My brain feels like mush. Headache. Sleepy.
Mush.
* * * * *
Today is Thursday? I don’t pretend to understand. The week’s gone by in a blur. The days have blended together.
I blame the mush.
* * * * *
I picked up a book over the weekend.
I knew, before I bought it, that I wasn’t likely to enjoy it. It’s the sequel to a book that completely underwhelmed me a year ago. To say nothing of being a piece of crap that I knew I could do better.
A touch of arrogance there, hmm?
The sequel.
It’s marginally better. On a technical level. But the plot? Boring. The characters? Massive cast, and they’re impossible to tell apart. Characters might as well be interchangeable, for all the differences they have. The sentences are better in this book than they were in the book a year ago, but everything else is just as rotten as the book I read a year ago.
Or.
Maybe it’s the mental mush.
* * * * *
On a positive note, Stephen Fry has released a new Podgram.
The man could read a phone book, and I’d be enthralled.
Listening to his Podgram, then, seems like a way to stave off the mental mush.
Wow. That’s quite a review.
Which?
The book that’s offending me by its very existence?
Or Stephen Fry reading the phone book?