The Search

The Search

“What is your name?” he shouted to the wind,
and when the wind moved, he heard ‘god’,
so spent his life following the breezes,
homeless and unsatisfied.

But his son, tired of the movement, chose anew.
“What is your name?” he shouted to the forest,
and when the birds flew out, he heard ‘god’,
so spent his life amid the trees,
homeless and unsatisfied.

But his son, tired of leaves and soil, chose anew.
“What is your name?” he shouted to a woman,
and in her breathing he heard ‘god’,
so spent his life chasing her pleasure,
homeless and unsatisfied.

But his son, tired of skin and heavy breaths, chose anew.
“What is your name?” he shouted to a book,
and amids its pages he read ‘god’,
so spent his life in libraries,
homeless and unsatisfied.

But his son, tired of dust and worthless wisdom, chose anew.
“Where are you?” he shouted to God,
and God smiled, delighted to finally be worth more
then the wind,
then the forest,
then a woman,
then a book,
and so He
gave the boy a home,
and the boy was satisfied.

Collected Conversations with Inanimate Objects

Here, for the first time ever, is the collected works in my ‘Converstations with the Various Inanimate Objects I Encounter at the Library‘, from the days when my mind had slowly numbed itself from reality by repetitive shelving of sub-par literature.

My First Conversation with the Eighth Book on Gay Sex I Shelved Today:

Me: Are you really necessary?
Book: Supply and demand, babe.
Me: No no, I get that part. It’s just… how many of you do there need to be?
Book: What do you mean?
Me: Well, there are only so many places a guy can go with another guy…
Book: Some people have to find the ideas first, you know.
Me: But -eight- of you?
Book: You’d be surprised how many men don’t know that you can put it in –
Me: Screw this, I’m going to shelve the comic books.

My First Conversation with the Black Magic Book that has a Red Stain on it:

Me: So, uh, wild night?
Book: Well, you see that red stain on me?
Me: Yeah.
Book: That used to be in a chicken.
Me:
Book:
Me:
Book:
Me: So… did the spell work.
Book: Are you serious?
Me:
Book:
Me:
Book: No. No, it didn’t.

My First Conversation with the Fourth Unique Janet Evanovich Book on the New Shelf:

Me: Let me guess. You’re about a man and a woman who meet under strange circumstances, dislike each other at first, but slowly develop a relationship that ends with a trying breakup, only for them to realize that they can’t live without eachother. And after overcoming almost abusrdly coincidental obstacles, they finally reunite in true love.
Book: Well, actually, I’m a cautionary tale on the whole ‘love at first sight’ myth. You see, you can fall in love with anyone if you so wish, but only certain people can actually coexist and lead a fruitful, realistic relationship that produces true joy. I try and dispell the lustful relationships most romance novels center on.
Me: Wait, really?
Book: Hah! Hell no. You nailed me the first try.
Me: Oh! Hah hah, that was a good one!
Book: You should have seen your face.
Me: Priceless, I assume!
Book: Definitely. Yup! No worries, I’m really the novel Anti-Christ.

My First Conversation with the Chair Recently Vacated by a Homeless Man:

Chair: OH GOD, THE SMELL! PLEASE, BURN ME! I CAN’T TAKE MUCH MORE OF THIS! IT SEEPS INTO MY FINE IMITATION LEATHER! I CAN’T BREATHE! IT’S LIKE A ROTTING FISH STUFFED IN A ROTTING DOG STUFFED IN A ROTTING LLAMA! OH, LORD, HOW I SUFFER!
Me:
Chair: DON’T JUST STAND THERE! FIND A MATCH! GET SOME GASOLINE! PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY!
Me:
Me:
Me: I… don’t think I can do that.
Chair: WHY NOT? THEY SHOOT HORSES DON’T THEY? THEY SHOOT HORSES, DON’T THEY!?!?!?!

My First Brief Conversation with the Book on Deforestation:

Me: Well aren’t you just a little ironic.
Book:

My First Conversation with the Staff Door:

Me: Off for lunch.
Door: You’ll be back.
Me: Blast, you’re right.

