was made to frighten children into not asking their parents for a pet.

(click any image for a bit of a closer view, because that is something you might want to do if sight is not your favorite thing)


this is precisely what i look like when i get to class.

if i knew you were coming i'd have baked the photographer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8AOfbnGkuGc

so, this is supposed to be a well, and not gallows. i think.

oh great, they killed one.

i'm a pretty girl.

this dog wants to kill himself.

the ever-snarky review, this time wildly appropriate.

happy one hundredth day.

day eighty-nine.

a quiet end to a very social weekend.
is it still easter if i didn't eat any candy?

day seventy-one.

from work, a nomination for book review of the week:

The Laughing Bird, by Anita Hewett

"Dull writing, having neither the attraction of humor nor the usefulness of nature information. The basis for the book is irrational; what we call 'laughter' is his bird language."