Words, music, light and life

- Watching CELINE AND JULIE and UP DOWN FRAGILE on two consecutive nights, besides reminding me once more how amazing a director Jacques Rivette is, also got me thinking about libraries. Nowadays, when you walk into a library, the architecture is contemporary-looking, with soft colors, fluorescent lighting, practical carpeting and metallic shelves. And lots of computers, of course. But for me, that's never felt right. Give me that old-school library look, with hardwood paneling and gigantic reference volumes. And the card catalog, naturally. Man, I could hang out in an big, old-style library all day, wandering through the bowels of the stacks, checking out what musty and rarely-unearthed treasures are just waiting to be found. And don't get me started on the fun that can be had with microfiche.

- My latest musical obsession: Patti Smith's "Birdland." I won't go too in-depth as to why this song is so awesome, lest I appear out of my depth in terms of my musical knowledge. But man, is this song ever amazing. What I love is how it starts off like a downbeat girl-and-a-piano tune, sort of like something Laura Nyro might sing. When I listened to it again a few days ago, I started grooving on it on that level when the roiling, almost dissonant guitar playing behind Smith started to sink it. It doesn't start up suddenly or anything, it just sort of occurs to you, like that pretty girl at work who you've never quite paid attention to before. And that ending- rather than building to the big finish, it just chills out. It's so simple and sublime. If you have a copy of HORSES (and if you don't you really ought to) do yourself a favor and listen to this one again.

- There's a fluorescent bulb almost directly above my cube, right in my line of sight, and it won't stop blinking. It's driving me completely batshit. I feel like I've woken up in one of those experimental flicker films from the 60s, the kind that always have a warning for people prone to seizures.

- Bad Cavy News: So the other day I was cleaning off Victoria babies, getting them washed so they would be good to give away when the time comes. It turns out that one of them is actually a boy, something I wasn't certain of before. They're small creatures, y'see, especially when they're that young, and their, ahem, naughty bits can be hard to distinguish when they're that size. But now it's pretty certain that she is actually a he. So I separated him from the rest post haste, much to his dismay. He seems pretty lonely all by himself for the first time, and he squeaks a lot more than he used to. I feel a little bad for him- it's not his fault he's a guy- but I can't have any more babies running around the place. The worst thing of all is that he's the cutest one, and had he been a female he would've been the one I would've kept for myself.