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It's like I've suddenly realized I work in a library.
Yesterday I took home the collected poems of James Dickey and Alan M. Beck's The Ecology of Stray Dogs: A Study of Free-Ranging Urban Animals, which I picked up from the sorting room, because, honestly, who could resist a title like that?
Today I got my ILL copy of a Mary Renault book, Purposes of Love, which I immediately requested after someone in some comments thread somewhere indicated that it was an interesting take on gender/power dynamics in relationships set in England c.1938. Or something like that. Anyway, I've never read any Mary Renault, and I don't want to be the last on my friends list to do so...
I also, a half hour ago, just looked up and then went and snagged a copy of Robert Vaughn's (yeah, that Robert Vaughn!) doctoral thesis, Only Victims: A Study of Show Business Blacklisting. Just holding it in my hands is making me feel all squee-y, because, dude, Robert Vaughn wrote a doctoral thesis! He's gorgeous and smart! It's like when somebody figured out that the sexiest thing Lance or Justin could do in a story was math.
Unfortunately, holding Robert Vaughn's thesis in my hands is also causing me to think weird thoughts like, I want to write a thesis. I want to write a thesis on twentieth century American social history.
So I think I'll set it down now and go commune with the thoroughly non-enticing current science journals.
Yesterday I took home the collected poems of James Dickey and Alan M. Beck's The Ecology of Stray Dogs: A Study of Free-Ranging Urban Animals, which I picked up from the sorting room, because, honestly, who could resist a title like that?
Today I got my ILL copy of a Mary Renault book, Purposes of Love, which I immediately requested after someone in some comments thread somewhere indicated that it was an interesting take on gender/power dynamics in relationships set in England c.1938. Or something like that. Anyway, I've never read any Mary Renault, and I don't want to be the last on my friends list to do so...
I also, a half hour ago, just looked up and then went and snagged a copy of Robert Vaughn's (yeah, that Robert Vaughn!) doctoral thesis, Only Victims: A Study of Show Business Blacklisting. Just holding it in my hands is making me feel all squee-y, because, dude, Robert Vaughn wrote a doctoral thesis! He's gorgeous and smart! It's like when somebody figured out that the sexiest thing Lance or Justin could do in a story was math.
Unfortunately, holding Robert Vaughn's thesis in my hands is also causing me to think weird thoughts like, I want to write a thesis. I want to write a thesis on twentieth century American social history.
So I think I'll set it down now and go commune with the thoroughly non-enticing current science journals.