[announcer]: Renee Johns, please
come to your party at gate 33.
Renee Johns, please
come to your party at gate 33.
Passengers on flight 435,
service to Chicago,
the flight has been delayed
due to severe weather
and is now scheduled
to depart at 11:35pm.
Once again, flight 435 service to Chicago
will now depart at 11:35pm.
What?
What?
No, really.
What?
I should be the one
saying what.
You were watching me.
Was I?
Yeah.
Hmm.
While I was reading my book, I thought if I gave you a sort of a glance and looked amused
you might be impressed.
Impressed?
With a glance?
Well, I tried to make it charming
or coy or maybe both.
I'm not really sure
at this point.
What more do you want?
Do you know any tricks?
What kind of tricks
are you looking for?
I don't know.
Like carney tricks or...
slight of hand, something like that.
Maybe juggling.
Would it really matter
if I knew carney tricks?
Glad we had this talk.
Hmm-mm.
Diary?
No.
Journal?
No.
Then what is it?
You know, stuff.
Stuff?
Well, now I know.
What?
It's got all your secrets.
Why do you rub the lining
of your jacket?
I noticed you
over in the ticketing line
rubbing the lining of your jacket.
Guess I could ask you why
you feel the need to talk to strangers?
It's a human need I suppose.
So that's what you do
when you're pretending to read?
Come up with things to say
that might sound profound and...
wait for someone to say them to?
No.
Sometimes,
when I'm not reading,
but pretending to be.
All right, listen.
I have a little black notebook
that I write them down in and...
I find strangers to test them out on.
How's that working out
for you?
Usually better.
But see, there was this girl
down there earlier,
she just would not get onboard.
It's a tough nut to crack.
Not that I'm into nuts or anything
as I'm extremely allergic to peanuts.
You're crazy.
Crazy good or crazy bad?
Crazy ba... good.
But good?
Yes.
The jury's still out.
I'll let you know when they
come back with a verdict.
All right.
I can work with that.
You know what else
I can work with?
Coffee.
Coffee?
Yeah, let's get some.
Now?
Yes.
With you?
Yes.
No.
All right, listen.
I am desperate for
human contact.
I've spent the last two years
mining for precious metals
in the Western hills of Sierra Leone
with my mute companion named Becky.
It is a pleasure to meet you
This is where you reciprocate.
I usually tell people I'm a drummer
in an all girl punk band.
But I'm not.
I love travel-sized
accouterments and...
I'm a wizard at parallel parking.
Oh, and I'm not jaded.
I'm depressed.
Super.
Strangers no more.
Let's go get some coffee.
It's just the mixture
of me and coffee.
It's...
I get really, uh...
I have this sense of immediacy that all of the
spaces in my mind have got to be filled,
but all the world is there for me
to consume and envelop.
It's mine to crack open and
spill into my hands,
but if I don't do it now
nothing will ever be mine.
What I want, what I need,
all I see, now, now, now.
I see I've momentarily
forgotten how to function.
So,
maybe I should go.
What were you saying earlier?
I don't know.
Oh.
Something about the
immediate need for Self-fulfillment.
How's it working out for you?
Kind of feels like it's not.
Welcome to your 20's.
How old are you?
So what you're saying is when I turn 27,
I can get smug and all knowing?
I don't claim to know
everything.
You act like you do.
It's a common misconception.
How old are you?
You're just a little niblet.
A niblet?
Yeah.
Young.
Like corn?
Corn?
Why are you talking about vegetables?
You called me a niblet.
Oh, right.
Corn niblets.
Tell me something.
Something?
Yeah.
Something real.
Something real.
I had this blanket when I was a kid
that had satin all around the edges,
and I used to rub the satin
in between my fingers, you know,
just between my fingers all the time.
That's why I rub the lining
of my jacket.
It reminds me of the satin.
That wasn't so hard.
I guess.
I just don't like the whole revealing myself
process all that much.
Afraid people won't like
what they see?
No.
Afraid they will?
Aha.
That I am afraid,
that you're gonna have to tell me something.
Something good.
Fair enough.
My first true love
was Gwen Stefani.
Gwen Stefani?
Hell yeah.
I'm just a girl.
That song rocked!
You know she was like a little punk,
you know?
And when she would get on stage,
she'd just jump around
like she was possessed
by something.
She led me to steal
for the first time.
She made you steal?
I was in the store in the mall,
and there was this little poster of her
on stage completely possessed.
And I had to have it.
