I’ve already more or less shared my Bad Boyfriend Theory of Freelancing…but since some time has passed, it may be worth revisiting (…at least briefly)…

Let’s say for the sake of argument that I got a call a few weeks back from a publication I’ve been working with for several months…and it is allegedly looking to hire a full-time writer. Let’s also say I’ve been freelancing in the interim — and getting paid to do so — so it’s a fairly okay arrangement…but, for one reason or another, the actual hire keeps getting put off. And then — when I get a call out of the blue, asking if I can fill in on some breaking news — it hits me: This publication is a Bad Boyfriend. The people there know they can call me with very little notice and I will drop everything I’m doing because I’m looking for something serious and long-term…and they will continue to lead me to believe an actual relationship is possible…but, in reality, they’re perfectly content with the arrangement we have because they’re getting *exactly* what they want with very little commitment and they have no intention of ever making things official. And, I mean, it’s not like the analogy carries far enough that I can actually break up with them…because Lord knows I need all the sources of income I can get…but this realization *did* at least help to temper my expectations…and then it got me thinking about the other Bad Boyfriends in my life.

(Warning: This is where it gets *really* self-indulgent.)

I’ve had a lot of Bad Boyfriends in my day. Or, rather, not even full-fledged boyfriends — just men who are content to exist on the fringes of my life…and who never have any intention of taking on a more meaningful role. And it’s my fault — I’m not a helpless victim. (In fact, I’m an enabler…) Time after time, I could have saved myself SO MUCH heartbreak by directly addressing their unwillingness to be a constant presence from the very beginning…but I get so easily attached and then I have this crazy fear of losing them and all of a sudden I’m willing to sacrifice my own happiness in these crazy over-the-top attempts to convince my so-called Mr. Wonderful that he really wants to be a part of my life. And he never does! It never works! And I have literally wasted YEARS — That’s right! Years! — trying to force these men into my life when they really don’t want to be there in the first place. And I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately…and I don’t know why I’ve done it over and over again.

(So…maybe the buck stops here? [Not my only (quasi-)presidential quote. Just wait and see.])

I guess it was the impending birthday, but I’ve had a lot of epiphanies in the past week or so. This is #1: I’m going to try to be happy with me. Just me. And I’m going to be happy with me before I ever again consider being happy with anybody else. (When I am upset about someone, I have a friend who says, “Protect the heart!” And she’s right! For too long I’ve tried to give the ol’ ticker away to people who don’t really want it. So…I’m going to try holding on to it for awhile now…and to be really, really cautious about who gets it next time.)

When K was here, I was joking that instead of constantly referring to myself as “Lisa Lacy: Tragic Spinster,” I was going to try “Lisa Lacy: Lone Wolf” on for size…even going as far as saying I’d get “LONE WOLF” tattooed on my knuckles (or at least try it out in pen). (I’m not sure if I’m, you know, Tuff Enuff to pull it off. It *would* be kind of fun to see looks on faces if I could find a pen that was realistic enough…but only if I could keep a straight face…like, “Yes, I *do* have tattooed knuckles. What of it?” Sort of like the horrifying sequined top I found at a shop in Cedarburg, Wisconsin once that said, “Dear Santa, I want it all!” Oh, how I wished I could wear it to work and act nonchalant…like, “YES. I am wearing this ON PURPOSE.”)

Because, despite my best efforts to find a special someone, I always end up alone…and I’m always fine. But it always requires this, like, brute force for me to let go of someone…even when that person is a bona fide jerkface. I got really choked up in Sunshine Cleaning in the scene in which Amy Adams tells the guy who has sort of been in her life but sort of not that she can’t do it anymore because he’ll never be a legitimate presence and she genuinely cares about him and she deserves someone who feels the same way…because I know how hard that is to do — I’ve never actually *been* strong enough to let go of someone like that of my own volition. I always wait for the moment when I get hit over the head with a mallet — like, say, that roommate he’s been talking about? *Actually* his girlfriend… — and then I have no choice but to move on.

