i spent all my money on books and oops now i'm poor
everything i'm reading this summer (and beyond)
In the past month or so, like a maniac, I’ve purchased one million books. I’m scared to know the exact number. Twenty-five? Thirty? It’s a lot. My new books join the sixty or so already in stacks all over my house. Like it’s fully insane, it will take me literal years to get through them all.
I’m trying to make a pact with myself not to buy any more books for the rest of the year. This already feels impossible. For one, basically every week my bestie Jeremy and I go to Chili’s and bitch about being artists over queso. And then we wander Half Price Books. When we’re there, I’m in full communion with childhood Adrienne whose mom would take her to the Krochs & Brentano’s at the mall and she’d let me buy one million Sweet Valley Highs. Buying books was our main bonding activity. In the summers we’d drive all the way to the glamorous North Shore to the Brandeis Book Fair and I’d fill big paper grocery bags with all the V.C. Andrews and then we’d go to Hackney’s for lunch. I…
