[Woman singing in Portuguese]
% %
(Evan) In the end,
what are we to those ideals we hold most cherished?
Who would they choose under shroud of a listless sun?
The dust draws near,
and I stand alone, forsaken,
shivering on the wing of time and tide.
As dour eyes pale,
struggle gives way to the whisper
of a merciful eternal hush,
and pain washes numb,
laughing steadfast on memories sure.
The dream chooses me,
a nameless gray morass, riling...
What's a morass?
A bog.
A swamp.
(Evan) Where I linger and scream with all my might,
so I turn and drift into the endless fog
until there is nothing
and I remain still.
[Poignant piano music]
% %
Matthew Morris.
So how does this work?
Well, I was going to ask you
a few questions just to get things started.
I mean with the time table.
Oh, it's pretty straightforward.
After our second meeting,
I'll provide you with a rough draft.
That'll take about two weeks.
Then we'll have two more meetings for revisions.
All in all, the process takes about a month, give or take.
How does that time table work for you?
Yeah, that's fine.
That works.
Good.
Now, is there a particular style of prose or poetry
that you respond to?
No, I don't think so.
Do you have a favorite writer?
I don't know.
Anyone; Shakespeare, Hemingway?
Tom Clancy.
And I like Charles Schultz.
All right.
Let's talk a bit about tone.
Were you looking for something formal
or something more intimate?
I want it to be a work of art.
Is that stupid?
No.
No, it's not.
All right.
What I'd like you to do over the next week, Abel,
is get yourself a little notebook just like this one.
Begin to jot down thoughts,
anything that crosses your mind.
It can be phrases, fragments, emotions.
I told you, I'm not a writer.
Don't you have a form or something, multiple choice?
Abel, I'm not asking you to write a poem.
Just treat it like a diary.
These are going to be the building blocks
from which I construct your note.
Just blurt it out.
I'll make you sing.
Okay?
[Helicopter blades beating]
Rubber baby buggy bumpers,
rubber baby buggy bumpers,
rubber baby buggy bumpers.
Unique New York,
unique New York.
The tip of the tongue, the teeth, the lips.
(man) And so gathered today in the Lord,
we commit Matthew Frederick Morris
into the eternal kingdom of God.
In Matthew's untimely passing,
we suffer the loss of a loving son,
brother, and friend,
whose boundless spirit and inner light
so often shown the way for others.
He's in our hearts and minds.
And his light will endure eternal.
Matthew, a teacher, even in death,
revealed an uncommon inner wisdom
in the stirring text he left behind.
"Know me in strength, not shame,
"for we are not who we know.
"In fear, fools covet the currency of sin
"until all color bleeds clean.
"But sin is truth,
"loudly so.
"The truth which does not shine nor glimmer
"but lurks in the half light of dusk,
"where fanfare dare not tread.
"So I soar upon nameless wings
"far above hope and light,
"clutching the endless gray
"to breathe the milk unspoiled, unspent.
"A kernel released through stubborn feeble grasp.
And all is quiet."
Let us pray.
I'll see you there.
Excuse me.
Hi.
Hello.
Uh, I noticed you at the service,
writing and whatnot,
and I remember thinking I didn't recognize you.
Are you a friend of the family?
Are you just out for a stroll?
Oh, um, no.
No what?
Um...
Actually, I...
I knew Matthew in college.
[Clears throat]
We've lost touch over time.
But I read the announcement in the newspaper,
and I thought I should come pay my last respects.
That's very kind of you.
I didn't catch your name.
Evan.
Evan...
Merc.
Well, thank you for coming, Evan Merc.
I'm...
I'm Matt's sister...
Charlotte.
He...
mentioned you.
I remember because my mother's name was Charlotte.
"Suffering is the sole origin of consciousness."
Dostoyevsky.
I'll be jiggered.
Of course, he was a violent drunk.
My condolences to your family.
It was very nice to meet you.
Yeah.
Bye.
So these are all real samples?
They're beautiful;
really... they're really moving.
Thank you.
Actually, last year, one of my clients
received the Whitman Award for poetry,
posthumously.
I believe it's on page three.
It begins with "Mine is the army of angels."
Jesus.
Doesn't bother you you didn't even get the credit?
No.
It's more or less his thoughts.
I just sort of...
Plus those awards are so political.
It's kind of disgusting.
Want to know what the irony is in this?
I'm a writer.
[Laughs]
Yeah, I'm sitting here with you.
I'm a fucking writer.
I mean, of all the things I should be able to do myself.
Right?
How pathetic is that?
Let me ask you a question.
What percentage of your clients actually, uh...
actually do it?
I mean, how many people pull the trigger?
Brady, I don't...
have any way of knowing that.
I think that some people treat this process
as a sort of therapy.
Yeah, yeah.
But if you had to estimate just for fuck-all...
Shot in the dark?
Maybe 30...
Okay, all right. Never mind.
Don't tell me.
Okay.
Let's get back to the samples, yeah?
Brady?
I'm sorry.
I can't do this.
