Reading Day

Occasionally it's necessary for me to read all day. I did a year of Mary's letters (1931) and spent all the rest of my time reading in a giant compilation D is using as a primary source for his thesis. A monster volume "Vertigo, A Century of Multimedia art" edited by Celant and Maraniello. It's captivating, draws a good timeline, and all those Dadaists, and Post-Dadaist, and Neo-Dadaists are very interesting people. Found Art, urinals and bicycle handle-bars. Bricolage, from the French for trifle, a kind of recycling where you use an old door as a table. There's a sense in which Levi-Strauss's grand view of mythology is based on a kind of bricolage. The time flies by. Everything is closed down for MLK Day, including the pub, but I see a light on, inside, and when I get there the door is unlocked. The owners are there, and they wave me in with big smiles. John asks what he can pour me, and says up front for me to drink hearty, because he can't charge me, because the bar is closed and the register is turned off. They're having a meeting of the Celtic League later, in the closed bar. I always enjoy conversation with them, I do love good conversation. And after a couple of pints and several shots of Paddy, I was essentially wasted. One of those winter storms, maybe 42 degrees, heavy rain, thunder and lightning; I wanted to get home, but I'm not driving in weather that begs the question. An odd incident, later, gives me pause; I'd gone back to the museum, made a pot of coffee and I was in the library, looking at Pop Art, trying to figure out why I should like it, minding my own business. The alarm system is turned off, because I'm in the building, and I go outside, now and again, for a smoke, and I don't want to trigger a rapid response from the local PD on the occasion of my enjoying a cigaret. But that is exactly what happens. The alarm system is turned off but then the alarm sounds. This isn't possible, a system that is turned off should not response to anything, I'm thinking as fast as I can. It's the thunder storm, I think, so I run to the keypad, punch in RESET and the code, and it's cool, the lights go from red to green. It's a malfunction, I get that, check the front and back doors, make sure things are secure; then realize the police will come. Takes them four-and-a-half minutes, which I think is pretty slow, and I've thought of several ways I could greet them. First, I don't want to get shot. In their defense, I haven't shaved and I'm dressed like a bum. It's a lady cop, that finally comes to the back door, she's more surprised than me and doesn't draw her gun. I explain myself away. It's not that hard, really, people want to believe. I'm just a hermit, but I'm OK.