Gordon Anderson
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librarygordon.bsky.social
Gordon Anderson
@librarygordon.bsky.social
240 followers 220 following 1.4K posts
Let's get this partly started.

Libraries / poetry / music / other. Cardigan enthusiast. Cat fan.
Hotel Familiar EP: https://gordonanderson.bandcamp.com/album/hotel-familiar

Cardiff. He/him.
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Reposted by Gordon Anderson
pastpostcard.bsky.social
He is very nice & let me "have a go" on his organ last night. It is fabulous.
September 17, 2026 at 7:04 AM
Reposted by Gordon Anderson
nedraggett.bsky.social
Okay so @defector.com has had an odd glitch since the site redesign a couple of weeks back where the wrong photo and headline are often put together on the main page and I was going to ask them about fixing it but this just happened and as far as I'm concerned they have to leave it as is.
Screenshot for a Defector podcast episode with the headline "Consider the Emotional Lives of Scallops" only the accompanying photo is a white gormless stubbled red-headed UK singer of recent notoriety giving a flat smile to the camera while wearing a washed out peach top as beige as he is against a flat background. So, actually, probably a scallop anyway.
September 16, 2026 at 8:38 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
Waterloo station
Left-luggage lockers
Ev-ery Thursday night

Cheating and lying
Fondling some knockers
He'll pay for this alright
fesshole.bsky.social fesshole 🧻 @fesshole.bsky.social · 2d
Waterloo station used to have left luggage lockers. On Wednesday lunchtime I used to buy stuff and leave it in a locker, the next day was late night shopping but I'd be meeting my lover, I'd collect the shopping from the locker and arrive home late looking innocent
September 16, 2026 at 7:13 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
Goodness! All of my double entendres have come at once.
elseypoos.bsky.social Sophie @elseypoos.bsky.social · 16h
I messaged the director of my department that I was "almost home and ready to slam in the lamb" with several kisses and my stomach near on fell out of my arse when I realised what had happened. Apologised profusely and all he said was "what time's dinner?"
September 16, 2026 at 6:27 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
Told my teenage nieces that my new doctor is so young she diagnosed me as having 'mad rizz'.

Highly recommend. Their looks of confusion, horror and disappointment will sustain me for quite some time.
September 16, 2026 at 5:26 PM
Reposted by Gordon Anderson
mariephillips.bsky.social
Fantastically angry poem of the day from Summer Lopriore www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazi...
Penny Arcade Portrait of Lauren Bacall
for a male artist, spit and piss on it, cigarette smoke and grunt at it, ii? Male lecturer says he was replaying desire : put the ball in, fantasize, spit…
www.poetryfoundation.org
September 16, 2026 at 9:12 AM
Reposted by Gordon Anderson
seamas.bsky.social
Occasionally, I'm reminded of my all time favourite piece of internet: this Reddit post from 12 years ago in which a guy claims he ruined dinner with his girlfriend's parents by refusing to admit he knew what a potato was.
TIFU by enraging the parents of my girlfriend by pretending not to know what a potato is. Let me tell you that I have made a bad mistake this evening. My girlfriend (who let me tell you is only my 2nd girlfriend of all time) said I am "invited to dinner" with her and her parents. I was very aghast, nervous, and bashful to be invited to such a situation. But I knew it must be done. I met them nicely, I should tell you, and it started off in a good way. The idea slapped my mind that I should do a comic bit, to make a good impression and become known to them as a person who is amusing. When I saw that baked potatoes were served I got the idea that it would be very good if I pretended I did not know what potatoes was. That would be funny. Well let me tell you: backfired on my face. I'll tell you how. So first when the potato became on my plate, I acted very interesting. I showed an expression on my face so as to seem that I was confused, astounded but in a restrained way, curious, and interested. They did notice, and seemed confused, but did not remark. So I asked "This looks very interesting. What is this?" They stared at me and the mother said "It's a baked potato." And I was saying "Oh, interesting, a baked....what is it again?" And she was like "A potato." And I was like "A 'potato', oh interesting. Never heard of a potato, looks pretty good." And then they didn't see I was clowning, but thought I really did not know what is a potato. So I knew I would be very shamed, humiliated, depressed, and disgusted if I admitted to making a bad joke, so what I did was to act as if it was not a joke but I committed to the act of pretending I didn't know what a potato is. They asked me, VERY incredulous, did I really not know what a potato is? That I never heard of a potato. I went with it and told them, yes, I did not ever even hear of a potato. Not only had I never eaten a potato I had never heard the word potato. This went on for a bit and my girlfriend was acting very confused and embarrassed by my "fucked up antics", and then the more insistent I was about not knowing what a potato is was when them parents starting thinking I DID know what a potato was. Well let me tell you I had to commit 100% at this point. When I would not admit to knowing what a potato was, the father especially began to get annoyed. At one point he said something like "Enough is enough. You're fucking with us. Admit it." And I said "Sir, before today I never heard of a potato. I still don't know what a potato is, other than some kind of food. I don't know what to tell you." Well let me tell you he got very annoyed. I decided to take a bite of the potato, and when I did I made a high pitched noise and said "Taste's very strange!" That is when the father started yelling at me, and the mother kept saying "What are you doing?" and my girlfriend went to some other room. Finally the father said I should "Get the fuck out of his house" and I said it was irrational to treat me like this just because I never heard of a potato before. Well let me tell you he didn't take that kindly. Now in text messages I have been telling my girlfriend I really don't know what a potato is. The only way I can ever get out of this is for them to buy that I don't know what a potato is. I wish I never started it but I can't go back. I think she will break up with me anyway.
September 15, 2026 at 10:42 AM
librarygordon.bsky.social
Think it's time to reintroduce myself on here. Hello! I'm Gordon. I'm a library person, literary event organiser/host of ten years' experience, and am fond (can you believe) of indiepop music and a good cardigan.

