the reference librarian’s unromantic fantasy

1.

i sit in a cafe (which cafe what did you buy what do the people look

like).

no, i sit on a wooden fl oor close enough to everyone as to not make

a scene but far enough away to be left out of conversation, laying

my head on someone else’s luggage. feet stomping “staying alive”

plays loudly on a bluetooth speaker, i realize i am undoubtedly part

of a post-ironic problem. i paid for it so pay attention. i caught a

frog and nobody wanted to pet it, i apologized to her as i let her

go outside where it was raining. i had a smoke and stayed with the

frog until it hopped off the porch.

when i think about how many iphone’s i have purchased - probably

10-12 in the past fi ve years - and how many times i have had my

screens replaced - probably 20-30 in the past fi ve years - i wonder

why i haven’t used my phone for a greater purpose than wasting

time.

hey, i should fi lm myself reading poems. maybe that’s something

that will generate interest in whatever it is i’m doing. maybe i

should add some hashtags to things.

i have fi ve tabs open - cnn.com, william gibson’s wikipedia page,

and twitter. i haven’t tweeted in a few weeks, since my phone started

losing touch sensitivity.

my last tweet, on june 13th, states:

“i don’t want to die with so many unread books.”

i had an idea to start making twitter poetry threads, but i had abandoned

it quickly. i added three to the newly started thread:

“i don’t want to die frustrated with an iphone 8 that has lost its

touch sensitivity already”

“i don’t want to die tasting blood, knowing i need some sort of

dental work i can’t aff ord.”

“i don’t want to die sitting watching soccer at the common after

drinking two iced coff ees.”

and i close the tab.

i consider starting a new twitter for a book idea i had a few weeks

ago. a long poem comprised entirely of retweets. maybe it’ll be

good. it could be. i don’t do this now.

i go to open another document i was working on yesterday.

“movie theatre batman killer.docx” it is not listed in my recently open

- upon a click to the “all my fi les” directory, it becomes clear that

someone opened several old pieces of unfi nished writing. it was

not me who did that. i call the person who i assume did, and she

assures me that is not the case. however, i did not have my

macbook at 12:30pm last night, when the fi le was last opened. i am

now mad, not because the fi les were opened but because the work

wasn’t very good. if i’m going to be snooped, i would prefer it be

worthwhile pieces.

i return my gaze to the soccer game, russia v. croatia. it is still 1-1.

i get an idea - maybe i should write a story about a librarian who

fi nds herself frustrated at the lack of sexual advances, that her

librarian experience is not that which she’s seen in xxx fi lms. maybe

this could be an anti-erotica piece. not meaningless sex -

meaningless love. ooh. this sounds good. maybe the librarian is

a man, though. hm. no. okay. the croatian player just had a great

opportunity and hit the post. a man with two phones groans loudly

and shoots out of his chair. another man shows off a recent

winner’s purchase: a new york yankees t-shirt.

i google “library fetish source origin.” i realize i’ve always found

women in glasses quite attractive. the article states that

“knowledge isn’t power; knowledge is love.” i agree.

“a patron arrives, says, tell me something. you reach across the desk and

pull him toward you, bear hug him a second and then take him into your

lap, stroke his forehead, whisper facts in his ear. the climate of chad is

tropical in the south, desert in the north. source: 1991 cia world factbook.

do you love me? americans consumed 6.2 gallons of tea per capita in

1989. source: statistical abstract of the united states. synecdoche is a

literary device meaning the part for the whole, as in crown heads of

europe. i love you. i could fi nd you british parliamentary papers, i could

track down a book you only barely remember reading. do you love me

now? we own that book, we subscribe to that journal, elvis presley’s fi rst

movie was called love me tender.”

the reference librarian’s unromantic fantasy. sterile. i like this idea.

“i doubt that everyone has a (female) librarian fantasy, especially if “everyone”

means everyone and so includes the straightest women, but it is a

common fantasy among men attracted to women. one female dominatrix

even tells me that, with the exception of the teacher, the librarian is the

dominant role most requested of her by male submissives.”

hmm.

“a 1992 study for the wilson library bulletin states that “20% of

librarians admit to having sex in the stacks.” i forget what i was initially

thinking about. what my point was. i close the tab.

i read a few pages of kenneth goldsmith’s “wasting time on the

internet,” check my instagram likes, and focus back into the world

cup match. i have to leave for work soon. i briefl y have a thought of

sex - not really about having it, though. whatever that means.

i go for a cigarette and pick up the weekly free paper. i read my

horoscope out loud to ali, who has joined me for the extra time of

the soccer game. it’s not very relevant. i fl ip through to the escort

back pages looking for hidden poetry.

