Patrick Bateman

I live in the American Gardens Building on West 81st Street on the 11th floor. My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself, and a balanced diet and a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I'll put on an ice pack while doing my stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial masque which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion. There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman. Some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me. Only an entity. Something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.

Do you like Phil Collins? I've been a big Genesis fan ever since the release of their 1980 album, Duke. Before that, I really didn't understand any of their work. Too artsy, too intellectual. It was on Duke where, uh, Phil Collins' presence became more apparent. I think Invisible Touch was the group's undisputed masterpiece. It's an epic meditation on intangibility. At the same time, it deepens and enriches the meaning of the preceding three albums. Christy, take off your robe. Listen to the brilliant ensemble playing of Banks, Collins and Rutherford. You can practically hear every nuance of every instrument. Sabrina, remove your dress. In terms of lyrical craftsmanship, the sheer songwriting, this album hits a new peak of professionalism. Sabrina, why don't you, uh, dance a little. Take the lyrics to "Land of Confusion". In this song, Phil Collins addresses the problems of abusive political authority. "In Too Deep" is the most moving pop song of the 1980s, about monogamy and commitment. The song is extremely up-lifting. Their lyrics are as positive and affirmative as, uh, anything I've heard in rock. Christy, get down on your knees so Sabrina can see your asshole. Phil Collins' solo career seems to be more commercial and therefore more satisfying, in a narrower way. Especially songs like "In the Air Tonight" and, uh, "Against All Odds". Sabrina, don't just stare at it, eat it. But I also think Phil Collins works best within the confines of the group than as a solo artist, and I stress the word artist. This is "Sussudio", a great, great song, a personal favorite.

Howard! It's Bateman, Patrick Bateman. You're my lawyer so I think you should know I've killed a lot of people. Some escort girls in an apartment uptown… uh… some homeless people maybe five or ten. Uh… Some NYU girl I met in Central Park, I left her in a parking lot behind some donut shop, I killed Bethany, my old girlfriend, with a nailgun and… some man, some old faggot with a dog. Last week I killed another girl… with a chainsaw… I had to, she almost got away. And there… was someone else there I don't remember, maybe a model, but sh- she's dead, too. And, uh- PAUL ALLEN! I killed Paul Allen with an axe! In the face! His body is dissolving in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen! I don't want to leave anything out here — I guess I've killed maybe… 20 people… maybe 40! Uh- huh huh-I have uh… tapes of a lot of it. Some of the girls have seen the tapes — I even… I ate some of their brains and I tried to cook a little. Tonight, I uh- just had to kill a lot of people! And I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it… this time. I mean… I mean I guess I'm a pretty sick guy. So, if you get back tomorrow, I may show up at Harry's Bar. So, you know, keep your eyes OPEN. Okay, bye.

There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone; in fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis. My punishment continues to elude me, and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing.

I have all the characteristics of a human being: flesh, blood, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why. My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.

I have to return some videotapes.

I like to dissect girls. Did you know I'm utterly insane?

Look at that subtle off-white coloring; the tasteful thickness of it… Oh my God, it even has a watermark.

You're a fucking ugly bitch. I want to stab you to death and play around with your blood.

There is a moment of sheer panic when I realize that Paul's apartment overlooks the park… and is obviously more expensive than mine.

I'm on the verge of tears by the time we arrive at Espace, since I'm positive we won't have a decent table, but we do. The relief washes over me in an awesome wave.

New card. What do you think?