The movie, I mean… Not the guy: that’d be crazy. Anyway, I’m not going to talk about that, you’re not interested in my ‘review’.
What I will talk about however, is the three guys sat behind Becky and I. It’s weird, I’m pretty much a robot; with all my disassociation and PTSD, I pretty much don’t feel any emotion… Except for one.
My capacity to be disgusted by another person is literally limitless. These three kids behind me were talking, and rustling; not enough to annoy anyone, and not really during the film, but during the trailers beforehand, and during the reel-change intermission, they were just saying things. I don’t know why, maybe it was their accents, their obnoxious arrogance in thinking that people nearby care what they think, or perhaps just the banal way the commented on what they thought of the film, and the choice of cast, and how tough they thought Bane was, but my skin was fucking crawling. I was visibly clenching and wringing my hands, so much so that Becky had to grab my arms and hold them down.
My ability to be repulsed by people who, in all fairness, only partially deserve it, is the strongest passion I’m capable of psychologically interpreting.
I’m not really sure what happened in the movie, because I was too consumed with mental images of turning around and snapping their irritating, mosquito necks.
It was good though.
The film, I mean… Not the images of me killing a bunch of teenage assholes.
Well, that too; if I’m being honest.