"Then came the five brief, impassioned, jubilant, enigmatic years. At the gates of our own world, there was Vietnam, of course, and the first major blow to the powers that be. But here, inside our wales, what exactly was taking place? An amalgam of revolutionary and antirepressive politics? A war fought on two fronts: against social exploitation and psychic repression? A surge of libido modulated by the class struggle? Perhaps. At any rate, it is this familiar, dualistic interpretation that has laid claim to the events of those years."
Foucault, intro to Deleuze and Guattari's Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia
I wander the "stacks," an insider term for the giant bookshelves that create literary hallways out of giant floors stretched-over with industrial office carpet. This is a familiar haunt. I'm trying to remember phrases from poems I read and wrote in and about my time in a library in my youth.
I was a page for two years and my memories of the place are oddly structured. I've yet to the Madeleine cookie to engage the cerebral flood but there are sketches I can produce.
The break room was downstairs, as was the hub, the offices, the central nervous system. Most of my coworkers inspired, at worst, stoicism and oftentimes much better...
More later
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