The Rules of Bret Easton Ellis's Attraction

Morning gorgeous. Cereal Man here. Waking up to a delightful morning where the future of the day holds plenty of sun and plenty of booze.
But skip back to approximately fifteen hours ago, and I was under the cold, sarcastic glow of Bret Easton Ellis. A master of storytelling who through his character's narration exposes the darkness and corruption of the Ronald Regan Era. The era of: "Greed is Good." And whose books have been transformed into mediocre Roger Avery snuff films which the Y generation have seemed to harshly tit suck as some of their favorite movies. American Psycho anyone?
JUMP 2: Powell's books. Arriving on my lonesome, two and a half hours before book signage, and riding on the wings of an extra $2.80 I got from Buffalo Exchange; After trying to sell a closet full of clothes, in which they only took one hanger. I recombobulated at the Gold Room coffee shop with a chai and my library copy of the oral history on The Simpson's. At six, always believing to be 90 mins early rather then 30 mins, I marched up to the Pearl Room.
I took a seat directly on the right side of the room. This was so that when it came time to sign books, all I had to do was get up, jump over, and I would immediately be one of the first in line. Boredom set in, and eventually aggression when some gay (clearly over homified man) sat right next to me. His exact words were, "I'm going to sit next to you. Someone has to, might as well be me." Aside from the abundance of hidden messages in that statement I was not about to let some hair product with latex allergies take charge with me and the empty seats. I eventually digressed however. When we got to talking, rather politely, about tattoos and the amazing Golden Girls shirt he wore. He tried to sass me a couple of times, but I didn't hug him or flirt with him, so as not to feel pathetically rejected. Even though I would rather walk through hell wearing a gasoline G-string than sleep with that fag.
And speaking of unforgivable rainbow fucks, who should make his way into the reading but good ole, I'm going to stop calling you once we finally have sex, GALEN. I don't think he saw me, and lucky for me he sat in the far back left, and when it came time for book signing must have been in the far back of the line. Bloggers, little boys like that, do not deserve to have their balls.
And finally, what was the last showcase in a circus of asshole freaks, was the green striped tea drinking bitch from Tiny's. (See May blog) I took delight in the fact that she had to stand. ha ha.
Finally Bret arrived. He read briefly from Imperial Bedrooms, which was nice since he understood that anyone remotely famous should really just do Q&A's and book signings. During the Q&A he came off as sarcastic, yet cold. I was almost afraid to ask my question of, Why does bisexuality seem to be a reoccurring trait throughout some of his characters. And while he at first responded with what I guess is his registered trademark of cold sarcasm, he gave a real, satisfactory answer. Involving closeted bisexuality in the 1980s media, and a fan who thanked him for coming to grips with his bisexuality.
I journeyed to Powell's as someone who has read only two Bret Easton Ellis books. The Rules of Attraction and Less than Zero. I barely remember Less Than Zero, because I barely got through it. It was written in that blah blah blah style. Which some authors, (new and upcoming especially) try to experiment with. Perhaps to be fresh, hip, new, original. When all their being is pretentious, confusing, and all around bombastic. You may say what reason did I have to be there as a minimal Bret Easton Ellis fan. Well, believe it or not hipster executioners, one book can make a huge difference. Which brings us to Rules of Attraction.
I had read it once before, before I realized that it was one of the most important books (in my life) that I had read. I didn't really like it that much. I found some of the character narratives to be interesting, in that stylish way of Generation X pre nineties alternative R.E.M. way. But others were just melodramatic and boring. It wasn't until Late fall of 2008. When an experience I had with a man had left me so cut open, angry, and hateful. Probably hateful enough to kill if I was, say, an AMERICAN Psycho. that I inadvertently picked up the book again and started re reading. Be it that I grew up more in between the seven month period between reads, or that the evils of man gave a clearer, darker, masochistic eye. But the book finally made sense. It said to me that love is hopeless because it is never mutual. While this message may be negative dear bloggers, it didn't stop me from feeling somewhat better about my situation. It was an outlet that didn't fix the problem, but exposed it in a way that was masochistically satisfying.
And THAT, is why I travelled far and wide to meet MR. Ellis. I got to share my story with him, which is always something I always try to do when I'm meeting someone I've admired. To me there is always a deep intimate satisfaction when you share with an artist the one moment that made you fall in love with their work. And though he may come off as intimidating during the Q&A, please note, he is quite nice, almost lovable, during the book signing.
To Christopher, best wishes, Bret Easton Ellis.