Happy Sunday, bibliophiles, and happy New Year’s Eve!
2023 has been a year of growth for me; I’ve taken a lot of leaps that I never thought I would take, and all of them paid off. December has been busy, but now that I’m home for break, I’m glad that I’ll get some rest before the end of the year.
Let’s begin, shall we?
GENERAL THOUGHTS:
First off, I hit 600 followers a few days ago! Thank you all for sticking with me for all these years. Lots of love to you all.
Most of December was fairly stressful and chaotic, what with finals and all. The good thing about being an English major is that I typically don’t have any final finals that I have to take in class, but instead, I typically have to write rather long papers and slap some portfolios together. But now it’s all done! Now, I’m nearly done with my science credits, and I recently declared a minor in Women and Gender Studies, so I’m starting those classes next semester!
Blogging and reading are always slower around this time of year—the finals slump comes for us all. College (and getting older, I suppose) has slowed down my reading speed somewhat, but it makes me glad to spend more time with books on some days. (Doesn’t mean I still blow through books in a day sometimes. Happens to the best of us. The Siren, the Song, and the Spy was incredible.) It’s also been fun to introduce some book pairings to my Sunday Songs—I’m glad I can introduce a bookish aspect to them!
Other than that, I’ve just been getting work done pre- and post-finals, putting puzzles together, drawing when I can, celebrating the holidays with my wonderful family, and starting every week eagerly looking forward to Wednesday because of the new season of Fargo. (Dear LORD, what was that ending for episode 7?????? I’m SCARED)
READING AND BLOGGING:
I read 16 books this month! Inevitably slower going because of finals, but I’ve had a ton of great books towards the end of the month! I also passed my reading goal of 200 books—I read 207 books in 2023!
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles, and a very merry Christmas Eve to all those celebrating!
As far as my book reviews go…yeah, well, I’ve been a bit of a Scrooge, but you can’t blame me. The finals reading slump comes for us all. Some days you just have to air out the dirty laundry. But despite the dreary color palette that ended up happening this week, I hope there’s enough jolliness here to assure you that yes, my festive cheer remains steadfast, and so does my love of ’70s guitars.
1970 was probably the worst year for trying to beat the “copying the Beatles” allegations, and the fact that these guys named themselves after an early title for “With A Little Help from My Friends” (originally titled “Bad Finger Boogie”…yeah, the name change was a good idea, John) doesn’t help their case. But I feel like being signed to Apple Records and having both Paul McCartney and George Harrison separately produce two of their other hits gets them a Get Out of Jail Free card. This once.
That aside, it also doesn’t help their case that Pete Ham sounds like the slightly growly middle ground between Paul McCartney and John Lennon, and the same nearly goes for the backing vocals, which try to hit somewhere between Lennon and Harrison. But it’s not every day that you can hit it that close to such legends, and it’s commendable no matter how (oops) you look at it. I’ve really underhyped all of this, but…there’s seriously something about this song. I swear that “No Matter What” is laced with something…oh, maybe it’s the guitars. My god, it’s barely 1970, and the ’70s guitars already sound so crisp…so full…do not get me started. But even if the guitars weren’t so sharp and full of dance-inducing warmth, there’s something so undeniably pure about this song. It’s no lyrical groundbreaker or generational anthem, but there’s a contagious joy to it—a good pop song does that. ”No Matter What” is the perfect end-credits song—the guitars start chugging in at the final shot of the movie, and everything goes black the minute that Pete Ham begins to sing. Come on, now. You can’t not go along with the clapping at 2:18. Beauty in simplicity. These guys get a pass for having either the best or the worst band name of all time. I genuinely can’t decide.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
1971 – Never a Dull Moment: The Year Rock Exploded – I…dammit. I totally thought No Dice came out in 1971. I was two months off—November of 1970. Oops. But either way, this book is a little drily written for a book that claims to “never have a dull moment,” but it’s nonetheless a fascinating insight into the absolute goldmine of good music in 1971. (There was never a better high note than ending the year with the release of Hunky Dory.)
