It really, really is. I glanced back at the place -- it was like rubbernecking at a car accident, I couldn't not do it -- and my God, I can really see how viscerally horrible Twitter is now that I'm out of there, what it does to people. I feel like I just barely dodged losing a hand in a piece of industrial machinery. I'm damn near literally
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Last weekend I bought Adrian Tchaikovsky's The Air War and Derek Landy's Kingdom of the Wicked, but I'm holding off starting them because I expect a bunch of books to arrive soon at the library (Brust's Hawk, Carey's Poison Fruit, Vaughn's Low Midnight).
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Now blugeoning myself to sleep with "The Inventions, Researches and Writings of Nikola Tesla"
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