I recently felt compelled to give the Main Library some UK inspired booyakasha...
-- Crushing on Cantabrigia for its wikkid renovations to their athenaeum, courtesy of my main man Ali G: "Flicky-flicky Broadway public library. Big it up for da People's Republic of Cambridge. Respek." --
You'll go from zero to study in as little as 0-2-1-3 or 8 seconds flat at this Broadway and Trowbridge crosswalk of learning where jay walking will earn you a ride in the back seat of the reference wing, behind shelves laced with a lexicon of impenetrable trellises bearing the iron clad letters penned into place by Three evil Sisters, welding iflexible iron boxes built with impenetratable prose of Poe, prophesizing a return to the ravens nest built with branches of linguistic truisms tried and true by Chompsky and his army of animalia.
If caught by the keen cream colored eyes of a divorce ----convicted of failure to return your backpack of right to ride in the reference arrestable offense carrying a mandatory minimum of life of a prescient prisoner in the Department of Grammatical Corrections, without parole. Passing through the doubled up doors will gas up your brain synapses like a Jersey full service station. Settle into an arm chair and buckle up before revving your engine and merging onto the interstate highway of language, suggested speed limits easily overtake the played out young adult vampire fiction velocities you'd find on the Bundesautobahn.
With your left turn signal beating like a tell tale heart, bibliophiles pass in luxury lanes only rivaled in width by Kramer's adopted roadway. Swerving in and out of the Faustian phrases and amber alerts filled with existential allegory. Entering and exiting tunnels built into a mountainside of secondary sources while rebelliously straddling solid white dividers.
Rubber necking the burning frames of neons and cavaliers, wreckage left in the breakdown lane with a whimsical professorial wrestler. Walt Whitman of the nineteenth Transcending realism like in two dimensions like the wreckage of Walt Whitman, owner of a shovel designed by David and digging beneath the surface of wordly wisdom, zooming by the kilometer markers like telephone posts on a country road, the throttle pushed against the floor, smoking like an overused library card. You'll be steering with your knees, and simultaneously reading Kafka and Kristoff. The verbose badge wearing librarians will salute your increasing velocity, oh yes...you'll be speeding on the Pike-Q highway like a mensa member.
Walls of windows suck in and out waves of guilt like a harvest moon, crashing into the stacks and pulling me into the sentimental rip-current drowning out autumn's warm breezes with warp speed. It is semi shameful to be sitting inside during the last days of salvation before the deep freeze sits in. I dont think feel like I'm wasting the day...sacrificing sunlight for air con and wifi. The desks are far from any ikea particle board. Thick slabs of honey veined trunks, big enough for you (and me) to settle in, and spread out the knowledge.
The aquarium style study rooms are the perfect couples setting, allowing momentary immature gigglefests fading in and out...drowned out by some classic pandora study jams rolling through my macbook speakers as if the concertos were meant to fly by the highway of readin' like an 18-wheeler on I-40.
Props to C-bridge for boycotting the anti-book revolution and declining to join the great public blackmail scandal of 2010. Threatening to close a mecca, dropping knowledge on the homeless and Harvardites among us in the 02138. No malicious intent, but I'd remiss not to call out the unworthy towns in the great state of Massacademia, clearly in cohoots with comcast to encourage watching Seacrest instead of reading Salinger (coughcharlestowncoughcough).
Legit dedicated to learning...showing my love one last time, word up to the People's, the English, and the chapter books...for real, word up to words. Keep it real Main Library you are indahouse with good company -- the jigga, philosopher king Ali G shares your motto..."you wanna know 'ow I make diz country bettah? Iz simple, two words: keep it real!"
Books.
I'd give the double respek...but minus two 'orses for slow internet connects, time limits in the aquarium room, and a book selection not worthy of 02138's phd to person ratio. read more