“coff ee break $50 alex 36 yo hot and spicy sweet and sexy alex 647-854-

8513”

i rip the page out.

ali, slowly reaching intoxication, discusses data mining - which, in

eff ect, becomes data mining itself.

i consider backing up my iphone and dropping it off to get fi xed.

i also want to ask the man at the cell phone repair shop if he can

give me any broken screens he has laying around. “for art,” i’ll say. i

open iphoto and see photographs of my penis from various angles. i

look behind me, checking if anyone saw. i close the application and

put the computer to sleep.

you shouldn’t get drunk and swim. him on the fucking gigantic

infl atable duck on a lake that looks smaller than the duff erin mall.

the same infl atable duck, surrounded by police offi cers on the news.

the words some people use: “gone,” “passed,” etc - just no way to

confi rm a death. you shouldn’t have gotten drunk and swam.

i check the news. a pregnant 18-year old has been found

dismembered in oshawa. i fi nd the address of the crime, and map

it to the house i lived in oshawa when i was in grade six and the

fi rst semester of grade seven. 55 minute walk away. i’m unfamiliar

with that neighborhood. i take a screenshot of the house i lived in,

as well as the curb we used to skate everyday. i try to google other

places i was familiar in the city with with no luck. instead, i check

the satellite view of our old house at 72512 and remember having

20x10 of concrete. we would skate into the grass, or put plywood

down. i google one more place, where would we skate picnic tables

and smoke cigarettes. 1100 parkway lane, horseshoe bend, arkansas.

grade 8 and 9.

now, maybe i can write. wait, france v. belgium starts in twenty

minutes. meunier isn’t playing, that’s good for us.

i open a new tab and make this word document smaller. i fi nd the

stream and watch ten minutes of the pregame until someone turns

on the tv. i thank him. i take a photograph of the screen featuring

my book, and send them to mathilde while she’s delayed on a train.

she tells me her eta is now 40 minutes off , which means she’ll at

least be able to catch the second half with us. allez les bleus.

i arrived home at four, undressed in the living room as to not wake

alexa. i stepped out of my jeans, leaving two packs of cigarettes

in the back pocket. i slipped into bed and laid on my back, still

managing to wake her up despite an unrivaled stillness. we talked

briefl y, where i managed to take exception to a quick statement

of otherwise zero consequence. i fell asleep sad, but that was my

choice.

in the morning, i ate an expensive pizza while reading pdf essays on

my phone about it.

ja rule and ashanti play in the 2017 anycar. i groan, looking at

myself in the rear view mirror. are my teeth fucked up? i just spent

so much money fi xing them. am i just older? i need a cigarette

but they have defi nitely been hurting somewhere in my back. the

alprazolam has worn off and my mellow voice has gone loud again.

i think that was my last one, too. fuck. i don’t have any advil, either.

“please let me do the talking” i’ve been committing crimes since -

well, i don’t remember a time when i wasn’t maybe slightly exaggerating

it’s not like breaking the law is a state of existing is it? i

know how to talk myself out of everything my mom wanted me

to be a lawyer, i thought i would be. it’s a necessary skill talking

yourself out of trouble thanks for that lesson my mom said “we’re

poor we’re doomed, we have nothing to lose” so do whatever just be

prepared.

please please please don’t talk i have this, please shut up for fuck’s

sake no bravado we’re trespassing - i’m sorry we didn’t know, i

didn’t see any sign - they say ok please leave - that’s it, done right

nope we need more voices. fuck. “what do you mean we’re

trespassing this is just a fi eld” we are entitled bratty city kids

probably secretly fetishistic poverty maybe.

my nose is running because i’ve been light sobbing about am i bad

boyfriend and someone who is not deserving of love, the general

character fl aws you’ve come to know and love. my nose is running

and it feels like it’s bleeding which me want to snort the lorazapam

40mg because i miss cocaine and it’s nosebleeds always remind me

of that mood improving feeling. i go outside and get bit my

mosquitoes. i can’t write out here i want to smoke cigarettes while

nothing is happening i’ve been gone for six hours and i miss the

city. i can’t focus in the quiet my ears seem to be straining for

something to hear, something to quiet my brain talking to itself.

at home, in the city, i’ve grown accustomed to the hum of the

oversized dehumidifi er/air conditioner on your side of the bed, that

is how i sleep. now, i lay in a freshly threshed hay fi eld staring at a

rapidly setting sun - wishing a car would drive by.

was it “back to the future” that made you get back to work?

the moral of the story is “don’t be such a pussy.”

i don’t think that’s correct.

i read fast on a train, very few notes - looking at my watch too

often but that’s because i can’t smoke and it’s all i’m thinking about.

why did i buy this watch? who did i see wearing a rose gold digital

casio that made me think, “me too”? i take it off and push it to the

bottom of my courier bag, underneath 2x t-shirt 2x underwear 1x

socks 2x notebooks and i realize i can’t get comfortable and maybe i

wasn’t comfortable before but now i’m just annoyed.

my laptop bag holds a broken iphone, screen separated from its

body and two religious pamphlets. i am unsure of their merit.

your boy sends you a blurry photo of his breakfast and you think

about a joke of the quality of android photographs, he just wanted

to let you know “panama” by van halen was playing and that he

has already eaten. your coff ee and brownie usual breakfast and you

wondering why your stomach hurts. your back hurts too probably

from smoking but still want one and the lighter is missing and everyone

is obnoxious. this back pain familiar but more potent all the

way to my chest maybe this is causing me all of my stress.