Apparently I have another “I Just Threw Out the Love of My Dreams” situation on my hands here, since this blew up on TikTok sometime back in 2020 (after Spotify’s autoplay seems to have dug it up out of nowhere), and I didn’t find out until now. Maybe that was the period when the thumbnail for the music video kept popping up on YouTube and I ignored it until it went away? Little did I know what I was in for…
Also like “I Just Threw Out the Love of My Dreams,” I can only describe “Harness Your Hopes” as pure, bottled joy. As soon as the sighing, psychedelic-tinged intro gives way to some truly squeaky-clean guitars, I felt a rush of sheer happiness course through me. Stephen Malkmus seriously pumped this song with nothing but whimsical joy…and yet it was a B-Side? Not only that, but a B-Side that faded into more obscurity than the indie obscurity they were (probably) going for, so much so that Malkmus didn’t even recognize it when he heard it playing in a bakery? Nuts. Seriously. Not that I have any beef with the guy, but when you produce something as curiously delightful as this, you don’t let it slip through your fingers. It has that freeform, Marc Bolan kind of nonsensical lyricism written all over it, with more than a little pretentious affectation (“Leisure, a leisure suit is nothing/It’s nothing to be proud of/In this late century”), but somehow, it feels less pretentious when most of the lyrics don’t make a ton of sense as a whole. (Or maybe there’s some super deep hidden meaning that only Stephen Malkmus and co. can decipher, and it’s nothing to us normies…who knows) And like Bolan, it’s the kind of wordplay that occasionally leads to something unexpectedly romantic—”And I’m asking you to hold me/Just like the morning paper/Pinched between your pointer, your index, and your thumb.”
And paired with Malkmus’ strained, cracking voice on one end and the guitars (so clean that they’re practically still kicking up bubbles) on the other, it’s a capsule of warmth, practically radiant. Bottled joy, truly.
Please tell me I wasn’t the only one in theaters who laughed way too hard at this (besides my mom). Please.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
This Is How You Lose the Time War – Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone – for the most part, this novel lends itself more to something more cosmically sweeping and Romantic in both senses of the word (probably Spiritualized?), but lines like “and I’m asking you to hold me/Just like the morning paper/Pinched between your pointer, your index, and your thumb” might as well be straight out of the letters between Red and Blue.
hnnnnnnnnnnngh me when Noah Hawley puts a song in Fargo that connects thematically in a deeply creative way hnnnnnnngh
good god I love this season of Fargo. no complaints, this show has made me feel alive again
where were Roy and Gator Tillman on January 6th
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
A Conspiracy of Tall Men – Noah Hawley – maybe I’m cheating since I got this song from Noah Hawley. It’s fiiiiiiine. To be fair, this is his debut novel and predates the first season of Fargo by a full 16 years (it’s kind of a mess, but lovably so…mostly), but it’s got all the cross-country conspiracies and paranoia you could ever want.
I meant to review this all the way back in June or July, when this single was first released…I forget what about it made it slip out of the roster, but I knew that it had to come back eventually. Now that all of I/O is out…it’s a great album, but I can’t help but be a little disappointed at how it was constructed. I thought that the deal was that the final organization of the songs was going to be a surprise, and that they’d be reshuffled from the order they were released in with each full moon this year, but the order just ended up being the same order they were released in. (I stand by my belief that “Playing for Time” would have been the perfect closing track.) I have similarly mixed feelings about the Bright/Dark-Side Mixes—I haven’t listened to the In-Side mix yet, but I also thought that each mix of the 12 songs would be more radically different, but the differences between the mixes are often very subtle. Some of them fit more clearly than others (ex. “I/O” is clearly more fit for Bright-Side, while “The Court” lends itself more to Dark-Side), but the tweaks between mixes are sometimes barely distinguishable.
That’s not to say that I/O isn’t a great album—it’s a beautiful picture of one of the most innovative artists alive today moving into old age and still being able to produce a relentlessly creative vision of love, mortality, and the nature of connectivity. Now that I’ve seen it live, the experience is all the more enriched, what with the stunning visuals that went along with it, as well as Peter Gabriel toeing the line between a theatrical showman (how’s reenacting the creation of life itself for a show opener?) and the wise, humble figure we’ve known him to be over the years. Songs like this one really showcased both the energy and creativity that clearly haven’t waned with age. “Road to Joy” is a highlight, without a doubt; for me, this one lends itself more to the Bright-Side mix, with the funky, “Fame”-esque guitar riffs and energetic burst of the chorus, like Gonzo firing off cannons without warning. But if the pink-shaded joy doesn’t immediately jump out at you, you know what should? The fact thatthis song is proof of yet another deeply creative project that Peter Gabriel’s been cooking up since the production of OVO—so, give or take, around 23 years. The man just can’t be stopped. But according to Gabriel, “Road to Joy” is part of a story about the human mind, and this song chronicles a character being woken up after experiencing locked-in syndrome; the triumphant declaration of “You were sure I was gone” has the defiant flair of someone beating the odds, and it’s impossible not to feel the joy from that.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
Under the Earth, Over the Sky – Emily McCosh – nothing like adopting a human son to awaken your frosty, dormant heart and put you on…the road to joy, maybe? Certainly some “love call[ing] through the walls.”
