The Naughty Librarian

The Paris Review recently published a naughty little article on librarians. Specifically librarians in pornography. Here's an interesting fact from the piece: it was actually a librarian who coined the term pornography. Aren't librarians swell?

Image borrowed from Paris Review.

Do you have a librarian fantasy?

Modern Love: A Hopeless Romantic’s Defence of V-Day

From Someecards

Here is my little argument in defence of Valentine's Day. This argument, as well as my good friend's counter argument, can be viewed on Critics at Large.


Being single when February 14th rolls around usually grants you fair ground for eye rolling, moping, or even resorting to the fetal position. More so, like many single or otherwise, you may even take it to the next level: smugness. Of course, that leaves you easily feeling morally above the entire notion of a day noted for celebrating romantic love. But even if you are happily attached, you don’t need a day to express your gratitude –  especially when this once commemorative occasion has been molested and taken over by greeting card outfits. I, however, would like to take a moment and defend this occasion. Not only as a pleasant distraction from the otherwise perilous struggles of everyday life, but also as a symbol of hope for the most painful, beautiful, and powerful human experience. 

Before I come off as a lofty fool, let me assure you: I’m as dysfunctionally single as I possibly could be without a hope in the world. For starters, I come equipped with young child, an interesting living arrangement, and an excess amount of checked baggage. I refuse to Internet date and I work in a profession that’s almost eighty per cent women. (Good luck with the organic encounters.) If that’s not hopeless enough, as I sit in a cozy neighbourhood coffee shop writing this, my mannerism here mirrors that of when I’m on a date. I take a sip of my cappuccino, along with a mouth full of my hair. I take a bite of my banana bread, half of which ends up in my lap. Then I just start unconsciously muttering to myself to the point where the gentlemen next to me feels the need to leave...quickly. It’s just not happening.

While I am tempted to be bitter, I also find those who savagely attack the day to be absolutely hilarious. Yes, I agree that Valentine’s Day, like Hallowe’en, Christmas, and Easter, has become over-commercialized. Every front window of every store we walk by is decked out in an orgy of pink and red. (Seriously, even the hardware store.) Yet to all those cynics who are disgusted by this, my advice, just don’t buy into it. Any consumer with any shred of common sense has the power and the right to forgo over-consumption. So I’m not letting you off the hook that easy.

If you are with someone, romantically, a day to invest in your relationship, should be the very least. We have several allotted holidays throughout the year dedicated to our families, our extended families, and to our children. Valentine’s Day is an excellent excuse to give your partner what they need. This doesn’t necessarily mean anything of a material nature. You need not spend a penny, especially if what they need is attention, a compliment, or any recognition. While I feel lucky to live in a time and place where we can choose the one we are with (er, provided that choice is mutual!), we sometimes completely take them for granted. We live in a world now where we are more and more distracted, unfocused, and stretched too thin. Our most intimate conversations during our most important relationships typically take place in electronic format rather than face to face. Valentine’s Day should serve as an example to stop, remember, appreciate, and try to carry that feeling on throughout the rest of the year. 

If you’re flying solo, I also encourage the acknowledgement of the day. To stop and appreciate those people around you, even the platonic liaisons. Valentine’s Day allows us to celebrate those who are in our lives because we choose to have them in our lives. For those of us who live in societies that are progressive enough to recognize all kinds of “modern love” in its various combinations, we can take this moment to be grateful. That is, grateful that we have the freedom to choose how we live and who becomes a part of our life along the way. If we meet someone, someone incredible, there is nothing stopping the sparks from flying. We also have full freedom to become pathetic, insecure idiots. We have the freedom to be confused, betrayed, and even broken-hearted, i.e. to be human. 

Whether you be single or attached, let today be the day when you remember how wonderful it is to – sometimes – act like a complete moron. 

Chromatic Typewriter

I love vintage typewriters. I do have one from the 1970s, in my mom's basement. I also lust over them in vintage stores, but do not have the room in my tiny living space. (But a girl can look can't she?) Check out this chromatic typewriter.

Found via This Is Colossal

My Love Life

Valentine's Day is just around the corner. Do you have any plans? I would love to say that I'm looking forward to it, but allow this diagram to explain how I'm feeling.

Found on Wit and Delight. 

The Light Still Gets In: Leonard Cohen's Old Ideas

One warm evening in the spring of 2008, I filed into the Sony Centre in downtown Toronto where you could feel in this company of strangers a communal certainty that what we were about to witness was something captivating. Moments later, garbed in a grey suit and fedora, a Canadian legend took the stage. The applause only ceased when the opening chords of “Dance Me To The End of Love” wafted over us. So began our intimate three-hour encounter with the Canadian icon Leonard Cohen. Like many of his recordings, the performance was simple but urbane; humble but iconic; mournful but beautiful; thus making each detail unforgettable.

Several years after that epic world tour, in his 77th year, Cohen returned to the studio. The result is Old Ideas (Sony Music Canada., 2012) the twelfth studio album in his 44 year career and the first since Dear Heather in 2004. Living off of the vivid memory of that evening almost four years ago, the announcement of Old Ideas was a warm welcome. The album itself proof that Cohen’s artistic crux is still aglow in his twilight years. A Montreal native, Cohen was a published poet before his twentieth birthday. His poetic and literary accomplishments, which also include two novels that capture the quintessential melancholy of CanLit, might have established his foundation, but it is through song, however, that he became immortalized. 


Read full review