She is a successful Internet executive. She has just inherited a boatload of money. She's a chain-smoking, self-diagnosed sociopath who lives in a bizarre moral framework of her own creation. She's a deadly serial killer who has a taste for executives, politicians and anyone else she thinks is "unjust". She's a beautiful chameleon - and she believes she is going to get away with it all.
Beginning just after the death of her ex-lover, this unrepentant female serial killer explains how she copes with her personality disorder, what her relationship is to her industry and colleagues, when and how she began killing, her relationship with her one friend, and her views on the Internet, homelessness, social work, art and politics. Both empathetic and abhorrent, this first-person memoir reveals the best and worst of what to her appears to be an increasingly thoughtless, shallow world.
Between what she claims at the beginning of the book to be her final murder and her actual final murder nearly two years later, she chronicles in detail her bloodlust, her short-lived psychotic breaks, her persistent desire to disappear, her enthusiasm for the hunt and murder ritual, her search for like-minded individuals and her ever-growing log of victims.
I like how I look in wigs; I like how I look smoking cigarettes in them. I like the way a wig, some colour contacts and a little makeup can transform me into an entirely different person. I often go to clubs this way. I also like to wear gloves. Long gloves that go all the way up my arm. I love armbands and belly-bracelets and silver garters. I love anything that lightly binds me. Wigs have this similar effect.
One night about a year after the Silacorp debacle I was at a club in Ottawa called the Bullpen. It was supposed to be an "older" crowd, ranging from about 22-35. I was wearing a blonde wig. Silver makeup. Black vinyl strapless mini-dress. Looked like a kid from the NYC glam party-scene in the eighties. I was slightly buzzing on vodka and feeling the effects still from a line of coke some chick had offered me in the bathroom a half hour earlier. Dancing on the floor with a group of people, I suddenly felt some breath on my neck.
"You're magnificent," a deep voice purred in my ear. I turned around and saw who it was. It was time.
- Exerpt from Drawing a Blank: Portrait of a Smokin' Serial Killer