I just had to go to a wedding by myself…and I felt like such a loser because I was there without a date. And I never have dates to events like that. I always feel like I’m Lisa Who Puts on a Brave Face and Goes Alone. And, in theory, that shouldn’t even be an issue — I should just be Lisa and that should be fine. And here’s where the first of many embarrassing quotes comes in…(I should probably remind you that flying scares me [although not so much lately because I’ve done so much of it] and so my deal with myself is that I can buy trashy celebrity magazines to read on the plane)…and I was reading an US Weekly that quoted Sandra Bullock saying, “I complete me. I’m just lucky that after I completed myself, I met someone who could tolerate me.”

And say what you will about her acting skills or whatever, but I think she hits the nail on the head there. That’s it. *I* should be enough. Whatever comes next is just gravy.

And yet when I think about myself and my life, I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt that way.

And so I guess that’s what New Lisa is focusing on. I’m not sure how you end up with Sandra Bullock Clarity, but perhaps that’s what we’ll call Goal #1.

In the meantime…when my parents first moved to Alaska, I got a call from my mother after they’d purchased snow machines (they call ‘em “mobiles” down here) and snow shoes and the like, saying, “We’re spending money like drunken sailors!” And the same has sort of been true of me lately. I got a haircut…and (overshare) some fancy drawers and some (sorely needed) new bedding. And now not only is my bed super-comfy, but I feel like I’ve exorcised some bad juju.

I had a small lapse last weekend that sort of sent me spiraling and worrying that all of this is horse pucky because I’ve been telling everyone who will listen about my mission to be happy with me…but then I saw the Bartender, who — as if it wasn’t painfully clear before — REALLY doesn’t want to be with me…and I ended up sobbing so loudly trying to get in my front door that one of my neighbors came downstairs to rescue me because he thought I was in mortal danger. But I guess when you’re trying to make positive life changes, you’re allowed to stumble a few steps back every now and again? The whole point is that you ultimately move forward?

Because this is where the second of my embarrassing quotes comes in. When I was getting my hair cut, I was flipping through an old People Magazine and saw a blurb about Jennifer Aniston…which was actually about a spread in *another* magazine in which she “embraced her Lonely Girl image.” But…what really got me was that she said, “[I'm fully supportive of] anybody who is in a place that’s not their strongest [but] is ready to push forward.”

It was like Jennifer was talking directly to me! Because…the past couple of months have been rough. Between the job market and the Bartender, I’ve been struggling…and any sort of strong woman-y thing has really resonated with me. I saw Whitney Houston on Oprah and got all emotional when she sang, “I Didn’t Know My Own Strength.” That sort of kicked off this whole Whitney phase in which I revisited “Saving All My Love For You” from 1985 (which I don’t actually think sets forth a very good example with its “My friends try and tell me, find a man of my own / But each time I try, I just break down and cry / Cause I’d rather be home feeling blue…)…although she redeems herself a year later with “The Greatest Love of All” (as if I even need to say it – “Learning to love yourself / It is the greatest love of all…”). (I also joked about pulling a “Say Anything” move and standing in front of the Bartender’s bar with a stereo above my head playing, “Didn’t We Almost Have it All?” It would almost be worth it to see the look on his face. If, you know, last weekend hadn’t happened.)

And I sort of thought I had slipped back into the abyss after the latest incident, but I spent a day feeling sad and embarrassed and stupid…and, yes, I’m back to bowing my head in shame when I walk by that damn bar…but, for the most part, I have accepted that things are the way that they are for a reason (I saw a woman-y Web site with a link to Oprah.com and Steve Harvey’s 5 Questions to Ask a Man Before You Get Attached…and realized that, yes, if I had asked the Bartender Question #1, I would have saved myself a lot of trouble)…and now I’m trying to just focus on things that make me happy.

