Bret Easton Ellis's new novel "The Shards" coming out
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Date: January 13th, 2023 10:20 AM Author: turquoise hilarious organic girlfriend
600+ page novel, main character named Bret Ellis, set in 1980s LA, where teenage Bret fucks around LA while a serial killer is on the loose.
Yuge fan of Less Than Zero, Rules of Attraction, AP, and Glamorama (my favorite), after which each of his books has been shit pure shit.
Return to form or cashing checks?
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5270008&forum_id=2",#45782931)
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Date: November 17th, 2023 9:53 AM Author: turquoise hilarious organic girlfriend
Around the time I made this thread I picked it up in a Barnes and Noble and read like 100 pages.
Insufferable.
But tbf, while he's always been turbogay, he is of the last generation of honorable self-hating gays. He despises faggotry, despises gays in advertising, thinks AIDS is your own fault, and constantly mocks his faggot boyfriend for being super gay.
He's like a rock and roller about whom you just need to pretend he never released an album after 1996 or something.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5270008&forum_id=2",#47066444)
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Date: March 13th, 2026 2:35 PM Author: bigeastboy
just finished. if you like BEE you will like this. its got all the intricate descriptions of violence and gays sex that any xo'er should appreciate.
what I liked best was the daily diary like descriptions of LA in the 80s. I'm a sucker for trashy "rich-kids lives" novels and addicted to all things 80s so this was in my wheelhouse.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5270008&forum_id=2",#49740181) |
Date: March 18th, 2026 3:47 PM Author: '"'"'"''"
I sit at my desk in the dim glow of the sixty-five-inch OLED, the sort of screen that makes lesser monitors look like they’re suffering from cataracts, refreshing AutoAdmit for the third time in four minutes. The interface is ugly in that deliberate, almost aristocratic way—like a trust-fund kid who wears boat shoes without socks on purpose. No CSS polish, just raw PHP vomit from 2004, black text on white, the digital equivalent of a basement rec room that still smells faintly of spilled Jäger.
I type my handle—something like Patek Philippe Phantom or CooleyGod2008, it changes weekly—and hit submit on a thread titled “1L biglaw summer associate offer from V10 firm—should I take it or hold out for Cravath?” The post is three paragraphs of meticulously humblebrag: median at HLS, 178, K-JD, summer at Wachtell last year but “didn’t vibe with the culture,” casual mention of the Richard Mille I wore to the callback. I refresh before the page even finishes loading.
Within ninety seconds there are seven replies.
I feel nothing at first, just the clean metallic click of the mouse, the same sensation I get when I swipe my Amex Black at Le Bernardin and watch the server’s face remain perfectly neutral. Then the warmth spreads, not anger exactly, more like recognition. This is the place where status is stripped to bone and marrow, where even the most polished résumés can be reduced to “mid,” “cope,” “L,” or—worst of all—silence. No one here cares that I cleared $415,000 last year post-bonus. They care that my firm is no longer considered V5, that my Instagram stories show too much of the Hamptons house my parents bought, that my girlfriend’s Instagram shows too much thigh.
Then I close the browser, pour three fingers of Pappy Van Winkle 23 into a Baccarat tumbler, and feel—for one perfect, fleeting second—completely alive.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5270008&forum_id=2",#49753886) |
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