juushika: Screen capture of the Farplane from Final Fantasy X: a surreal landscape of waterfalls and flowers. (Anime/Game)
Title: Planet of Exile (Hainish Cycle Book 2)
Author: Ursula K. Le Guin
Narrator: Stephen Hoye, Carrington MacDuffie
Published: Blackstone Audio, 2007 (1966)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 125
Total Page Count: 217,315
Text Number: 685
Read Because: fan of the author, audiobook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: As a long winter approaches, outsiders threaten both of the planet's human civilizations, native and offworld immigrant. Lifecycle-long years and established offworld settlers combine to create a speculative premise that informs every aspect of the book: worldbuilding, social structure, point of view, plot, resolution; and while that last is too neat, it's just so satisfying to see concise worldbuilding with significant ramifications. The character dynamics operated within that are nearly absent, certainly underwritten—but I suspect this is exacerbated by audio narration, Hoye's in particular. But Le Guin's voice, powerful and sparse and precise, carefully balancing organic daily detail against larger speculative elements, is a sheer delight and offset other weaknesses. I see flaws here, but they don't particularly bother me; this is just what I wanted it to be.


Title: Anne of Green Gables (Anne of Green Gables Book 1)
Author: LM Montgomery
Published: Duke Classics, 2012 (1908)
Rating: 5 of 5
Page Count: 335
Total Page Count: 217,650
Text Number: 686
Read Because: reread, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library (but I own it, and it's on Gutenberg)
Review: The story of a young orphan girl's childhood at a farm on Prince Edward Island. This was one of my favorite books as a child and I owned multiple copies and reread it many times; but I haven't reread it in at least 15 years. It's​ aged surprisingly well, for me personally, but also in the hundred years since its publication. It's beautifully charming; Montgomery's descriptions of nature and the community of Avonlea is lovely, evocative escapism; her intense and playful compassion for Anne, for her dreaming whimsy and enthusiasm and the gentle process of her coming of age, was everything to me as a child and I find I love it still. The plot is uneven, speeding up in the final third, becoming less playful and episodic, more of a summary and interchangeably too idealized and too tragic. But I appreciate the quiet consistency of Anne's character growth, and the payoff of her relationships, especially with Marilla, justifies some of the shortcuts. LM Montgomery's wish fulfillment was my childhood wish fulfillment too, and I still bear it good will; this reread was everything I wanted, all my best memories but freshly engaging, enabling me to entirely gloss over some objective flaws.


Title: Dangerous Space
Author: Kelley Eskridge
Published: Seattle: Aqueduct Press, 2007
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 255
Total Page Count: 217,905
Text Number: 689
Read Because: fan of the author, paperback given to me by [personal profile] thobari
Review: A collection of only seven stories, although the titular "Dangerous Space" is nearly a novella. I picked this up for "Eye of the Storm," which became one of my favorite short stories after I read it elsewhere. It's as good as I remember: a sword and sorcery setting, but an interpersonal focus, looking at fluid queer polyamorous found families and the link between violence and sexuality. "Dangerous Space" has a contemporary setting and secondary science fictional elements, but a similar tone. This is where Eskridge shines brightest, even if the ending of "Dangerous Spaces" is underwhelming: when she writes id fiction, focusing on strange intimacies and art, queer relationships and examinations of sexuality, engaging dynamics and sympathetic character growth.

The other stories are decent to successful; the style and theme that Eskridge is experimenting with in each is frequently obvious and sometimes unconvincing (although the density and unusual language of "Somewhere Down the Diamondback Road" is fantastic), but her voice is strong—she's particularly adept at working a story's themes into its metaphors and language, which brings to life even the clumsier examples. This collection isn't perfect, but I admire the ongoing themes of sexuality and art; and, honestly, it would be worth owning just for "Eye of the Storm."


