If you are in my group of friends, you already celebrate the movie American Psycho. The movie is a very hilarious, and ominous satire about an 80's Wall Street Yuppie, who is just trying to 'fit in.' I was introduced to the movie, which stars Christian Bale as Patrick Bateman, and was immediately hooked. The catchy lines in it are somewhat offensive, and in the overall scheme of things, is really not a movie for everyone. I think that it takes a certain personality, a certain sense of humor to even understand the film.
After being somewhat obsessed with, now one of my favorite movies of all time, I decided after learning the majority of the lines and working on my best impression of Patrick Bateman, and even leaving dinner reservations under names like Clint Huxtable, and Marcus Halberstram, that I would read the book. I started and finished the book when I was still just growing hair on my chin, and couldn't get any on my chest. Generally books that are made into movies, the correlation between the two, is usually not recognizable, and the intent of the author and the screenplay writer are very different. Having seen the movie first, and then reading the book, by the wonderful Bret Easton Ellis, I was neither disappointed with the somewhat long reading, nor was I disappointed at the job that was done of the movie. Parts of the book were disgusting, and evening sickening or morose, but the entire book was so well written that even the most gut curdling parts were somewhat of a pleasure to read. Sick, I know.
I had almost forgotten how great and ingenious a writer like Ellis was, and when my sister offered up an Amazon purchase on her, I was stumped at what to read, and so asked for another book by Bret, that also had been made into a movie, which I only caught about the last 25 minutes of when my roommate, at the time, Charlie was watching it. It looked interesting, and I didn't fully understand it, but it had the cute guy from Dawson's Creek, as well as the lovely Jessica Biel, and quite possibly even lovelier Rosario Dawson, who the creek was not named after, but definitely could've been without any opposition.
The movie, which I caught just enough to now ruin my image of every character within the book, is called Rules of Attraction, and much like American Psycho, the screenwriter didn't find any reason to change the name of the movie from the book. I received the book, as somewhat of a surprise, because I had forgotten what book my sister was sending me, and even more of a surprise when I was told I had a package here waiting for me at our secluded base. I immediately picked up this book with a soft cover, and flipped quickly through the book that wasn't going to give any encyclopedia competition in girth, and yet still wouldn't even out one side of your coffee table if you needed it too. I read the first, um, chapter isn't the right word, but I'll use it anyways. The book really doesn't have a good place to stop. There are no chapters, just a name in all Capitals after a break in the page of maybe three enters, and then their little sliver of the story.
I'm halfway through the book on the first day that I've started to read it. The setting is again in the mid 80's and the main character, or at least I think the main character, is named Sean Bateman, and through certain clues, very few and far between, not to mention some clues in the already read American Psycho, it's not hard to surmise that Sean is Patrick Bateman's brother. The book however is not a perspective from a single narrators point of view like Ellis wrote in American Psycho, but in many different perspectives of these college individuals at Camden University, (in New Hampshire) and it's plot has been winding itself into a seemingly deeper and deeper love triangle, or octagon if you will.
Parts of the book, so far as I am only halfway through, have been as squeamish to me to read as parts in American Psycho, but the entire idea of different perspectives is so intriguing, and so intertwined that I haven't been able to put the book down since picking it up. Ellis has a real, realistic way of telling stories through every ones eyes. It's almost to real in some points. Everything that one person sees and perceives and says, is perceived entirely differently and said entirely differently by the next person, which is generally perceived based on the individuals own motives, and really brings to light the whole, hear what you want to hear point.
Though I am not complete with the book, based on my ideas already about Bret, I would suggest to anyone reading this, just to give it a try. It's very entertaining, and I know he has some kind of morale or ethical point, that will probably soon be revealed to me. Ellis' ideas are so fresh and new, and I'm not sure I've read any other writer that has the cockiness to start a book off with in the middle of a horribly well written sentence and, and... Also who throws in perspective from a french roommate of the main character, all in French? I'm sure there was something quizzical in what he was saying, but I don't speak, or read for that matter, that filthy pig latin.
When I'm done with this one, I will try and comment further.
