“Openin’ Night” by Shel Silverstein—
She had the jittersShe had the fluShe showed up lateShe missed her cueShe kicked the directorShe screamed at the crewAnd tripped on a propAnd fell in some gooAnd ripped her costumeA place or twoThen she forgotA line she knewAnd went “Meow”Instead of “Moo”She heard ‘em giggleShe heard ‘em booThe programs sailedThe popcorn flewAs she stomped offstageWith a boo-hoo-hooThe fringe of the curtainGot caught in her shoeThe set crashed downThe lights did tooMaybe that’s why she didn’t want to doAn interview.
1st Gent. How class your man? – as better than the most,
Or, seeming better, worse beneath that cloak?
As saint or knave, pilgrim or hypocrite?
2nd Gent. Nay, tell me how you class your wealth of books
The drifted relics of all time.
As well sort them at once by size and livery:
Vellum, tall copies, and the common calf
Will hardly cover more diversity
Than all your labels cunningly devised
To class your unread authors.
—George Eliot, Middlemarch, epigraph to Chapter 13
Book shelves series #15, fifteenth Sunday of 2012
A new book-case this week; the shorter triplet of the twin ladders seen here. What do the volumes on this top shelf hold in common? They are hardback. That’s about it. Yes, I actually go through The Riverside Shakespeare every now and then, especially when sparking new ideas for class lectures. The Balthus memoir is pretty good. No, I never finished Godel, Escher, Bach. It’s not hardback, come to think of it. The Fallada books are good stuff. Will Dylan ever finish up the Chronicles? Probably not. Maybe so. Who knows? We all love Shel Silverstein, of course.
Biblioklept 