Riverside Public Library, Riverside, California

Betrayal, thy name is Riverside Public Library. Or maybe, Google Images. Either way, what I got was not what I expected.

Here is the screenshot of the googled Riverside Public Library:

See the pretty building? They tore it down in 1964. If you want to see how gorgeous it was, go here. This is what they replaced it with:

Nnnooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooo

Hot stuff, right? Now, I'm all for 60s architecture. The funkier the better, and bring on the globe lights and nonsensical patterned wall attachments, but how could they? Just. HOW. Could they? Doesn't your whole body just ache looking at those pictures? It is physically painful. So beautiful, smashed to dust.

Main Floor next to the circulation desk.

I do like the current Riverside Public Library. It's just weird and old enough to give the proper willies while serving the public simultaneously. If you can't be beautiful, at least be interesting. I am sure a mean aunt has said that to someone somewhere.

I guess this makes me Riverside's mean aunt?

Anyway, there were three levels and I visited each one trying to figure out where to set up for the long haul. My laptop's battery is pretty good, but I do need to plug in after about 4-5 hours, so outlets are a must. I started out in the basement since that was the only place I could find outlets (and they went full tilt, too, with not just outlets but power strips); it was cold and brightly lit with that green, buzzy fluorescent light that gave so many of us nausea headaches as kids. I personally love this light because it exposes all the corners...you can't possibly have a shadow demon living in such conditions. If anything is going to come for you, it is going to be fully illuminated and in all kinds of trouble for it.

The stacks were basic tan metal and the furniture was bric-a-brac from somewhere in the saddest part of the 80s. I got one of the green comfy chairs (pictured below) and settled in for a good long spell of writing.

The basement

I had almost completed my first blog post when a man slammed two books directly across the table from me, then proceeded to unload a variety of dirty cords from a filthy, overgrown fanny pack of sorts. The smell hit me, and my typing stopped. I debated. Stay or go? It was the sweat/dirt smell (as opposed to the vomit/urine smell) so I decided to see how it went. We can share this space, can we not?

No one has ever been murdered here, probably.

He proceeded to plug in the largest collection of old devices I've seen in one sitting (outside of, you know, frickin Best Buy). Ipods (several generations), phones, other things I could not identify. He grumbled to himself as he did this--it was a process, though if for any value other than the process itself, I couldn't say. I was trying my damndest to stay the course, finish what I had set out to do, and not flee.

I finished up and decided to find another place to sit on a different floor. I remembered seeing women up on the third floor (the basement had filled up with almost entirely men, all charging phones or reading, and me) so went to check it out. It was fine enough to start work on the second blog post, though there was no electricity there--instead, they had a bunch of electrical outlet boxes with no outlets, almost as if to say...we thought about it, but mmmmm nope. After awhile I could smell the bathrooms. That was enough. I stopped and saved the second blog post and headed out.

On my way toward the door I saw these lovely Tiffany-style globes hanging at either side of the exit. I've searched around but can find no explanation for them. They certainly do not match the rest of the mid-60s decor. I imagined they were part of the original, Carnegie-built library...they seem far more 1903 than 1960, no? I could see some librarian fighting like hell to keep one nice reminder of what they had before and this is how these odd lanterns still survive. Of course, this is just conjecture. It's equally possible they were created last year and smacked onto the front as someone's Best Idea for aesthetic improvements.

Riverside was a functional public library with hip flairs here and there, but I couldn't have stayed there all day, anyway, Cordman or no Cordman. I cut the visit short in hopes of finding more amenable accommodations.