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My Year of Rest and Relaxation is the female American Psycho to the point that it has to be intentional. rich, disaffected, benzo-addicted youth obsessed with videotapes. they even go to the same nightclub, tunnel.
 
Slightly less bloody and psychotic, but I agree. I didn't remember the nightclub Tunnel from 'American Psycho' though. Time for a re-read soon.
It's very Bret Easton Ellis. Not much really happens, but as I'm an avid fan of Ellis, I liked the book a lot.
 
what kinda ending in that. i thought she was gonna get stuffed. we’re supposed to think she’s gonna get stuffed, right?
 
ageingpartyfiend said:
had high (fnarr) hopes for it, thought it was absolutely awful unfortunately, embarrassing

currently reading Hunter S Thompson's "The Rum Diary" - am not a fan of his stuff in general but am really enjoying this one
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You didn't like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas? I thought that one was tons of fun and a barrel of laughs 😎
 
I meam, with lines like:
"As your attorney I advise you to take a hit out of the small brown bottle in my shaving kit" and
"As your attorney I advise you to get the chiliburger. It's a hamburger with chili on it"
 
jasperkent said:
You didn't like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas? I thought that one was tons of fun and a barrel of laughs 😎
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not so much no, but it's one of them that I saw the film first and so the book was then ruined by having my mental imagery dictated by the film instead of my imagination

book first always
 
Having a trash chute was one of my favorite things about my building. It made me feel important, like I was participating in the world. My trash mixed with the trash of others. The things I touched touched things other people had touched. I was contributing. I was connecting.



ageingpartyfiend said:
currently reading Hunter S Thompson's "The Rum Diary" - am not a fan of his stuff in general but am really enjoying this one
Click to expand...
is my favorite of his. certainly has a different feel. reminds me of his unfinished (or unpublished?) Prince Jellyfish.
 
I’d told the bartender—an old Polish lady—at the beginning, “I don’t like talking while I drink, so I may not talk to you.”

“Okay,” she’d said. “No problem.” She was very respectful.
 
Don’t accuse myself. Seek the basis of selfishness: nothing that I am not can interest me, it is impossible to be any more than what you are (nevertheless I exceed myself even when I’m not delirious, I am more than myself almost normally); I have a body and everything that I do is a continuation of my beginning; if the Mayan civilization doesn’t interest me it is because I have nothing in me that can connect with its bas-reliefs; I accept everything that comes from me because I am unaware of the causes and I may be trampling something vital without knowing it; this is my greatest humility, she figured.
 
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