I mean I had to take it
for myself.
I mean I had the money for it,
but it wasn't about buying.
She wanted me to take her.
So, I did.
I've never stolen
anything before.
Not even like a pack of gum?
Not even.
How is that even possible?
I don't know.
I was kind of a goody-goody
growing up.
Let's go steal some shit.
No.
Yeah.
Be part of your life education.
How?
It's good to grow.
No.
I can't.
Here, put this in your pants.
No, are you crazy?
What's the problem?
What am I gonna do with
a travelling compass?
Does it matter?
Well, it should be useful
Well, it should be useful,
shouldn't it?
No.
Okay, fine.
It will help you along your path
in these crazy days of life we live.
All right, all right.
Take these tampons if you're
so into practicality.
Hey, why don't you just let me
pick something?
You're getting a little overexcited.
Fine.
Pick something yourself.
Thank you.
I mean honestly, is this how Gwen's poster
spoke to you, because...
Feeling a little excluded,
aren't you?
Maybe.
'cause I could use some help.
You don't mean that.
Of course I do.
Yeah?
Yes.
I need a wingman,
and I think you are
the man for my wing.
Now we're talking.
All right, what's my handle?
What are you?
A trucker?
No, but if we're gonna be covert,
we can't use our real names.
Fine.
I'm Cher, you're Dion.
Why can't I be Cher?
'cause you're the sidekick
in this operation.
Touche.
I need you
to neutralize Elton.
Done.
Great.
Wait.
Who's Elton?
The creeps old lady
over at the register.
Cake.
So, Peggy,
what do you do when you're not working
at Zene's & Things?
You seem like you'd be into...
Well that sounds very interesting.
Good day, madam.
Hey, hey.
What did you get?
What the hell is that?
It's a koosh ball.
A koosh ball?
Yeah.
You think that's more useful
than a travelling compass?
Yeah.
It spoke to me.
Time out.
Time out.
So, are we tight now?
Oh, yeah.
We're an open book.
I tried.
I mean, I'm not all that interesting
really.
I mean what's to know?
I don't know.
Stuff.
Well, I don't know you.
So, like, telling you stuff
would be weird.
That's weird.
Why?
Why?
Just is.
No it's not.
You just said it was.
I didn't.
Yes you did.
Okay, I did.
You interest me.
Okay.
I wanna crack your head open
and see what's inside.
It's filled with candy corn,
psycho.
See?
That's interesting.
What?
Sarcasm as a deflection mechanism.
Is that your armchair
psychology?
I prefer pocket philosopher.
Interesting.
Intriguing.
Indubitably.
Passengers on flight 435
service to Chicago, we'd like
we'd like to thank you for your patience this evening
and apologize for the delay.
We will now begin boarding
at gate 35.
What row are you in?
Me too.
No way.
Wait, what seat are you in?
Um, A.
I'm in B.
Get out of town.
I am.
Can I slap you?
Why?
Because I love the sound.
It's so satisfying.
How hard would you hit me?
Oh, not too hard.
Just enough to get a good whap.
Okay.
I guess.
Damn, that sounded great!
Treachery.
You just slapped the shit
out of me.
Don't be such a little bitch
about it.
It hurt.
Take it like a man.
Legit, you're crazy.
I think I like it.
Don't get fresh.
Thank you.
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.
On the behalf of captain groom, the entire crew would like
to welcome you onboard flight 435 service to Chicago.
Our flight time will be
four hours and ten minutes
we are scheduled to land
at 5:40 local time.
You know what this is?
Tell me.
This is fate.
That's what this is.
We meet,
make this connection,
it can only be attributed to the Gods of
divine connectionednesssion.
Steal a koosh,
and then...
Well, and then, out of all the
seats on this plane,
our seats are exactly...
You, dude.
You're in my seat.
Are you sure?
Check it, sucker.
Listen, I was hoping
we could switch seats.
Don't cockblock, dude.
Let's go this way.
Cockblock?
What are you, like 10?
Old enough to negotiate.
As in bribery?
No, extortion.
How much?
A hundo.
Ha!
Twenty.
Done and done.
How'd that go?
We had a little tet-a-tet.
I told him you'd shank him
with a plastic spork.
So, you mean he swindled you?
Like a little bitch.
It's a little premature
don't you think?
Touche.
Small acts of defiance,
you know?
Right.
So, where are you
connecting to?
I'm going to North Carolina.
Going home or leaving home?
Well, both I guess.
