itsredrover:

Book haul:

Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores

Kurt Vonnegut, Look at the Birdie

Jeffrey Brown, Unlikely

’60s copy of 1984, George Orwell

’50s copy of Nabokov’s Dozen, Vladmir Nabokov

All in all, about $30. 

A PERFECT weekend

Read More

I don’t know, but I’m going to anyways.

In our town, we feature a variety of adult-
themed bookstores; we think you may be
familiar with the kind. Along the narrow
and dusty aisles are thousands of doe-eyed
women caught in the most mysterious
of poses. Why are there so many terrible
places like this in out town? Because the
heart is terrible-like a rotten tooth, it is
small and soft and weak. It has a terrible
requirement, and that terrible requirement
is mystery. For example, there is one
particular magazine in one particular aisle
in one particular dirty bookstore in our
town called Girls in Turtlenecks. That is all
there is: shot after shot of blushing gals in
tight-fitting turtlenecks, naked from the
waist down. We stare at a copy and feel flush.
And somehow, silently, we know the truth:
Airbrushed and honeyed, they are still no
match for the feeling we get waiting to kiss.