The aforementioned trio of ridiculously successful books, counteracting a slew of "okay, I guess" books. Weird story about the Eskridge, though: midway through the collection, I received a comment on my review of the anthology where I first encountered "Eye of the Storm" which included "I'll be checking out Kelley Eskridge though"—a coincidence which inspired me to go back and read my review, and discover I'd mentioned that Dangerous Space included two companion stories to "Eye of the Storm." Which is awesome! But I was already halfway through, and hadn't encountered them, so skimmed ahead and—

—those stories are not there. They've never, in fact, existed; I'm not sure where I got the impression, such a precise impression (two companion stories!), that they did; other stories in the original anthology have companion novels, but re: "Eye of the Storm" reviews include such notes as "I am only distraught that there is no novel (series, opus, canon, tie in anything) with these characters."

I chalked this up to parallel universes and/or a fragment of my truly awful memory and moved on, except that: "Dangerous Space," as it turns out, not only has overlapping themes/feeling, it also has reoccurring character names. This isn't hugely surprising—I know creators recycle & reinvent archetypes, characters, names, &c.; and it fits: there's an overlapping logic, to take a slantwise-similar approach to different settings and dynamics. But what a bizarre series of events, to write and unwrite a parallel universe in which there obvious were, were not, sort of were companion stories to this story.

(To be honest, "Eye of the Storm" stands alone. I would happily live in it forever, but it so well establishes what it needs to establish that more isn’t really necessary; if anything, the summary and departure of the last few paragraphs is ideal—it keeps the setting alive and enterable, without the hit-or-miss potential of expanding the canon. I don't need the companion stories that don't exist. I'm just confused about the nature of their existence.)
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
Title: The Female Man
Author: Joanna Russ
Published: Boston: Beacon Press, 2000 (1975)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 215
Total Page Count: 213,600
Text Number: 673
Read Because: personal enjoyment, paperback given to me by [personal profile] thobari
Review: Four women are brought together across four parallel worlds. One comes from a futuristic single-sex utopia, one comes from a modern setting stuck in the Great Depression, and Russ plays fast and loose with plot and swings between PoVs, settings, and forms of address without feeling any obligation to explain; it's disorientating and almost playful, but for the frequently joyless theme. This is a speculative exploration of the way that women are influenced by their societies, and while Russ's feminism encompasses Feminism 101 it also exceeds it (as example, interrogating the link between internalized misogyny and gender dysphoria) and, with precious few exceptions, doesn't feel dated, although it isn't particularly intersectional. It's angry and dispiriting, but never has that frustrating sense of redundancy that marks some explicitly feminists novels. Not, by any means, a fun read; perhaps not anything I hadn't realized; but this was fundamental, in a way: that self-critical, self-deprecatory, rageful, playful, compassionate view of women—and the female self—as they are, or could be.


Title: Little Brother (Little Brother Book 1)
Author: Cory Doctorow
Narrator: Kirby Heyborne
Published: Listening Library, 2008
Rating: 2 of 5
Page Count: 390
Total Page Count: 213,990
Text Number: 674
Read Because: co-read with Teja, audiobook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: After a terrorist attack, San Francisco becomes a police state—and one teenage boy rises up to fight it. This is fueled by a lot of righteous anger about the intersection of privacy, technology, and politics; it's well-intended and, sadly, as relevant now as in a Bush-era presidency. And that's the only thing to recommend it, because, as a book, it's pretty awful. The teenage male PoV is uninspired, which makes the romance doubly so; there's a minimum of intersectional awareness in the supporting cast, but it's undermined by the use of slurs. Doctorow's tendency towards infodumping makes every character sound the same—namely, like Wikipedia article given a veneer of hipness—and the name- and brand-dropping and frequent geek cred are cringe-inducing. The plot, somewhere under that, isn't awful, and I sympathize with Doctorow in spirit if not specifics—but this is an awful reading experience and I can't recommend it.

(A co-read with Teja, on his suggestion, as part of his 1984 block—and while I loved revisiting 1984, this was pretty awful. It's transparent propaganda directed at teenagers: Boys! Create Civil Liberties on Your Internet!—I don't know that Doctorow was intentionally targeting teenage boys but does he ever, and this is where Teja and I differ: neither of us enjoyed it now, but he says he would have found it an effective call to action at the time/at that age, as he was part of the intended audience, sympathetic to teenage boy experiences and computer-savvy enough to find the privacy technology here explored intriguing; I think I would have bounced off of it, mostly because I would have found the PoV isolating and vaguely icky (and also because I wanted my calls to action to be intellectual instead of cool—I was a pretentious teen). It feels unfair to judge it outside of context, when it's all just info dumping and YA characterization and excessive cringy geek cred but, mostly, not for me. But even in context? It still wasn't for me, it was never for me.)