I mean I'm going to my
parent's house,
which used to be my house,
but Los Angeles's my home now.
So, I guess you could say I'm leaving home and
going home at the same time.
I like that.
Sounds more poetic
than it really is.
Don't do that.
What?
Don't not let yourself
be profound.
Well, okay.
I won't not.
Good.
Aren't you gonna ask me?
Ask you what?
About my connection.
So, I was wondering what's
your connecting flight?
New York.
Why didn't you just fly direct?
It's cheaper this way.
I'd love to be able to
afford to fly direct.
It's almost like a novelty,
you know?
Flying directly from
one place to another.
I don't know.
I kind of like connecting.
I get a weird joy
from being in airports.
Direct.
First class.
It'd be like a dream.
Have you ever been
to first class?
I got bumped one time.
It was amazing.
I think I was born
for first class.
Everyone thinks they're
born for first class.
What were we talking about before I started talking
about first class and then I talked too much?
Ur, connecting flights.
Right.
New York.
Leaving home or returning home?
Returning.
Why were you in LA?
I was visiting a friend.
A lady friend?
A man friend.
You homo.
Don't worry.
I'm accepting.
A hetero man friend.
I'm not one of the gays.
Ugh, must you call them
the gays?
No need to get homophobic.
I'm not homophobic.
Some of my best...
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Let me guess.
You're gonna tell me that some
of your best friends are gay?
That's what racist people say.
Some of my best friends
are black people.
Some of my best friends
are gay people.
Some of my best friends are
Buddhist midgets with no arms people.
What?
Well, I mean it's an easy
claim to make.
I actually don't know
a Buddhist midget,
let alone one with no arms,
but I can claim to be best friends
with one, now, can't I?
Tangenting again, aren't I?
Yeah.
Where were we?
Visiting my man friend.
Right.
How was it?
Anti-climatic.
Why so?
Well, we're not friends
like we used to be.
It's one of the things you don't really realize
until you're there, you know?
It's like on the phone you both can
pretend it's the same,
like you're still friends
in the real sense.
But then you get face to face
and...
That's sad.
Such is life.
I suppose.
Ladies and gentlemen,
this is your captain speaking.
We have just been informed that the snow has
picked up again in Chicago.
Visibility is too low
for us to land.
So, we've been rerouted to Denver where we
will be grounded until tomorrow morning.
Airline representatives will be available to assist you on
rebooking your flight and will help you arrange for a hotel.
We greatly apologize for
the inconvenience.
We'll be landing at 2:30am
local Denver time.
Snow?
Snow.
Denver?
Denver.
Hey.
Hey.
Hey.
Hey what?
Hey, listen.
Hey, listen to what?
Hey, listen.
Please, tell me what's in that
black notebook.
I don't want to.
You have to.
Why?
Because I asked politely.
I suppose you did.
Yes, I did.
Thanks.
Well, I guess I fancy myself
a writer.
You guess?
No, I fancy myself a writer.
You fancy?
Ugh, leave me alone.
Well, I'm just trying to figure out if you're guessing about
how you fancy yourself a guess or if you're a writer?
I'd like to be a writer.
Do you write?
Well, yeah.
So, you're a writer.
I guess.
Why?
I guess I just feel self-conscious
talking about it.
You know what I want?
What?
I wanna feel awake.
Have a coffee.
I mean metaphorically.
Maybe an espresso would be best.
Perhaps a cappuccino?
No?
Maybe a cafe au lait?
Are you belittling me?
No.
Just tryna call you out
on your bullshit.
Thanks.
That and help you espress yourself.
Say what?
Espress yourself.
I'm sorry.
Again, please.
Espresso self.
816,
817,
So, what are you gonna do
now?
Like right now?
Yeah.
Now, now.
Well, I'm gonna brush my teeth,
maybe contemplate life,
You know, the usual.
Well, all right.
Good luck with that.
Probably just gonna ponder
the cosmos.
Well, okay.
That's that...
What time is your flight
tomorrow?
7:30.
Mine's at 8.
What shuttle are you
gonna take?
Probably the one at 6.
I probably will too.
So, I'll see you in the
morning.
I guess you will.
Well, I guess this is
good night.
I guess it is.
Good night.
Hello.
Hello.
God?
Yes, my child.
Oh, hey.
What are you doing?
Contemplating life.
Did you brush your teeth?
I did.
Was it marvelous?
It was.
You wanna come over
and watch some TV?
In heaven?
