coverspy:

pith:

I Like Your Glasses, a literary speed dating event at Housing Works.

I was the cute boy taking photos all night.

Oh, to be that girl, with the moment she made her date laugh that hard immortalized as a GIF on the Internet. Nice work, Jesse.

Hahahaha “I Like Your Glasses”??? This is 2/5ths genius and 3/5ths hipster middle class w a n k lol!! 

I love/hate it. 

Also people tell me they love my glasses all the time and I love/hate it because I have worn glasses since I was 8 and was given s h i t at them all through primary for being an unpopular bullied alienated nerd, but now I acknowledge I have hipster glasses that really suit me/are crucial to my face. People I don’t know well often don’t recognise me if I’m not wearing them. I am very short sighted and have astigmatism. I wear multifocals and when drunk friends play with them at parties/step on them they cost about $600 to replace. Glasses are serious business! Glasses are markers of class, privilege, social capital, education, and so forth!

I have some thoughts and feelings about spectacles, apparently.

edit: Also, I follow a blog about spying on book covers so look who’s talking. I also collect photos of/blog about book covers, but I work in a library for money man! People think I’m a bibliophile/very bookish, and I certainly used to be. In primary school I literally read the backs of cereal boxes, anything I could lay my hands on, I feel worried and bored if I wasn;t devouring the written word like a starved child slurping down instant noodles. I ordered books obsessively through Scholastic Book Club, a lot of little girl fantasy and other stuff, and as early as year 1 I would finish the whole little novel in the backseat of the car before arriving home from school. I won gold medals from the government for aceing statewide English and comprehension tests, I wrote poetry and short stories and everything. I was good at it. 

As a teenager, I fetished books. I watched Amelie and Wes Anderson films and listened to twee pop a lot. I was a Carefree White Girl (.tumblr.com), and let’s not talk about that right now. Another time.

These days, after chronic mental illness and an internet-shot attention span, I struggle to read half a book. Also with having to read constantly for uni, I guess. I find reading very stressful, I carry a lot of intellectual insecurity around. Me finishing a book cover to cover is a 

big

fucking

deal.

I could probably count the number of times I’ve done it in the past year on two hands.

File under: shattering my pseudointellectual bohemian English-skilled image. Which was already kind of in tatters, but sticks to me persistently. Gum on my shoe. In some ways, the blog I just wrote reinforces it.