Spines of steel.

Of interest to some members of the audience: Gender, Race, Class, and Sexuality in House M.D. Also, Torchwood Declassified: Investigating Mainstream Cult Television.

In other news, on the walk from the gallery to dinner tonight, I was struck down by false advertising. I was going uptown when I stopped across the street from a store with a huge Wonder Woman display right up front, flanked by little purses with her logo and comics on the walls. I'd never gone on this route before, and I had a few minutes, so I went over to see if this was a comic book shop I needed to visit. And as soon as I got in the door, I realized I'd been had: they were selling make-up. Past the display it was just some stations to buy the stuff and get it put on, no merchandise beyond the purses, and the comics were just printouts of single issues' covers. That sort of bait-and-switch was even worse because the people were using Wonder Woman to sell make-up and the gimmick of it got me through the door. A guy with his daughter and wife found out the comics were fake around the time I did, and we commisserated we wanted to buy books, and I had to say, "Who'd want to buy make-up when you could buy a comic book?"

Cataloging went slowly today - I did my usual volume of about eighty books, but since they were all small pamphlets with thirty to sixty pages on average, the total mass was small enough it was only one shelf section, so I didn't feel like I got much done. But on the positive side of things, I got to see a secret subway station. I had enough time I wasn't in a rush to get to the gallery this morning, so I stayed on the train after it hit the last stop and everyone else got out, just waiting to see what would happen. I think it's the only time I've been alone in a subway car, which makes today one of the few times I've really been by myself out in the city. Even in my room there's hints of other people around. Today in the train car, no one. I've missed that feeling.

Last night the topic of subway lights came up somehow, specifically the white and blue ones, why they're on the walls, and their particular shades of white and blue. Like most kids my age the Myst series was a defining part of childhood, and it's become shorthand for otherwordly, shadowy, phantasmagorical events and places, but in this case, I think the comparison holds up, especially when I caught sight of the old station. The train sped past the lights that told people where they could call for help and where they could walk safely, if you knew what they meant, signals that weren't meant for me but I knew to decipher. And coming up on the platform, well - it was dark when I got there, and had to cup my hands over my face to get a good view without the glare, just enough to see the arches in shadows of shadows of their heyday. It wasn't much to look at, not for how little I saw of it in the dark; the station were something to marvel over and wonder what'd happened there, and what I could discover on my own. A little bit of mystery, something for wondering. A tiny piece of something that's otherwise gone.

Also, at dinner there was a mug of warm ginger-spiced apple cider with a shot of bourbon that was just perfect on a cold windy night, and I'm going to have to try making that myself sometime.

And get to bed early, so I can get up early and see that subway station again tomorrow.