Otherwise known as room 825.
I'll be there shortly.
Well, I look forward
to your arrival.
Why thank you.
You're quite welcome.
You like that movie?
Sure, it's sweet.
It's movies like that that fuck real life
and real love.
How?
They perpetuate these insane ideas
about love and the idea of it.
What do you mean?
Well...
it's like we'll never be satisfied
with real life love
because movies have led us to believe that
love is lived out in a never-ending montage.
They make it into this magical thing it's
just gonna somehow solve all your problems.
Maybe it is.
Maybe it does.
But does it really exist?
In real life?
I'm not so sure it does.
I mean maybe it does,
but my parents never really had it,
so maybe it's just that
I haven't had a glimpse of it.
Or maybe that's not the point.
Maybe the point is,
is that life and love will never be as easy,
or glamorous or exciting as it is in the movie.
That was quite a little rant
you just went on there.
Yeah, I guess it was.
Are you feeling
any better now?
I mean, do rants really ever
make you feel any better?
It's not their purpose really.
Are you a divorce baby?
A what?
You know,
child of a broken home.
I'm not. Actually,
my parents are still married.
My anger just comes naturally.
Fair enough.
Are yours?
Divorced?
They are.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Guess you could chalk it up
to having too much passion.
So, they had it?
They did.
Didn't do them a lot of good
though.
Kind of cracked
under the pressure of it.
But I mean at least
you've seen it.
I mean my parents just bickered
and were in this marriage
where I never really felt
like they were in love.
They just sort of kept it going I guess
for my brother and me,
which was very noble of them,
But I don't know.
Sometimes I think they ruined
marriage for me.
That's a grand statement.
I know.
Sometimes I'm scared to say it out loud
because I'm afraid my parents will hear me
somewhere across the Miles.
And I don't wanna hurt them like that.
But at the same time I just
don't think marriage works for anyone.
Well, maybe it does,
but it's just not for you.
So, you're saying you think
marriage can work?
No.
I'm saying maybe it's just
not for you.
Maybe you're right.
I mean who am I to say
something as broad as that.
It just seems like our generation's parents
are either divorced or unhappy or both.
I mean, look at you.
Your parents are divorced.
Doesn't that fuck you up?
Well, them being divorced hasn't fucked me up
quite as much as the actual divorce did.
Well, how so?
Well, I mean we were little
my brother and I.
I was six and he was eight.
So, I don't know how much this
is actually coming from my own memory
or from what I was told
later what happened,
but...
my brother and I were
assets to my dad.
Another thing he could fight
my mom for.
Just to hurt her.
Just to win, you know?
And did he?
Win I mean?
It's nothing you haven't heard from any other tale
of divorce woe.
All our stories are the same.
Half our generation's
fucked up from divorce.
Or lack of.
And I was just sort of nodding like it was
all so completely understandable.
Wasn't it?
Well, she was all,
"my heart is broken."
And it really fucking
bothered me.
Why?
The way people talk about
a broken heart is ridiculous,
like it's a tangible object, something you could
hold or sit on a shelf,
could bring your friends over and say,
"look at here what I got on my knickknack shelf.
It's the two pieces
of my broken heart.
Would you like to hold them?"
It just makes it all seem like
bullshit.
Have you ever been in love?
No.
So, you've never had your
heart broken?
Well, no.
Hmm.
What?
Just awfully critical of something
you know nothing about.
Oh, please.
I reserve the right
to be cynical.
How is that possible anyway?
That you've never been in love?
I don't know.
I'm just better at being alone.
Actually, not better
because I've never been bad at together,
because I've never actually been
that together with a person.
You never know.
You might like it.
Do you like it?
I do.
Do tell why.
Well, it's hard to talk about love
without sounding trite.
Well, do it anyway.
Talking about love is like trying to put words
to something you can't define.
You're right.
That was pretty trite.
I mean, here I am, young and naive
in the ways of love
and you have nothing
to throw at me but cliche.
Now you're going to die.
I think maybe we've been
in this room too long.
Maybe.
We should leave this place.
We could.
We will find sustenance.
We will?
Yes, we will.
Hi, there.
How may I burger you?
Pardon?
How may I burger you?
I'm sorry. What?
I didn't write it,
but I'm required to say it.
How's that working out for you?
Look, man, let's not torture
the 20-year-old college student
who's flipping burgers to pay
his parents rent money
because they refuse to let him live
in their basement for free.
Do you really live in your
parent's basement?