“Grace” has made my expectations for TANGK skyrocket, but whether or not the album turns out to be as adventurous as I feel like it’s going to be, I think I’m almost certainly going to enjoy it. It’s a change in form, even if a fleeting one.
I thought I knew what Joe Talbot sounded like when he wasn’t singing; “A Hymn” certainly gives us a hint, but there’s still the restrained growl to it that roars to life when he’s normally screaming on every other song. But “Grace” showcases his voice at its most vulnerable. Somehow, before the chorus kicked in, I almost mistook it for Mike Hadreas from Perfume Genius. I was scrambling to find the featured list for this, because…there was no way that this is the same guy who screamed at us all to never fight a man with a perm all those years ago. And I love this change in form. IDLES always mean bah-bah-business (in case you cannot tell from their tone) with their message, but this stripped-down feel that “Grace” shifts into suits their ethos just as well as their harder songs—Talbot described the song as “a call to be held,” and the quiet vulnerability really does feel like a gentle embrace. And it’s here that you can see what their change in producer has done to the sound—TANGK was co-produced by none other than Nigel Goodrich (of Radiohead fame!!), and the staccato of the drum machine and the wash of cloudy haze peeking out from under the curtain shines in the quiet places on this track. Talbot’s voice lowers into wavering smoothness, as though he’s singing from a place where no one can hear him, save for when he declares the song’s rallying cry: “No God/No king/I said, love is the fing.”
Man…I’m so excited for this album. IDLES have said repeatedly that their mission was to make an album that was purely about love and warmth—as Talbot said, “I needed love. So I made it. I gave love out to the world and it feels like magic. This is our album of gratitude and power. All love songs. All is love.” And if that isn’t exactly what we need…not to be all hippy-dippy about it, but as much as I indulge in my sad bastard music, I’m gonna go out there and say that IDLES is exactly what we need right now. I hate it that I have to say “not to be all hippy-dippy” when I’m talking about love and warmth and being kind and loving life…you’ve heard me go off about grimdark and frankly, how astoundingly dumb it is that we often think that sadder = deeper and that being happy or consuming happy media equates to stupidity somehow, but I’ll say it again. There’s nothing stupid or naïve about wanting love, giving love, and having love in your heart. IDLES get it. Love is the fing.
I’ve been a fan of Nnedi Okorafor for several years now, but it wasn’t until about a month ago that I found out that one of her first novels, which originally went out of print, was being reissued with new content and a new cover! (Gorgeous cover, by the way.) I ended up buying it, and though it wasn’t her best (what else would you expect from one of her very first books), but it’s not just a fun ride—it’s a glimpse into an incredibly talented author coming into her own.
Niger, 2074. In the wake of a nuclear disaster, both humanity and the natural world have developed powers far beyond their imaginations. These Shadow Speakers have been given strange abilities by the aftershocks of nuclear war. Born into this world is 15-year-old Ejii, gifted the abilities of advanced sight and hearing the thoughts of animals. When she was young, her father, a corrupt politician, was assassinated. All these years later, Ejii decides that, regardless of the horrific legacy her father left behind, she must journey out into the Sahara Desert to search for his killer.
TW/CW: murder, beheading, fatphobia
Being a (somewhat) longtime fan of an author and reading their debut or earlier works further down the line is always an eye-opening experience. I was expecting something along those lines when I bought Shadow Speaker the other day, but…man, I really had no idea what I was in for. Shadow Speaker was honestly kind of bonkers, but in the best possible way. Quite plainly, it’s one of the boldest debut novels that I can think of.
Shadow Speaker was Nnedi Okorafor’s first novel (published all the way back in 2008), and it really does feel like a debut. I said eye-opening before because you can see the through lines where Okorafor hadn’t yet hit her stride in terms of writing; in contrast to the tight organization of most of her other novels, we still get chunks of worldbuilding delivered paragraph by paragraph. Her prose has the same bold brightness and whimsical spirit that really stands out as her signature, but it hasn’t been refined as much. And with the re-release this November, despite apparent rounds of editing, there’s still a few things that haven’t aged well from 15 years ago (ex. the villain’s evilness explicitly being tied to him being fat…mmmm, yikes…). All debuts are bound to have flaws, but the latter ones could have probably been edited out. But unlike that, I feel like it’s worth keeping some of the writing as it is—reading this novel was a time capsule into the mind of a younger writer.
