For the last couple years, I have done most of my writing at the Wertheim Study, a reading room at the New York Public Library.  It is reserved for people working on long-term projects and is used primarily by academics of one sort or another. 

 The Wertheim Study is completely silent.  Nobody talks or even whispers to one another.  Because of this silence, you can work at the Wertheim regularly for years, see the same people day after day, and know nothing about them other than the books they are reading.  Despite this silence and lack of interaction, I have developed a distinct fondness for my Wertheim colleagues.  But soon my term will end and I will go back on the waitlist for a seat.  Since nobody speaks in the Wertheim, I have had no way of expressing my admiration for these folks.  So before I left, I wanted to celebrate the stars of the Wertheim Study—those whose lives are only vaguely constructed fantasies in my mind, but whose stern silence and dedication never fails to shame me into actually working.

Hello solid but plain-looking lesbian who occasionally brings your hot fashion-model girlfriend.  Your aloof self-possession makes me want to know everything about you!

Greetings woman with long brown hair and “feminist” tattooed on your forearm in gothic script, reading about the history of open admissions at CUNY.  You look very comfortable with yourself.

How’s it going fellow art historian who was hugely pregnant last year?  I admire your dedication and work ethic more consciously knowing that you have a little munchkin at home.  I’m also always impressed that you manage to look so put together, but today I noticed that you didn’t brush your hair.

Whassup hunky big guy who looks like a manlier academic version of Chase Crawford?  You are very preppy, and never smile, but you are yummy anyway.

Hello friendly fellow writing a book about Lorenz Hart.  You are the rock of the Wertheim.  It feels empty when you are not there.  You also have the same haircut as my dad.

Hi pretty pale girl with black hair who is writing about Rebecca West.  I envy your looks sometimes and I worry that you can tell.

I miss you South Asian woman with short wavy hair.  You were almost as friendly as the Hart scholar, and it was extremely cute when you brought your daughter in with you.  I am also fascinated by the fact that your work involves watching episodes of “Law and Order.” 

Hi female-male trans guy.  You are looking increasingly butch and cool.  I wonder what you do and whether your vision is really as bad as those super-googly horn-rim glasses imply.

Good Afternoon, elegant philosopher with white hair.  You look like a character from “The Decline of the American Empire.”  If I were to create a fictional character meant to evoke, but not be, Susan Sontag, she would look like you.  It’s a shame that I was too shy to say hello when I saw you walking by with a stroller in my neighborhood.

Nice to see you, friendly woman with brown hair and bangs.  I often admire the array of moisturizers you bring with you and lay out on the table.  I am not being sarcastic, this is a smart move on your part.

Hey there, big teddy bear of a graduate student.  You are pretty cute, but sometimes smell like cigarettes.  We are both fans of Gotham Girls Roller Derby, but since I am probably ten years older than you, I was too embarrassed to point this out. 

And there are still more of you: Dredlock Guy, the Smirker, Drunk Lady, the Snorer, the Mathematician who steals chairs, German historian who looks like David Brooks, Man who types with one finger…

I’ll miss you!