Gluttony can cure almost nothing but depression

[lothiel_isilien]

I finished reading Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather tonight. I don't think I've ever cried so much over a book in my life. It is so beautifully written and the characters become so dear in the course of the novel that the end just breaks your heart. It's a poignant and elegant novel about a French Catholic missionary who is sent to the New Mexico territory shortly after it's acquired by the U.S. Father Latour goes to Santa Fé as Bishop with his good friend Father Vaillant, and the plot follows their mission work among the Mexicans and the Indians. Each chapter has little stories that fit together much like a patchwork quilt that forms the lives of these two friends. Some of the passages describing the New Mexican deserts and mountains, the lives of the native peoples, and the relationship of people with the land and with God are so achingly beautiful and they make me regret that I can no longer experience the world the way Father Latour and Father Vaillant did. I suggest everyone read it because it is incredible.

Because I was down, I went to Market of Choice to get chocolate, wine, and strawberries, dragging poor Roger along in the process. :) And now I'm writing implausible conversations from my nonexistent romantic life and listening to moody music. I would not be surprised if God struck me down this very moment for my self-indulgence. But, you know...you have to do shit like this every so often. Or, at least, I do. I really believe it helps...on occasion. If anyone is actually concerned (and I thank you for your concern), you shouldn't worry too much, for by tomorrow morning, I'll probably be in a much better frame of mind. Or not...as I have to wake up for class at 8. But I've bitched enough about my classes in the last few posts to last for quite some time.

I really just wanted to post to say:
Chocolate cake + Red wine = ♥

Namárië