I don’t have my dream job, but I support myself with words…and that’s gotta be something, right? I have my own apartment in a great neighborhood…and I have a landlady who calls me “sweetie” and a neighbor who will come downstairs in the middle of the night in the rain to beat up someone who makes me cry. I have an incredible circle of girlfriends. (Maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t gotten married yet because I really don’t know how I’d ever choose bridesmaids…or, you know, I’d have them all up there with me and absolutely no one in the audience.) And I’m basically happy. I’ve done stuff. I’ve lived in England and Alaska. I’ve driven across the country with my mother in a giant trailer. And when I was really unhappy with my job and a career path that I felt led me nowhere I wanted to go, I quit and went to grad school to try to find something that would make me happier…and, no, it didn’t work out quite the way I expected…but, on the bright side, I’m not stuck in a job that I hate…and I *do* have a lot of freedom.

So…Epiphany #2 is to sort of embrace the freedom this lifestyle affords. I’ve spent a year shaking my fist at the universe, determined to force it to give me a job…and I’ve lost this battle of wills every time. So…instead of fighting it, I’m trying to just go with it and say, “Okay…I have a steady stream of income. And I can write this stuff anytime and anywhere…” and I’m going to try to use that freedom to travel more. I was thinking Bogota would be first for my friend’s dad’s birthday…but, in the end, I don’t think it’s logistically possible. But! My oldest childhood friend is finishing her Master’s in speech therapy soon…and so I think we’re going to Costa Rica in November. And then another friend’s family is renting an apartment in Madrid in January…so I can totally pop over there to stay with them and then get a train to London. (How about that?)

And…I’ve also used this I-don’t-have-a-full-time-job period to work on a book and have 70,000 words now. And it’s a giant mess and I really need to find an editor who can help me shape it in a coherent form…and I’ve been kind of reluctant to actually finish my proposal because it’s so scary that one document makes or breaks all the work you’ve done…but, you know, I also read Sloane Crosley and Augusten Burroughs and  David Sedaris and think, “I could totally write that.” And, heck, I may never get published…but…I’ve tried really, really hard to make it happen. And – don’t get me wrong – I’m not giving up. I’m incredibly stubborn. But – a little rally cry for myself here — I’m trying to acknowledge it’s kind of a big deal I’ve gotten this far. I wrote a damn book! It’s a mess! But it’s a *book.* (And I’m still not likely to show up at any Columbia Alumni events until I can definitively say, “Why, yes, Harper Collins *is* publishing my novel in the fall…,” but, nevertheless…at this point, I at least know that when I show up at the Pearly Gates I won’t have “But I never wrote a book!” on my conscience.)

One of my classmates just sent me an email quoting Theodore Roosevelt, actually (I told you there’d be another president)…and I think it does a good job of summing up my book feelings: “Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.”

So…Epiphany #3 is that my life is okay. But, more than that, is Epiphany #4: I’m okay.

I know, I know…I’m OK, You’re OK…it’s so fluffy…but…it’s something I’ve never really officially declared before. I’ve told the world I’m a boob countless times — and, let’s face it — I am…but…I am also nice. And I am good at remembering birthdays. And I can bake the hell out of things. And there are plenty of people out there who I love and who actually love me back and who, unlike the Bad Boyfriends, I don’t have to force to stick around…so why waste so much time with those who don’t want to be there? More baked goods for everybody else, right?

And, you know, when K was here, we happened to catch the Wizard of Oz on TV…which we have both seen at least 1000 times…but there was a line at the end that really caught my attention this time. I *believe* it’s when the Wizard gives the Tin Man his heart. He says, “A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.” And all I could think was, “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” I mean, seriously – shouldn’t it be about how much love you put out into the universe regardless of how much you get back? That’s the way I feel, anyway.

