I Think You're Buzzing

I could see him in the lobby while I was at door - I saw the shock (or rather, single strip) of gray hair behind the shoulder of the girl talking to me at the entrance. I pretended to be incredibly engrossed in her question: "Is C here?" "Uhhhhhhhh..." I trail off, knowing I'd have to look at him because I'd have to check his ID because he'd be showing it to me and expecting someone to check it because those are the rules. "Do you know C? Is he here?" Suddenly the ID is in my face and I'm in the middle of a long "Uhhhhhhh" but I manage to nod my head at him, as if to say, "sup." Yes, I mimed "sup" to NE, the 31-year-old master of Dadaism - the Jesus of Dadaism, if we're going to be all New Museum about it.

I don't know where NE has been this semester. He is on campus, teaching with Auntie Roz, as mentioned much, much earlier (ie the last time I blogged). He probably just makes his lesson plans with her over scotches-on-the-rocks at the Waverly Inn. Why I think they would frequent a bar that is co-managed by Graydon Carter, I don't know, but I wouldn't put it past Roz to be secretly boos with the Condé Nast crowd. In any case, I don't want to see NE because I feel like just saying "Hi" and asking "How are you" is too mundane for him.

But it happened anyway. NE decided that he could just take Avery books out of the library that he'd ordered from Offsite without actually checking them out to his office, so when he left the library he buzzed. I look up and want to gag a little because now I not only have to talk to him, but have to tell him he fucked up. "Oh heh heh hi heh heh I think you buzzed heh heh heh heh" I say. Smart as a whip, that one. He looks at the books, stumped as to why a library book that is non-circulating would ever set off an alarm. "They're RECAP," NE says. "That doesn't matter" I respond. "You have an office bar code, right? You have to check out books to your office and the library director has to sign off on it if you want to take these out of the library. And they have to remain sensitized." Finally, I said something accurate to him! With confidence! He sheepishly smiled at me and re-entered. Feeling cocky, I asked "How are you doing, generally?" "Fine. You?" "Good." "You're graduating, right? Are you excited?" "Yes." "What are you doing after school?" "Oh, odd jobs and interning at the ICP, a bit of freelance photography." He smirked and left, clearly offended that his Between the Still and Moving Image seminar did not get through to me that I should not dabble in the ahhhhhhts. Whatever, I already have a camera.

Then I helped an alumnae (female alum singular?) find her way to the AC section in the basement. "This is much better than when I was here. Before you had to walk down a winding, dark, musty staircase to get to the periodicals." How fantastic! Avery really did used to be a grotto at one time!

Off to the Vag, alas, alack.