Fight club. I don’t remember reading it but I must have, why would I have read every other book of Chucks except fight club? I certainly saw the movie. And I’m seeing it again, right now. I keep mentioning the used video store I found, I might even have mentioned how special it is to me that it exists, even if everything in it is crap. Everything in it might be crap. Even if I haven’t bought a disc I haven’t seen before. I haven’t bought a disc I haven’t seen before.
The beginning of the movie is very plausible. I don’t want to write any spoilers on the off chance someone in the world has never seen or read it. I find it difficult to believe that someone hasn’t read it but is reading this entry. That’s a fucked up concept and hard to wrap my head around. So I’ll try hard not to do any spoilers.
All the shit about being bored with consumerism rang true. But, mostly, it’s the simple event that starts everything (assuming the guy writing about it is trying not to write a spoiler). They are outside a bar and the one talks the other into hitting him because he’d never been in a fight before. It’s awkward and harsh and they are both bad at it. That rings very true.
I’ve probably said this a million times; as kids we used to hang off the protruding railroad ties of this one train trestle while the train rumbled overhead. Um, I might have mentioned that the we I’m directly referring to were also on acid at the time. We certainly weren’t the first or the last, a lot of people wound up there without knowing other people had, would, will. Some people probably were under the impression that I started all that because I introduced them to it.
There was no club and except for a bit of ribbing nobody got their chops busted for not doing it, in fact sometimes certain people were talked out of it. But, at least for me, it was like that scene in the parking lot of the bar; spontaneous, reckless, potentially dangerous. The rest of fight club sucks spontaneity from the equation, the rest of the plot of my life, to date, has very little hanging from trestles in it, sober or otherwise. It didn’t take an intervention or some traumatic event to my person or that I witnessed. 1) I had done it to excess and 2) where I moved to next the trestles were a hell of a lot higher. I mean, shit, you could get really hurt doing that.
Ok. I know what happens next, but I have to finish watching the movie. It’s hotter than shit outside. Hmmm, no, it’s as hot as shit, it’s much more humid. If your shit were as humid as outside my window I’d strongly suggest you see a doctor about that. You probably don’t need to hydrate as much.
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