I love the Internet. It's a misanthrope's dream, and some days, I am quite the misanthrope. As a consumer, I am a misanthrope's misanthrope. Customer service in New York City is just dreadful. The cool glow of the screen is most comforting at times of shopping, compared to the dull vacant stares of post-teen slackers with no sense dress or deportment..
New York Public Library allows patrons with library cards to place holds on books and have them delivered to the branch of their choice. So whenever I hear about a book that seems interesting, I am online, reserving.
As you all know, I work on the northern edge of Chelsea. The utter cusp of that fashionable gay neighborhood, and the capital of clones. I usually have books deliverd to Muhlenberg or Haskell, and down there, they don't bat an eyelash at a plethora of gay books. But near home, in family-style Yorkville, where story hour is de rigeur, well, who knows. But this is New York, and surely most branches have gay patrons, as there are gay books at even the most far-flung branches in the system.
Yet, I forget how reserve-happy I get, and was a bit surprised when the woman behind the counter nearly got brained by my ten, count 'em, ten gay-related library books.
Didn't know my own strength, did I?
So I trotted home with ten gay books. I am not sure why I am mentioning this other than to marvel at the wide variety of gay materials NYPL has, as well as the wonder of getting books quicker by machine than by going to the library itself. I am at the point that I don't buy books first anymore. I go through NYPL first, then move on to Powell's or the bookstores.
Everyone should have a library card.
Later, I went to LGNY and did some editing. It's nice to have a "third place" where I am appreciated, and my editing and writing skills get a good workout. Plus it turned into one of those long nights with more than a few uncontrollably giggly moments.
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