And yet, Shadow Speaker is still one of the boldest books I’ve read in a long time, debut or not. Everything about is really and truly nuts, and that was the best part about reading it. Once you get the exposition of Ejii’s post-apocalyptic, magical world out of the way, at no point did I know where this novel was going, and at a certain point, I ceased to even care. There’s the spread of X-Men-like powers caused by a nuclear disaster, a talking camel (also because of the nuclear disaster, how did you guess?), gods and goddesses roaming across the land…you get the idea. Actually, no. You don’t get the idea. And that’s the point of this book, from what I can tell—Ejii and her ragtag band of nuclear magicians don’t know where they’re going either, and that’s where the fun of Shadow Speaker lies.
Over the years, Nnedi Okorafor has proven herself to be an absolute master of Afrofuturism (more specifically Africanfuturism and Africanjujuism, in her words), and the latter (a term that she coined to describe a subgenre of fantasy that is specifically Afrocentric and is inspired by the mythologies of Africa) really describes this novel to a T; although the inciting incident and the introduction of powers has a distinctly sci-fi feel, Shadow Speaker is so clearly fantasy. It’s hard to do that kind of genre-bending so effortlessly in a debut, but already, Okorafor make it look easy. Every element, whatever genres you want to ascribe them to, is blended seamlessly into the world of the Desert Magician Duology as smoothly as stirring together the ingredients of a cake. It’s an impressively distinct world, and despite its flaws, I’m glad this book was brought back into print.
Part of the reason for re-releasing Shadow Speaker is that Nnedi Okorafor just published its intended sequel, Like Thunder, this November. Hopefully I can get my hands on it soon, but it’ll certainly be interesting to see the leap in writing style between the two, given how much time has passed…
All in all, a bold and wild debut from one of science fiction’s most original writers active today. 3.5 stars!
Shadow Speaker is the first book in the Desert Magician’s Duology, followed by the new sequel, Like Thunder, which came out this November. Nnedi Okorafor is also the author of many books for adults, teens, and children, including Lagoon, the Binti series (Binti, Home, and The Night Masquerade), Noor, Remote Control, and many others.
Today’s song:
this song makes me ridiculously happy
That’s it for this Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.
Last week was unintentionally heavy on the sad girl fall music, but fear not! I’ve got more than a little room for joyous whimsy and glorious poetry this week. The color palette borders on my contractually obligated, monthly blue period, but I’d say it’s more periwinkle than blue. Periwinkle. I’ve always loved that word. It’s just such a delightful wonder of the English language. Plus, it reminds me of the cat from Blues Clues, which is always a plus.
The time has come! Wilco’s newest album Cousin came out last Friday, and honestly? It’s such a treat. I wouldn’t expect anything less from one of my most-loved bands, but this one has some of my favorite songs that they’ve produced in the past 5 years or so. It really was a struggle to try and pick just one song to think about—there’s the ear-popping chaos of opener “Infinite Surprise” that truly lives up to its name, and the swirling explosion of color that is “Pittsburgh,” to name a few. But this one keeps coming back to me like a cat nuzzling against my leg, and who am I to deny it?
Whoever hired Traceloops for the visuals for the lyrics videos for Cousin needs a raise. The feel is so spot-on—especially for this one. The hazy, gently pulsating pops of color perfectly capture the tactile feel of the whole album. The sound production really does feel tactile in places, thick enough to pull apart and wring in your hands like a clump of wool. “Sunlight Ends” lives up to its name; from the first opening notes, lazy and tumbling over each other, it creates a hypnotic atmosphere like no other. The melody opens with all of the delicateness of a flower bud gently cracking open, shedding off bits of frost and morning dew as it awakens. (The frost from all those frozen flowers on the album cover, maybe?) It has all the sparkling haziness of seeing stars at the edges of your vision. And as with any given Wilco song, you bet that they have the poetic chops to match the song’s atmosphere in spaces. Saying that songs are just poems set to music is common enough, but it takes a lot to distinguish a songwriter as a poet. Jeff Tweedy, however, is an easy pick for a poet. There’s usually enough lines to spotlight, but…I might as well just paste in the entire song. Not only is it so well married to the music, every line is nothing short of a masterpiece. The way that the bass dips down as Tweedy sings “You dance/Like the dust in the light/And I’m following/Until the sunlight ends”? “You’re the kind of flashing sign/That only gets you lost”? The way that the carefully-crafted atmosphere subtly tears apart at the seams as Tweedy sings “And I’m lost”? It’s nothing short of gorgeous. And if it’s anything to any of you, the lyrics stood out to me so much that I nearly stopped in my tracks on my walk to the dining hall. That’ll do it.
