So it seems as though none of the books at Avery are good enough for the students nowadays. There were three carts of Offsite books that I mercilessly shelved today, so that by the time I was done I was covered in flecks of Italian manuscript covers (I'm so gentle) and, of course, dust. So much for my ever looking "put together" in public; mainly I look like I've just crawled out of a mouse hole. Speaking of places to live, if you have one, and are moving out in May, let me know or else I really be sleeping in the basement with the double folios.
As previously mentioned, NE is back in his spot on the 200s level (just to the left of the Reserves desk). I thought briefly, since he had been such a regular last semester, that perhaps he went on sabbatical, but then I remembered that a) he only just got his PhD, why would he be taking off again? and b) he's tag-team teaching Dada and Surrealism with Auntie Roz this semester! A friend and I are going to attend said graduate lecture one of these days, before graduating, in a surreal and altered state, and I bet him a dollar that I will be crying by the end of the class out of both euphoria and blinding terror. It would be the apex of my very slippery ascent up the phallic, phallic Art History mountain at Columbia. In any case, I was supposed to pick up and sort the 200 level but had to leave yet another mountain of books next to NE because I am too intimidated by his boyish grin and streak of gray in the front of his hairline: "Yes I got my PhD and Associate Professor status before I turned 30," it seems to scream. So I left him surrounded by random Ware books about sensuality and architecture and Tschumi.
My senior thesis seminar met tonight for the first round of thesis presentations, for which I could not mentally be present at for fear of suffering a panic-turned-heart attack. I was just seating myself behind a giant pillar at the corner of the table (thanks, Diana, for such architectural innovations as giant columns in seminar rooms) when all of a sudden Adrien Brody walks in! No, not the Adrien Brody (or at least not yet, you never know who will be the next commencement speaker!), but the Avery regular who kind of resembles him (it's the slicked-back but not Euro-trash hair) and who always, ALWAYS wears a black suit, or at least the blazer. And loafers. It's a throwback to that time when professors actually dressed like men. I'm even more surprised when RD introduces him as Prof K - not by his first name, but as Professor K. Evidently he's a Mellon Fellow and specializes in High Renaissance art. Then he starts talking at the end of one of the presentations and I burst out laughing because his accent is so French/German and I am a five-year-old and can't help but find it incredibly sexy, especially the way he says "Titian." Teeeeesh-anne. I think I might invite him to my presentation; I think his High Renaissance expertise will be most useful in my 20th-century, photography-centric, suddenly feminist thesis. There's got to be something there.
It's supposed to rain tomorrow, so please be careful not to slip and fall on your ass in the lobby - yes, the marble is hard to maneuver, but falling is not sexy, and people will just walk their Frye boots right over you.
Have your IDs ready,
GA
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
It's Not Love It's Aestheticism
We have all heard the age-old complaint that there is "no dating at Columbia." Of course there's no dating at Columbia. We are surrounded by restaurants like Ollie's and bars like Pourhouse. We are generally neurotic and too exhausted to meet people. And we're all self-absorbed or, in some very special cases, so absorbed by theses that sexual drive becomes a mere LOL. But I have been witnessing more and more yet another phenomenon: The Avery Date.
The Avery Date is where the hypothetical "you" show up, receive text from hypothetical significant other asking where you are followed by a string of emoticons and shit, and you reply "Avery." Five minutes later sig other shows up (and I know who all of you are), and you go do your homework together - Columbia's version of foreplay. Think about it: it's completely quiet, it's called the friggin' Red Zone, every five minutes you and your date just stare silently at each other and do the footsie routine and try to get each other as excited as possible without making it obvious to your table partners (I have definitely seen this happen, while pretending to shelve books, but I won't tell. There's nothing about that sort of behavior on the red zone labels). And you get your work done, what could be sexier.
This post was random, and it's only because I'm in a rush (have class and need coffee first) and am in Butler, milling with the plebes. There are no dates here that I can see, only students who look like they have a migraine that is making them go blind. I'd hate to turn this blog into "The Avery vs Butler War," but there is a subtle war, to be dealt with later when I am not running late, not in Butler, and angry enough to type yell at all the people who return books from Butler to Avery because yeah you can do it but it's disrespectful.
Also: NE is back. 200s level just got hotter.
