Three Bottles

Our Own Brand of Naked Dream-Telling

A book is a blunt instrument and a block of eternity. It’s the physical manifestation of boredom. A book. ‘The book.’ Students never call it anything else in their essays: the book, a book, the books, some books.

—The Rights of the Reader by Daniel Pennac (translated by Sarah Adams). On a tip from a discussion about readers’ advisory on the RUSA listerv, I picked up The Rights of the Reader. The titular rights are illustrated in this poster by Quentin Blake, if you want to check them out. But I think the essay beforehand is the best part, actually. (1/3)

(Source: bookavore)

unicorn-meat-is-too-mainstream:

PASSENGER

Brandon Vickerds ‘Passenger’ and ‘Passenger II’ are deliberately placed in busy areas in Montreal, QC and Hamilton, ON. The hurrying passer-by probably won’t notice the difference between the sculpture and an actual person, but Vickerds inention concerning his public sculptures is not to reveal them as sculptures immediately, but seeks ‘to insert an anomaly into the viewer’s experience of the everyday’.

Thought this might inspire some horror poetry, Lucia, because I’ve decided that is a thing.  —Claire

I remember the joy of studying in the library at SLC.  I used to try and find deserted alcoves where students were unlikely to go.  A couple Genetic Counseling students and I dubbed one The Wombat Den for some reason. In undergrad, my favorite spot was an old desk upstairs in a corner dedicated to an alum whose name I can’t remember.  I would come with a backpack full of books and end up browsing in the sci-fi section instead.  I later found out that this was the spot where students went to the library to make out, not study.  I never had this experience myself—it was just me, my laptop, and classic sci-fi.  Pure bliss.  —Claire

I remember the joy of studying in the library at SLC.  I used to try and find deserted alcoves where students were unlikely to go.  A couple Genetic Counseling students and I dubbed one The Wombat Den for some reason.

In undergrad, my favorite spot was an old desk upstairs in a corner dedicated to an alum whose name I can’t remember.  I would come with a backpack full of books and end up browsing in the sci-fi section instead.  I later found out that this was the spot where students went to the library to make out, not study.  I never had this experience myself—it was just me, my laptop, and classic sci-fi.  Pure bliss. 

—Claire

(via prettybooks)

Yes! the books - the generous friends who met me without suspicion - the merciful masters who never used me ill! The only years of my life that I can look back on with something like pride… Early and late, through the long winter nights and the quiet summer days, I drank at the fountain of knowledge, and never wearied of the draught.

—Wilkie Collins; Armadale (via wordpainting)