I have been unintentionally left home alone for the past week, and while I usually love having the house to myself, this really isn't the time. I need company. Who will come visit me now? During these few uneventful days I have downed excessive amounts of sugarfree Red Bull and charged all the electrical appliances I know I won't be using for a while. I have also been drinking orange juice straight from the carton, which makes me feel like a rebel, but the feeling doesn't last very long.
It's 5:43am and I've just finished watching Incendiary. I read the book three years ago, when I was barely a hexagon-eyed, somewhat gauche speech-bubble-devouring teenager. It was only twelve dollars and the cover art was pretty, but I fell in love with its words two pages later, when Chris Cleave talked about holes and wars and little baby boys. And then the movie came out, and I didn't even know it existed, but when I did I was let down before I could judge it for myself. How could I, really, when they'd removed the biggest characters, gotten rid of the point of the plot, and changed the ending completely?
I clearly didn't know what I was on about, though. The movie may not have her much needed craziness etched into her words but I reckon the storyline breaks your heart a little bit more, but in a softer way. Soft is good. I wasn't disappointed, to say the very least.
Then again, it's 5:43 in the morning. What do I know about disappointment.
(I need to stop writing my posts at ungodly hours. I am aware.)