When I look at the photos of the hospital, they looked like dark and depleting times. The early nineties. Bombs were going off. The middle class still existed. I don't know. My parents were strange. I always felt an outcast.
I could go on forever about what upset me most and why. What I haven't talked about a lot is the violent images of revenge. Too petrified to release my own evil. In response to what I was given...
For example, the bully who kicked my ball away. The dinner lady saw it and he changed his tune and offered to buy a new one. I refused. He never liked me. And he told me. And I tried to avoid. And people please. I guess it was better than not liking me and not telling me. I always respected someone who punched me in the face more.
But looking back. I see the horrific reality for what it was. And if I could do it all over again, I'd like to not fear death. I'd like to stamp my authority. I'd get visions of beating them up.
Anyway, more concerned with the really violent visions of retaliation against emasculation. Female narcissism in position of authority protected by media and institution. What happens when it fucks with the wrong person. Why am I even selling it this way.
I'm beating around the bush. The plot is based on a real story of a suppressed beta-male. The part that isn't real is his retaliation. It is graphic and violent and horrific. The revenge is portrayed in a way that is justified.
The isolated incidents can never be seen that way. So it is important to show the crimes before that in more detail. Then again, if they don't get it, fuck them.