Title: The Book of Phoenix (Who Fears Death Book 0.1)
Author: Nnedi Okorafor
Published: DAW, 2015
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 235
Total Page Count: 214,225
Text Number: 675
Read Because: reading more of the author, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: After the death of a friend, a manufactured, genetically modified superhuman escapes the Tower that created her and sets out to destroy it. The components elements of this dystopia origin story are fascinating: Phoenix's gendered and racially motivated rage, the commentary on technology and social responsibility and ethics, the manufacture of a villain and how future generations reinterpret her legacy. But I bounced off of the voice—unexpectedly, as I've enjoyed Okorafor's writing elsewhere. The first person narrative lacks structure, wandering between settings and events in such a way as to obfuscate foreshadowing and to make Phoenix appear to lack either direction or reliable narration. The editing is wanting (numerous missing vocative commas, as example), and the descriptions are distant and repetitive despite the colorful speculative elements and their strong symbolism. All that said, I tend to have a difficult time with first person narratives, so this may have simply been a bad fit for me. But I tried hard to love it, and appreciate it conceptually, yet never became invested; I don't recommend it.
juushika: Photograph of the torso and legs of a female-bodied figure with a teddy bear. (Bear)
Traditionally, I am very bad at auditory media because I succumb to multitasking and then to not listening, and I'm not a strong auditory learner to begin with. But then I learned to take podcasts on walks, which limit the potential for multitasking considerably; it's what I did with Wolf 359 after [livejournal.com profile] junkmail recommended it to me. Wolf 359 is really good! You should listen to it! (The first half of the first season is overly episodic; atop the humor, it grows slight. But as the overarching plot emerges, it forms a lovely balance between a focus on high risk setting and comic relief, united by a focus on communication. I liked what I listened to of Welcome to Night Vale once upon a time, but never grew attached; Wolf 359 has that missing attachment in droves.) And then I ran out of episodes and felt bereft.

I'd love suggestions for ongoing genre narratives in podcast form! No for serious give me recs. I tried The Leviathan Chronicles but just could not—long episodes, slow build, stiff info-dump dialog, and, while I want to love the sci-fi meets Old Ones premise, in practice it errs towards hard sci-fi meets camp which ... is less enjoyable.

And then it occurred to me that short fiction podcasts were probably a thing; and lo, they are totally a thing: Escape Pod (sci-fi) and PodCastle (fantasy) ETA: and Psuedopod (horror) have solved all of my problems. I'm impressed by the quality and variety, and I appreciate the accessibility. AKA: reasons Juu was walking down residential roads crying single dignified tears (today).

I started walking a lot when August was having food issues (which, thankfully, resolved a few days after last mention), because being away and therefore temporarily immune to responsibility was such a relief. It was also comforting to be entirely engaged, or, rather, unable to split my engagement. Multitasking is my default state, physically but especially mentally: multiple running, exhausting, competitive interior monologues that create a desire to disappear into external stimuli and an inability to successfully do so simply because I can never pare down or shut off my thoughts are the underlying framework of my anxiety.

Walking while listening to stories doesn't make the mess in my head go away, but it gives me multiple concrete and consuming stimuli (physical, auditory) while removing the tempting access to secondary stimuli, multitasking that mimics and therefore encourages my mental multitasking. I am aware I am hardly the first to stumble into what's effectively neurotic people's dirty tricks for walking meditation, but I'm glad I have. With one catch-22 exception: since my usual ability to do stuff extends to one thing per day, and walking counts as a thing, having this healthy and productive outlet means I'm tired all the time.
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (Default)
Title: Goth
Author: Otsuichi
Translators: Andrew Cunningham, Jocelyne Allen
Published: New York: Haikusoru, 2015 (2002, 2005)
Rating: 5 of 5
Page Count: 295
Total Page Count: 165,855
Text Number: 485
Read Because: fan of the manga and film, novel given to me by [personal profile] thobari
Review: Two strange high school students meet over their shared fascination with a local murderer. Goth as a light novel is even better than I expected, and I'm an enthusiastic fan of both the manga and the film. The light novel has more: the strongest atmosphere*, the finest detail, and the most clearly delineated character arcs for both protagonists; it filled in gaps that I didn't know were missing. It's not flawless—the machinations of the plot are often transparent, although the payoff of the solutions are enough to compensate; Morino's character growth has some oversights. But I remain entirely satisfied. All versions of this story are worth exploring, but if you can only have one then the light novel is the best. The English translation is strong (Cunningham's slightly moreso than Allen's), and I appreciate the afterword included my imprint.

