bookporn, Chicago Edition
Paul Harvey
A little bit OT, but following from John's tribute to the unfortunately vanishing library periodical room (which are also places I love and gravitate to when I'm visiting other libraries):
Check out Rachel Leow's "bookporn" series, the latest edition being floor-to-ceiling photos of Chicago's Harold E. Washington library. Next time I'm in the Bay Area I should take one of UC Berkeley's reference room hall and also its cozy and lush Morrison reading room, where I spent graduate school years lounging in don't-worry-be-happy bliss. Only Yoshi's jazz club (then, this being the 1980s, in North Oakland, and featuring a half-price student ID discount that allowed me dozens of hours of live listening pleasure to Joe Henderson and scores of others) and Small's in New York City (usually around 1:45 a.m. in the late 1990s, the era of the original Small's, with the Jason Lindner big band wailing, Jason on piano, Myron Walden and others on sax, and Omar Avital taking his double bass to places no bass had gone before) could compare to put me in touch with some divine spark, if just for the moment. For now, Rachel's bookporn series and the occasional moment of musical genius that accidentally stumbles its way into Colorado Springs (and soon scrambles away) will have to suffice.
Check out Rachel Leow's "bookporn" series, the latest edition being floor-to-ceiling photos of Chicago's Harold E. Washington library. Next time I'm in the Bay Area I should take one of UC Berkeley's reference room hall and also its cozy and lush Morrison reading room, where I spent graduate school years lounging in don't-worry-be-happy bliss. Only Yoshi's jazz club (then, this being the 1980s, in North Oakland, and featuring a half-price student ID discount that allowed me dozens of hours of live listening pleasure to Joe Henderson and scores of others) and Small's in New York City (usually around 1:45 a.m. in the late 1990s, the era of the original Small's, with the Jason Lindner big band wailing, Jason on piano, Myron Walden and others on sax, and Omar Avital taking his double bass to places no bass had gone before) could compare to put me in touch with some divine spark, if just for the moment. For now, Rachel's bookporn series and the occasional moment of musical genius that accidentally stumbles its way into Colorado Springs (and soon scrambles away) will have to suffice.
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