#which is to say i'm charmed you thought of me but im a dumpster creature you found in the woods.
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Have you ever thought of reading orv? It seems to be something right up your alley
I've heard of it, but I haven't considered reading it; my tastes in contemporary fiction are inane but immutably monopolized by a narrow selection of historical fantasy subgenres + self-published gothic romance novels/novellas that offend my sensibilities and outright violate my boundaries.
#otherwise i struggle to focus enough to read#i dont do it on purpose; i try to read other things.#but it's not even just that i cant muster the sustained attention span to read past their first several pages#it's that i genuinely hate them. you'd think i dont read enough to hate them with any sincerity or substance.#but i do.#in 10 pages of story i will fail to latch onto anything but those details in the setting & characters & dialogue & premise & authorial voice#that provoke in me the same degree of disdain + contempt + odium that bsd-blr likes to project onto my reblogs#it's full-on repugnance. like as much as i love all of bsd#i hate the first ten pages of a LOT of novels that are—by seemingly all other accounts—so-so/just fine or well regarded and widely enjoyed#which is to say i'm charmed you thought of me but im a dumpster creature you found in the woods.#i subsist on nettles and puddles of antifreeze that i find in the crevices of the asphalt at scenic spots on the interstate#like where the shoulder of the road is paved so that drivers can pull over and bask in nature's resplendence#i skitter from the woods to lick the blacktop and be lightly hit by cars that are pulling over to watch the sunset#if a leaf or blade of grass touches my lips i'll start choking like im being poisoned#that is roughly the conditions under which my loved ones recommend books to me#occasionally#unprompted but just to feel close to them i will nibble on the petals of a flower i caught them admiring#and then i will gag and spit it out all over them and squawk at them about how i almost just died#and for years—at a frequency of about once every tenth time i happen by that type of flower—i will ask if they remember how i almost died#which is to say i trust youre right that i would probably love elements of it but because it didnt leak from a tourist's car onto asphalt#my tender stomach is unlikely to tolerate it#but thank you for thinking of me 🤎
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with regard to that last ask, this is my formal stance on recommendations (which is not that I don't take them unless i decide to take them, but that they have to be very specific—and also i have to decide to take them), inclusive of my tags from this post:
#otherwise i struggle to focus enough to read#i dont do it on purpose; i try to read other things.#but it's not even just that i cant muster the sustained attention span to read past their first several pages#it's that i genuinely hate them. you'd think i dont read enough to hate them with any sincerity or substance.#but i do.#in 10 pages of story i will fail to latch onto anything but those details in the setting & characters & dialogue & premise & authorial voice#that provoke in me the same degree of disdain + contempt + odium that bsd-blr likes to project onto my reblogs#it's full-on repugnance. like as much as i love all of bsd#i hate the first ten pages of a LOT of novels that are—by seemingly all other accounts—so-so/just fine or well regarded and widely enjoyed#which is to say i'm charmed you thought of me but im a dumpster creature you found in the woods.#i subsist on nettles and puddles of antifreeze that i find in the crevices of the asphalt at scenic spots on the interstate#like where the shoulder of the road is paved so that drivers can pull over and bask in nature's resplendence#i skitter from the woods to lick the blacktop and be lightly hit by cars that are pulling over to watch the sunset#if a leaf or blade of grass touches my lips i'll start choking like im being poisoned#that is roughly the conditions under which my loved ones recommend books to me#occasionally#unprompted but just to feel close to them i will nibble on the petals of a flower i caught them admiring#and then i will gag and spit it out all over them and squawk at them about how i almost just died#and for years—at a frequency of about once every tenth time i happen by that type of flower—i will ask if they remember how i almost died#which is to say i trust youre right that i would probably love elements of it but because it didnt leak from a tourist's car onto asphalt#my tender stomach is unlikely to tolerate it#but thank you for thinking of me 🤎
Have you ever thought of reading orv? It seems to be something right up your alley
I've heard of it, but I haven't considered reading it; my tastes in contemporary fiction are inane but immutably monopolized by a narrow selection of historical fantasy subgenres + self-published gothic romance novels/novellas that offend my sensibilities and outright violate my boundaries.
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