Or, on the Monday after Whip It’s release, there’s Drew Barrymore…who my mother saw on a talk show saying, “Happiness is a choice.” So…I guess my whole point (if anyone has actually stuck with me this long) is that I’m trying. I’m trying to be happy with me and my life and to just be more zen about things and to take them as they come and to not worry about my life not going according to plan…and once I get to a point where I don’t have to remind myself about what Sandra Bullock said in Us Weekly (or I don’t, you know, tell bartenders that I miss them and screw up a month’s worth of progress), then we’ll know I’m ready for a Good Boyfriend.

(Although – oops – I thought I had come up with a nice little ending…but if my ultimate goal is to just be happy with myself, the Good Boyfriend comment may be out of line. But, truth be told, it *would* be nice to meet someone eventually. Just after I’ve worked on myself a little bit more. But, by that point, let me tell you this: He’d better be one hell of a boyfriend.)

Hannibal Lecter é uma célebre personagem de ficção elaborada pelo escritor Thomas Harris, que surgiu pela primeira vez no livro Dragão Vermelho (1981). As aventuras de Hannibal continuaram, no entanto, em O Silêncio dos Inocentes (1988) e em Hannibal (1999).

Em Dezembro de 2006, sete anos após a publicação de Hannibal, Thomas Harris publica a que é, por agora, o seu último livro: Hannibal Rising (que foi traduzida para português por Hannibal – A Origem do Mal). Nesta obra o autor narra a infância e a juventude deste popular assassino, entre os seus 6 e 20 anos de idade.

Historia:
Nascido na Lituânia, o seu pai era conde e a sua mãe pertencia à alta burguesia italiana. Presumivelmente é descendente dos Sforza e dos Visconti: os Sforza eram uma família de governantes temida pelos seus atos cruéis e os Visconti eram uma importante família, da região de Milão, que possuía a alcunha de “Dragão Antropófago”, o que indica que as tendências canibalescas de Hannibal Lecter são uma herança de família.

Aos 6 anos de idade, Lecter passou por vários acontecimentos traumáticos de grande intensidade. Por essa época, a Lituânia sofria a devastação da Segunda Guerra Mundial, devido aos ataques alemães sobre a Rússia.

A família Lecter foi vítima das incursões alemãs pela Lituânia, tendo apenas sobrevivido Hannibal e Mischa (sua irmã) do confronto entre as tropas nazis e o exército russo. Segundo a novela de Thomas Harris, os irmãos tornaram-se cativos dos hiwis (lituanos traidores que ajudavam os nazis) após este episódio. Os hiwis, que se faziam passar por equipas da Cruz Vermelha, instalaram-se na casa de campo da família Lecter para se abrigar de um Inverno rigoroso e, ao ficarem sem alimentos, mataram Mischa e comeram-na (episódio traumático para Hannibal).

Entre 1970 e 1975, Hannibal Lecter adquire o título de Doutor em Psiquiatria no estado de Maryland, EUA.

Hannibal Lecter é Genial, frio, calculista, totalmente psicótico, extremamente culto e educado isso faz o personagem ainda mais interessante.

I’ve seen the movie Silence of the Lambs many times, and the movie Manhunter once, but haven’t previously read any work by Thomas Harris. Manhunter is based on Harris’s third novel Red Dragon which was more recently re-made into a film of the same name starring Ed Norton.

I’m now listening to the audiobook of Red Dragon and I’m pretty impressed with it. Harris’s style is simple, kind of terse and unornamented, more of a gritty detective story than a horror story in terms of feel, but there are these incredibly hard-hitting and awful scenes of horror interspersed throughout. The horror feels real, though, not supernatural or make-believe. I haven’t enjoyed a new fiction author discovery as much since Robert Charles Wilson a few years ago, and I look forward to reading Harris’s later books, though I’ve heard Hannibal is not quite as good and Hannibal Rising is fairly questionable. OK, let’s just say I’m looking forward to finishing this one up, and then reading Silence of the Lambs.