[Telephone ringing]
Hello?
Yes, it is.
Who?
You know, they really do have great pies here.
I recommend anything in the cream family
or rhubarb.
So I hope you don't take this the wrong way,
but how did you get my number?
The phone book.
Oh.
There were actually four E. Mercs.
You were the third.
'Cause I thought I was unlisted.
No, the first one was an Edgar.
And the second one was Evelyn.
You don't want to call her.
She's grouchy.
What can I get you?
I will have cream cheese carrot cake
and some tea please.
Okay.
Coffee.
So you're probably wondering why I went through the trouble...
The thought crossed my mind.
I always loved that expression,
"crossed my mind."
It always makes me think of little freeways in my head.
I wasn't close to my brother.
We became estranged pretty early on.
You know, and different lives
and all that horseshit.
And now he's dead, like, poof.
Here you go.
Thank you.
Coffee.
Thanks.
Clifton Fadiman called cheese milk's leap toward immortality.
Mm.
You know what's weird is,
I don't know a single one of Matty's friends,
until you now.
Were you guys close in college?
No.
I was really more of a tutor.
Oh.
I just assumed because you knew my name
that you guys were close.
Well, remember,
that's because Charlotte was my mother's name too.
Oh, right.
When he mentioned it, it just sort of stuck.
My mother's name is Hilda.
I don't know anyone else with that name.
It's so German.
It's like, yikes.
German, like...
Can I ask you a personal question?
What were you writing at Matty's funeral?
I was just jotting down thoughts,
impressions.
Are you a writer?
Yeah.
What do you write?
Mostly poetry.
Are you published?
Sparsely.
I write poems for special occasions,
like birthdays, bar mitzvahs.
Well, I'm over here.
Where are you parked?
I'm... I'm not.
I don't have a car.
Really?
How'd you get here?
Took the bus.
You don't have a car in L.A.?
Thanks for the coffee and the ride.
It's been...
Odd?
I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful to you
with your brother.
Just a stab in the dark.
[Women on television] It's great to meet you.
Thanks so much.
Thanks for having me.
[Telephone ringing]
Hello?
(Abel) Hi, is this Evan>
Who's this?
This is Abel.
Um, we're supposed to meet tomorrow.
Abel, how did you get this number?
The phone book.
Jesus.
Look, I'm sorry to call you at home,
but I don't know what else to do.
This whole diary thing, it's crap.
I can't do it. I tried.
They only thing I came up with were old baseball statistics.
I told you, I'm not a writer.
Abel, it's okay.
We can brainstorm when we get together.
I can't meet you at that stupid coffee house.
It's impossible to concentrate,
and the bathroom has shitty elevator music.
Look, I was thinking we could meet at my studio.
It's quiet.
Abel, I'd prefer that we keep our meetings
in a more neutral...
Dude, I've got major issues.
It should be fucking implicit.
I can't do this any other way.
I'm totally constipated right now.
I may have to induce, you know what I mean>
[soft orchestral music]
% %
(Abel) Stop, stop, stop.
Terry, it's a trumpet not a bagpipe.
You sound like a Chinese whore on sumo night.
All right, let's take it from measure 39.
[Soft orchestra music]
% %
Sorry to make you wait.
It's okay.
Dealing with these shithead Silicone Valley executives.
Is that who you work for?
I write hold music.
Hold music,
as in telephone?
Yeah.
Yeah, but get this:
They tell me after the session today
that some Einstein over there read a study
about how listening to Mozart can increase your IQ.
So now they want me to start over
and write some hack Mozart crap
so the customers can smarten up
and answer their own tech support questions
while they're on hold.
Yeah, that sounds pretty stupid.
Thank you.
Corporate shitheads.
You know, out of college, I wrote a symphonic rhapsody
that was actually premiered by the Boston Phil.
Wow.
Yeah, one review called it
"music to commit mass murder by."
Is that supposed to be good or bad?
I guess that depends on your interest.
So we're supposed to brainstorm today, right>
Yeah.
Can't you just write something brilliant and give it to me?
It's not how it works.
This is going to be the last thing
that anybody ever hears from you.
It's a very personal statement.
Otherwise, you might as well go buy a Hallmark card.
Fine.
So...
So tell me something about your life.
My life?
Wow.
Where do I begin?
I masturbate...
a lot,
usually out of boredom.
Sometimes while I'm jacking off,
my mind will wander,
and I'll start thinking of totally random stuff,
like whether I'm out of peanut butter.
So later, when I'm at the store,
while I'm standing in the peanut butter aisle,
I'll pop a boner.
I'll be standing there at the store sporting wood
because I'm staring at fucking peanut butter.
So then, of course, I have to go home and masturbate.
Should we put that in my note?
[Telephone ringing]
Abel?
(Charlotte) Not recently.
Hello?
Hey, it's Charlotte,
from... you know, Charlotte>
Right. Hi.
Is this a bad time>
Um...
I was calling to...
I was just wondering if you were doing anything tonight.
I thought maybe we could get together and have a drink.
Hello>
Hi. Um...
