(no subject)

I mostly just want to crawl into bed and sleep until I'm un-depressed. But, woe, belly-dancing class tonight, which I'd skip if the hagallah with shimmy wouldn't be constantly getting worse instead of improving, and horse (not my week, but Ch. has managed to get ill again) & niece tomorrow. I'm tired of these constant ups and downs where it's bouncy energetic (well, comparatively speaking) I-love-life one day and I-want-to-die-&-it's-all-pointless-anyway the next. By now I know it's not going to last forever, it's most likely going to be better again tomorrow or in a few days, but it's so damn exhausting, because on some level I always wonder what's real -- either, both? It's hard to accept that this is apparently something I have to live with and keep struggling with.

Half watched (Brian, because I'm always drawn to the emotionally fucked-up characters, Justin, because they have great chemistry and it's one of the more interesting relationships on tv, Lindsey, because she's beautiful, and Melanie, Emmett), half fast-forwarded (Michael, whom I simply can't stand although I can't decide if it's the actor or the character that rubs me the wrong way; Ted, because I know where his arc is going over the next 4 seasons and it's just too painful, although the actor has the prettiest eyes) QaF S1, which R. lent me.

Reread Mary Renault's The Charioteer over the last week; I first read this along with most of her novels some 15 or more years ago (my well-read and slightly yellowed, but still in a better condition than the Alexander trilogy, which I dragged around Turkey (possibly twice), copy says 1990) and it's still a fantastic, if extremely sad novel, and I was surprised to remember almost everything down to exact words and phrases even though I haven't opened it in years, although it also kind of struck me that someone like Ralph who's at once extremely controlling and self-sufficient and has such high standards and so little patience with weakness that one would constantly be afraid of slipping up and falling from the pedestal would be someone almost impossible to live with.

I've been an embarrassingly lazy reader (or rather non-reader) recently what with TW and all that; I've finally begun Golo Mann's Wallenstein which I picked up a while ago and seems interesting so far with a very readable style, but the length is a bit intimidating; also the first of the TW novels which I bought because I'm a sad junkie, but can't really get into... What I'd really like is another of Sorokin's novels, but the slightly older stuff seems to be out of print and is rather expensive on amazon marketplace or abebooks.


And I've finally rewatched the TW finale and typed up some thoughts, but it's a bit depressing because once the shock value is gone this may actually be one of my least favourite episodes of the season, and not because of the deaths. The whole story with Jack and his brother is somehow over-dramatic and lacking in substance at once, and not really satisfactory.