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London is a drug laden adventure that centers on a party in a New York loft where a young man is trying to win back his ex-girlfriend.
Bateman: Personally, I'd much rather regret something I'd done rather than something I was too afraid to do.
Bateman: Life's too short to be pussy.
Syd: When that first wave of anxiety hits it's fucking terrifying because you're like fuck, "maybe I'm really going crazy. Maybe I've finally done enough drugs and fucked with my head enough that I've just detached from reality." You know? You know... you start having these horrible revelations. Mallory: Like what? Syd: Like I started freaking out about death. You know... I became obsessed with it. I just couldn't conceptualize not being here. Just not being here someday. One day, Mallory, you and I are gonna be dead. Buried. Gone. And you start thinking about religion. And how people are just blindly swallowing these concepts like God, and heaven, and afterlife... just to suppress our deepest most fears... which is that we don't know why we're here. Why are we here? It makes no sense! Mallory: It totally makes sense! Okay. Because the same time as us people, the masses, to go on living their every day lives without constantly obsessing over these things you're talking about, man. You know... these realities: life, death; heaven, hell; existence; why we're here. You know... who knows... it's possible that a god does exist. You know... an energy, force, spirit... whatever you wanna call it. Syd: Right. Sure. Mallory: I believe that. Syd: Fine. Fair enough. So what do you think happens when you die? Mallory: I don't fucking know! You fucking die. Why does there have to be an answer to every fucking question? Why can't there just be mysteries in the world? You know what I'm saying? I don't know... your body dies! Your actual physical being dies! But your spirit, I do believe, lives on. It lives on in the world. Man, it's a continuing thing of... of existence, dude. It doesn't have to have a fucking perfect answer. Why? Syd: Alright, fine. I buy that a little bit more than an invisible guy in the sky taking checks and balances on 6 billion people. I think that sounds like Santa Claus to me. You know. Mallory: Yeah, yeah. Syd: It's like a fairy tale for adults who can't handle death.
Syd: I'm sorry. Bateman: You're sorry? Oh, you're sorry, are you? You dare, you fucking dare ask me if there's a God? Well, man, I feel forsaken! I feel cheated, you cunt! I've lost in the big game, and nothing else fucking matters. It doesn't matter what you do. If you can't hack it in the sack, mate, if you can't hack it in the game of love and sex, then you are shit, my friend. Because you can't do what the other man can do to your fucking wife, mate! Syd: I know what you mean. Bateman: No, motherfucker, you do not know what I mean! You couldn't possibly know what the fuck I mean! I failed. I fucking failed, mate. And I'm still failing every fucking day of my life! Every day. Every fucking day.
Bateman: Motherfucker, you wanna know what it is? Pain, my friend is when the woman you love wants to fuck you four, five times a night and you can't! Syd: Why? Bateman: Why? Why? I'll tell you why, because I'm an impotent man! Motherfucker, that's pain! That's fucking pain! When your wife wants to fuck you four times a night and you fucking can't! You know that some fucker before you could. And you know that some fucker after you will! Well, I couldn't cope with that, could I? That sense of ruination. That insolvency that burns in your soul. I couldn't fuck my wife! Do know what that fucking means, mate? Do you understand what impotent rage really is?
Bateman: You know, they say the greatest conversation you'll ever have is with a stranger? Syd: Who says that? Bateman: Some useless cunt.
Syd: [talking to himself] All right, all right, all right, come on. Come on, Syd. You gotta mellow out. You gotta mellow out. You need a beer. You need a bottle. Ok. Stop doing blow. You gotta stop doing coke. Don't grind your teeth. If she sees you grind your teeth, you're fucked. Come on, Syd. Mellow out, mellow out. Be a man. Be a man. There, get a drink. Go out there, get a drink. What's the worse that can happen, right? What's the worse that can happen? I can see London, so what? Fuck, fuck. Ok, you fuck up tonight, it's over. Ok.
Bateman: I am sweating like a fucking rapist.
Bateman: I'm sweating like a rapist
Syd: Can I ask you something? London: Yeah. Syd: Do you love him? London: I never that I was in love with him. London: Syd? Its gonna be a really really long time before, you know, I fall in love with anybody the way that I was in love with you.
Syd: The bottom line, London, is that I have known you since you were ten fucking years old, we have been through everything together, and you don't even have the decency to tell me you're moving across the fucking country.
London: And your ego, your ego is just huge! It's out of fucking control! Syd: Why are you freaking out? There's no need to freak out. London: Syd, because you don't know when to stop. You keep going and going and going, until people just wanna smash your face in!
Syd: Ever since you and I broke up, I've wanted to have a normal conversation, just a normal conversation with you. And I just feel like everytime I see you, it just gets like so wierd and chaotic and scrambles, and I can't organize my thoughts and I can't even express the most basic words I want to say to you. London: I know. Me too. Syd: Whatever we had when we were together, when we were in love that feeling of just being able to lie in bed for days and not give a fuck about the outside world... is gone. And I feel like there's nothing I can do to ever get it back. Do you know how painful that is? London: Yeah, yeah I do. I cried for weeks when we broke up. Syd: You cried for weeks? London: Yes. London: The hardest thing I've ever dealt with in my life. Syd: How long did you go through that? London: A long time. A long time. I mean, the first month, it was so fucking bad. And then you know, slowly, it gets better. Syd: That's the difference between you and me London. I'm still going through it. London: I've been calling you a dozen times today. I'm terrified. I'm - I'm afraid. Syd: Of what? What are you afraid of? London: I'm afraid of falling in love with you again.
Bateman: [while Fighting] Come on, then, you fucking slag! You cunts! Fucking niggers! [while kicking a black party guest] Bateman: Fucking cunt! You fucking piece of shit cocksuckers!
Bateman: [while getting whipped by S&M chicks] Come you fucking... shit, cunt, whore... FUCKING WHIP ME!
George: What are you drinking, Bruiser? Oh, is that a bottle of Cock Block?