Reading like I have a satyriasis for books
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Dance of The Dead
July has been a very strange month here in Iraq. Quite possibly the strangest that the US and coalition forces have ever encountered. Movement and the well being of troops has been put to a stand still. The papers had announced that nearly all American troops are out of the major cities, and especially Baghdad. The Security Agreement that one of our Generals and Iraqi Government agreed on, was such action. Allowing the US to leave just enough troops within the city as advisers and as a quick reactionary force that could help the National and Iraqi Police out in the case of catastrophe. The other reserve troops would push outside of the cities and still stand by in case of even more chaos.
Other parts of the security agreement outlined that no combat troops were to remain within the cities, and any movement from coalition forces is to be conducted in non peak hours. The same such hours that you would only find yourself on grave shift. And yet another part of the agreement was to allow Iraqi law to govern over our own US military laws. They really have us by the balls at this point.
The morning that VI Day happened, (Victory in Iraq) I found myself downstairs with decorated Iraqi trucks and National Police dancing around. These individuals who we had been conducting joint patrols with over the last few months, had thought that we had left, or were leaving. They were a little bit disappointed. From an on the ground perspective, we figured, based on the viewing of the individuals we were working alongside; the National Police were in no way ready to assume control of this town. They seemed, unorganized, unmotivated, and in a huge part lazy. I mean these are people who don't even know where to dump their own trash and sewage. We weren't expecting a lot out of them.
We haven't done a lot of patrols since July 1st. Well he have barely done any. Two times, we have left our base since that day, which considering the 6 and a half months never having a day off, it seemed things were a wonderful shock. To be able to sleep in through the day, and not do really anything. Although the two times we did go out, twice, those brief missions that we ran, the slight glimpse of change that two weeks with no Americans sticking our nose in these peoples business, was simply unbelievable. The Iraqi's have not only beefed up the amount that they run patrols, but they have beefed up over all security. Checkpoints every 100 meters, and like some Roman legion, they have individuals standing every 10 feet as some kind of sentry. Simply amazing that the National Police have responded like this.
The National Police commanders are begging for us to leave. They feel insulted that we are here over looking their job. Those brief few glimpses of change that I saw in these last two weeks, has made one thing evidently clear. We do not need to be here. Not only are things so bad among morale, because cabin fever has most definitely set in, but we are restricted so much in movement now, that it makes it nearly impossible to resupply. One of our missions was to go and pick up mail from a larger base, that's still within the city, because we hadn't gotten any for three weeks. On top of that, the toiletries of most individuals were nearly out.
We can't blame everything necessarily on failure of the military to move out of the cities though. Places like FOB Loyalty, the nearest, big base to us, has failed to shut down due to the civilian contractors that are there. Because companies like KBR have signed contracts to stay at those bases until 2011, they are in disputes with out government trying to get just pay for the time that they were promised, and is now getting taken away from them. It's one big gaggle.
So where does all of this leave the boys of AT-4? the new Misfits? It leaves us bored. Extremely bored, fed up, and with a complete since of unimportance. We will go to whatever ends necessary to find something to entertain ourselves despite all of this. Our emotions run high, and we are mostly all of us are Alpha Males, which turns into us not getting along half the time. But since we have been around each other long enough, it's more or less like a brother-brother relationship than any real animosity towards each other.
But to really understand the Infantryman's mentality, I'm not even sure a scholar who hasn't been in the shoes could understand or explain. The aggression, and anxiety we have built up with the lack of ability to release it, leaves us in the dark in a lot of areas. The only thing that we've been able to do, is fight one another. Of course we are careful, and landing a few punches into each others face is quite exhilarating and fun. The Infantryman is a man that enjoys when the blood rushes hot up the back of your neck. Whenever there is a close call. We are somewhat of adrenaline junkies. We all jump out of airplanes at least. The only way I can really sum it up, is based on our sense of humor. As Danny would say, "I hope an EFP blows my head off, and is angled in such a way, that my teeth blow into Nelson's balls and bite them off." If you don't see the humor in that, well then you're probably not an Infantryman. And if you do, well then you understand our plight.
I'm Marty McDoogal, Signing Off
Other parts of the security agreement outlined that no combat troops were to remain within the cities, and any movement from coalition forces is to be conducted in non peak hours. The same such hours that you would only find yourself on grave shift. And yet another part of the agreement was to allow Iraqi law to govern over our own US military laws. They really have us by the balls at this point.