Just recently finished Queen of Angels by Greg Bear and found it a challenging, thought-provoking piece of science fiction, quite different in style from the other Greg Bear works I’ve read. Though definitely a science fiction story, this one feels more literary and sort of poetic than his other stuff, though maybe closest to Blood Music. An interesting story focusing on distortions of the mind, and questions of consciousness and soul, both human and artificial. I’ll probably want to pick this up again in a year or two and go through it once more, as it’s fairly thick with ideas.

Thomas Harris

“A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some  fava beans and a nice chianti” – Hannibal Lecter

The above-mentioned sentences are the world famous hair-raising confessions of the cannibalistic Hannibal Lecter, enlivened on the silver    screen by the Academy Award winner Anthony Hopkins. To be frank, it is  hard to come by a bloodcurdling novel like “The Silence of the Lambs”        with its cool style of storytelling that could leave you in utter amazement whether it was really a horror story you had just finished! That is where the real    success of this book as a best-selling novel lies in enthralling its audience, leaving behind us with a feeling of having drenched in cold water.   In my opinion this novel is incomparable and indubitably stands out among the run-of-the-mill horror fiction. The adept ability of the author Thomas Harris is indeed praiseworthy.

The plot of the story mainly revolves around Dr.Hannibal Lecter, the name  that sends a chill down the spine. He is portrayed as a psychopath, with extraordinary intelligence, secluded in a high security prison. The reader is first introduced to Clarisse Starling, an FBI agent who seeks advice from this sociopath on the whereabouts of a killer unrestrained whose modus     operandi is to leave his victims flayed. The rest of the novel is indeed    breath-taking and mesmerizing, at times petrifying, yet suspense-filled.

All in all, the book has been weaved into a smooth tale of tracking-the-murderer in a unique manner resulting in gluing our eyes to its pages throughout. No wonder “The Silence of the Lambs” has been caught on        reel to sweep off the Oscars in its time. Some horror novel this is!

It’s hard to know what to think of Red Dragon. While it’s an adaptation of a novel, it’s also a remake of Manhunter, whether the film wants to acknowledge it or not. It’s got Danny Elfman doing the score, so it’s scary (though he does seem rather influenced by early 1990s Morricone) and director Ratner works in the opposite direction of what Mann accomplished in Manhunter.

It also features Edward Norton’s worst performance. I watched it wondering what he used the money on and apparently he used it to finance 25th Hour, which makes sense. It’s a bunch of Academy Award winning or nominated actors turning in lousy performances. Ralph Fiennes is goofy as a serial killer, Emily Watson barely holds her accent, Philip Seymour Hoffman is atrocious–it’s the kind of movie where if Harvey Keitel were drinking through the whole thing, it’d be funny. Instead, he’s not and it’s not. It’s depressing.

I think the worst served has got to be Mary-Louise Parker, who’s so boring as Norton’s wife, her outfits have more personality. Anthony Hopkins is crappy, but in his unspectacular way he’s crappy. He’s top-billed on a conductor-less train wreck.

There should be something to recommend Red Dragon–it’s an immensely watchable (at least once) curiosity, just because it’s so lousy and such a drab remake of Manhunter. It’s supposedly more faithful to the source novel–no surprise, Mann made some significant improvements.

Norton looks about fifteen in it, wearing his dad’s suits.

CREDITS

Directed by Brett Ratner; screenplay by Ted Tally, based on the novel by Thomas Harris; director of photography, Dante Spinotti; edited by Mark Helfrich; music by Danny Elfman; production designer, Kristi Zea; produced by Dino De Laurentiis and Martha De Laurentiis; released by Universal Pictures.

Starring Anthony Hopkins (Dr. Hannibal Lecter), Edward Norton (Will Graham), Ralph Fiennes (Francis Dolarhyde), Harvey Keitel (Jack Crawford), Emily Watson (Reba McClane), Mary-Louise Parker (Molly Graham), Philip Seymour Hoffman (Freddy Lounds), Anthony Heald (Dr. Frederick Chilton), Ken Leung (Lloyd Bowman) and Frankie Faison (Barney Matthews).

