Choke

It starts off like you would expect a Palahniuk story to, with sex, only this time it's in a support group about sex, which in turn leads to the act at hand. Victor can't seem to escape his inner demons, only truly revealed in the book, so he uses sex as his vice to keep himself numb. Numb from dropping out of medical school, numb from working at a colonial reenactment facility, numb from choking at restaurants and asking the people who save him for money, numb from his mother suffering from dementia, numb from paying off the bills for her stay at St. Anthony's, numb from confessing to all the complaints of the residents there. You get the idea, his life sucks so he buries himself in the one thing that can make him forget all the problems in his life.
He even admits that smelling a rose will never compare to having an orgasm, and to him that is all too true. But this all comes to a halt when he first sees Dr. Marshall and doesn't picture her naked, unlike all the other women in the film up to this point.
What she gives him is a chance to break free from the void, a life before all these problems, and before his childhood growing up with a sociopath and foster parents. But when he finally gets the chance to do what he wants, literally, he can't get it up with her and this provides the structure for the film. It is supposively to save his mother's life, which he doesn't want to do, but he contunues to try.
All in all I thought it was as fun as a movie about a Palahniuk story can be, yet missing a key piece to keep his readers interested. Don't get me wrong, the book is great, but the movie digreses from the restaurant scenes and doesn't really hit on the true character that is Vincent. It lacked the modesty and details that make the overall story complete, but the twist is killer and bound to make the whole thing worthwhile. However, be advised that the witty comments are only half as good spoken from Sam Rockwell, he embodies this character but there are twice as many in the real medium.

writer's bloq?

Why has writing become such a tedious and overbearing task in life. I took a few months off to prepare for the move to New York so I am out of practice, but I am at a loss for work. All I can do is jot down ideas, and they have grown to become more than I can bear, no longer are they comprehendable as individual stories, I view them as part of a greater story that resembles somewhat of a masterpiece. Only I can't seem to get that project going either, now my focus is drawn to those details and how I need more of them before the project can get underway.
It is exhausting, and it wasn't what I wanted to get involved in. My idea was that the little thoughts would each be a story in their own which I could elaborate on in the future. So I am trying to make the future seem present, and in doing so I lose focus on my original thought to make it a grander idea.
Even this post was intended to be a long drawn out entry on how I have lost my interest in writing, yet I feel as if the point has been made. My whole adult life I wanted to express myself with words and here I am selling myself short once again. I hope this turns around soon.

The Killer Within

Don't read too much into the title, I know its been a while and people would probably jump to conclusions since the move to New York. And after this entry you will probably think 'he has really lost it.' But I assure you, it is still just me and this is all a coincidence.
I finally watched 'American Psycho' after many requests from friends and it captivated me. I really was sucked into the premise and the Patrick (Christian Bale) character for a number of reasons. One - he has everything he will ever need in life, so naturally his mind will crave more than he can get. Two - he plots the murders out with extreme detail, yet doesn't care about the bodies being found/discovered because in a way he actually wants to get caught. Three - Playing off the last, getting caught is the added adventure for him because not only is he craving more but he is now planning his schedule to evade people like the police or his finace to avoid getting caught, yet he continually finds himself with them and keeps finding a way out of things at the last second.
I really enjoyed it for the effectiveness of its motifs, the obsessions with a musician's background or the lyrics to a song, and how they played on each of the victims. In a way, I haven't felt this way about a movie since I saw 'Mr. Brooks', which is essentially a more modern version of this film, which I saw again by chance a few days back so it was fresh in my mind. This one is more of a William Hurt show than a movie, but I think it was the most underestimated movie of the year.
There is just something about them that sets them apart from the rest, it is poetry with weapons. Nobody claims they loved 'Silence of the Lambs', but they enjoy watching it because of the drama behind it all. How sadistic can someone be, what is going through their head that makes them act this way, why do they have to kill to function? These are the questions we ask when we see movies like this, and we watch them to distract ourselves from the world around us and the people we share it with.
Think of the new found obsession with the books or the media about fighting and death, its not that we are a part of it or want to be a part of it, but we want to know about it because we know it exists. Only now, people are getting into it deeper and deeper and the bar has been rasied because of this obsession, how much will be too much? I guess what I am getting at is that the world is a confused place, people are loving and fighting with each other every other second for the sake of closure. We want to know what is happening and see the light at the end of the tunnel, we want to get what we want in the quickest way possible, and we want to tell other people about and voice our minds when we don't get what we want or see the light. So that void grows, shifts, changes, morphs into the novels, articles, shows, movies we read and watch and it gets filled, only the more we read/watch the bigger the void gets so the bar is raised.
That is why I liked 'American Pyscho' and why I continue to like 'Mr. Brooks'