The morning that VI Day happened, (Victory in Iraq) I found myself downstairs with decorated Iraqi trucks and National Police dancing around. These individuals who we had been conducting joint patrols with over the last few months, had thought that we had left, or were leaving. They were a little bit disappointed. From an on the ground perspective, we figured, based on the viewing of the individuals we were working alongside; the National Police were in no way ready to assume control of this town. They seemed, unorganized, unmotivated, and in a huge part lazy. I mean these are people who don't even know where to dump their own trash and sewage. We weren't expecting a lot out of them.
We haven't done a lot of patrols since July 1st. Well he have barely done any. Two times, we have left our base since that day, which considering the 6 and a half months never having a day off, it seemed things were a wonderful shock. To be able to sleep in through the day, and not do really anything. Although the two times we did go out, twice, those brief missions that we ran, the slight glimpse of change that two weeks with no Americans sticking our nose in these peoples business, was simply unbelievable. The Iraqi's have not only beefed up the amount that they run patrols, but they have beefed up over all security. Checkpoints every 100 meters, and like some Roman legion, they have individuals standing every 10 feet as some kind of sentry. Simply amazing that the National Police have responded like this.
The National Police commanders are begging for us to leave. They feel insulted that we are here over looking their job. Those brief few glimpses of change that I saw in these last two weeks, has made one thing evidently clear. We do not need to be here. Not only are things so bad among morale, because cabin fever has most definitely set in, but we are restricted so much in movement now, that it makes it nearly impossible to resupply. One of our missions was to go and pick up mail from a larger base, that's still within the city, because we hadn't gotten any for three weeks. On top of that, the toiletries of most individuals were nearly out.
We can't blame everything necessarily on failure of the military to move out of the cities though. Places like FOB Loyalty, the nearest, big base to us, has failed to shut down due to the civilian contractors that are there. Because companies like KBR have signed contracts to stay at those bases until 2011, they are in disputes with out government trying to get just pay for the time that they were promised, and is now getting taken away from them. It's one big gaggle.
So where does all of this leave the boys of AT-4? the new Misfits? It leaves us bored. Extremely bored, fed up, and with a complete since of unimportance. We will go to whatever ends necessary to find something to entertain ourselves despite all of this. Our emotions run high, and we are mostly all of us are Alpha Males, which turns into us not getting along half the time. But since we have been around each other long enough, it's more or less like a brother-brother relationship than any real animosity towards each other.
But to really understand the Infantryman's mentality, I'm not even sure a scholar who hasn't been in the shoes could understand or explain. The aggression, and anxiety we have built up with the lack of ability to release it, leaves us in the dark in a lot of areas. The only thing that we've been able to do, is fight one another. Of course we are careful, and landing a few punches into each others face is quite exhilarating and fun. The Infantryman is a man that enjoys when the blood rushes hot up the back of your neck. Whenever there is a close call. We are somewhat of adrenaline junkies. We all jump out of airplanes at least. The only way I can really sum it up, is based on our sense of humor. As Danny would say, "I hope an EFP blows my head off, and is angled in such a way, that my teeth blow into Nelson's balls and bite them off." If you don't see the humor in that, well then you're probably not an Infantryman. And if you do, well then you understand our plight.
I'm Marty McDoogal, Signing Off
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Bored Days in Kamaliyah; Introduction: New Writer
I've allowed a new writer, who refuses to be identified, but goes by the surname Auvandril Broadsword, to give his creative genius a try on my blog post. I'm sure he hasn't quite completed high school, or even grammar school for that matter, so please do not be too harsh on his work. Enjoy. -Benson J Wright
Kamaliyah, some would argue that it's arabic root meaning is Flawless, others would argue that, that meaning is a lot deeper. Deeper in the since that it means Stronghold of Whores. Whatever the meaning actually is, I'm sure only philosophers of philanthropists or psychiatrists know. What it really means to us, is hell. Hell on earth.
It's not that the hot 'blonde' which we look at from just over a 2 iron away isn't a happy spot in our most boring guard shifts, or the fact that we patrol with lunatics who are just as bad as any of the criminals we go after. None of those things help or hurt our situation here. It's the constant attack of badgers and other small furry rodents, or in our case large ones that keep us awake at night. They test the perimeter of your fighting position without rest or fail. It's these bastards which scurry around that have the power to give you night terrors.
