The World Is Too Much With Us

The World is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours
And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.-Great God! I'd rather be
A pagan suckled in a creed outworn,-
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreath¿d horn.

-- William Wordsworth

The Library book

I love libraries. They are, quite literally, the places on earth I feel most comfortable. Reading is a solitary experience, but the communal nature of library reading infuses it with a sense of...family, in a way. We belong to physical families as a result of genetic similarity, library familiality is a result of like-mindedness.

My favorite thing, which is what has happened with my current book, Readingsby Sven Birkerts, is finding the receipt of a previous patron stuck between the pages of the book. Indulging myself in Birkerts' musings about reading and time and the human condition has opened a doorway to a place I barely remember but for which my longing has never died. That pure...simple place where exists the exquisite and innocent joy wrought by everything related to reading.

Books...the way they smell, the weight of a volume in hand, the texture of the page...are approached with the pitcher's intent ritual treading of the mound, with the sommelier's expert palate. Reading...that moment when when letters and punctuation vanish from the page and the mind leaves this world and enters another...is a meditation, a cleansing of thought and an unfettering of spirit. It's a way of taking a vacation from one's self. To view the world through new eyes, to experience our hearts desires expressed in words we cannot find ourselves; "we read to know we are not alone", as someone said.

So a year ago, this guy in Napa checked Birkerts' book out of the library. Readings, which is basically a book about books and the way in which they can help us make sense of our swiftly tilting, sharply spinning world; or if not make sense, at least give us a vocabulary with which to express our confusion. I love Birkerts' clear, spare, unsentimentalized sentiment, he expresses his thoughts in a way that gives me plenty of room for my own and I find the experience of reading Readings rather like enjoying a sherbet after dinner; a delightful preparation for the dessert of deep thought.

I wonder what Napa Guy thought? Does he feel as I do about Birkerts's writing? Does he find it difficult, as I do and Birkerts does, to reconcile our present with our recent past and near future? Does he relish the gifts of libraries and of books as much as I?

Boy Howdy Shakespeare in the Afternoon

I totally loved it. Oh...such fun Shakespeare with a tango motif. We went to Calshakes production of Much Ado About Nothing. It was very funny. 'Ado' is one of my favorite plays by the Bearded One and justice was done by the cast. Brun's Amphitheater in Orinda is a great space. Whether you go at night or during the day, as we did this afternoon. Funny thing though. One of the people who went with us did something that I admit, I'm still a little steamed over. Let me go back first. I remember going to see the Minnie Driver flick RETURN TO ME when it was in theaters. Right about the point in the film that David Duchovny starts crying while trying to explain to the dog that his wife is dead, some chick's cellphone rings. Now, that annoyed me, I mean, turn the thing off when going into the movies, but what annoyed me no end was the fact that she took the call! Admittedly, I have a thing about cellphones in public spaces, but really do you need to chat on the phone while in a movie theater? Back to the play, before the show starts, the house manager asks us very nicely to take that opportunity to turn off cell phones and pagers. Well, guess what? Miss My-Life-Is-So-Much-More-Important-Than-Yours' cell rings. And what does she do? Turn off the ringer? No. She answers the phone. During the play. Does she then get up and walk out of the auditorium so as not to disturb the other audience members who payed FORTY DOLLARS A TICKET!? No, there she sits on her denim-clad butt and carries on a conversation for two or three minutes until people shush her. It's just...just...so...disrespectful. Of the performers, the audience, even her friends, who are sitting next to her trying to resist the temptation to pretend they don't know her. Okay, it makes me a little crazy. But then I drove back toward the bridge and San Francisco was blanketed in sunlight and fog, looking for all the world like Brigadoon, Oz, or any other enchanted city you could name, and I felt better. Grabbed a bottle of wine from Trader Joes (Australian Shiraz, tres yummy) and a rock shrimp quesadilla at Pancho's. And settled end to waste the rest of my evening with reckless abandon. You know what they say: All's Well That End's Well. --dB