My Second Conversation with the Staff Door:

Me: You know, every time I see you I die a little on the inside.
Door: Yeah, I hear that alot.
Me: Doesn’t that make you sad?
Door: Hey, guess what, you get to go shelve books for four more hours. Doesn’t that make -you- sad?
Me:
Me:
Me:
Door: That’s what I thought. Get back to work, manwhore.

My First Conversation With the Book Titled The Joy Of Self Sex:
Me: Wait… what the hell?
Book: Look, let me explain. I was slated to be a history textbook at first, but then some crazy school board decided I had too many controversial stories.
Me: So… they made you into a book on having sex with yourself instead…
Book: To make it simple… yes.
Me:
Book:
Me: This is just absurd.
Book: I’m still talking with my lawyers.

My First Conversation With a (Rather Short) Amish Vegan Cookbook:

Book: The next homeless man who walks by smelling like piss and pot I’m going to drop off this shelf and hit right on the head.
Me: By the size of you, it won’t do much damage.
Book: Alright, look, it’s not like we had much to work with.
Me: Literally, heh heh.
Me: See what I did there? ‘Cause vegans don’t have many ingredients to work with. Good, yeah?
Book: Oh, yeah, did you write that yourself?
Me: I spent a few hours thinking of it.
Book: Nice. Maybe next time… you can be funny.
Me:

My First Conversation With A Philosophy Book Titled On Bullshit:

Book: Read me.
Me:
Book: You know you want to.
Me:
Book: How can you resist a title like this? I mean, it’s on bullshit. How much more interesting can I possibly get?
Me:
Book: Look, it is either read me or shelve cookbooks.
Me:
Me:
Me: You win.
Book: See, interesting, yes?
Me: Not remotely. But have you ever talked to the cookbooks? I’ve almost hung myself among the Martha Stewart covers twice now. Luckily my belt isn’t quite long enough to wrap around the light fixtures. Being skinny has the additional merit of preventing suicide-by-belt, apparently. You know, you aren’t that bad, really.
Book: …you need help.

My First Conversation With A Sex Book Titled Aqua Erotica:

Me:
Me:
Me:
Book:
Me:
Me: Your pages are waterproof.
Me:
Me:
Book:
Me:
Me:
Me: That’s it. I’m leaving.

My First Conversation with the Magic Book Titled The Good Girls Book of Naughty Spells:

Me: Hey, these spells aren’t naughty at all.
Book: What do you mean? I’m simply¬†exuding evil.
Me: Well, for example, this here spell is to make your boyfriend break up with you yet not have any bad feelings about it. To leave happy…
Book: Ooh, that’s a nasty one, yeah.
Me:
Book: Straight out of hell.
Me:
Book: I hear even the Devil is too scared to use it.
Me:
Book:
Me: You know, when I read the title, I figured there would be spells to give your boyfriend herpes or something of the sort.
Book:
Me:
Book: Isn’t that just a tad bit over the top?
Me:
Book:
Me: Aren’t they supposed to be? Naughty spells and all…
Book: Why would you ever want to do that?
Me: I’m not saying I -want- to, it’s just that your title is a bit misleading.
Book: Who do you want to give herpes to?
Me:
Book: Do they really even deserve it?
Me:
Book:
Me: Just… just forget I even mentioned it.
Book:
Me:
Book: That breakup spell is just horrid, don’t you think?
Me: Chills me to the bones.

My First Conversation With the Book Titled A New History of Germany:

Me: Um, I don’t want to be a jerk, but where is the chapter on Nazi Germany?
Book: What? Right there. In between the fight for freedom called WWI, the Great War as I like to call it, and the morals and pacifism adopted by the beautiful Germanic population during the Cold War.Way ahead of their time, they were.
Me: Oh… These ten pages?
Book: Yeah!
Me:
Book:
Me: You know, now that I read it, five of it is talking about why no one liked the Jews anyways.
Book:
Me: Yeah… These three pages just list the reasons why people were prejudiced against them.
Book: You know what I like?
Me: They were rich, against the grain of German politics, intelligent….
Book: Flowers. And fresh air. Fresh air is really underrated.
Me: In fact, this sounds more like the excuses given by Hitler then an actual history.
Book: Oooh, oooh, and a really good cup of hot chocolate.
Me: There are more pages devoted to how out-of-touch the Jewish population was then to Hitler.
Book: Hot chocolate by the fire. That’s what I need.
Me:
Book: And maybe some marshmellows. Drive away this awful cold I’ve developed.
Me:
Book: Oh, you’re still here?