Look, I've pretty much told you
everything I remember about your brother.
Oh, this isn't about that.
I was just thinking more casual.
Casual, like...
like a date, casual?
[Chuckles]
Um, okay,
if you have to label it: Like a date.
Uh, Charlotte, I have to work.
So take a break.
Remember, I know where you live.
Don't make me come and stalk you.
I don't have the right wardrobe.
This is...
- I don't... - That's so touching.
Have you ever been to the Peppercorn>
No.
Well, you'll like it.
I can come and pick you up, like 10:00>
I don't need a ride.
Okay, cool. I'll see you then.
[Phone clicks]
Oh, how's this?
This is good. This is good.
Johnny Walker Red straight and a glass of merlot.
Evan?
Can I have a Budweiser?
Yes, of course.
This is a nice place.
Um...
where are you from originally?
Who's really from anywhere these days, you know?
I guess I meant, where were you born?
Bethesda, Maryland.
I've never been there.
Is it nice?
I don't remember.
I was zero at the time.
All right, look, l...
I don't really date much.
And you're doing great.
So far since we've been here,
you haven't scoped out any other chicks
or stole my credit card,
which is a lot more than I can say for my last date.
So in my book, you're aces.
How's your mother?
Okay.
She's a very strong woman.
Obviously it's going to take time.
I think the nights are tough for her.
Night brings our troubles to the light
rather than banishes them.
Seneca.
You sure like to quote people, don't you?
It beats having your own opinion.
Amen to that.
You know, there's a really good club upstairs
with great music.
Want to go check it out?
L...
No, I'm not particularly funky.
Oh, I think you are.
No, really...
You're funky.
Come on. It'll be fun.
[Pulsing electronic music]
% %
Two Johnny Reds.
Jesus.
Can't feel a thing till you can't feel a thing, right?
You weren't dancing much tonight.
You noticed?
Well, I guess that place isn't for everyone.
This is kind of absurd.
Can I just drive you home?
Thanks, but this will be fine.
[Telephone ringing]
Hello?
(Charlotte) Hi, Evan, it's Charlotte.
Hi.
I know it's late.
I just wanted to call and apologize
about the other night.
No need.
Mm.
I really don't have an excuse
other than, I was in a mood.
You were in a mood?
I was in a mood.
I'm not sure what to do with that.
You can accept my apology.
I mean, I like you, Evan.
I can't say that's evident.
Hm.
Well, a shrink once told me that I suffered
from an unconscious conspiracy against closeness.
Did he say why?
Mm, I stopped seeing him.
Hey, did you get my cookies>
I got dried fruit.
What> Not cookies>
From Gift Bonanza>
I think so.
Motherfuckers.
Oh, man, that changes everything.
Now I have to make it up to you.
You got to let me take you to lunch.
No, that's okay.
No, no. Evan, seriously.
I promise, no strings, no mood.
You pick the place.
This is nothing.
This is just...
You know what> This is... it's closure.
And I need closure.
(Evan) I use to hate the sound of the surf.
At night, it'd seem like it was getting closer,
like it was going to swallow me.
(Charlotte) Did you use to live near the beach?
For a time.
You don't strike me as a surfer dude.
Evan the surfer?
That's just wrong.
Sandwich is really good.
What's in it?
Um, lettuce and a secret ingredient.
Is it turkey?
Yep.
So where did you grow up?
Everywhere.
My father was abusive.
My mom, she got fed up,
so she packed me in a car and drove away.
He chased us across nine states.
How old were you?
I was five.
I remember a lot of Denny's.
I still know the menu by heart.
Wait, did he catch you?
Yeah, in North Carolina.
He was out of control.
He nearly killed my mom
and broke my arm when I tried to pull him off her.
And a couple days later,
the cops came and threw him in jail.
They actually made a Movie of the Week out of it.
It's called Against the Odds.
Oh, Jesus.
Then, a year later, my mom wrapped her car around a tree,
and she died in surgery.
And they threw me in the foster system,
and the rest is...
You've heard it before.
I once drank a bottle of my dad's Pepto-Bismol
'cause I thought it looked like Strawberry Quik.
Bummer.
I mean, it's kind of amazing
that you didn't end up totally fucked up.
Isn't it?
(Charlotte) The only thing we ever had in common when we were kids is,
we both loved ice cream.
I remember one Christmas,
he actually stuffed a whole quart of mint chocolate chip
into the bird feeder.
You know, the whole spirit of giving, all that?
And then, when he found out there were no birds
at the Nativity,
he actually went and scooped it back
and put it back in the freezer
mixed in with all the bird seed.
Oh, look.
Old carousel.
I love old carousels.
You want to go on?
Nah.
No, I'm...
I'm not very good with spinning.
Okay, so you don't like clubs.
You don't really have any friends or hobbies.
And you're not very good with spinning.
Well, what is it that you like to do?
This is where I go to read and write and relax.
(Charlotte) Wow.
All those offices.
Over 4,000.
Is that your chair?
Yeah.
Isn't it strange?
