Independence Day

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of...the pool. I didn't know it was possible to feel so at home in the water. Before taking up swimming lessons, I was afraid of it. But now, after only one session, there's a certain sense of calm that washes over me (pun unintended) once I'm in the pool. I want to stay in the water for as long as possible, until my skin is gnarled and I'm too tired to even just glide on the surface. Plus, I like the way I look after a good swim - skin golden brown, nose as red as Rudolph's, my hair sticking out every which way. And my eyes - though tinged with red - reflect joy, contentment, and a realization that I want to be here - in the water. I feel so carefree. My heart continues to skip a beat.

We swam for an hour and a half. I know I could use some more practice. Nahihirapan pa din ako sa breathing when doing freestyle. It's all about timing and I have to work on that. Yesterday, the Pius pool was closed so we swam at the YMCA instead. It's harder to breathe there - the water's too thick with chlorine, it tends to burn your throat when you happen to swallow even just a teeny bit.

**

American Psycho update: I'm almost done, probably down to the last 30 pages of the book. I couldn't contain the events to myself any longer that I tried to entice my brother to listen to me rant about this madman's misadventures. Well, my brother just shook his head, waved me away, and continued watching the Heat-Spurs rerun on TV. Oh well. 

I wonder how Mr. Ellis wrote the book. Did he do a lot of research on serial killers - real life and fictional ones? Ted Bundy? Hannibal? Did he had nightmares after writing this particular book? It's so graphic I shut my eyes every time Bateman strikes. Great writing: I believe every single thing Ellis wrote, even if I know that the chance of him writing this from personal experience is close to nil.

Patrick Bateman makes Hannibal look like an amateur. But at least, Hannibal's "classy". But Bateman....he's out of his fucking mind. I want to place this book next to my DI Rebus series, half hoping that John Rebus springs to life, enters the American Psycho world, and nails the bastard. That'd be nice.

***

Midnight gave birth yesterday - four kittens, two pure black and two black ones spotted with white.

****

I wanted to kiss you on the cheek when we said goodbye but I guess, I was shy. Awkward. One of these days, I'll finally succeed in doing it and then it...really...is...over. Done. Just like when Popoy kissed Basha on the cheek in One More Chance post break up, the first time they saw each other after a year. Sooner or later, I'll be able to do it. Just you wait.

Psyched Up

On American Psycho...

Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it. Last time I was getting bored with the pace of the story. Couple of pages ahead and I'm surprised with all the gory, Rated-R details. I was on page 180 this morning and I felt like vomiting my entire breakfast inside the train.

Pat Bateman kills. He kills because he's annoyed. He kills because he's too high on drugs. He kills because he doesn't like what you're wearing. He kills just because. And then he shouts like a banshee.

I wonder, though, how it all started. If Hannibal had Mischa, then who/what is Pat's Mischa?

Psych me up

Currently reading: American Psycho, published 1991, written by Bret Easton Ellis (author of The Informers)

I'm on page 73 and...I'm bored. I know it is necessary to go through Patrick Bateman's state of mind - his vanity, his attention to details no matter how trivial, his friends and how they treat him, basically, the way he lives his life. Mr. Ellis I get it already, okay? This is how a psychopath's mind works - well, specific to Pat Bateman. So can we move on with the story now? On to the manifestations please, the actual doing.  

If the next 10 pages continue to describe what everyone is wearing I might just go and grab another book.