Speaking of bands who’ve been cranking out fantastic music prolifically for the past few years…
My wife Soccer Mommy has had a productive few years! Barely a year after her incredible third album, Sometimes, Forever, she’s got a wonderful covers EP called Karaoke Night. It’s a lovely set of covers. Everybody from R.E.M. to Slowdive to Sheryl Crow meshes with her signature style, and she’s even managed to dupe me into liking a Taylor Swift cover. Rest assured, this is the only time I will willingly listen to Taylor Swift. (it’s a great cover, though. Sophie Allison can do it all.)
Anyone who knows Soccer Mommy well knows that the 90’s are visible everywhere on her. Even if almost all the covers of Karaoke Night weren’t from that decade, it would be easy to see the threads of many an alt-rock band from that decade rubbing off on her. And even though I’m not as familiar with Pavement, this cover was the perfect match—Allison said in a recent Instagram post that this song was her first exposure to the band, and remains one of her personal favorites of theirs. Stephen Malkmus’ laid back singing style was an easy translation for Allison, who sells every somber, quiet note. Her voice really is nothing short of luscious, and it fits with the vibrant but restrained guitars like two puzzle pieces. The whole cover has such an enchanting atmosphere for a song so full of 90’s indifference and ennui. And once the heavier guitars kick in, Allison’s voice rings stronger than ever, displaying everything that I’ve ever loved about her—the angsty soul she breathes into every note, the glow it seems to emanate, and the endearing way that she pronounces her W’s as softened V’s whenever she gets really into the lyrics. I’m glad that I’m living in this period of prolific output from Soccer Mommy, original or covers. Her music is always a gift.
In the back of my mind, I always thought that this song had an exclamation point in the title. “Go!” It just seemed to be genetically embedded in the music. They do scream “GO!” like that in the chorus, anyhow. I don’t know. Just a suggestion. About 15 years too late to send my suggestions to Robert Schneider and co., but better late than never, I guess?
Exclamation point or no exclamation point, the infectious catchiness of “Go” is undeniable. From the first cry of “Go!” as the horn section kicks in, there’s nothing that can stop the runaway energy (no pun intended) of this song. It’s a song that’s just clawed its way out of a cardboard box, and will do anything to stay wild and free. Ever since I remember hearing it, most frequently in the car when I was in elementary school, it’s never failed to nudge at least one little shoulder sway out of me. It really is infectious. And the lyrics have that same air of anxious freedom—the subject is confronted with all sorts of trials (“When you go into the shop/Lady watches like a cop”) and tribulations (“She don’t like the way you look/So she treats you like a crook”), but all of them are met with a riotous burst of horns and Schneider’s rallying cry of “You know you wanna go (go, baby!)”. It’s impossible not to feel the rush of freedom from the end of the chorus: “You’re such a/Pretty, pretty, pretty little girl/Let’s blow this/Ugly, ugly, ugly little world!” And nothing beats the true chaos of the breakdown from 1:46-2:28—for a band characterized by tight, mathematical precision in every beat, they make the squealing, crunching mess of guitars, drums, and screeching flutes work just as well as anyone.
I don’t necessarily think about musical coherence whenever I put these posts together. It’s mostly just what I’ve been listening to lately, and whether or not the album covers at least somewhat fit together. But jeez..this song fits so well with The Apples in Stereo. Almost too welel. I feel like any given Apples song would fit spectacuarly with any given Jim Noir song. Like bread and butter. Peanut butter and jelly. Aziraphale and Crowley, but not before the last episode of season 2. (I’m still in pain.) Me on a Friday night and an episode of The Great British Bake-Off.
I was compelled to go back and listen to Jim Noir’s delightful Zooper Dooper EP the other day while I holed up in my dorm while a football game went on. Not that I expected anything less, but as always, it’s a pure burst of spacey, Britpop delight, served up with a side of absolute whimsy. Like half of my album/EP experiences, songs like the hopeful favorite “Map” and the oddball story of “Car” overshadowed this one, so much so that I forgot that it existed altogether. But now I’m embarrassed that I even thought of turning the other cheek away from this song—”She Flies Away With My Love” is a pure delight. Really. Again, this is your PSA to check out Jim Noir’s catalogue in general, because if you’re in gen z, chances are that he’s appeared more times in your childhood than you think. This song in particular feels sanded to smooth perfection, hitting a euphoric, whimsical balance between sharp, driving drums and bass and deliriously bubbly synths. The two parts feel like they’re in rooms right next door to each other, working in tandem but being exceedingly distinct from each other in the process. The opened-soda-can fizzing of the electronics and the pitched-up backing vocals sound miles away from the heavy punch of the drums once the verse kicks in, but they work in such harmony that could ultimately be crafted by mastermind like Jim Noir.