“the acquisitions have started,” she says. the popular photographer

ruins my day once a week, constantly solicitating young women to

work for free. “well, everything is possible for money - i mean, we can

give you credit as a junior designer or production assistant as we can’t

pay you at this time, but you know -” she continues as i fade out of

interest, her vision of suburban america replayed as a commercial

for some clothes i don’t know, the doe eyed new transplant says not

much. “you’ll have to rent your own car but you’ll be fi ne that’s only like

$100 a day” no matter what table i move to i can hear this photographer’s

voice “i’m willing to give you whatever credit for whatever job

- we just can’t pay you.”

a man in extremely tiny shorts recites a menu off his iphone:

“boston bib lettuce, grilled haddock, red wine vinigarette, mussels, prince

edward island.” his partner does not give a fuck.

around me:

iced coff ee weird hazy light brown to clear

mint green tea colored annoying

i love having a partner that is smarter than me.

i just want to check if that book is there, “speedboat.” i don’t want to

pay more than $15, though.

why was ulysses such a scandal?

who, being super rich, doesn’t have a grandson named “ulysses?”

this place is so charming.

2.

okay belgium has it passes in front kicked out to the corner blocked

14 ok france has it again number seven to someone else running

quick pulls back sitting on edge gives it away back to belgium

belgium belgium kick up nice pass ok back to back tangled up

number six back to center wide pass in front of the net header just

high of the net france whistles down back in play 0-0 still in the

french zone blocked that was close or at least it looked close to

me belgium with possession back to center number six real slow

deliberate movements here clear that shit fuck oh my god that was

close france oh oh oh fuck nice touch nice touch giroud so close

you handsome fuck corner kick was that a header GOAL

FUCKKKK clap clap clap clap clap 1-0 it was a header just beat

him was that an own goal looks like it hit both their heads ok

resuming play pulled down at center didier dechamps looks relaxed

was that a foul yeah that’s got to be a free kick griezmann let’s go

do something here focus the line up looks fl awed no that was nothing

again back forth belgium again back why did they just show

mick jagger oh fuck yes mathilde is here you just missed the goal

literally just missed it you didn’t stop home to drop your bag that’s

great woowwww what another close call france almost scored again

did you see that and then belgium shooting over the net he’s six

foot six wow that’s surprising they’re playing really tough now real

tough ball why did he kick that out oh they’re making some change

who belgium ok taking the measure for the time being france again

ahhh that’s right sit back down girl that was close though i’m glad

you’re rooting for belgium even if it is only out of spite yeah push

it out they’re playing a bit slower now corner for belgium blocked

oooh hazard taking him down yellow card did you know the yellow

cards don’t count for the fi nals yeah it’s an amnesty thing header to

header to header now desperate for the ball they should be happy

enough that’s fucking right nice save lloris is the best keeper for

sure wow that was close belgium is just going they’re not going to

take this sitting down i wish my phone would stop vibrating oh

la la 59% possession for belgium it certainly doesn’t feel like that

well maybe in this half wow that was a nice play wow such control

griezmann you fuck you’re playing like fucking trash stop wasting

your shots if you type griezmann in twitter the fi rst thing to come

up is griezmann overrated wow you’re just texting your team is

deep in the box and had two great opportunities stop texting

belgium again with the ball at center they really want to tie this

up did he get hit in the face wow that looks like it hurt i bet he bit

his tongue france clears it again out of harms way easy griezmann

you fucking pussy get up 75 minutes in looking tired wow good

job kevin you waste belgium has really dominated this second half

kicks it across the box no dice again come on let’s go stop this let’s

put one up we need a security goal wow mbappe wasn’t even born

when france won in 98 that’s insane why are you so loud get that

get that wait how was that not whistled down what’s even happening

wow that was fucking amazing what a save i’m telling you he’s

the best keeper in the game that was a nasty collision though are

they going to spray him down what is that spray even there’s gotta

be at least four minutes of extra time belgium on the attack again

nice push it out mmm hmmm matuidi is back down i don’t oh

that was it that was nasty put him on concussion protocol get him

out ok wow there’s fi ve minutes left in regular time france is nearly

there this is too close fuck someone please clear it out take the

yellow card at this point send a message it’s now or never i guess no

it’s never it’s frantic god that was close too belgium is at the door

almost there wow ok almost at 90 minutes six minutes of extra

time wow that’s surprising wow you see him take down pogba what

was that come on france let’s go let’s cross this for sure out out of

bounds again wow that was amazing mbappe just wasting time

haha he deserves that yellow card but got that was nice wow three

on two so close oh come on what was that wow chill out announcer

there are two long minutes to play jesus christ france have both

eyes on the clock you bet wow that was close as well i would love

them to clinch this tell me this is gonna be good enough that’s it

that’s it it’s gonna be a remake of 98 wow we need to make t-shirts

that was insane i’m so happy fuck yes that’s it that’s it see you

sunday where are watching that game wow ok i have to go i have to

do some real work i think.