Status Updates From Ufacık Bir Peygamber

I love the Celtic names for rain. They're so resonant with my days as I read this. Yesterday, it was the _nior aimsiodh tearma ar bith_, 'soaking rain'; today the _sciorta en aird_, the 'up-kilt spittle.' I also feel I should record my coffee drink while reading. Marigold coffee, peru, la Florida.

what's best about this is that it's so very, very right -- Booker's crazy religion isn't so crazy. it is, in fact, more true than the rest of 'em out there. the messy typewriting is distracting, but I'm sticking with it, because the story's great.

weird and wild. not what I expected or expected to like. the tale of a midget prophet whose holy fonts spout Stumptown (Hairbender, lightly roasted and brewed on a Clover, not my favorite but I'll ignore that. I'm drinking Marigold Guatemala Tres Marias Huehuetenango, dripped into my cup pourover style). I think I'm going to love this fantastically, as it's right where my mind is, right now.