This is not an exit …

So I woke up this morning, ate my Weet-Bix, played my Modern Warfare 2 and when it was a few minutes past eleven I visited to find that the event was booked out.

A chance to witness an interrogation/interview with Brett Easton Ellis; the man who—most notably among my tertiary bums—brought us American Psycho, a novel so erotic and horrific that it has scarred our minds with vivid images and hilarious quotes.

We still argue which ambiguity has more plausibility than the other when comparing the novel and the movie (was it in Bateman’s head or did he really commit all those atrocities?).

Yes, it’s sad but it’s the literary glue that binds us together.

Yesterday the email exchanges between my comrades evolved to text messages (a rare thing considering these people are stingy, cheap and will do almost anything to save their cents). I was surprised my phone didn’t explode from all the excitement containing itself within the device.

Booked out!

I intended to dress as Bateman: suit, tie, a little fake blood here and there. To take it one lunge further I would’ve asked the odd attendee (they’re all odd because their Ellis fans) ‘where’s Paul Allen?’ or ‘What do you think of Genesis?’.

I‘m anticipating the inevitable wave of disappointment. In the meantime I’ll track down Ellis’ latest novel entitled Imperial Bedrooms.


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