The world is so big, all that space.
People still want to pack themselves in tiny little boxes
and stack them on top of each other.
You should get a telescope up here.
You could spy on all those corporate crooks,
watch them shredding shit, banging their secretaries.
I've thought about that.
Yeah, but then again, they could be watching you.
Maybe.
Matty would've liked it up here.
Really?
Charlotte, um...
I don't know how to put this.
Given the history here,
is it possible that, subconsciously,
you're looking for me to replace your brother?
Charlotte?
What are you doing?
How many offices did you say were facing us?
4,000.
How many do you think are occupied right now?
Maybe half.
Now, out of all those offices,
how many people do you think are looking out their windows?
5%?
5%.
That's 150 people...
Looking out at us, watching.
I'm good with numbers.
Can you feel it?
You fucking hero.
I have unnaturally thin ankles.
It comes up.
Noted.
Well, it's small and kind of shitty.
I like it.
You know what they're saying.
Small's the new big.
Well, it's big and shitty then.
Is that your bathroom?
Yeah.
I'm dirty.
You're very dirty.
Do you want to take a shower>
Huh?
We should fuck in the shower.
It's good...
for a first draft.
Thanks.
Who are you quoting here in the third paragraph?
That's Brooke.
Oh.
Who's Brooke?
And I thought we talked about Tom Clancy.
It's Byron Brooke.
He's an 18th-Century poet and writer.
Is he any good?
Well, yeah.
Sounds like Shakespeare.
Is Brooke maybe too obscure?
I mean, I don't want to be labeled a pretentious asshole
because I'm quoting some poet that nobody's heard of.
Brooke is well respected.
He's not obscure at all.
If you want, I could show you his bibliography.
Okay.
When can you do it?
Um, tomorrow.
[Telephone ringing]
Hello?
Shit.
(Abel) I was thinking about Edgar Allan Poe.
What about him?
I read one of his poems once.
I remember liking it.
You know, maybe instead of Brooke.
Um...
Poe's work is pretty dark and,
well, creepy.
My life is dark and creepy.
I don't like Brooke.
He sounds like Shakespeare.
I'm not a Shakespeare guy.
I'm not.
Hey, Francine. Come on, you with me?
Yeah.
I'm sorry.
I didn't get much sleep.
It's catching up.
You're having trouble sleeping?
[Yawning] Yes.
No.
I'll fix you up.
This is a nocturne I wrote for piano.
Next time you're having trouble sleeping,
you play this.
Abel, that's very kind of you, but...
How are you going to be my voice if you can't hear my music?
Okay.
[Robotic voice] You have no messages.
[Somber piano music]
% %
[machine beeps]
(Charlotte) Wow, a machine.
It's a miracle.
Evan, it's Charlotte.
I called because I was thinking about you,
and I guess that's it.
Call me.
Bye.
[Machine beeps]
Wow, a machine.
It's a miracle.
Evan, it's Charlotte.
I called because I was thinking about you,
and I guess that's it.
Call me.
[Machine beeps]
Wow, a machine.
It's a miracle.
Evan, it's Charlotte.
Really, it's very moving.
Thank you.
That means a lot to me
coming from another artist.
Yeah, but...
I mean, I don't even like classical music.
Takes a lot for me to...
You know, your piece, it's really good.
Not that hold music isn't... you know.
But why aren't you writing symphonies or whatever?
Remember, my symphonic debut failed resoundingly.
Yeah, but how long ago was that?
That doesn't matter.
They don't forget.
They never forget.
People never forget.
People are assholes.
What about you?
How did you find your calling?
Um, well, I was a starving writer
doing freelance work that no one ever read
until one day, I met a guy on a train.
It was one of those Wall Street gurus.
We hit if off,
and he wanted me to write him a poem for his 50th birthday.
Only then he killed himself.
Everybody thought it was a good-bye message.
And they published it in The Atlantic Monthly.
That's how I got started.
I've never taken a train.
She doesn't know the truth?
No.
And now you're dating her?
Sort of.
Wow.
Well, that's a choice.
I know it's a choice.
I guess it sounds kind of crazy.
Man, I don't know.
You shouldn't ask me.
I cheated on my ex-wife with her therapist.
I'm not smart.
See you.
So when are you going to let me read some of your stuff?
What do you want to read?
I don't care. Anything.
I didn't really bring anything with me.
I didn't mean now.
Oh, I got to check out this tub.
(Evan) Most days, I lie encased in a dream,
kicking and screaming,
unable to wake for fear of breathing in the poison
that too long sustained me.
So I hold my breath,
writhing in agony,
until the day I can sleep eternal
and dream no more.
How's your fish?
It's good.
It's not too fishy.
What are you doing?
Oh, sorry.
I just... I picked up your book,
and this came...
God, Evan, this is really dark.
Did you write this?
Yeah, it's a speech for a script I'm writing.
Oh, you're writing a script?
Mm, screenplay.
I just started it.
Cool.
What's it about?
Well, just...