My First Conversation With a Book Titled Booty: Women Pirates on the High Seas:

Me: What the… Hey! That’s actually a great title!
Book: Isn’t it?
Me: I’m impressed for the first time in my entire library experience.
Book: That’s all it took? A bit sad, really.
Me: Look man, when you see waterproof aqua-porn and books on teenage witchcraft, you have to lower your standards a bit.
Book: I gotta admit, the title is original. I mean, Booty. As in, women have booties. And are pirates. Women pirates with booties.
Me: Spot on, baby. Spot on. You know, I met my girlfriend when she was dressed as a pirate.
Book: You should buy a copy of me and give it to her!
Me: No. No, I won’t do that.

My First (And Hopefully Last) Conversation with a Returned DVD Case Filled with a (Rather Excited) Unidentified Live Bug of some sort:

Me: What the hell?
DVD Case: Get it out of me!
Me: Holy… Oh, discusting!
DVD Case: Wow, that thing could jump!
Me: Where’d it go?
DVD Case: I don’t care, oh, man, that was sick.
Me: Oh, ugh. It touched me.
DVD Case: This is chaos, man! Chaos!
Me:
DVD Case:
Me: I need a new job.
DVD Case: CHAOS!
Me: Shutup.

My First Conversation with a DVD Case that Dropped From the Return Slot and Hit My Hand (Causing Me to Hurt Slightly):

Me: Owch! Son of a-
DVD Case: Score!

My First Conversation with Golf For Enlightenment by Deepak Chopra:

Me:
Me:
Me:
Book: It is impolite to stare with your jaw touching your junk.
Me:
Book: What? What’s wrong?
Me: I might be mistaken here, but I’m pretty sure Buddha did not reach enlightenment by taking a bodhi branch and whacking an apple to a hole three hundred yards away.
Book:
Me: In fact, I’m not even sure they had apples. Because they damn sure didn’t have plastic. And even if they did, Buddha wouldn’t have hit it with a stick. Because I bet he had something against breaking sticks off trees. And hitting things with them. Neither of those are too popular with him.
Book:
Me: And now that I think about it, everything about golf is probably a turn off to real Buddhists. All the bugs killed while driving the little golf cart. All the people killed getting oil for the little golf cart. All the Chinese fingers chopped off while -making- the little golfcart.
Book:
Me: And don’t even get me started on all the animals displaced by building a golf course. I bet a few hundred golfers have been reincarnated as flowers that are eaten by deer on the sunniest day ever just as payback. Or nuts gathered by squirrels -right- before they fall off and attain freedom.
Book: I get your point.
Me: This is just debasement of religion at its finest. I’m sick thinking about all the people who have grabbed this book just to give themselves the pleasure of thinking they’re favorite sport is actually some sort of¬† perverted religious experience.
Book: Guess how many people have actually read me.
Me:
Book: Guess.
Me: Fifty?
Book: Wrong. Two. And one was a six year old who only looked at the pictures.
Me:
Me:
Me: Who was the other?
Book: You. Just now.
Me:
Me:
Me: Did I get further then the six year old?

