Found some Octavia Butler books. Picked one up, thinking it'd been a long time since I'd read her

[conuly]

Not five pages in, I remembered *why* I don't read her books more often.

My god that woman wrote some depressing shit. I mean, it's well-written (which doesn't help, believe me), and it's always topical (which doesn't help), but it's depressing as hell.

Outside it's sunny, and the birds are singing, and all I can think is that if the world ends we're totally screwed oh god no. Just what I needed in my day.