It's about a cop who goes undercover and...
deep undercover, and he gets involved with the drug people,
and they kidnap his wife.
Yeah.
So that's the plot?
Mm-hmm, broad strokes.
It sounds a little derivative, doesn't it?
Really?
No, I mean, I don't think so.
It's...
you know, it's execution-driven,
performances.
[Telephone ringing]
(Evan) Hello?
(Abel) Hey, it's Abel.
I'm sorry to call you at home.
No, it's okay.
What's up?
Well, I was wondering if you were busy later.
Ooh, uh...
I'm sorry, Abel.
I'm not ready to show you the new draft yet.
No, no, it's okay.
You ever fly a helicopter?
More throttle. More throttle.
Left rudder.
Left hand, left hand.
Right rudder.
Try the left hand, left hand.
Right rudder. Right rudder.
Hello>
We just died.
Nice.
[Blades whirring]
Oh, I feel good today.
I don't know why.
It started this morning when I took a really great dump.
So how was your trip?
It was good.
You like this chick. I can tell.
Just don't fuck her in the ass.
Sodomy changes shit.
Trust me.
Uh, how's your music coming?
I don't know.
It's fine.
Shitty.
Fine.
I love music.
I just wish I didn't need it to pay the bills.
Yeah, but if you didn't write music, what would you do,
right?
I would buy a cliff.
Huh?
I would buy a cliff where people could come and throw shit off,
you know, like fax machines or computers or whatever,
things that piss them off 'cause they didn't work right,
like an outlet for machine rage.
And the whole thing would be videotaped in slow motion
so they could watch their heap of shit
break into a million pieces back at home.
Plus, for an extra couple bucks,
I would attach an explosive so it would blow up on impact,
just like they do in the movies, a big fireball.
That would be cool.
- Hey. - Hi.
You're early.
I know.
I just wanted to get a jump on traffic.
My mom can get nervous.
But we have time.
Do your thing.
I'm so sorry.
My place is always such a mess.
Please.
You've been to my house.
I'm just going to go finish up in the...
Okay.
Hey, I don't want to beat a dead horse,,,
But you're going to anyway.
It's just that I get extremely nervous
at these types of things.
What are "these type of things"?
Well, I mean,
how long have we been dating?
Seems a little early to be meeting your family.
Okay, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you just say that.
And I'm going to pretend
that you know exactly how long we've been dating.
Right, so who am I meeting tonight?
Uh, my cousin Greg and his girlfriend, I think,
my mom's ten-year-old goddaughter Robin,
whose parents are in Guatemala or somewhere,
and her ancient next-door neighbor Francis.
I haven't quite figured out what his deal is,
but he's her latest project.
Hey, hon, do me a favor.
There's some ties on the bed.
Could you pick me out one>
Yikes.
Evan,
these are kind of drab.
What do you say we skip the tie for dinner,
and we figure out a way to use them later?
Okay.
Are you ready?
Feeling good?
This is good soup.
Yeah, it's great.
It's really delicious.
Thank you.
So, Charlotte, are you working right now?
Yeah.
I'm doing some consulting work at a pharmaceutical company.
It's just temporary.
I think they're being investigated.
Why?
Oh, my.
Yeah, well, don't worry, Mom.
I'm not exactly thrilled about my parking space anyway.
And you're a writer?
Yes, I am.
Do you enjoy that>
For the most part.
I believe Clare is studying to be a writer.
Well, I'm a journalism major.
What do you write?
Mostly freelance.
Short subject.
Well, that must be fascinating.
I guess so.
"Writing is not a profession but a vocation of unhappiness,"
to quote Henry Miller.
(girl) Was he freelance too>
(Evan) Yes, I believe so.
I don't think I could ever be a novelist.
It just seems like such a lonely life.
And I'm just too much of a people person.
Well, you got to go with your gifts.
Right?
Plus, I think I'm too type-A
to ever treat writing like a vacation, you know?
Vocation.
Oh, I thought you said "vacation."
Right, I didn't.
Evan, Charlotte tells me that you went to Cornell with Matty.
Yes, I did.
Greg's at Cornell too.
He's a sophomore.
No kidding.
How do you like it?
It's pretty cool.
Dorm kind of sucks, though.
Where'd you live when you were there?
I lived off-campus.
Not freshman year, right?
Right.
I can't remember my dorm freshman year right now.
It seems it slipped my mind.
North campus, Keller Hall,
Sterling Quad?
Sterling Quad, on the tip of my tongue.
Those dorms aren't too bad.
You in line for the bathroom?
Yep.
So your parents are in Guatemala?
Why'd they go there?
'Cause God told them to.
Oh.
Hey. Hey.
So when you headed back to New York?
Thursday, I think.
Mm-hmm.
Evan is interesting.
Well, that's bravely noncommittal.
Where'd you meet him?
At Matty's funeral.
I know that sounds strange.
Well, not that it matters,
but your boyfriend did not go to Cornell.
What?
These are cute baby pictures.
Yeah, they're adorable.
Kitridge Hall and Sterling Quad don't exist.
