I went to a publishing event for professional networking and came home with a fuckton of books again.

This happens every time

every goddamn time

Most of them were free, but I did impulse-buy the complete collected works of Anna Akhmatova. It was on sale.

Being the kind of person who impulse-buys Russian poetry makes me feel pretentious as fuck.

My mom used to go the the Mountains and Plains booksellers thing and come home with a freaking carful.

we used to take over the dining room to sort through everything, it was crazy.

Like, sitting on the train with my purple hair and hipsterish glasses and giant fancy headphones and poetry collection, I feel like I'm

one charming personality quirk away from being the love interest in an unbearably twee indie movie.

estamir: Wow, that is impressive! I am at least limited by what I can reasonably carry on public transportation.

I've still got more than I really have room for at home, though.