Well, then...
I think I'll get the
number one.
I think I'm gonna go
with number four.
No, one.
No, four.
One, no, four.
One.
No, four.
Four.
Four, please.
And can I have some ketchup
with that?
Anything else?
Uh, no.
I think that's about it.
Thank you.
I mean I want to love things.
What?
Just because I've never been in love
doesn't mean I don't want to.
Just not sure I'll ever get to.
What are you talking about?
You've never felt like that?
Like nothing will ever be yours?
You can love something
without it being yours.
No, you can't.
You've been burgered.
I'm sorry, what?
Burgered.
Pardon?
What?
You want me to be anorexic?
Well, you may wanna actually breathe
while you eat.
You might wanna wipe that
ketchup off your chin.
Higher.
Lower.
Lower again.
Higher again.
No, let me get it.
I'll never wash this cheek
again.
Oh, what a wicked web we weave.
What?
The web that we weave.
It's kind of wicked.
Don't you think?
I don't know if I'd use
the word wicked, per se.
Or web for that matter.
But whatever it is, we've
definitely weaved it.
I think you're right.
We did weave it.
Do you know how to weave?
No.
Yeah, me either.
Maybe that's why we're so
unhappy.
Because we can't weave?
Yeah.
I mean we spend all our time
reminiscing about what we've weaved,
but we don't know how to weave.
So, we've really weaved nothing.
Ipso facto we're reminiscing
about nothing.
My God, that's brilliant.
Thank you.
Did you just come up with that?
I did.
Good for you.
Thank you.
Have you ever felt nostalgic for something
without knowing what you're nostalgic for?
Like what?
I just...
I don't know.
Something about interstate exits.
Interstate exits?
Yeah.
My family never really flew
all that often.
We always drove.
Always.
It was this really
well practiced routine.
I'd remember specific exits,
know what gas station we
went to,
and what fast food restaurant
we stopped at.
And for some reason I miss it.
I mean maybe it's just the neon
going straight to my brain,
but I miss this
when I shouldn't really.
It's just some exit
off of some interstate.
I could really be anywhere.
There's a small amount
of romance to that.
Like the idea that everywhere
seems a little bit familiar.
Kind of like home.
Yeah.
I guess.
But it's also kind of depressing that
you can never go anywhere new.
There's all these trips in my life that I remember
in mile markers and exit signs.
Gas, food, lodging.
The options were always
the same.
But there was this weird sort
of comfort in knowing that
if you pass an exit with
something you wanted,
no worries.
Just go a few more exits
and you'll find it again.
Maybe that's what I miss,
you know?
Feeling that you can never
miss out on something.
Maybe you're just nostalgic
for childhood.
Could be.
Maybe it's just past
your bedtime.
I think it is.
Do you ever think
that you think too much?
Because I think that
all the time.
but not that thinking
is a bad thing.
It's just the incessant thinking about
what I'm thinking about,
and how it makes me think of things
that I don't wanna think about.
What are you thinking about?
About how I'm thinking.
No, I'm just kidding.
I'm thinking about how I can't seem to get through a day without feeling nostalgic about my past
or nostalgic for some future I haven't even
lived and probably never will.
That makes me sad.
Like lives you know you'll never live,
but would like to?
Exactly.
I feel that too.
I always wish there could be
like six of me
and we all lived these different lives,
but had a collective memory bank
we shared.
Or if you could live one life by day
and another by night.
So, you go to bed in one life
and you transport to say Russia
and you live your life there.
Then you go to bed in Russia
and immediately wake up here.
Exactly.
But I mean not Russia.
No, of course not.
I'd look terrible in a babushka.
And I hate in vodka.
Ugh.
We talk too much.
Legit... such assholes.
I mean seriously where do we get off
taking up so much oxygen?
That's it.
It's cold out here.
Let's go explore some shit.
Nice.
Where do you suppose
those doors lead?
I don't know.
Let's find out.
Okay.
Let's go in.
Are you sure about this?
What are you scared of?
What if they catch us
in there?
I am seriously questioning
you right now.
Why?
I thought you had balls.
You wish, homo.
Hey.
Hey.
Hey.
Hey.
Hey.
Hey.
Oh my God.
I'm honored.
I'm so honored.
Ah, let me think.
I'd like to thank the academy.
What an honor!
I mean, I'm honored.
And to my fellow nominees,
you inspire me.
And last not but not least,
my parents for the acting class
when I was two.
You can never start too early.
