I had a couple of weekends, early last January, after a move to Chicago, in which to wander around the city, to soak up the myth of the metropolis. They were good moments - the style wrought by newness and curiosity overcoming any negative aspects of life. I walked about, a smile on my face and head turning to see all that I could. Poetically speaking, it was great fodder. Digging through old scraps of paper today, I came across a series of thoughts and jumbled chicken scratch writing. It’s not that often I share this aspect - the five second jot-down or the unfinished thoughts, but being up late, why not now. The first couple of bits were remnant thoughts after wandering around the Chicago Public Library, a maroon brick and copper monstrosity housing more books than I have seen previously, resting quietly below towering buildings and the el-train loop. The thoughts, verbatim:

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it is not so much to acquire a book as it is to accept an adventure into the unknown.

these walls fill my heart with knowledge and wonder by my very presence near them. the collected works of one shelf (regardless that there are thousands upon thousand) exceeds my capacity to understand. there is a sudden want to study library sciences and grant writing to support this in every possible way…or to volunteer in a fashion that helps to promote literacy. to think of the collected hours of life that have gone into writing so many tomes, let alone into reading them. there was a quote, by T.S. Elliot on the wall in the main lobby. i found it appropriate -

The very existence of libraries affords the best evidence that we may yet have hope for the future of man.

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The streets about the city inspired other good bits as well:

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it’s funny,
when we’re walking
down those aimless city streets
we haven’t yet travelled,
sharing secret fears of
brain tumors
gnawing at our romantic
hearts
and the steam, rising from
the sewers
below,
to warm our
traveling feet.
our words fall fast out forward
strange reflections in the dark,
the remnant pages of
broadsides dancing
and our shadowed evening figures
jumping trains of thought.

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And, on a less hopeless romantic note, a goofy slip of paper full of quotes, written doodles from an “important” meeting in my not too distant working past:

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did i just hear “paradigm” and “synergy” in the same sentence?

screw building bridges, let’s all be little islands bitching about other little islands!

why can’t i get funding for a mouse pad, but i’m sitting in a $600 chair?

never, ever again go to an “important” meeting if no one is willing to explain why it is important.

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And thus ended by trip through a pile of scraps. There were also old lists of recommended books and music - we’ll see how those appeal after I grab hold of them to peruse.