You never went to fucking Cornell.
Just thought I'd spare you any further embarrassment.
So let's start over.
I'm Charlotte. Who the fuck are you?
Here we are.
I don't know how you take your coffee,
but I have both sugar and Sweet'N Low.
Please, sit. Sit, sit, sit.
Francis, would you like cream in your coffee?
I think you'd enjoy some cream.
So, Evan,
how long have you lived in Los Angeles?
Um, about five years.
Ah.
So you found a happy home here.
I think so.
I never went to Cornell.
I'm sorry?
I never went to Cornell.
I went to a small community college outside of Philadelphia.
Oh.
After I graduated, I...
I wrote for a men's health journal in Ithaca.
That's where I met Matt.
We shared a bus route.
You rode a bus together?
I told you that we went to school together
because I thought that would somehow seem less random.
I was nervous to meet you.
Why>
I have a picture.
I...
traded Matt bus fare for a picture
he had in his wallet one day.
What picture?
Why would you want this?
Because I thought you were beautiful.
(Evan) For me,
hell has reserved a special place
where I sit and talk and scare myself to death
a little bit more each day.
[Telephone ringing]
You're an asshole.
You know that, right?
Yeah.
So here's your warning shot.
I'm willing to look past this
on one condition:
From now on,
no matter how insignificant or justifiable or fucking noble
it may seem at the time,
you won't ever, ever lie to me again.
Okay?
Okay.
You rode the bus together.
Yeah.
I had to think fast.
It's the best I could come up with.
I really did have a job in Ithaca once.
That wasn't a lie.
I think we got to rework the second paragraph.
I sound nuts here.
What the fuck am I doing?
So you lied.
Just don't do it again if it bothers you that much.
And if it was really meant to be, then, you know...
all that shit.
What do you mean "nuts"?
Just tell her you're sorry.
Get her some flowers and buy her a puppy.
Chicks love puppies, man.
I'm telling you.
They're like heroin with fur.
I don't know what the hell I was thinking.
This is crazy.
Well, you know what they say.
If you want to make an omelet, you got to break some eggs.
How does that apply here?
I don't know.
You're being very tense.
We got to get out of here.
What?
Stress therapy.
A little field trip.
I got just the thing to clear your head.
Trust me.
Why are we sitting here?
We're looking for our mark.
Mark? What mark?
Just... don't worry.
We got to be patient.
Do you want a smoothie?
No.
Oh.
How perfect. Perfect.
- What? - Come on.
Come on, now listen.
Stay close, and no matter what I do,
don't make any sound at all.
All right? It's important.
[Baby crying]
Ah, you okay?
What's wrong?
[Baby screaming]
Oh, that was great.
Oh, man.
You've got to try that.
That's your stress therapy,
scaring babies?
I also do breathing exercises.
Oh, come on.
What do you remember from that age?
Nothing.
This is so harmless.
If anything I'm endowing him with a very necessary distrust
of strangers.
Their parents should be thanking me.
This is healthy and primal.
Come on. You'll see.
No.
Are you kidding?
Oh, Jesus, what is it with this cultural reverence of babies?
'Cause I got news for you,
just because you're short and chubby,
that doesn't mean you're not an asshole.
Kid was a dick.
You're not like my other clients.
Oh, yeah?
Yeah.
What are your other clients like?
Tired.
Well, I guess it goes in cycles with me.
I'm supposed to take these pills, which I hate.
And when I don't, it can get pretty bad.
But I'm back on now, and it's better.
Still, I figured I would stick it out with us, you know,
the note,
just to have in my back pocket for when...
Want to know where I'm going to do it?
No, not really.
The l-10 overpass at Victory.
It's nice and high.
And it's a pretty nostalgic spot for me.
About six years ago,
I got offered an interview
for the musical director position
at the Los Angeles Master Chorale.
My then-wife's father was on the board.
But that morning, a truck jackknifed
on the freeway,
and I sat in traffic right in that spot under the overpass.
Three hours, I just say there.
Of course, I missed the interview completely,
didn't get the job.
Anyway, that's where I'm going to jump.
See if I can't make some other shitheads late that morning.
(Charlotte) So how's your screenplay coming along?
Um, beginning stages, really.
Why?
Well, I was thinking about it, and I have this friend.
He's actually this guy in my yoga class
who's a screenwriter.
And I was thinking maybe you guys could get together,
and you could, like, tell him your ideas.
He could give you feedback.
I mean, you know, it's such a tough industry.
Yeah. Yeah, thanks.
It's something to think about.
So you're open to it?
Sure.
Good, because I actually asked him to join us for lunch.
What?
Oh, it's totally casual.
I mean, it's not like you have to pitch him or anything.
Jesus, Charlotte, why didn't you ask me first?
I just did, and you said you were open...
Yeah, I'm open to it, but what the fuck?
You're fucking trapping me here, you know that?
Fuck.
God, Evan...
I would never try and trap you.
I'm sorry.
I was just trying to help.
I care about you, Evan.
He's here.
Don't worry. I'll fix it.