The Avery Date is where the hypothetical "you" show up, receive text from hypothetical significant other asking where you are followed by a string of emoticons and shit, and you reply "Avery." Five minutes later sig other shows up (and I know who all of you are), and you go do your homework together - Columbia's version of foreplay. Think about it: it's completely quiet, it's called the friggin' Red Zone, every five minutes you and your date just stare silently at each other and do the footsie routine and try to get each other as excited as possible without making it obvious to your table partners (I have definitely seen this happen, while pretending to shelve books, but I won't tell. There's nothing about that sort of behavior on the red zone labels). And you get your work done, what could be sexier.
This post was random, and it's only because I'm in a rush (have class and need coffee first) and am in Butler, milling with the plebes. There are no dates here that I can see, only students who look like they have a migraine that is making them go blind. I'd hate to turn this blog into "The Avery vs Butler War," but there is a subtle war, to be dealt with later when I am not running late, not in Butler, and angry enough to type yell at all the people who return books from Butler to Avery because yeah you can do it but it's disrespectful.
Also: NE is back. 200s level just got hotter.
Monday, February 8, 2010
What's Your Brand?
Someone is actually smoking within the lobby of Avery.
Well this is new. And I guess it is cold outside.
Heh heh heh, a guy who just RAN in here with his iPod on without showing me his ID - I had to grab his attention by poking him with my pen - is trying to close the automatic door, and it's not budging because it's automatic, heh heh heh.
TBC tonight: smoking brands. (I promise I will get to glasses, but I have to take topics as they come.)
Well this is new. And I guess it is cold outside.
Heh heh heh, a guy who just RAN in here with his iPod on without showing me his ID - I had to grab his attention by poking him with my pen - is trying to close the automatic door, and it's not budging because it's automatic, heh heh heh.
TBC tonight: smoking brands. (I promise I will get to glasses, but I have to take topics as they come.)
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Coughdrops Are Not Food
...Well then I hypocritically and successfully printed not one but THREE documents on 200b today. All PDFs. God damnit.
Am quite sick. Apologies to anyone who was actually trying to study through my coughing fits today. And to anyone who had to deal with my fuck-you-I'm-sick demeanor at the desk today. Especially people in C's Curatorial Seminar. But the truth is that there is only one copy of "Inside the White Cube" on reserve, and you should have done the reading more than an hour in advance of the class. And final apologies to the two people whose class meetings I ruined because I could not find a book that was shelved improperly...a mere one shelf below where it should have been. There was a lot of Dayquil in my system earlier (and now).
Thanks to the girl who complemented my Anthropologie belt. I figure that even if I look, sound, feel, act like crap, if I wear something from Anthropologie it probably helps the overall facade (lol architecture)
Speaking of, STEVE HOLL!
GA
Am quite sick. Apologies to anyone who was actually trying to study through my coughing fits today. And to anyone who had to deal with my fuck-you-I'm-sick demeanor at the desk today. Especially people in C's Curatorial Seminar. But the truth is that there is only one copy of "Inside the White Cube" on reserve, and you should have done the reading more than an hour in advance of the class. And final apologies to the two people whose class meetings I ruined because I could not find a book that was shelved improperly...a mere one shelf below where it should have been. There was a lot of Dayquil in my system earlier (and now).
Thanks to the girl who complemented my Anthropologie belt. I figure that even if I look, sound, feel, act like crap, if I wear something from Anthropologie it probably helps the overall facade (lol architecture)
Speaking of, STEVE HOLL!
GA
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
The Black Hole
I did mention yesterday that this post would be quite literally myopic, but first, a rant.
Avery is antiquarian. We all know this, and that's why we go there. We like to smile at each other when you show, not scan, your ID, we like the creeks of the wooden chairs upstairs and the 1970s, everything-is-burnt-orange chairs downstairs, and how it's quiet, like how libraries really did used to be. And then, of course, the old books. It's all very cute. But here's the thing: some things that you are accustomed to having every second of your day, all your immediately gratifying habits, are not going to cut it here. You will never have four full bars of internet connection; if you have AT&T you will never have service downstairs; you will never be able to add more money to your flex card; AND YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO PRINT.
