next to the toffee tree

:: disclaimer: if you have not been to 4th floor rutherford north you may have some trouble understanding the humor, irony, satire and genius of this blog — but let me lay it out for you. 4th floor rutherford north contains (based on my special dual calculation) about 100-250 thousand books, and 10-50 studying students. the books are stacked in glorious rows and columns creating a labrynth for the imaginative and a matrix to the pragmatic. on the door upon entering is posted this note: this is a quiet study area. it seems not a command of silence but more trying to prepare you for the experience ahead: not a speed limit sign, but just one of those curvy arrows that let you know if you don’t turn the steering wheel soon you will be in the ditch. it is a hushed solemn place that pushes my imagination off a tall building into an oxymorinic suicidal leap. but what it doesn’t know is that my imagination (like everyone’s imagination) is like superman, able to turn away a nanosecond before his face becomes annoyed by the pavement and flit and float and dance in the air and then just for spite punch a meteor into smithereens. ::

:: a qualifier: the transformation from floor to kingdom is not a physical one in the least. on the contrary the kingdom and the floor are identical physically, but the difference lies in the fact that the subjects of the kingdom, live, work, laugh, love, cry, die, and never leave this physical place. ::

if 4th floor rutherford north was a kingdom: 

if 4th floor rutherford north was a kingdom, we would all have monogrammed kingdom slippers. they would most likely sport a calligraphic 4Rn and an unequeled ability to make silent the treading of feet. or skipping. yes, we would skip as well! lets say, perchance, you found that hardcover version of creative tension : the life and thought of kenneth bouldingby cynthia earl kerman, well that most readily would go arm in arm with a joyful frolic – a silent, joyful, frolic of course. 

and oh! and how we would study! in all the phases of sun and moon we would study. we would study the books, thousands upon thousands of idea’s staring up at us in the form of little contrasts of black on white…we would find safety in permenence of these lines, unlike the greasy grey pouring from the mouths of our mechanical pencils only to be sloppily lapped up by our shame. and in momentary lapses in focus we would stare out at the people milling in the university square, or making the trek from the base end of HUB to the LRT station. momentary lapses.

there would be no need for normal periods of sleep, or the normal furniture of the like (beds). we would sleep for maybe twenty to thirty minutes at a time, head down in our protective cubicles, comfortably resting on the bountiful bosom of our knowledge.  

 there would be no king or queen or lords or ladies. people would do as they pleased, a Utopian society, where marx, plato, and louis XIV all find their place.* law would be simple and consist mainly of death to the offender. not meaningless death no, studies would show that most deaths were due to trying to answer a vibrating cell phone, communicating with fearfully hushed, apish and neanderthalic exchange known as speech. later in the following hours there would be sharp gasp that would echo throughout the corridors of text, a final right if you will, followed by the soft purr of their heals on the carpet as they are dragged away.*

we would then take their name off their mailbox, so as not to aggitate those waiting for a response relating to a philisophical debate or what have you. most non-scholerly communication would be made by general movement of the head and apendages received by the peripheral vision of another, as both parties stared at the ground. the most intimate conversations would be held by staring at each others foreheads and glancing around the room. a silent intimate conversation mind you. not like love no. what of love you ask? uh…

we would write our midterms and finals on-line and e-mail our essays and papers. and at the end of may we would check our WebCT for our final grades! and upon receiving them we would have a big party! on this final day a certain chemistry professor would leave lister hall to serve us drinks. thoroughly intoxicated we would degenerate to a primitive state i’m sure. in that day of apocalyptic proportions you may find your ”love”. but the entropy! how the sound would rise! its peak – a gentle murmur that would permeate the kingdom. no peace, i tell you, would be found! in any corner! no peace! the inhumanity!

this most lamentable day would end with a sleepful night. we would wake up with the sun and mysteriously gather along the windows staring out at the treetops. few persons would pass through the courtyard, or along the base of the building. the sun would glint off our irises, and we would think back to when we first entered the kingdom. we would be troubled, i think, for even the greatest of mental filing cabinets among us would not be able to recall the face of the gatekeeper.

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*the 4th floor holds many political science books including original volumes of marx and engels and such.

**i bet if we flushed the offender’s monogrammed slippers down the toilet it would explain why the mens room smells so noxious - every day i come here!!