My greatest accomplishment to date
Friday before last, I threw up so hard I gave myself a nose bleed. It is the greatest and most disgusting thing I have done since I was an infant and my relatives had to avert a disaster when I almost projectile vomitted on an aunt's wedding dress.
Translation: I continue to be various levels of unwell, thanks to the weather and work (haters gonna say the poor nutritonial value of everything in my kitchen at the moment is also to blame, but haters gonna hate). My accomplishments that don't involve bodily fluids are therefore limited.
I have, for the first time since junior high, I think, reread a stack of my Tamora Pierce novels, and read some I had acquired around the same time I decided I was too grown-up for such things and therefore never actually read. While the flaws remain apparent, critical reading skills have also allowed me to note what Pierce does effectively that cancels out the flaws in her writing. I quite enjoyed the week or so of literary nostalgia, despite the issues it brought up (yes all upsetting things in my life can be connected to books in some way).
Possibly I will go into more detail about these on the Black Crayon, the world's most infrequently updated and least read book blog.
I also used the devil of Amazon to acquire my much longed for Conspiracy of Kings which I shall savour as best I can once I'm done rereading The King of Attolia (The King of Attolia may be one of the most perfect books produced in our lifetime). Having also recently discovered that English language bookstores in foreign countries have the good sense to stock Turner's books, I am sorely tempted to write a letter to the local bookstore detailing the ways in which they break my heart.
There was also some Tintin in there, and I learned the valuable lesson that you shouldn't deal opium, because Tintin will fuck your shit up.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I just spent half an hour in the heat and humidity scrubbing a concrete floor with a sponge, and I believe I deserve to play a terrible, shameful videogame.
Translation: I continue to be various levels of unwell, thanks to the weather and work (haters gonna say the poor nutritonial value of everything in my kitchen at the moment is also to blame, but haters gonna hate). My accomplishments that don't involve bodily fluids are therefore limited.
I have, for the first time since junior high, I think, reread a stack of my Tamora Pierce novels, and read some I had acquired around the same time I decided I was too grown-up for such things and therefore never actually read. While the flaws remain apparent, critical reading skills have also allowed me to note what Pierce does effectively that cancels out the flaws in her writing. I quite enjoyed the week or so of literary nostalgia, despite the issues it brought up (yes all upsetting things in my life can be connected to books in some way).
Possibly I will go into more detail about these on the Black Crayon, the world's most infrequently updated and least read book blog.
I also used the devil of Amazon to acquire my much longed for Conspiracy of Kings which I shall savour as best I can once I'm done rereading The King of Attolia (The King of Attolia may be one of the most perfect books produced in our lifetime). Having also recently discovered that English language bookstores in foreign countries have the good sense to stock Turner's books, I am sorely tempted to write a letter to the local bookstore detailing the ways in which they break my heart.
There was also some Tintin in there, and I learned the valuable lesson that you shouldn't deal opium, because Tintin will fuck your shit up.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I just spent half an hour in the heat and humidity scrubbing a concrete floor with a sponge, and I believe I deserve to play a terrible, shameful videogame.