* How to describe one of my favorite stories of all time? Goth is macabre, seductive, cold, intimate. It has a stark monochrome aesthetic with the contrast and bloom turned too high: surreal and beautiful, dark and monstrous. There's a surprisingly subtlety in the relationship between the protagonists, despite their inhuman coldness. Otsuichi has superb eye for detail, and so this atmosphere is at its strongest in the light novel--and I love it more than I can possibly describe.
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
So I have the best of friends.

You may remember that a while ago, reddogdied illustrated me-as-cat, which is one of the more meaningful gifts I've ever received. In Animal Crossing, you play as a lone human living in a town of anthropomorphic animals. My friend Sabrina also plays, and she draws, and she was illustrating friends as AC villagers. I asked her to draw me. She drew this and then let me sit down and nitpick it to my heart's content, pulling criticisms and preferences out of me even I'd usually give an artist a wide berth around their art, and then Express concurred with the final design, because they both know how important avatar-equivalents are to me—which they are (read more).

Animal Crossing Juu by Yadomi

And she made this. Green eyes! Floofy tail! Orange kitty, hint of tabby, and I would totally wear that outfit if I lived in a land without pants. AC-me is adorable, and I know awesome people, and I am blessed: behold.
juushika: A black and white photo of an ink pen. (Writing)
I warn you that all that follows is pretty self-centered, angry, and immature, interspersed with vague gestures in the directions of Deep Thoughts. Also it's more or less about Homestuck. Read at your own risk.

I have a friend that has to blacklist a lot of media because they internalize it, take it personally, get sad over sad stuff and heartsick over romantic stuff. Of course it doesn't make sense to consume media you don't appreciate or enjoy, but I tend to think this is an extreme reaction; to be honest, I think they should get over themselves, and that taking it all so personally shows a certain amount of self-centered immaturity. But I just finished reading what so far exists of Brainbent, a Homestuck AU set in a residental mental health treatment center, and hey would you look at that: there's stuff that I take too personally, and most of it has to do with mental health and illness.

It's not the only thing I take too personally. I hate cats in popular media, because their representations are inaccurate clichés and I would know—and for the same reason that I know, it's a personal issue and I hate to see it butchered, over and over again. It's akin to someone making a mockery of me. Sometimes representations of mental illness trigger the same disgust, as well they should—even it means I'm getting mad over another goddamn saccharine advertisement where depression is symbolized by some sort of cute blob. Fuck you, Abilify, because no it doesn't feel like *sadface* and a cute little animated hole in the ground, and patronizing to me will not convince me to shove that or any other medication down my throat. It's a personal bias—because what medications I tried didn't work for me, and I don't have the faith or energy to find the ones that do—which I shouldn't project onto others—like those with the need of and resources to find effective medication, who should be able to make that search without my judgement or doubt—and so I'll admit to being selfish and short-sighted, but the anger is still pretty righteous.

But that's not what Brainbent does. It leans a little saccharine, or at least feel-good; it has competent doctors and respects patient rights; in short, it's a best possible situation with the best intentions: to provide a heartfelt and helpful story about living with and recovering from mental illness, instead of dwelling in the horrors of lack of recovery or corrupt mental health systems. But on the whole it approaches its characters and their illnesses with knowledge and respect, fetishizing their diversity just a touch but managing to be accessible and hopeful and real.

And you know what, I still don't care.

