It Sure Ain’t the Book
I’m lying on the sofa exhausted from a 60-hour work week and stiff from riding my bike a mere three miles yesterday. It seems I’m at a point where I can either ride easy daily or increase my distance per ride with 24 hours of downtime in between. I’ll get there.
My new neighbor upstairs is having people over. I’m not sure if it’s a party or if they’re only staging before heading out to a larger event. I’m envious of their energy and youthfulness. I’m pretty sure I heard one of them laughing. Of all the nerve. Some of us are olding down here, you know.
I’m having a Pimm’s Cup and watching the movie adaptation of Annihilation. So far the movie is nothing like the book. Plus, it drags. They’re all having conversations and getting to know each other, expositioning each another. They explicitly don’t do that in the book. And there’re all these people running around for some reason. In the book there are four of them. Five if you count the husband. I’d go so far as to say the film misses the point of the book entirely—and the book isn’t deep.1
The Pimm’s Cup is excellent. It’s ginger ale, lots of freshly squeezed lemon juice, and Pimm’s No. 1 Cup.2 You mix it all together and it tastes like a delicious iced tea. Dangerously easy to drink. On the other hand, sip Pimm’s No. 1 Cup straight from the bottle and you’ll discover it’s just 1970s military-surplus cough syrup.
Footnotes
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I wound up turning it off 45 minutes in. I felt it was another one of those movies that serve as a platform for the director to work through his therapy sessions in public. Boring. ↩
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Pimm’s No. 1 Cup is what you need to make a Pimm’s Cup. It’s not in and of itself a Pimm’s Cup. That’s England for you. ↩