Mar 25, 2010
Preface: To my mum, dad, family, friends and pretty much anyone else: Perhaps it’s best to just skip this one.
One of my favourite films is the adaptation of Bret Easton Ellis’ equally great book American Psycho. It’s a morbid fascination to be sure, but honestly the blood and gore have little to do with my enjoyment of the movie — if anything they’re a distraction. The real highlight is the infinitely memorable dialog, particularly that stemming from Christian Bale’s completely over the top portrayal of lead character Patrick Bateman. None of this has anything to do with my point, but my teachers always told me that there should be a beginning, middle and end in any piece of writing. So that was the beginning.
One particular sequence in the film (taken from IMDB) goes something like this:
Patrick Bateman: Do you know what Ed Gein said about women?
David Van Patten: The maitre 'd at Canal Bar?
Patrick Bateman: No, serial killer, Wisconsin, the '50s.
Craig McDermott: So what did he say?
Patrick Bateman: "When I see a pretty girl walking down the street, I think two things. One part wants me to take her out, talk to her, be real nice and sweet and treat her right."
David Van Patten: And what did the other part think?
Patrick Bateman: "What her head would look like on a stick... ”
Despite being misattributed to Ed Gein (it was apparently made by another serial killer, Edmund Kemper), the quote — while sickening — is an apt metaphor for how I feel about the concept of time. Part of me wants to go out and use it wisely; see the wonders of the world; meet new people; have amazing experiences; fall in love; do crazy things. The other part wants to stay home, watch hour after endless hour of crap film and television, endlessly refresh the same 4 websites, and occasionally look at pictures of girls with no clothes on. This is the middle, by the way.
And here is where I would usually put the ending. In this case however, I’m so disturbed and confused about what I put in the middle that I’m just going to leave it blank and have a cup of tea instead.
Ok, I had a cup of tea and thought about it. The point — if forced to make one, if only to placate the members of my family that are simultaneously reading this and calling the authorities — is that I’m trying to encourage that good, productive, exciting side, but that the boring, serial time waster side is a powerful force, and that perhaps acknowledging it head-on is a good way of overcoming it. There. An ending. Are you happy now, 9th grade history teacher Mrs. Stasiukynas?