I thought: I need to start buying cool art magazines so I look more attractive to people on trains.
I thought: But 7 pounds? That's roughly, what, 400 dollars about?
I thought: No one will ever think you're anybody if you're commuting with a beat-up library copy of Kate Hamburger's The Logic of Literature (by my lights an unjustly neglected classic of phenomenological literary theory).
I thought: Why don't you just read it in the station and put it back on the shelf?
I thought: How do you expect to be discovered if you're always exuding this image of nerdiness, second-handedness, a ragman picking through shelves and putting things back? This isn't about expanding your knowledge; it's about showing pizazz.
I thought: OK, let's compromise. We'll buy the magazine, read it -- very publicly -- and then see if we can return it.
I thought: This is pathetic, I'm not talking to you anymore.