I'll just tell him that we don't want to talk about the script.
- Hey, Brady. - Hey, Charlotte.
Hey, thanks for coming.
Uh, Brady the screenwriter,
this is Evan the poet.
Yeah, we've... we've met.
Really?
No, I don't think so.
But I get that a lot.
Now, I know your time is valuable,
but Charlotte thought you could
brainstorm a few points on my script.
It's about a cop who goes undercover
to work with a drug dealer.
Now, the cop has a friend
who also knows the drug dealer.
But the friend doesn't tell the drug dealer
what the cop really does for a living.
Why not?
Because friends are super cool that way.
[Chuckles]
Huh.
Or maybe the cop sweetens the deal for his friend.
You mean like a payoff?
Ooh, I like that.
Sounds good.
What kind of payoff are we talking about?
I don't know.
Throw out a number.
Okay, maybe $200.
200 bucks? Are you kidding?
Shh. My movie.
No, I think Charlotte might be right.
I was thinking more like $1,000.
At least.
Um, but don't you think that would
totally destroy the friendship?
Yeah.
Yeah, but you're writing drama.
And that would be very dramatic.
You're quiet tonight.
Am I?
What are you thinking?
Today would've been Matty's 31st birthday.
Oh.
Just kind of creeps up on me sometimes, you know?
Yeah.
You want to be alone?
No.
I don't know. No.
I remember wanting this stuffed giraffe when I was a kid.
My parents weren't clued in enough to get one for me.
Maybe that's why I haven't found a career.
Maybe that's why I bite my nails.
What time do you have to get up for work?
7:00.
Hey, do you want to meet me for lunch?
Um, I can't.
There's this thing.
It's a poetry symposium at UCLA.
Fun.
You don't get a lot of women, do you?
No, not a lot.
I can tell by the way you look at me.
Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to look...
I need to do this as quickly as possible.
How does it work?
[Phone ringing]
Yeah?
Yeah, I put it on his desk this morning.
No, I already talked to him about it.
Oh, man, I...
[woman on television] Never!
I will see you in hell
before I let you come within 100 miles of my son.
(man) Don't tempt me, dear.
I've been to hell, and now I'm coming to get my family.
That's a promise.
[Woman screaming]
- Hey. - Hey, what's up?
Hey, Robin.
You guys look comfortable.
What are you watching?
No way.
Where'd you find this?
A friend of mine works in archives at the TV Academy.
She dug it up.
Do you want me to turn it off?
Oh, no, that's okay.
[Chuckles] Holy shit.
Language.
Sorry.
TV Guide called it "spellbinding."
And you didn't tell me Susan Lucci played your mom.
You did not ask.
So you don't want to watch it with us, do you?
That's okay. I know how it ends.
I need coffee.
(Robin) Can I have coffee>
(Charlotte) Yeah, right after you do my taxes.
So how was work?
Work was silly.
By the way, I saw you having lunch today
when I was driving through Silver Lake.
What was that?
Didn't you have that poetry thing in Westwood?
I did.
How long did that go on for?
Pretty much all day.
You know how they love to hear themselves talk, poets.
Why do you ask?
No reason.
Hey.
Gotta go to work.
Okay.
I miss you already.
Do you want to meet me for lunch?
Um, I'm sorry. I can't.
I have an appointment.
I'll see you tonight, though.
I tried, but I couldn't think of a single thing.
Nothing.
Maybe you should take a few more days.
I go through the motions,
and I don't know what to search for anymore.
I think when we finally stop looking for answers,
the questions will fade away too.
And that's a good thing,
'cause then we can stop living in our head
and just let go.
[Engine turns]
Fuck.
Uh.
Charlotte?
I do know this:
I have no right to ask or expect anything of you.
I have no right to your forgiveness.
I have no right to even the slightest indulgence.
But I am asking...
I'm asking you to call me.
That's what I'm doing.
[Television chatter]
(Evan) It's 10:30.
You're probably at work.
I found a box of Maxi Pads.
I don't think they're mine.
Maybe we could arrange a way to get them to you?
Or just call.
[Machine beeps]
(Abel) Hey, man.
Where the hell were you last night>
I waited for half an hour.
You better be in the hospital
or at least dead.
Okay, kidding.
Call me.
[Machine beeps]
Evan, what the fuck>
You got to call me back.
Where the fuck are you>
I'm not doing so hot right now, you know>
Plea...
[machine beeps]
Hey, Charlotte.
Wait.
That's your stuff from my place.
Why can't we just talk?
It's nothing to talk about.
I wish you the best, Evan, I really do.
Hey, Charlotte.
Wait.
Charlotte, wait.
Please don't do this.
Leave me alone.
You picked me, Charlotte.
You can't just throw me away.
We need to talk about this.
Talk?
What's there to talk about?
You're a good poet,
and you helped shoot a bullet into my brother's head.
I think that's pretty much a mouthful, don't you?
Hey, you know zero about what I do.
I had nothing to do with his choices.
Oh!
