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390 pages, Paperback
First published March 6, 2018
Benvolio. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire:
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl;
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
~ Romeo and Juliet
Yes, I have White Hat Syndrome. Yes, I want to make the world a better place by confronting – no, let's be honest – by vanquishing the people I find threatening, domineering, manipulative and sadistic. But that white hat sits atop an angry head. And beneath that anger is a twitchy and hyper-vigilant person who is overattuned to threatening sounds in the underbrush.
People who live in violent places, particularly kids raised in violent subcultures, have higher levels of chronic anger. They tend to view relationships in a hostile, mistrustful way. They perceive the world and the people in it as dangerous and threatening. And if they also happen to be carrying one of the environmentally sensitive genes, fear and anger are amplified – all the more so if they're carrying more than one of these alleles.
“There is an aspect of rage that is analogous to lust. Rage begets rage. It spawns itself. It builds up like clouds looming on the horizon. It causes a discomfort that is not entirely unpleasant, that is pendulous and heavy and can take the place of an emptiness if you are feeling empty. When you are full this way, it is pleasant to think about satisfying that rage. The more you think about it, the more it grows. The more it grows, the stronger the desire to think about it. It is an itch at first, then a tingle, then a pulsation, then a throbbing.”
“Along with this conscious consideration of detail, there’s something else: a building surge on the horizon, moving towards me quickly, an impending wave, a deep, seductive swell. He’s a piece of trash. There’s a lapping coolness between my temples. People all around me are scared, nervous. They feel threatened. Not me. It’s different in me, it’s a growing itch, a form of lust. A predatory hard-on. I want him on his knees. Subjugated. Scared. I’m out of my seat. I’m standing beside him.”
“The killer makes you feel precisely the other way. You know he’s a real person. It’s clear he’s a flesh-and-blood Homo sapiens. But listening to him talk about his emotions and the emotions of others, or reading aloud his lessons in emotional well-being and self-esteem, you have the distinct feeling he is reciting sophisticated command functions from a file named something like c://emotions/human/emulator.”
“It occurred to me that when we are younger, we believe we are the projectile, the thing that is intended to reach its mark. We aim at a distant target only to realize later, mid-flight, that we’re not the projectile at all. We're the catapult. We are catapults flinging catapults forever into the future.”