THE RED-EYE

You sit in bed, read a nice, cosy book, drink coffee, devour a cup of noodles (instant), and listen to the soothing tunes of the National Symphony Orchestra in concert with Metallica. You sit and you think, life’s a bore. A fucking bore.

Sister’s birthday in a few days, Grand Final of the football in two, and all you can think about is how shit the weather is tonight, and how good it would be if Metallica came to your house.

There are a few different types of steam. Coffee has a light, misty steam, but noodles lend themselves to a heavier brand. Put the two under a light. You can see the difference. Coffee mist blends - noodle steam is made of individual droplets that you can differentiate from each other.

The book is Palahniuk’s Fight Club. You are reading it because you have nothing else to read, and you’re on the hunt for amusement. Images from the movie collide with the words. Which is better? No idea. Well said, Tyler.

Take a sip of coffee, eat a fork-load of noodles, go back to the book, and tap out the beat to Master of Puppets on the spine.

Another hurricane threatens the American south. They’ve called it Rita. It’s a stupid name, but it sticks. Fuel prices are rising and no one can stop it, but it doesn’t affect you because you don’t drive. Bush fucks around in the White House, acting stupid, but you know he’s not really, and his acting got him re-elected. That, and rigging the system.

After a while the coffee cools down and the steam stops rising, but the noodles keep going. It’s because the noodles, they’re more condensed, and have more volume, so they trap the heat. More steam rises, and you can see that the droplets are already melding together, forming a fine mist. Just like the coffee.

If you could initiate a second Woodstock, what bands would you invite? Metallica, they’re good, but they killed Napster so they’re automatically off the list, out of spite. ACDC would be great if Bon was alive, and Led Zepplin would be awesome if they’d play, which they wouldn’t. System of a Down, now that’s a definite.

A brief clash – the movie did this bit differently. In the movie, our guy meets Tyler on the red-eye. In the book, he meets Tyler on a nudist beach. This interests you for a moment, and you shake your head, banishing the thought, and keep reading.

A plan from the Howard Government to boost airport security reminds you of the television show Big Brother, which reminds you of George Orwell, which reminds you of Nineteen Eighty-Four. You should have thought of the book first, you know, but you’re in the generation of the consumer, and you can’t help thinking of these things. Half the thought processes of your day are centred on the question, “What’s on TV tonight?”

The coffee’s cold, but the noodles are still warm so you throw the two together. Tastes like shit, but hey, you need the caffeine. The steam, it’s long gone, but your bed-light is fogged up from the moisture.

British soldiers are being attacked in Iraq. This one attack, its big news. Palestinian civilians are running riot over the Gaza strip, causing chaos, but somehow one attack is more important.

Bush made a speech today, and the world shrugged. In unison.

Greenday would draw the crowds but you’re worried that the teenyboppers would mob the scene, and they’re too dense to realise the message behind songs as blatant as American Idiot. Coldplay is up there. Marilyn Manson would rule. Kitty is a strong possibility.

Palahniuk just gave a guy a near death experience, while at the same time conveying a social comment. The movie did this bit too. Both scenes are elegant, beautifully constructed, and carry the same message. The message, you believe in it. Delivered very strongly, that message, very well done.

The noodles congeal in the coffee and you put the cup back on the bedside table. You notice the pink text on the yellow background. It is attractive. It makes you want to read it. This cup is CFC free. Thankyou, lord and manufacturer. Say hello to Chloro, Fluoro and Carbon when next you sue them. Tell them, I’ll see them in hell.

Bleeding Me is playing and you revel in the guitar solo. Beauty at its peak.

We are a mob. As humans on Earth, we are the epitome of stupidity. Our leaders tell us, it’s for your own safety. They have plugged in to the mob monitor, and the reading is fear. The basic animal instinct is that of survival. The hunted will run, just as the predator will, if threatened. New policies, security measures and government initiatives. You consider them all and you think, they’re protecting their futures. Survival instinct. The government is an animal.

The ending is vastly different. The movie, it had explosions. The book, it has a mental institution. Either way, it’s very cool. You recall, someone once said that Palahniuk himself preferred the movie’s ending. Fair enough. Yourself, you can’t decide. You are easily pleased.

Cradle of Filth wouldn’t care, but Dimmu Borgir would do it for kicks. Slipknot would join the party. You’d put them on after Ministry, who would be after System. You know the value of playing to the crowd. It’s all well and good to have a message, but if people don’t associate it with a good memory, they’re likely to forget it. You think, Slipknot would be good.

The noodles go in the bin. You decided, you didn’t need the caffeine, not really. Simply, you were told you needed it, and now you’re not so sure. Walking back to your bed, you think, I’m not getting those noodles again.

Fuel prices are rising, because America is in a recession, and the big businesses can’t cope. The government isn’t helping. The greatest, most powerful nation in the modern world is collapsing, because democracy has failed them. Democracy does not exist. The big problem with democracy is democracy itself. Like communism, and autocracy, it is intrinsically flawed.

Rich people, they sit on top of the world, and they know this.

A second Woodstock, that’s a good idea. But you think, it has to be bigger. The whole world has to unite. You can’t have a mass protest if the only people that can go have the money for the airfare. One concert, five continents, over one hundred and fifty countries.

Billions of angry voices.

The mob is stupid. The enlightened are intelligent. What the world needs is a role reversal.

You think this, and then you lie back. The room is silent, Metallica has been silenced. Palahniuk’s novel sits on the floor next to you and the one thing that comes to mind is, I’m hungry. I think I’ll have some noodles, and a coffee.