Amongst the creepers and cuties

The library is a labyrinth. I think maybe the one Hercules fought the lion in. The exact same one. I realized that walking from the East Wing to the second floor on Tuesday, and the theory was reinforced today, right now, in the "Media Center," which is up the stairs, to the left, down some stairs, through a hall that has the nation's newspapers (who knew?!) up some stairs, to the right, and bam! you've found one of the strangest rooms on campus. There is a line of desks, each of which has a video tape player, a dvd player, and a small panasonic tv with headphones. The kind where you can adjust the volume level of each ear. And you've also got the creepers, who I think come up here to have fun. Or, like me, end up vowing to return many times in the coming weeks to see the cute boy with huge glasses and nice, full hair.

This also happens to be where they store the newspapers. File cabinets are everywhere. If the labyrinth and From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler had a love child, this is it.

I'm here watching Stalker, a very Russian, very existentialist, very, very slow film. Imagine the thickest Russian accent you've heard mixed with that guy who can go on mile-long tangents, and throw in some doubt about life and being and happiness and existence. Eksistence? Oh god I don't know.

This movie is so weird.

Maggie just came to visit and we walked around this square hall for a million years and an hour, chatting about exams and work and future work (painting houses?!) We couldn't find a job painting houses. Maybe we could start our own house-painting company. Maggie and Alison go to Paintingtown & Co. Or maybe we could serve that old man who called Housing. I'm good at making scrambled eggs. Maggie's good at old men. Maggie, Alison & Indentured Servitude.

One of the Russians just asked the other if he could really believe in all those fairy tales, following a comment about super-bacteria.

I might as well leave. There are notes on Wikipedia.

New development: Library is labyrinth, without the "nth" and with an extra "r."

And there's a skeleton hand. A skeleton arm. Some red hair. Time to go.