Dear EEBO--
You're a really, really nice service. You're there whenever and wherever I need you, and you're usually pretty good about giving me what I want. But sometimes you're a little slow to respond. And sometimes you're half-assed, or disorderly, or disheveled, or even missing vital parts. (A girl tries not to mention such indelicacies, but I couldn't help noticing.) I try to be patient, and I try to understand that you do your best within your limitations. But I don't think I can be happy with you anymore. You see, I've just returned from a week at the Huntington Library where I spent blissful days under the sun-kissed California skies with original books. You remember books--old-fashioned, not too flashy, sometimes downright stinky, but with a charm and character that comes from not being sleek and popular. And books are unexpectedly alluring--so very, very touchable. I just don't think I can look at you the same way again.
We'll still be friends, I hope...?
With all best wishes,
Renaissance Girl
Portrait of Clara (as a chemist)
2 weeks ago
3 comments:
positively scandalous!
Those stinky books sometimes give me allergies (at least the ones on paper do), but I always forgive them. God, I'm such a pushover. ;)
Wow, had to look up what EEBO was. Yes, sometimes you just have to let the internets know where it/they stand/s.
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