Phantom books

bell jars

I’ve had a bunch of words and tunes stuck in my head all day. While I was on the skytrain I wrote some of the words down, in the hopes that it will jog my memory but I’m not sure if it will. I probably won’t do anything with this stuff. I just like to sing at bus stops, that’s all.

I live with a musician. Maybe it’s starting to rub off.

At five on a Friday the food on campus magically dries up. There are vending machines, of course, but I haven’t bought anything from a vending machine in at least fifteen years. I’m not even sure if I’d be able to operate one.

I wasn’t there to eat anyways. I ignored the knot in my stomach and stalked around the library. I hate how you can find something in the computer, check to ensure that it’s in the library and then inexplicably it’s not on the shelf. Where are all those phantom books hiding?

My parents tell stories about how they used to drop the books out the windows instead of checking them out, but they’ve installed grates so you can’t do that anymore. The books are just missing.

I wasn’t in the mood to spend a lot of time searching for the ones I couldn’t find. I got enough for me to carry home anyways.

The knot in my stomach had tightened. That’s the first step. I was starting to get light headed. That’s the second. I don’t get hungry anymore, I just get sugar low. There was nothing to eat anywhere around but luckily I had some nuts in my bag to tide me over so I could get home.

I have some reading to do now.


Should have picked up the Barthes book. Damn.

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