Read Patrick Bateman's lost emails from American Psycho film

'Youth is about two things: Optimism, and Moisture'

Viral marketing might seem a modern phenomenon, but it was alive as far back as the pre-social media days of 2000, as evidenced by these unhinged emails written from the point of view of Patrick Bateman for Mary Harron's American Psycho adaptation.

They weren't written by Bret Easton Ellis but apparently approved by him, and have the serial killer's trademark tone, talking at length about moisturising routines, the state of pop music, exclusive restaurants and the loathing he has for his colleagues.

It's impossible not to read them in Christian Bale's purposeful tone at any rate, for example this passage:

"My suits and evening wear, by such maestros of fashion as Cerrutti and Valentino, convey an aura of quiet superiority. My shoes, by Lobb and when appropriate, Gucci, are superior in both quality and fit. I can't allow my time to be intruded upon by the mundane aspects of tailoring. I have maintained both my weight and muscle tone in the exact same proportions for nearly two decades. Whatever I desire is sent to me by the vendors already familiar with my tastes, which tend to anticipate trends rather than follow them."

Brian Kotek has collected all of the emails on his website, the best of which are below:

Sun 3/19/00 6:40 PM

Subject: Prada

I have long ago given up worrying about man's ability to devise new ways in which to spend a disproportionately huge amount of money in order to show his fellow man that he has amassed huge piles of it. Forget cocaine. It's place in the luxury goods market has been usurped triumphantly by Prada. I applaud the brilliance of those minds behind this phenomenon. Where else can merchandise made primarily of nylon and leather be fought over by patrons wearing Diamonds and Sable? Prada. More than a brand; A mantra. A greeting. "Prada?" Soon to be right up there with Shalom, Ciao, and Aloha.

Virtually yours,

Patrick Bateman

bateman@AmPsycho2000.com

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Mon 3/20/00 3:40 PM

Subject: I Dress for Combat

In the Art of War, Sun Tzu states that intimidation is the only acceptable initial impression one can give his opponent.

In the wars that I choose to fight, I intimidate through an initial precise physical and sartorial impression that, stated simply says, "The first move is mine." There is an appropriate tailleur for every requirement.

My suits and evening wear, by such maestros of fashion as Cerrutti and Valentino, convey an aura of quiet superiority. My shoes, by Lobb and when appropriate, Gucci, are superior in both quality and fit. I can't allow my time to be intruded upon by the mundane aspects of tailoring. I have maintained both my weight and muscle tone in the exact same proportions for nearly two decades. Whatever I desire is sent to me by the vendors already familiar with my tastes, which tend to anticipate trends rather than follow them.

I have a great affinity for watches and complicated timepieces. I respect that beneath the simple beauty of their faces lie complex articulations of machinery that are at the same time both minute and grand.

When venturing out after hours, I wear concealing eyewear and rarely the same outfit twice.

I can be invisible when I choose to be.

Virtually yours,

Patrick Bateman

bateman@AmPsycho2000.com

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Wed 4/12/00 5:15 PM

Subject: Weather

Virtually yours,

Patrick Bateman

bateman@AmPsycho2000.com

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Tue 3/21/00 3:30 PM

Subject: Lunch with Jean

Lunch with Jean

One of the most notable changes in the ritualistic dining habits of jaded New Yorkers and other nationals who frequent the city's most prominent restaurants is the advent of the female Maitre' d.

This disruption in the natural order of things, of course, cannot be found in the stalwarts of the best city restaurants. Walter is still in charge at "21" and Benito maintains his guard at the palace that is "Le Cirque," but at many of the priciest and hardest to get into of the current group of temples to trend-dining, women seem to be in charge. Sarah guards the portals of "Nobu," Phoebe plays Noah to the ark that is "Pastis," and Amy runs "Lot 61" as if it were the Concorde lounge at Orly.

But of course, this is only an illusion, for when an unruly patron crosses the boundaries of acceptable behavior, or those told to wait for a table that is most likely never to become available realize that they have been played, it is a man, usually a pair, who dispatch those whose position has been demoted from unlikely patron to that of squatter.

It is at one of these "Vadiners" that Jean suggests we meet for lunch. As usual, she is late. So we have to rush through the usual how are you, you look fine, I'll have the fish, no butter, I feel fat today.

When what she really means is how much longer do you plan to keep me in this legal vice that is squeezing the desire to live right out of my body, and I really don't like using our child as a bargaining device but I have gotten quite used to an unlimited amount of money so please can't we agree on something and stop this torture?

Jean, dear, if that Jil Sander suit you had on didn't look a little snug, I'd offer to share the Creme Brulee.

Virtually yours,

Patrick Bateman

bateman@AmPsycho2000.com

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Mon 3/27/00 10:58 AM

Subject: Take Good Care of Yourself

You Belong To Me.

Youth is about two things: Optimism, and Moisture.

Though not nearly as chic as any of the Lauder products, I find that the Kiehl's men's line currently fulfills the bulk of my grooming needs.

For cleansing purposes, though, nothing beats the various cleansers manufactured by Neutrogena.

My shower automatically turns on at a time preset on the control panel to the right of my bed. Also preset is the temperature and the various water jets designed to stimulate the areas of my body most susceptible to stress.

Three times a week I begin the day with a massage by Manfred, who leaves the club only to administer to the needs of an agoraphobic Rockefeller and myself. Everyone else must wait his or her turn for his world-renowned light- tissue Shiatsu.

Anthony from Oscar Blondi cuts my hair very slightly every twelve days. I never look as if I need, or have just had, a haircut.

I train according to a selection of videos prepared by the same orthopedically trained specialist who tones the bodies of the New York Giants, Oscar de la Hoya, and "La Cirque du Soleil." I can't stress enough how important it is to remain limber. I supplement these sessions with a bi-weekly visit from Billy, who, though he now runs "The Chelsea Piers," has kept me as a private client.

Khan, from "Jiva Mukhti" tutors me in Yoga four times a week. Unlike his many devotees who flock to his Lafayette Street studio, I prefer to perfect the "Lying Down Backward Dog" in the privacy of my own home.

And, I usually awake to the song "One Singular Sensation" from "A Chorus Line" as it is the most optimistic song ever written.

And, No, I am Not Gay, not that there's anything wrong with that.

Virtually yours,

Patrick Bateman

bateman@AmPsycho2000.com

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Sun 3/26/00 4:45 PM

Subject: 10 Things I Hate

I Hate False Hope.

Don't tell me everything will be fine when you know in advance that it won't.

I Hate Bad Service.

You're an Actor, fine. Go sleep with a Producer, and allow a trained professional to filet my Salmon.

I Hate people who refer to themselves in the third person.

It's only acceptable if you're already dead, as in the opening scene of "Sunset Boulevard."

I Hate Davis Ferguson.

I believe I've already touched on that.

I Hate Bad Albee.

Don't bring up your inner demons to share with the others at the table. We really don't care to know if you're afraid of Virginia Woolf. Stay home and freak out. Buy a Chainsaw.

I Hate The Work of Jean Michel Basquiat.

Let's see what he could do sober.

I Hate Politicians Who Comb Over Their Bald Spots.

If you are going to lie about the state of your own head, how can anybody trust anything you have to say about anything important?

I Hate False Modesty.

Why bother?

I Hate Beggars.

They CAN be choosers, like in choose to get a job.

I Hate Not Being Understood.

Do I make myself clear?

I Hate Davis Ferguson.

All right, that's 11.

Virtually yours,

Patrick Bateman

bateman@AmPsycho2000.com