I'm so sick of people sauntering over to the Reserves desk, miming politeness but really just being a smart ass, and announcing "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, did you know that, I think one of the printers isn't working." THE PRINTERS ARE NEVER WORKING. When, WHEN have you been to Avery when the printers are working?! They will always be out of ink (even when they aren't), they will always claim to have paper jams, they will never recover once they have been restarted, and they will never print double-sided. NEVER. Daily do I receive these complaints, and daily does someone come over to try to fix them before heading over to the copiers (there is a trick to working the copiers - that's another day), and it is just a waste of manpower. Avery refuses to become a part of the 21st century, let alone the 20th, but remember, that is why you love it. So STOP trying to print there. Go to Butler. Go to the third floor of the Diana/Vag/Nexus. Wait for someone to scan you in to that printing lab in Lerner. This is a fool-me-once sort of scenario, and if you think that today is the day that you are going to be able to print out your 150-page JStor article on avery200a or avery200b, then you are just stupid. Believe me, I will be the first to let you know if this situation changes. If you are going to be REALLY persistent, always send the print job to 200b first because that one is less moody.
I've enjoyed this rant so much that I don't, in fact, think I will follow it up talking about everyone's glasses frames tonight. I also need to read a lot of articles for Prof P's class tomorrow. Speaking of, where is Prof B this semester? I don't think Brownie's can stay open without his patronage (not that he ever has to pay for anything, I'm sure).
The heat's been working, so I'm sure I'll see you around tomorrow.
GA.
Avery is antiquarian. We all know this, and that's why we go there. We like to smile at each other when you show, not scan, your ID, we like the creeks of the wooden chairs upstairs and the 1970s, everything-is-burnt-orange chairs downstairs, and how it's quiet, like how libraries really did used to be. And then, of course, the old books. It's all very cute. But here's the thing: some things that you are accustomed to having every second of your day, all your immediately gratifying habits, are not going to cut it here. You will never have four full bars of internet connection; if you have AT&T you will never have service downstairs; you will never be able to add more money to your flex card; AND YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO PRINT.
I'm so sick of people sauntering over to the Reserves desk, miming politeness but really just being a smart ass, and announcing "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, did you know that, I think one of the printers isn't working." THE PRINTERS ARE NEVER WORKING. When, WHEN have you been to Avery when the printers are working?! They will always be out of ink (even when they aren't), they will always claim to have paper jams, they will never recover once they have been restarted, and they will never print double-sided. NEVER. Daily do I receive these complaints, and daily does someone come over to try to fix them before heading over to the copiers (there is a trick to working the copiers - that's another day), and it is just a waste of manpower. Avery refuses to become a part of the 21st century, let alone the 20th, but remember, that is why you love it. So STOP trying to print there. Go to Butler. Go to the third floor of the Diana/Vag/Nexus. Wait for someone to scan you in to that printing lab in Lerner. This is a fool-me-once sort of scenario, and if you think that today is the day that you are going to be able to print out your 150-page JStor article on avery200a or avery200b, then you are just stupid. Believe me, I will be the first to let you know if this situation changes. If you are going to be REALLY persistent, always send the print job to 200b first because that one is less moody.
I've enjoyed this rant so much that I don't, in fact, think I will follow it up talking about everyone's glasses frames tonight. I also need to read a lot of articles for Prof P's class tomorrow. Speaking of, where is Prof B this semester? I don't think Brownie's can stay open without his patronage (not that he ever has to pay for anything, I'm sure).
The heat's been working, so I'm sure I'll see you around tomorrow.
GA.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Bunnies (Not of the Playboy Variety)
Side note: I always do this, I ALWAYS finish my coffee before Stat starts. So now I have nothing to do all through class but finish an internship grant and read Vogue, God damnit.
Despite recent Bwog comments and despite, I'm sure, some statistical data that confirms that Avery is the hottest (but, really, coldest) place on campus and despite everything this blog stands for, there is an, dare I say, unsexy element of the library that principally only the employees have to deal with: we call it "dust."
