American Psycho

I've been reading American Psycho. The book is much more detailed and perverse than the movie. Reading it, I thought about writing my own horror story. I started thinking about the character, whither it would be a woman or a man, stupid or Hannibal-like, what would his motivation be... etc. In my head I saw him as a man who only killed the people who loved him most. As to why he killed the ones who loved him, he didn't what to let them down, he didn't what that responsibility of loving someone back, of holding one piece of the puzzle while they held the other. So he let everything collapse right away before he had love and he could feel loss. Mostly he's scared. In his mind, he is saving his victims from a much worse pain. It makes me a little worried that I have created his twisted mind from my own. I wish I could play the piano... I wish I could do something more productive with my time like learning an instrument or improving my knowledge of the world by traveling the world or even going outside. But, it's much easier to write about things than experience them yourself. Horror for instance. I could go out and kill some people... (I'm not going to.) But, it's much easier and healthier to write about it... or read about. The reason why I'm talking about killing people is because watching horror movies or reading horror novels makes my mom angry, not scared or sick to her stomach, angry. She gets angry because she can't understand why anyone would want to watch or read about murder. To quote my favorite author and song writer Matthew Good, "The telling of such occurrences, though anyways touched by a bit of danger and mystery, never quite lives up to the true depravity of such actions. And therein lies the sickness that we embody as a species. Horrified by the fact and entirely mesmerized by fact sold as fiction." - From Porno Safari. The reason I think that people are so intrigued by horror is that it is so removed from their normal lives that the mystery of a man going through the night and murdering people to fulfill some sick need in his heart is enjoyable. It's as if they like to be close to something so awful that the good things in life seem greater... like being alive. I wonder what our lives would be like if everything was good and nothing was psychotic about anyone. Well, in order for that to happen our brains would have to be removed. See, the brain is just a pot filled with soil and our thoughts, good or bad, are either nurtured or removed like weeds, voluntary or involuntary. All my thoughts are vines, not exactly beautiful flowers. They crawl through my body and escape through my mouth, my hands. At one time my skull was too crowded with bad thoughts and the only way I could relieve the pressure was to write. I think I've reached a healthy balance. The headache is gone and the horrific thoughts have become characters, settings and morals, not actions. But that doesn't make me any less of an "American Psycho".