Occasionally, you find yourself dozing off while protecting the indigenous forces of the base, and you're near a perfect, peaceful slumber, when they attack. They are ballsy sons of bitches. Not even the Duke himself, or Chuck Norris could stand toe to toe with the courage that these shiesty little bastards have. Not only are the brave, but they are sneaky too. They take the bait right off of the over sized, undersized, and right sized traps that we lay for them. I once even wasted three magazines of ammunition and 2 grenades trying to kill one. Relentless these real enemies of AT 4 are.
You set down your beef jerky, or soft drink, and though you don't hear a sound, or even hear the distracting sound of one crawling above your head, playing his rap music and break dancing, the second you reach into your bag, you feel nothing. They've already gotten to it. Some elaborate mission impossible rats bastards. You go to take a sip of your sweet nectar of Mountain Dew, and behold, a surprise super ninja rat leaps at your face! The flamethrower and C4 is barely enough to get the S O B to let go of your face.
Some are worried about Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Devices. Some are scared that a rocket or mortar will hit them where they lay. Or a radical Muslim terrorist will run at them with a suicide vest, or possibly blasting an AK-47 or RPG. I'm not worried. That would be a blessing. A freedom away from the rat creatures that lurk on the fourth floor. I mean, they've even started to issue diapers for force pro up there, that's scary shit. I knew a guy who went face to face with one of these over sized muroidea. Before he took a vow of silence to work in a monastery, I think the same one Jet Li studied at, he told me when the reddish eyes rose from ground level to eye level with him, he knew his Scottish Claymore and Battle Axe were mere toys for this beast to bat away with its giant claws, and talons. Yes, these rats even have talons. Super hip and fly rats with talons and ninja type abilities. If you plan on coming to Iraq, hope you only run into terrorists, America.
-Auvandril Broadsword
Kamaliyah, some would argue that it's arabic root meaning is Flawless, others would argue that, that meaning is a lot deeper. Deeper in the since that it means Stronghold of Whores. Whatever the meaning actually is, I'm sure only philosophers of philanthropists or psychiatrists know. What it really means to us, is hell. Hell on earth.
It's not that the hot 'blonde' which we look at from just over a 2 iron away isn't a happy spot in our most boring guard shifts, or the fact that we patrol with lunatics who are just as bad as any of the criminals we go after. None of those things help or hurt our situation here. It's the constant attack of badgers and other small furry rodents, or in our case large ones that keep us awake at night. They test the perimeter of your fighting position without rest or fail. It's these bastards which scurry around that have the power to give you night terrors.
Occasionally, you find yourself dozing off while protecting the indigenous forces of the base, and you're near a perfect, peaceful slumber, when they attack. They are ballsy sons of bitches. Not even the Duke himself, or Chuck Norris could stand toe to toe with the courage that these shiesty little bastards have. Not only are the brave, but they are sneaky too. They take the bait right off of the over sized, undersized, and right sized traps that we lay for them. I once even wasted three magazines of ammunition and 2 grenades trying to kill one. Relentless these real enemies of AT 4 are.
You set down your beef jerky, or soft drink, and though you don't hear a sound, or even hear the distracting sound of one crawling above your head, playing his rap music and break dancing, the second you reach into your bag, you feel nothing. They've already gotten to it. Some elaborate mission impossible rats bastards. You go to take a sip of your sweet nectar of Mountain Dew, and behold, a surprise super ninja rat leaps at your face! The flamethrower and C4 is barely enough to get the S O B to let go of your face.
Some are worried about Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Devices. Some are scared that a rocket or mortar will hit them where they lay. Or a radical Muslim terrorist will run at them with a suicide vest, or possibly blasting an AK-47 or RPG. I'm not worried. That would be a blessing. A freedom away from the rat creatures that lurk on the fourth floor. I mean, they've even started to issue diapers for force pro up there, that's scary shit. I knew a guy who went face to face with one of these over sized muroidea. Before he took a vow of silence to work in a monastery, I think the same one Jet Li studied at, he told me when the reddish eyes rose from ground level to eye level with him, he knew his Scottish Claymore and Battle Axe were mere toys for this beast to bat away with its giant claws, and talons. Yes, these rats even have talons. Super hip and fly rats with talons and ninja type abilities. If you plan on coming to Iraq, hope you only run into terrorists, America.
-Auvandril Broadsword
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