I also write stuff: poems, short fiction & creative essays.

Pleased to meet ya. x
Man in shades with dark hair pointing finger at cathedral gargoyle, playing with perspective
September 14, 2026 at 7:27 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
I'm in this and I don't like it.
September 14, 2026 at 7:09 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
Singer Sargent's paintings of Europe pre/circa WW1 are the best thing I've ever seen in person. The technique is astonishing.
ahistoryinart.bsky.social Richard Morris @ahistoryinart.bsky.social · 2d
John Singer Sargent spent part of several summers in the early 1900s painting open-air subjects in Italy’s Val d’Aosta. The resulting works reveal his pleasure in the description of brilliant light; here a party of climbers almost seem to merge with the rockface.
September 14, 2026 at 7:08 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
Something in the modern book world I despise is the deliberate, upfront declaration of tropes in romance book promotion, such as '...featuring opposites attract and forced proximity'.

This internet-style 'YOU LIKE DAT SO YOU LIKE DIS', narrow-lane, consumer comfort-blanket shtick makes me vomit.
September 14, 2026 at 12:59 PM
Reposted by Gordon Anderson
damienowens.bsky.social
Nothing I like better than getting down to some funky grooves or, if time is tight, a single groof.
September 14, 2026 at 11:33 AM
librarygordon.bsky.social
This is an extraordinary painting by an artist I know precisely nothing about.
ahistoryinart.bsky.social Richard Morris @ahistoryinart.bsky.social · 3d
'In Bed.' (1878) Frederico Zandomeneghi's paintings focus almost exclusively on the theme of women: as mothers, friends or solitary figures engaged in private 'rituals' - subjects which were also of interest to his circle of friends including Edgar Degas and Berthe Morisot.
September 14, 2026 at 8:42 AM
librarygordon.bsky.social
Steve Cram on the Athletics coverage is steadily becoming a sort of late-period Murray Walker figure, getting names wrong, words wrong, stumbling around in a bit of a dazed grandad fashion.
September 13, 2026 at 4:29 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
Diagnosis: cat.
doodlebeth.com Beth W @doodlebeth.com · 3d
Someone yelled and yelled until they were allowed to go outside in the rain. They then got soaking wet and came back in and yelled about being wet.
A black cat sulking on a grey blanket on my legs
September 13, 2026 at 12:26 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
Couple in supermarket wine aisle:

