The work of firemen

It turns out Fahrenheit 451 is the 7th most checked out book from the New York Public Library. I found this tad bit of information out last weekend while I was there.

And this wall, at the entrance of the Rose Main Reading Room, shown a familiar resemblance. The juxtaposed fire hose and rows of volumes stood as living renditions of what Bradbury would call Fahrenheit 451.

Tourists, in attempts to capture the murals above, overlooked this quiet representation. It was seen yet not seen, noticed yet ignored, yet it held presence.

“Montag hesitated. ‘Was — was it always like this? The firehouse, our work? I mean, well, once upon a time…didn’t firemen prevent fires rather than stoke them up and get them going?'”

There goes my hero

Because we can all get a kick from this kid’s winter adventure. He put himself through it and yet held on ’til the end.

A kid at Bryant Park in NYC this past weekend.

The best part was hearing him scream as he spun. What a day.

Street poetry

I was about to cross the street when I noticed a pattern all too familiar — 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables. A haiku.

I was taken aback and, out of excitement, pulled my friend out of traffic for her to see it. I was ecstatic.

You see, haiku have been a thing. I wrote three of them the day before and was already in the practice of counting my thoughts’ syllables. Now, the syllables were in front of me.

This haiku is by John Morse and is part of the NYC Department of Transportation’s Curbside Haiku, a safety education program and public art campaign that’s dispersed throughout the city.

It was a weekend of poetry, and I could not have been happier.

Counting syllables

I wrote three haiku this morning, the most I’ve ever written in a day (I’m still surprised myself). They all came out of my journey to NYC today.

I was hesitant to leave the house without my camera out of fear that I’d be missing out on the opportunity to take some cool pics, but something inside me didn’t want to.

my inner writer
doesn’t want to take pictures
she just wants to write

Because I was running late, I was half-expecting (or more so convinced) that I wouldn’t make it to the bus terminal in time. I thought I had two more stops to go.

it’s one stop away
that alone gave me some hope
as long as I ran

I made it (with literally a minute to spare, no lie) and settled in. An hour into the trip, I began writing and came across a blog post that got me thinking.

I tend to latch on
to things I do not want
out of fear of loss

Interestingly enough, I came across this and the morning went full circle.

@davidshrigley