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9.26.00, 10:37 p.m.

watching: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel season premieres

In class we are discussing Dolores Hayden's odd choice of phrasing in a passage about a Native American artist. That is, she references Chief Seattle, saying something about how he "gave the city his name." It's a weird, unsettling thing -- as if he bequeathed the city his name? like a gift? Pat says, all sarcastic, "What is that about? The conquest is made harmless, as if we [Native Americans] would really say, 'Hey, Europeans, we have squash too!'" She spreads her hands in cynical disbelief.

I have articles to look up at the library, inspired to work on my paper. Walking across a reading lounge I pass an Asian girl with her bare feet propped up on the table, concentrating on the Marx-Engels Reader in her lap. Another is asleep in the new black leather chairs, her head cradled on her arms and mouth ajar. Four weeks into the semester and already half the tables are full, the carrals occupied by headphoned kids poring over fat books and lined paper.

I used to spend hours in the university library, perusing the bound copies of journals, looking up whole shelves on a particular subject. I would pick a particular serial --The Journal of Popular Culture, Diaspora, Formations, Public Culture, whatever-- find the bound back issues on the shelf and search the articles of each issue for an interesting topic I might have myself studied, or wished I had. (I am a geek.) I had an encounter once in the stacks (not that kind of encounter) that stays with me -- turning the wheels on the movable shelves, looking for the queer studies section, a stocky, bespectacled Latino boy walks up my aisle and watches politely, waiting his turn. 

I ask, "Oh, what shelf are you trying to get to?"

He consults his notes. "Um, HM103."

"Oh, me too! Hold on, I've almost got it."

A space opens up after all my cranking, and we step between the shelves and search the same bookcase. It's difficult to explain -- the odd encounter that affirms a fleeting, queer solidarity in an unexpected setting. (Gaydar works.) We fumble and grin as we read spines and labels with tilted heads. 

I find my book and turn to him and say, "Take care, okay?"

He looks up and ducks his head, smiling. "You too!"

It was a nice, sweet moment, what else can I say?