I live in the American Gardens building on West 81st Street, on the 11th floor.
My name is Patrick Bateman.

I'm 27 years old.
I believe in taking care of myself, in a balanced diet, in a rigorous exercise routine.

In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I'll put on an icepack while doing my stomach crunches.
I can do a thousand now.

After I remove the icepack, I use a deep-pore cleanser lotion.
In the shower, I use a water-activated gel cleanser.

Then a honey-almond body scrub.
And on the face, an exfoliating gel-scrub.

Then I apply an herb mint facial masque,
which I leave on for ten minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine.

I always use an aftershave lotion with little or no alcohol,
because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older.

Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm, followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion.
There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman.

Some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me.
Only an entity-- something illusory.

And though I can hide my cold gaze...
and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours...
and maybe you can even sense our life styles are probably comparable,

I simply am not there.


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