Reason number one Avery is a red zone: it is prone to rats (there, I said it), and reason number two is the obvious: these books are old. Very old. Even if they are new, they are obscure, so no one will look at them, so they will become old quite quickly. You can discern popular thesis and dissertation topics based on areas of dust accumulation: the Cassatts, the Velazquezes, the Picassos, the Stokstad shelf, and obviously, all of ND623 L33 (Da Vinci), are just never going to be that dusty. Everyone loves them, everyone is going to constantly keep them off the shelves and curl up with them in their little nooks with their hidden travel mugs and Chewy granola bars and just devour them. Some areas are not as cuddled: all of those crumbling "such and such housing data from Lawrence, KS in 1919" documents that have not moved in so long that they cannot move on their shelves; the entire NE section; Met museum catalogues from the early ages. And then, of course, the books on the shelves in the balconies that the step ladders cannot reach (and I am sure they are mere decoration), and the Eakins section. No one likes Eakins anymore. Anytime I'm reshelving the Cassatts I pass the Eakins, neglected, messy, upside down...I don't do anything about it, but I acknowledge that it looks bad.
The dust became an issue today when someone messed up my schedule and I had to shelve for three hours. I felt like the bulk of what I was shelving were various garden designs and books on Cool Hotels (I think that really was the Taschen title), and they had clearly just returned from a semester untouched in a professor's office. I'm already coming down with a cold and this was slightly torturous and choke-inducing. But here's the real problem: I had just showered. I had gone to Italian, gone to the gym, taken a shower, PUT ON NEW PERFUME, half-assed blown my hair dry, and put on a shirt that isn't my usual American Apparel tee with the coffee stain. In other words I MADE an effort to live up to Avery's expectations, and then Avery got me all dirty.
Was that the point? Is one supposed to get dirty, in any sense of the phrase, at Avery? It's an interesting juxtaposition, between those working up a dusty sweat shelving books and the dainty, disheveled-but-just-so, collared-shirt, leather boots, mountains of scarves set that only studies there.
No one terribly exciting today, but I flirted (said "Hi") to the new kid, Brunette Michael Cera (BMC). I think he is a sophomore and now that I am 22, I am very interested in becoming a cougar. Will have to check the master schedule to see when we work together next.
Next topic: optometry.
Despite recent Bwog comments and despite, I'm sure, some statistical data that confirms that Avery is the hottest (but, really, coldest) place on campus and despite everything this blog stands for, there is an, dare I say, unsexy element of the library that principally only the employees have to deal with: we call it "dust."
Reason number one Avery is a red zone: it is prone to rats (there, I said it), and reason number two is the obvious: these books are old. Very old. Even if they are new, they are obscure, so no one will look at them, so they will become old quite quickly. You can discern popular thesis and dissertation topics based on areas of dust accumulation: the Cassatts, the Velazquezes, the Picassos, the Stokstad shelf, and obviously, all of ND623 L33 (Da Vinci), are just never going to be that dusty. Everyone loves them, everyone is going to constantly keep them off the shelves and curl up with them in their little nooks with their hidden travel mugs and Chewy granola bars and just devour them. Some areas are not as cuddled: all of those crumbling "such and such housing data from Lawrence, KS in 1919" documents that have not moved in so long that they cannot move on their shelves; the entire NE section; Met museum catalogues from the early ages. And then, of course, the books on the shelves in the balconies that the step ladders cannot reach (and I am sure they are mere decoration), and the Eakins section. No one likes Eakins anymore. Anytime I'm reshelving the Cassatts I pass the Eakins, neglected, messy, upside down...I don't do anything about it, but I acknowledge that it looks bad.
The dust became an issue today when someone messed up my schedule and I had to shelve for three hours. I felt like the bulk of what I was shelving were various garden designs and books on Cool Hotels (I think that really was the Taschen title), and they had clearly just returned from a semester untouched in a professor's office. I'm already coming down with a cold and this was slightly torturous and choke-inducing. But here's the real problem: I had just showered. I had gone to Italian, gone to the gym, taken a shower, PUT ON NEW PERFUME, half-assed blown my hair dry, and put on a shirt that isn't my usual American Apparel tee with the coffee stain. In other words I MADE an effort to live up to Avery's expectations, and then Avery got me all dirty.
Was that the point? Is one supposed to get dirty, in any sense of the phrase, at Avery? It's an interesting juxtaposition, between those working up a dusty sweat shelving books and the dainty, disheveled-but-just-so, collared-shirt, leather boots, mountains of scarves set that only studies there.
No one terribly exciting today, but I flirted (said "Hi") to the new kid, Brunette Michael Cera (BMC). I think he is a sophomore and now that I am 22, I am very interested in becoming a cougar. Will have to check the master schedule to see when we work together next.
Next topic: optometry.
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