It's not righteous indignation at this point: it's bitterness. It's me reading it at the wrong time, and taking it too personally; contrasting the resources of St. Lobaf Residential Treatment Center residents against oh wait I have none, contrasting mod's promise of a happy ending or at least that residents won't be left in misery against oh wait I don't have that either, contrasting any sort of it gets better against fuck you. Of course it's a stupid reaction, and two weeks ago I probably wouldn't be such an idiot about it; but one week ago I started a steady descent towards feeling like shit—because there's some minor real world stress going on, because my brain is really damn good at feeling like shit, and for no other reason—and so I don't identify or think it's useful or find it hopeful; I think it's trite, and that anyone who can be helped doesn't have it all that bad, and that anyone with hope is a fool.

And look at me all self-centered, immature, and did I mention an asshole?

No deep thoughts here, no conclusion. This isn't a recommendation for or against Brainbent—I found it compelling enough to read the whole thing (even if I probably shouldn't've), but I just can't pretend any sort of objectivity. Nor is this a condemnation of [livejournal.com profile] junkmail, who recommended the AU—I warned her that I might have this reaction, and that the reaction is all me and says nothing at all about it, and that if there's any fault in my anger it's my own because I just should have put it down until I was feeling better. It's just a realization that I too can have such an arbitrary and selfish reaction, and that in fact I often do, and that to be honest I'm just ... not doing that well right now. This is a roundabout PSA that I'm about one week of anxiety/nightmares/depression/dizzy spells, and a repeat realization that perhaps I'll never be able to find the distance I need in order to not internalize this stuff—because even these years later, I'm still too deep in it.

But Devon is here for the weekend, snoring on my bed while I try to figure out if I'm still boycotting sleep. August is in my lap, napping until I decide same. It's not as bad as my unrighteous indignation would suggest. It's just not awesome, either, sometimes, to be me.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
Some days I roll over while I'm reading in bed and August looks like this:

August flopped on her blanket.
And then I pull out my camera and take three hundred redundant pictures of my cat.
And then I share them with you.

+7 pictures of August, and floof, and an omnipresent purple blanket. )

Nuthin' more than that, folks.
juushika: Screen capture of the Farplane from Final Fantasy X: a surreal landscape of waterfalls and flowers. (Anime/Game)
Title: Stunt
Author: Claudia Dey
Published: Toronto: Coach House Books, 2008
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 244
Total Page Count: 108,548
Text Number: 314
Read Because: recommended by [livejournal.com profile] junkmail, purchased new from Powell's
Review: When her father abandons the family leaving just a note behind, nine-year-old Eugenia begins a journey—through sudden adulthood, in search of her father, towards their tightrope-walking ancestor. Magical realism on a Toronoto landscape, Stunt is a tale of the half-believable strangeness of personal experience on the fringes of suburban life. Dey's voice is abrupt and image-laden, a near opposite of lyrical prose; instead it mirrors transcribed spoken poetry, and while that style can initially be difficult, it develops a strong and easily-internalized rhythm: at first the book seems strange, but after a hundred pages it's the outside world which seems strange, and simple, and arrhythmic. Stunt approaches its subject matter as though in a dream, but defines it with nuance and intricate, private detail; the combination is something like portraiture, sketched here, painstakingly detailed there, creating a complete image which is convincing not despite, but because, of its stylization. It's not a flawless achievement, and obscurely dense paragraphs, underexplored elements, and offputting aspects linger. But in many ways Stunt reminds me of Haven Kimmel's Iodine, another obscure and strange novel about one woman's bizarre life: it surprises me not at all that Stunt is all but unknown, and I doubt that a United States release would change that; both stranger and more normal than it seems, it will find a small audience and sometimes hold even them at a distance. But Stunt is also remarkable. In an age overflowing with suburban angst, this is something different: a liminal view of almost-normal life, strange and inexplicable, and at its best defiantly real. Eugenia walks tightropes, and so does her book: it's an uneasy journey, a dangerous one, but the view (hers, and ours) is beautiful. I'm glad I was pointed towards this book, and recommend it in turn.

Review posted here on Amazon.com.

{POSTCARD FROM OUTER SPACE}

eugenius,

the newborn stars, you can tell they are newborn
because they glow scarlet halos
with hydrogen announcing themselves
2500 light-years from the earth.
but what I really need to tell you is this:
fixed points are a fiction.
fixed points are a fiction.
fixed points are a fiction.

s.