The boys reconvene for a discussion of the sex and drugs marathon that is Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. They go on for a rant on the re-casting of Futurama voices, dive into the world of Roald Dahl and Wes Anderson and then have a think about movie lengths and what difference these make. They follow this with a talk about the third season of Dexter, the Blade Series and Russell Crowe in Master and Commander, before concluding with a talk about the very best book adaptations the movie world has to offer.

Download The Movie Overdose Episode 27

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by

Thomas Harris

“A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some  fava beans and a nice chianti” – Hannibal Lecter

The above-mentioned sentences are the world famous hair-raising confessions of the cannibalistic Hannibal Lecter, enlivened on the silver    screen by the Academy Award winner Anthony Hopkins. To be frank, it is  hard to come by a bloodcurdling novel like “The Silence of the Lambs”        with its cool style of storytelling that could leave you in utter amazement whether it was really a horror story you had just finished! That is where the real    success of this book as a best-selling novel lies in enthralling its audience, leaving behind us with a feeling of having drenched in cold water.   In my opinion this novel is incomparable and indubitably stands out among the run-of-the-mill horror fiction. The adept ability of the author Thomas Harris is indeed praiseworthy.

The plot of the story mainly revolves around Dr.Hannibal Lecter, the name  that sends a chill down the spine. He is portrayed as a psychopath, with extraordinary intelligence, secluded in a high security prison. The reader is first introduced to Clarisse Starling, an FBI agent who seeks advice from this sociopath on the whereabouts of a killer unrestrained whose modus     operandi is to leave his victims flayed. The rest of the novel is indeed    breath-taking and mesmerizing, at times petrifying, yet suspense-filled.

All in all, the book has been weaved into a smooth tale of tracking-the-murderer in a unique manner resulting in gluing our eyes to its pages throughout. No wonder “The Silence of the Lambs” has been caught on        reel to sweep off the Oscars in its time. Some horror novel this is!

Reviewed by

Salini Johnson,

Class: XI-A.

Thomas Harris

“Quiet simply a compelling and brilliant thriller” Daily Mirror.

Thomas Harris (born April 11, 1940) is an American author and screenwriter, best known for a series of suspense novels about his most famous character, Hannibal Lecter. All of his works have been made into films, the most notable being the multi-Oscar winning The Silence of the Lambs.

Harris was born in Jackson, Tennessee, but moved as a child with his family to Rich, Mississippi; he had a difficult childhood, and was regarded as a loner by many of his peers. He attended Baylor University in Waco, Texas, where he majored in English and graduated in 1964. While in college, he worked as reporter for the local newspaper, the Waco Tribune-Herald, covering the police beat. In 1968, he moved to New York City to work for the Associated Press.

Bibliography

• Black Sunday (1975)
• Red Dragon (1981)
• The Silence of the Lambs (1988)
• Hannibal (1999)
• Hannibal Rising (2006)

by

Thomas Harris

“A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some  fava beans and a nice chianti” – Hannibal Lecter

The above-mentioned sentences are the world famous hair-raising confessions of the cannibalistic Hannibal Lecter, enlivened on the silver    screen by the Academy Award winner Anthony Hopkins. To be frank, it is  hard to come by a bloodcurdling novel like “The Silence of the Lambs”        with its cool style of storytelling that could leave you in utter amazement whether it was really a horror story you had just finished! That is where the real    success of this book as a best-selling novel lies in enthralling its audience, leaving behind us with a feeling of having drenched in cold water.   In my opinion this novel is incomparable and indubitably stands out among the run-of-the-mill horror fiction. The adept ability of the author Thomas Harris is indeed praiseworthy.

The plot of the story mainly revolves around Dr.Hannibal Lecter, the name  that sends a chill down the spine. He is portrayed as a psychopath, with extraordinary intelligence, secluded in a high security prison. The reader is first introduced to Clarisse Starling, an FBI agent who seeks advice from this sociopath on the whereabouts of a killer unrestrained whose modus     operandi is to leave his victims flayed. The rest of the novel is indeed    breath-taking and mesmerizing, at times petrifying, yet suspense-filled.

