islamic studies library

this is oppressive, self restraining silence. the guilt is almost overwhelming, i want to remind people that ordinary human movements make noise and that i am not a gorilla, but i know that would only make it worse. opening my bag and turning on my computer make me want to shrink inside my sweater with shame. velcro; what was i thinking getting a bag with velcro on it?

this is a really attractive building. i'm sitting at a large round table that sits about 14 people, and it makes me feel close to them. a boy just snapped his glasses case shut and i feel wronged by it. the clock is ticking so ominously. it's strange to listen to it closely because it's actually an otherworldly tempo; just now i was trying to think of a metaphor for it, how it sounds and makes me feel, to call it a murderer creeping or heart beating or sticks crunching underfoot, but nothing happens at the speed of seconds. it seems, all of a sudden, like such an arbitrary unit. if it doesn't describe blood flow or icicles dripping or the speed at which i naturally count then why are we stricken with this alien cadence?

i looked up 60 bpm, which is things at the speed of seconds, and heart beat actually does come up. apparently some peoples' hearts are around that speed. mine doesn't seem to be. other than that there was nothing, except obscure ancient threads of people searching for leisurely baroque music. the heart beat would make seconds pretty valid, however, so that was a disappointing discovery.

the ceiling above my head is upwardly vertiginous, it yanks your eyes up as fast as you can tilt your head, which is thirlling and beautiful. and there is a chandelier that hangs down from that faraway ceiling, in a sheer drop like a free-falling spider with an instinctual grasp of where it should stop.

the one jarringly ugly thing are the lights. they are florescent lights which, for some very obscure reason, have been packaged in black, plastic, sausage-like tubes. They look modern in the most cartoonish way possible, like monsieur hulot's techy relatives. it's a bit choked with carrels in here, but the bones are exquisite and grand.