Stunt, Claudia Dey, 197


Dear [livejournal.com profile] junkmail: Thank you. I'm glad I was finally able to get my hands on this, and it was quite the read. For various reasons I don't always get to write positive views of recommended books, and I don't always need to (taste is subjective after all, and mine can be particularly personal), but I loved the chance to do so. I'm glad I own this book, and I'm interested to see how and if my impression changes on reread—I imagine it feels a little less chaotic, but perhaps just as strange. If you're interested, I'd recommend in return Holly Phillip's The Burning Girl for a different use of synesthesia (which I consider one of the underused elements of this book—it's richly sensory , but more stream of consciousness than cross-wired association—but I'd love to debate the point with you!) and as above Haven Kimmel's Iodine which is a similar book in nature but entirely different in content.
juushika: Screen capture of the Farplane from Final Fantasy X: a surreal landscape of waterfalls and flowers. (Anime/Game)
On a much different note!

Meet Spike the cat
Meet Spike the cat.

Spike is [livejournal.com profile] century_eyes's just-turned-seventeen domestic shorthair ginger tabby (with who knows what on his background, although he has a long and graceful tail) who has more fur than any cat I've ever met, dramatic deep-set eyes, a quiet little purr, and plenty of charm (even if he can run a bit low on dignity). He looks lovely against green.

+4 more pictures and plenty of rambles. )

So that's Spike. Isn't he lovely? He's so lovely.

In other news, I have achieved the impossible inevitable, and recreated Miwako's Magic Medicine jar from Paradise Kiss. )

Kompeito in a jar
Because we picked up some kompeito at Uwajimaya. (Kompeito is my favorite-ever candy, just so you know.)

Also, for [livejournal.com profile] junkmail, I have a picture of those stuffed cats on my windowsill:

One last pic. )

Since you were curious. ^_^ They're not mine, actually—[livejournal.com profile] century_eyes surprised me with them on my first night here. She says they used to be in her office at work, but they're pretty well at home here in my window.
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
I went to bed last night feeling frustrated and discontent. I think that I may be socially overextended—which both predictable and impressive. It takes nothing to overextend me, a hour of conversation exhausts me: I put your average introvert to shame. But lately what's been taxing me is half a dozen friendships, encounters with complete strangers, and hours of conversation.

Pandora just started play "Dog Days Are Over." I cannot make this shit up. So that's it, really. You have read this post before.

I am simultaneously running high on constant social interaction and absolutely exhausted in its wake. I don't know moderation, don't know balance. I don't know how to be social—I have very little practice. I am drowning in it. I am hyper and active, and then tired and miserable, and then exhausted and restless because the social activity has stopped. Things and contacts and letters and people are falling by the wayside, I am a dozen types of behind. I woke up this morning (early afternoon) so lump-like that a shower seemed like work and I appreciated it because I felt again lethargic instead like I'd been shaken so hard that I couldn't stand by my legs were still trembling.

Express says: "the changes in life.. are for better though."

They are.

I'm drowning, but I'm drowning in love. My complaint is that there's too many people I adore, or plan to; too many conversations to have, too many joys too share, too many hours to spend talking and giggling and spreading love through the world. I should probably be finding a better balance—between the ups and downs, between the social and the non, between games and reading, between being online and off. I hope that comes with time. I think it will, because in the very near future I'm looking at Portland and [livejournal.com profile] century_eyes's home, to frequent real-world social contact with the person who began this all—and that I think will help form a more solid foundation. I don't have that, yet, and that means that my late nights are frantically discontent, and I'm stressed and restless, and I am so fucking scared.

But today, I talked with Sabrina in Tinychat, because she is so thoughtful and so tolerant of my shyness that she gave me a chance to try out the program in safe company, and so gave us a chance to have our first real-time conversation. I played Halo with Express—and these days we slip on our headsets by default even though five years ago when we met we would have been terrified of the thought. I didn't get to emails as a result, I haven't written in a while and I need to, and I've only read about 50 pages today. I will probably find it very hard to sleep tonight.

Running, running, running. I need to. The dog days are over.

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juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (Default)
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