until significance is achieved

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Simply because you're near me
batman: crimefighters never sleep
coffeebased
/this was supposed to be posted at 4 AM

Sky Broadband, more like Sky /fraudband/. Oh, that was terrible. :) Nearly as terrible as the fact that most of the websites I use aren't loading, so whatever. Having inadequate Internet service makes one petty. For some reason, inadequate Internet seems to be more infuriating that completely losing your connection. I'm ascribing it to the fact that you're teased with stability only to, you know, insert obvious sexual metaphor here.

I'm running on sheer willpower at this point, and I'm feeling antsy. I should probably make myself go to sleep, but my mind's whirring so much I can practically hear it. (In case you're interested, me losing my mind is F-sharp. All kinds of F-sharp.) So I'm going to probably sound a little off-kilter, and a lot childish.

Whatever, if you know me well enough in real life, you've probably dealt with worse.

Anyway, since the 25th, I've finished reading The Killing Moon and The Shadowed Sun by N. K. Jemisin, and those two books broke my heart horribly. I barely survived it. Ended up reading Warbreaker by Brian Sanderson next, and it was delightful, like a very snarky salve against my book-bruised heart. I've just finished Broken Homes by Ben Aaronovitch, and wow, whatever complaints I had with the last Peter Grant book have been completely... blown away (:D) by this novel. It wasn't even in my reading list, but it got released and I can't abide not reading a new release for fear of spoilers (and low emotional quotient?).

I've been spoiled by reading four great books one after the other. I'm almost terrified to read something else because either the brilliance continues or it doesn't, and either way I'm going to break something in my head.

Also, Hakkai's gone and given me a copy of The Lowest Heaven which is a sci-fi short story collection that has, so far, been amazing. I've been reading one story every so often, trying to make sure that I spread it out as much as I can. Short story collections are amazing for doing this; I could never spread out a novel like that, like Charlie Bucket would savor a chocolate bar, but short story collections just lend themselves to a slow delectation.

Not much knocked off my ten books, but there were literary interlopers this week, so *shrug*

Next ten books:
1. The Queen's Thief quartet (one down, three to go) by Megan Whalen Turner
2. The Good Man Jesus, and the Scoundrel Christ by Philip Pullman
3. Love Minus Eighty by Will McIntosh
4. Empire State by Adam Christopher
5. The Wild Life of Our Bodies: Predators, Parasites and Partners by Rob Dunn
6. A Madness of Angels by Kate Griffin
7. Necromancing the Stone by Lish McBride
8. You by Austin Grossman
9. The Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood
10. The Word for World is Forest by Ursula K. Le Guin

I also have to re-read The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera, as I've recently joined a reading club on Facebook, and apparently this novel's the next topic of discussion. I remember it being a very meditative read when I was in high school, and I'm looking forward to how differently I'll view it now that I'm older and somewhat more experienced.

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I've got 75 ticks left to analyze before I can move on to the next portion of my thesis. I'm progressing.

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There's another Whovian meet up on Taft this Friday, and a Homestuck picnic on Saturday. I'm hoping that there won't be any rain, but I'm not holding my breath. We've made contingencies for rain, but who prefers contingencies over the real thing anyway, unless you're just showing off how clever your plans are? I'm in no mood to show off.

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