Jul. 27th, 2005

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It's filthy funking beautiful outside today.

Also, the Universe has come into existence whether we like it or not.

I read High Fidelity by Nick Hornby last night, yes the whole book over the course of a ten hour shift. The movie was a great adaptation, especially considering it's set in and around London in the book and Chicago in the film. Rob is much more of an arsehole, which makes his redemption all the more satisfying in the book version. I applaud how much dialogue is almost verbatim in the novel to celluloid conversion. Like Fight Club and Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, the adaptation of High Fidelity is a wonderful, simplified and slicked down version, maintaining the atmosphere perfectly, really capturing the essence. Egads, I've just realized that movies are book doppelgangers!

Before High Fidelity, I read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time and before that, Terry Pratchett. And before that, Harry Potter, my goodness, and before that was another Pratchett novel. I just started Neil Gaiman's American Gods. That means, for something like a month or so now, I've only been reading books by British authors. Now, I'll have none of that namby-pamby, wishy-washy, British sod silliness! Right-o, jolly good chap. Someone pass the bloody kettle, I'd like a spot of tea. No offence, of course, to my readers "across the pond," as they say. I love the British. Seriously. Most of my genetic heritage arrived via the Isles. And you have badass writers.

And furthermore, trial and tribulation both start with tri.

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