My First Conversation with a Book Titled The Ethical Slut:

Me: Wow. Wow. That is amazing.
Book: Hey, I know how it looks…
Me: I’ll give you one sentence to convince me this book is not an absurdity.
Book: ….
Me: That is what I thought.
Book: Wait wait, I got it.
Me:
Book: Let’s say you define “slut” as “a girl who puts out for people she likes.” An inethical sluts defines “people she likes” as everyone. An ethical sluts defines “people she likes” as “people she likes”. See, it is a very distinct line.
Me: So you are telling me that the book approve of a lifestyle of sleeping with all of your friends.
Book: Hey, if Sarah is sleeping with all of your guy friends, and tells you about it, wouldn’t it be more ethical if you just sexed her up?
Me:
Me:
Me: No, it wouldn’t be.
Book: Alright, take that reaction, and change the “no” to “yes” and the “wouldn’t” to “would” and you have the position this book argues.
Me:
Me:
Me: You have got to be kidding.
Book: Welcome to the beautiful secular world, baby. Or should I say, sextacular world.
Me: Please, never say that again.
Book: Sextacular. Just flooows off the tongue.

My First Conversation with the Computer at the Check-in Desk:

Me: Aww, that is so cute. That little boy keeps asking his mother to let him read the book he just checked out.
Computer: Yeah, it is really nice to see children interested in reading a physical book. All that passes through here is DVDs now.
Me: Totally… although, the mother doesn’t seem all that excited about it.
Computer: Yeah, she actually seems really annoyed. Strange.
Me: That’s alright. When they get home, the kid will be able to bask in the glow of literature well read.
Computer: Um, wait a minute… Let this play out.
Me:
Computer:
Me:
Computer: No way.
Me:
Computer:
Me: I can’t believe this.
Computer:
Me:
Computer: Did she just….
Me: This is obscene.
Computer: What mother returns a book checked out moments ago by her excited son?
Me: Was she that annoyed that he wanted to read?
Computer: That has got to be one messed up childhood. I bet she did that just for the sick pleasure of making a kid cry.
Me: So THAT is why kids don’t read anymore.
Computer: Yeah, show a little excitement and they get shot down.
Me: I don’t even have a punch line for this… I’m just going to curl up and die right now.
Computer: That’s all we can do…

My First Conversation with a Book Laying On the Ground:

Me: You know, the British have been accused of putting fake rocks in Russia with cameras inside. Rather ingenious.
Book:
Me: How do I know you aren’t a British Spy-Book.
Book:
Me: Well, if you are a British Spy-Book, you aren’t going to get much of a view. Say hello to Martha Stewart and the cook books.
Book:
Me: I hope the British like cold smiles of death. Because that’s about all you see in this aisle.
Book:

My First Conversation with the Book Beside The Dalai Lama Books:

Book: Look, I know your reputation. You better not even start on the Dalai Lama.
Me: I know this sounds bad…
Book: Think carefully about what you say.
Me: But doesn’t it seem a bit… um…
Book: Don’t do it.
Me: I’m just going to flat out say it.
Book: Oh God.
Me: His books suck.
Book:
Me:
Book:
Me:
Book: You are going to hell.

My Second Coversation with the Book Beside the Dalai Lama Books:

Me: So the Dalai Lama came out with a new book.
Book: Oh yeah?
Me: Guess what it’s about.
Book: No.
Me: Wrong! Love!
Book: What’s your point?
Me: Well, I was just wondering… you think the Dalai Lama ever just wants to write a mystery book?
Book:
Me: Cause, you know, he has like ten books about love out now. He can’t possibly have that much material to work with. Love is good, it helps, do it, etc. Everyond just expects it of him, though, so he can’t very well go and change his style now.
Book:
Me: But I bet, some nights, he just wants to sit down and throw a good horror book together. You know, zombies popping out of the ground and vampires wiping out villages. Blood and undead guts everywhere…
Book:
Me: Or how about a romance novel? He’s so into love, he could possibly write the hottest romance novel out there! How to use love to get everyone in your bed…
Book:
Me: Even a Dalai Lama historical-action novel would be great. A twist where he kicked the Chinese army’s ass for days straight until he was betrayed by his best friend’s girlfriend and had to flee the country, killing hundreds on his way out. In loving self-defense, of course…
Book: What are you talking about? It’s the Dalai Lama! He doesn’t think about zombies or sex or killing Chinese!
Me:
Me:
Me: Well, I bet he does think about killing Chinese at the very least…
Book:
Book:
Book:
Me: God, you have no imagination, do you.