Oh, no, you just wrote his fucking epitaph,
fucking soulless fuck.
You're a real saint.
So what should I have told him,
that he was taking the coward's way out,
that he was being selfish?
Yes!
Yes, that's what you should've told him.
It's rhetoric, Charlotte.
It's a crock of shit.
Maybe some things aren't worth sticking out.
Have you thought about that?
Maybe sometimes life is so fucking unbearable,
it's best to just cut your losses.
Who the fuck are you to decide whose life is worth what?
My brother was depressed.
He needed help.
He was going to die.
He had pancreatic cancer.
He had no friends.
He didn't want to burden his family.
He was in a lot of pain.
[Whispers] Fuck you.
I'll have another one of these, not those.
Hey.
We having ourselves a tea party?
Sammy.
Evan.
Who's your friend?
Oh, I was going to donate it.
Can I settle up?
$22.
I'm sorry. That's all I've got.
You're not leaving, are you?
Yeah.
It was nice to meet you, Sammy.
Likewise.
Get up, slowly.
Uh!
- What... - Am I doing?
Heh, good question.
I was trying to follow you to your car,
and then you sat down at the fucking bus stop.
I mean, who the fuck rides the bus in L.A.?
You left the bar a little heavy, my friend.
Get up. Give me your wallet.
- Please. - Shut up.
Take it. Just...
Oh!
What's a shitbag like you doing carrying all this cash for?
Did you steal it?
Oh, I bet you did, you fucking bus faggot.
Please, just go.
I'm sorry. Am I keeping you?
Please, just go.
Shut the fuck up!
You don't think I'm funny, huh?
You think you're better than me, you little fucking bitch pussy,
is that it, you little fucking prick pussy...
I'm shit!
Don't look at me!
I'm shit!
Don't look at me!
I'm worthless shit!
Don't look at me!
I'm shit!
Sorry.
[Phone trilling]
(Abel) Hello>
Abel. Abel, hey, it's Evan.
Oh.
You got some kind of timing.
Why is that?
No reason.
I was on my way out.
Uh...
Uh, look, I'm sorry I haven't called.
What do you want>
Well, listen, I was thinking maybe we could meet up,
you know?
I don't think so.
Well, um...
I've got some new ideas for the note,
and we could get together.
The note's perfect.
It's done.
I put a check in the mail this morning.
I know that's against your policy,
but, frankly, some of your policies
aren't exactly consumer-minded.
Look, Abel, let's get a drink, man.
No, man, no.
All right, I...
I got places to be.
[Phone clicks]
Abel?
[Horns honking]
What are you doing here?
I'd like to watch.
Go home, Evan.
I'm serious.
Can I do that?
Why?
I've written a lot of notes.
And I've gone to a lot of funerals.
But I've never actually watched a client go through this part.
It'll help me.
Fine, fine. Do what you want.
So what are your plans?
What the fuck do you mean?
I mean, in a few minutes, you're going to be gone,
maybe that's it.
But maybe there's a heaven...
or hell.
And if there is,
what are your plans?
I was going to play it by ear.
Now, shut up, please.
Don't.
I have no choice.
Please don't.
Why shouldn't I?
No reason.
Only, do it tomorrow.
Let me buy you a slice of pizza.
I could use a slice of pizza.
You wouldn't believe the day I've had.
For me.
Do it for that reason?
That's not enough, Evan.
I'm sorry.
It isn't.
[loud traffic sounds]
[Silence]
[Knocking at door]
Come in.
Hi.
Hey.
I thought you were someone else.
You leaving?
Yeah.
Actually, I thought you were the movers.
They're late.
What happened to your face?
Nothing.
Altercation.
An altercation>
Jesus, Evan.
I'm not sure really why I came.
I'm glad you did.
Fuck you.
Well, then.
And who the fuck are you?
I'm not really sure.
I've been living with some issues.
In the past,
I would manage those issues
by writing about other people's pain.
Issues.
Rage...
issues.
Growing up in the foster system can be kind of complicated.
Right, fuck it.
Who knows why we do what we do, really?
I decided to stop writing.
I'm going to start a business,
out of state, I think.
Maybe I'll come back in a year.
I don't know.
What's up with you?
I just...
came by to...
tell you I've been doing a lot of thinking,
and that you're a horrible boyfriend
with a despicable fucking day job,
but that it's not your fault that I lost my brother,
and it's not your fault that I wasn't there
when he needed someone.
And I wanted you to know that.
So...
I'm going to go.
Is that for me?
Yeah.
Well, if you do come back in a year or so,
maybe give me a call, let me know you're alive.
I probably won't want to see you.
Okay.
So um, how does this work?
Do I say something?
If you feel like it.
Oh.
And then you can watch on that monitor.
Okay.
Are you ready?
Yeah.
Stand by, one.
Rolling.
Who's laughing now, huh?
Rot in hell, you worthless piece of shit.
Ah!
[loud explosion]
(Abel) Fuckin' sweet.
[Woman singing in Portuguese]
% %
[haunting instrumental music]
% %
{{{ the end }}}