Compared to last week, this week’s selection of songs ended up being a lot more light-hearted and bubbly, at least in terms of sound. The color scheme screams less of the decay of fall and more of fresh-washed sheets and flowers. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t end this ensemble with the epitome of comfort.
Sure. Kid’s songs are generally meant to be silly and joyous, and they generally don’t deviate from that. But there’s a certain subset of kid’s songs that go past that and remain bastions of comfort for the rest of your life. “Your Personal Penguin” crossed that threshold long ago— I mean, here I am, now in my twenties (how’d that happen, huh?), still nodding along to this sweet little tune. Say what you want about Gen Z and nostalgia, and yada yada yada (as if every generation hasn’t had some kind of romanticization of the past, and we’re only pointing the finger at Gen Z because the Internet has exacerbated how widespread the phenomenon actually is, etc.), but going back to these kinds of songs is like reuniting with an old friend. And this song really has been everywhere in my life. It soundtracked many a car ride to school when I was young, and on my 10th birthday, when I got my brand-new iPod nano (which is still kicking, somehow…thanks, Apple), I listened to this song while huddled under my grandma’s bathrobe while a thunderstorm rumbled outside. I had a Minecraft world on the family iPad where I built a house in the snowy mountains, and I tried to fit some of the lyrics of this song on a sign in front of it—the part about how “lots of other penguins seem to do fine/In the universe of nothing but ice.” (Suffice to say, it was too long to fit the whole thing on there. Pressing problems for a 10-year-old.) And yet, it took me until about a year ago to figure out that this song was based on a book—in fact, all of the songs on Sandra Boynton’s Blue Moo are. I’m surprised that I missed out on that part, but it really says something that this song gives me such warmth without the addition of the delightful penguin illustrations. Davy Jones just has that special quality about his voice—it borders on nasally, but it’s filled with such a playful, contagious joy that sets it apart—the silly smile this song wears can’t help but spread to you. The rollicking pianos and almost comically deep backing vocals make for an earnestly hug-delivering song.
And, for more joy to add to your life, here’s the song paired with the illustrations from Sandra Boynton’s original picture book:
Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.
That’s it for this week’s Sunday Songs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
It’s finally fall! September has been busy for me, but it’s all worth it to see the leaves starting to turn.
Let’s begin, shall we?
GENERAL THOUGHTS:
September always ends up being kind of hectic for me, and college has certainly exacerbated that. Working out your schedule while trying to work on yourself is always a fun time. But it’s been nice, all things considered. Between the homework, I’ve had a few days where I could soak up the sunshine with an iced coffee and enjoy the last few dregs of warmth. Said dregs of warmth were too hot for my liking (why is it in the 80s at the end of September WHY), but luckily, it’s supposed to start feeling like fall sometime next week. I also declared a women and gender studies minor along with my creative writing major, so I’m super excited for next semester!
Reading and blogging-wise, it’s been slow going, but I’m now in a good place to start writing more regularly, which is always nice to have back in the routine. It’s the first time in years that I’ve been behind on my Goodreads goal, but I purposefully made it lower since college is a thing that exists in my life now. Plus, I got to re-read The Martian Chronicles for a science fiction class that I’m assisting, and any time that I get to read Ray Bradbury is a win.
Other than that, I’ve just been trying to squeeze in time for drawing, listening to all of the wonderful new music that September had to offer (Shakey Graves, Mitski, Soccer Mommy, Wilco—all excellent), watching even more Taskmaster (SEASON 14 NOW!), and waiting for the day when I can finally break out all of my fall outfits.
READING AND BLOGGING:
I read 15 books this month! (16, if you count me reading Palmer Eldritch twice. Readability was never a concern for Philip K. Dick.) It was always going to be a shorter reading month since I’m still settling into college, but I read more than I thought I did! I’ve been able to read some great books. I tried to throw a few books for Latinx Heritage Month and Bisexual Visibility Week into the mix.
The Bookish Mutant 