All in all, the book has been weaved into a smooth tale of tracking-the-murderer in a unique manner resulting in gluing our eyes to its pages throughout. No wonder “The Silence of the Lambs” has been caught on        reel to sweep off the Oscars in its time. Some horror novel this is!

Reviewed by

Salini Johnson,

Class: XI-A.

Wenn Literatur einen Sinn haben soll, dachte ich gerade, die Magazinrundschau des “Perlentauchers” überfliegend, dann muss sie doch ein alternatives, besonderes Sprechen über etwas ermöglichen — also eine Methode darstellen, unser Leben, uns alle betreffende Dinge und uns allen gemeinsame Erfahrungen in einer Art und Weise darzustellen, die dem Journalismus nicht möglich ist. Beispielsweise die Empfindungen eines Serienkillers im Augenblick des Tötens. Das kann, das darf ein Journalist nicht schildern, es sei denn, er wäre selbst ein Massenmörder, aber dann ist die Frage, welche Publikation sich dazu hergibt, ihm den Auftrag für einen solchen Artikel zu erteilen. Wer will lesen, wie ein echter Massenmörder über seine Berufung denkt?

Der Schriftsteller hingegen darf, ja, er muss sich sogar in solche Gedankenwelten hineinfühlen. Das akzeptieren wir nicht nur — wir freuen uns darüber. Der Schriftsteller setzt sich also oben in den Baum und spioniert sein nächstes Opfer erst einmal sorgfältig aus. Wann bringt es den Müll raus? Wie sind die Sicherheitsvorkehrungen, die es abends trifft, vorm Zubettgehen? Wie ist es generell um seine Verteidigungsfähigkeit bestellt? Wie weit ist der Weg von der hinteren Tür bis zum Schlafzimmer?

Usw. usf.

Ich will damit andeuten, dass in jedem von uns so ein Serienmörder wohnt. In den allermeisten Fällen kommt er nicht zum Zuge, zum Glück, aber es ist meine feste Überzeugung, dass er da ist. Warum sollten wir uns sonst für seine Gewohnheiten interessieren? Ab und an, wenn im Fernsehen Michael Manns “Manhunter” läuft, hören wie, wir er tief in uns gluckst. Die Vorlage für “Manhunter” schrieb übrigens Thomas Harris mit dem Roman “Der Rote Drache”, der später noch einmal verfilmt wurde, mit Edward Norton und Ralph Fiennes in den Hauptrollen von Menschenjäger und Menschenjägerjäger.

In “Der Rote Drache” führte Harris eine Figur in die Weltkultur ein, um die herum — resp. deren Erfolg zu Ehren — später gleich zwei Sequels entstanden: “Hannibal” und “Hannibal Rising — Wie alles begann”. Hannibal Lecter sah keinen Widerspruch darin, Johann Sebastian Bachs “Goldberg-Variationen” zu hören und gleichzeitig einen Polizisten aufzuschlitzen. Obwohl das nicht unbedingt ein alltägliches Verhalten ist, neige ich doch zu der Ansicht, Literatur sei die Kunst, nichtalltäglich über ganz alltägliche Dinge zu sprechen und dadurch Freiheitsräume zu schaffen. (Insofern ist das alltägliche Sprechen über nichtalltägliche Dinge, wie es die popliterarischen Proktologinnen und die französischen Nazi-Schocker-Autoren praktizieren, ein nichtkünstlerischer Akt.)

Der Journalismus hingegen hat die Aufgabe, uns ein Gefühl von Gefangensein zu vermitteln. Warum das so ist, das weiß ich nicht — aber dass es so ist, daran kann ich kaum zweifeln. Dass wir Gefangene seien in dieser Welt, das ist die eigentliche Message jeder journalistischer Äußerung.