Girl: I am really tired and I want to go home.
Boy: *continues to recommend getting a Yellow Tail Shiraz*
September 12, 2026 at 6:49 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
*polite applause from the upper circle*
gargarin.bsky.social Gargarin @gargarin.bsky.social · 4d
Putting the Gambon into jambon...
renodakota.bsky.social Reno Dakota @renodakota.bsky.social · 4d
New theatrical insult just dropped
September 12, 2026 at 2:54 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
"I remember when everything changed for me: it was when I first added some chopped radishes to a cold bowl of nothingness. Suddenly, I was home."
Book: life-changing salads
September 12, 2026 at 10:34 AM
librarygordon.bsky.social
In Melissa Auf Der Maur's memoir, she says one of her father's favourite stories to recall was the time he punched Jack Kerouac for being racist.
September 12, 2026 at 8:04 AM
Reposted by Gordon Anderson
maximumhorkheimer.bsky.social
Paris Review P.G. Wodehouse interview is so insane
When I first went to see him, I telephoned P. G. Wodehouse and asked for directions from New York to his house on Long Island. He merely chuckled, as if I had asked him to compare Euclid with Einstein or attempt some other laughably impossible task. “Oh, I can’t tell you that,” he said. “I don’t have a clue.” I learned the route anyway, and my arrival for lunch, only ten minutes late, seemed to astonish him. “You had no trouble? Oh, that is good. That’s wonderful!” His face beaming at having in his house such a certified problem-solver, a junior Jeeves almost, he led me without further to-do to a telephone, which he had been dialing all morning in a futile effort to reach a number in New York. He had, of course, done everything right but dial the area code, an addition to the Bell system that had somehow escaped his attention since he had last attempted long distance. He was intensely pleased when New York answered, and I sunned myself in the warm glow of his gratitude for the rest of the day. All of which is by way of saying that Wodehouse, who lived four months past his ninety-third birthday, had discovered his own secret of long life: he simply ignored what was worrisome, bothersome, or confusing in the world around him. His wife, Ethel, or his sister-in-law, Helen, did the worrying for him. On my three visits Ethel would hover around him at the beginning of our conversation to plump his pillow or fill his sherry glass, then discreetly disappear to tend to an ailing dog or cat. They had about a half-dozen of each, most of them strays that had come begging to the door. Wodehouse himself had not found it necessary to carry money in twenty years, and though he had spent most of his adult life in America, he still reckoned such things as book prices in pounds and shillings. His accent, like his arithmetic, remained pure English. Aside from his writing, his two passions were the New York Mets and a soap opera called The Edge of Night. On those extremely rare occasions when he had to leave the house for the day, Ethel was assigned to watch the program and write down exactly what had happened. “I understand that you’re going to watch The Edge of Night with me,” he said on one of my visits. “That’s splendid!”
September 10, 2026 at 8:27 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
A new Jonathan Edwards collection is always a good thing...
serenbooks.bsky.social Seren Books @serenbooks.bsky.social · 6d
Accessible, moving and energised by the language of the streets, ‘Talk of the Town’ is Jonathan Edwards’ most ambitious collection yet, offering poems which are love letters to the places and times which made them and to the wonder of the everyday. Pre-order now www.serenbooks.com/book/talk-of...
This cover shows a painting of colourful houses in a terraced town. The text reads: Talk of the Town, Jonathan Edwards
September 10, 2026 at 3:37 PM
librarygordon.bsky.social
PICTURE 10. GO TO PICTURE 10.
September 10, 2026 at 2:55 PM
Reposted by Gordon Anderson
cdflibraries.bsky.social
Have you got your ticket...?

🎟️ tinyurl.com/yrcxyc5e
cdflibraries.bsky.social Cardiff Hubs & Libraries @cdflibraries.bsky.social · 24d
*NEW* Join authors Emily Garside (Rainbow Wales), Mikey Bell (How an Egg Changed My Life) and Jack Strange (25 Days in Athens) as they explore their experiences of writing and publishing as Queer writers in Wales.

24/09/26, 5.45pm
@cardiff-hub.bsky.social

🎟️ tinyurl.com/yrcxyc5e
Queer Writers in Wales: Join authors Emily Garside (Rainbow Wales), Mikey Bell (How an Egg Changed My Life) and Jack Strange (25 Days in Athens) as they explore their experiences of writing and publishing as Queer writers in Wales.
September 10, 2026 at 9:40 AM
Reposted by Gordon Anderson
librarygordon.bsky.social
And, at the very end of the book, one last, perfect raise of the eyebrow. A line to go out on.
About the Author: Haven't you been paying attention?
September 8, 2026 at 1:03 PM
Reposted by Gordon Anderson
alisoneales.com
me when I'm trying to choose a healthy breakfast
A screenshot of Prime Minister's Questions with the subtitle 'Mr Bacon, I don't need advice from you.'
September 9, 2026 at 11:29 AM