Reject hooman, embrace catte

Shortly after my previous post, I was talking about how one of the books I was reading at the time was Charles Baudelaire's Les Fleurs du Mal (at the rate of one poem at a time, read out loud to Miss Creant the cat), which made me think that no one writes despair as beautifully as Baudelaire writes despair. It was only some time later that I had the thought of "hey maybe don't read contemplations on the beauty of despair when you're having An Episode of The DepressionTM" so I put the book aside for now.

I lucked out in early July by reading books I loved and reading good books always makes me feel better about life.
First it was Susanna Clarke's Piranesi, which I read over a week-end in between bouts of napping. The book felt extremely dreamlike and lovely. Weirdly enough, I can only described myself as feeling blessed to have read this book. My life would have been poorer without it. No I cannot elaborate.
Then I read Naomi Novik's Scholomance series and read all three books (A Deadly Education, The Last Graduate, The Golden Enclaves) in about 5 days and every moment I was not reading those books all I wanted was to be reading them and finding out what came next. AND THEN THERE WAS NO MORE BOOK AND IT WAS UNFAIR

I wish I could be reading something that gripped me like that again, it would make me feel better. Any recs? I guess?


Unrelatedly, the OTW is being really racist and I don't like it. (That's my hot take: racism bad.)


I continue to be both tired and Tired. I can barely do anything beyond drag myslef to work. Had to move my vacation days to start a week later because of work nonsense and urgh I can only hope not to murder anyone or break any computers before them. I have no feelings, only anger.


And cat. Kitty kitty so cutie cutie and I kissy kissy.