Librarian geekout

I went over to C's house to watch the absurd The Librarian: Quest for the Spear this evening. As one of the other librarian/archivists watching pointed out, the titular Noah Wyle character wasn't a librarian - he didn't have an MLS or any equivalent among his innumerable degrees, and when he actually got the job at the "Metropolitan Public Library" his responsibilities are far more curatorial than otherwise. I mean, he spends the whole movie running after a spear, not an overdue Gutenberg Bible, but that's the sort of picky distinction that only people in the profession would make.

The spear, in classic Indiana Jones fashion, is the one used to pierce Jesus' side on the cross, and whoever has it will control the destiny of the world. Yeeeeah. This means that Noah Wyle and a buff blonde bombshell need to leap out of planes, traverse rickety bridges, decipher codes, and participate in rather feeble fight sequences. And say "librarian" a lot. We started taking a drink every time someone on screen said "librarian" and, well, I'm a little squiffy now.

It's not a must-see, but it is amusingly bad in a variety of ways, and thus worth watching if you're home sick or something of the sort.

Drabbles: Descent (Giles)

Descent


There must be an explanation. In Einstein, perhaps, or someone later. For how I can relive hours within the sweep of a minute hand, between rings of the phone, between breaths. A physics of thought. Of madness.

The lying calendar says it's been four days since she vanished. I feel ancient, but the lying glass shows me a face unchanged, sinister, like Dorian Gray's.

Like his.

I wear only two splints, but he's broken a hundred fingers. In four days I've betrayed her a dozen times. And I wonder if this is the world ending, if we failed after all.