Thank you.
Thank you all.
I love the world.
Wait, stop the music.
Just stop!
I forgot to thank my
best friends.
My agent, my publicist,
and my lawyer.
Thank you.
Thank you so much.
Thank you.
I wish I could be happy
with something simple.
Like a farm with some animals.
Maybe some sheep that I shear,
weave my fabric on an
old-fashioned loom,
and be happy doing that.
You'd like to shear sheep?
Not literally.
Actually, I'm strangely
frightened by sheep.
I just mean something
like that, you know?
Simpler way of life.
Yeah, but it'd probably suck.
But maybe I'd be happy.
Do you believe that?
Yes.
No.
Fuck.
I don't know.
It's just that I've decided what to do with myself
because it's what I want,
but I can think of nothing worse than
chasing after something you've always wanted,
and then realizing it doesn't make you happy
even after you struggled to get it.
Yeah, but how do you know
you're gonna hate it once you get there?
I don't know.
Maybe I won't.
But it's what I want at 23.
By the time I get there,
I won't be 23 anymore,
which makes me think I'm always
gonna want what I want now.
Can you tell me something?
I'm a little worried.
Why?
I'm sensing you're no longer
looking for amusement.
Maybe I'm not.
What are you looking for?
Enlightenment.
Cute.
Thanks.
You've been saving that one,
haven't you?
I have.
For how long?
A couple hours.
Now seemed right.
So, I threw it out there.
Right.
You know what I'm tryna do with my possibly
insignificant life.
It's not my fault you caved
so easily.
Okay, could you check your self-loathing at the door
for maybe the next I don't know two minutes?
What?
Enough with the game
of mystery.
Just fucking tell me.
Jeez.
I am...
I am...
absolutely nothing.
Come on.
Just tell me.
I am a trust fund.
How do you like me now?
So, you're rich?
You could say that.
Like really rich?
Well, I can't say I'm
completely okay with it.
Probably because I'm somewhat
jealous,
but besides that, I mean it can't
be so bad to be rich.
Now can it?
It's not bad.
It's great.
It's fucking awesome.
Then why are you so upset
about having money?
I mean everybody wants it.
You've got it.
Why am I upset?
Because I'm a waste
of human flesh.
'cause I'm fucking weak.
'cause instead of a spine
I've a birthright.
Take your pick.
I'll go with birthright.
That one sounds intriguing.
Oh, you're intrigued?
Well, yeah.
I mean, ooh, secret identity
Kind of intrigued.
It's no secret or anything.
I mean this money was made
before there was a me.
I thought I hated it.
I thought I could hate it.
I really thought I could live
without my parent's money.
I had all these great intentions of just
walking away.
But I tell myself,
"self, you don't need this.
Let's live.
Let's see if we can just cut
the rope away."
Romantic, right?
It's got some romance to it.
So, I decided to go on a
spiritualistic journey
where I could actually do something on my own
without my parent's money for once.
I decided to become a real
old-fashioned troubadour.
A troubadour?
Fancy.
I like it.
Well, I don't know if you could actually
technically refer to it as a troubadour
when you finance it with
trust fundage.
Oh.
Yeah.
That's where the weak part
comes in.
Apparently, cutting the net takes a stronger knife
than what I was using.
You need like a serrated blade
or a pocketknife even.
And you are?
Butter knife.
Really dull butter knife.
It's kind of like cutting with a spoon
come to think of it.
Hell, it probably was a spoon.
So, there you were.
Troubadour with a spoon.
Graduated from college and I moved to
San Francisco because it was kerouacian.
I started using the money
right away.
Just small amounts.
Then I used more of it.
And then I forgot to forget
about the money.
Well...
so, what is that you're
doing in New York?
Eating with a spoon.
Oh.
Yeah.
Silver one?
I believe it may be.
How's it taste?
A little bitter.
Kind of like crow.
I heard that's an
acquired taste.
What? Crow?
Yeah, I'm still working
on that one.
So, you aren't doing anything?
Not really.
What do you wanna do?
I don't know.
Well, there must be something.
I'm kind of at this point
of in between.
It's like I know I can do
anything.
I mean I really believe that.
It's just when I think about
actually doing it,
I'm petrified.
Guess I'm just kind of in a
holding pattern.
Well, why don't you just,
I don't know, do something?
I mean if I pick something,
I'll have to finally
really define myself.
That scares me,
'cause there's nothing
I really wanna be.
When I ask you what's the world,
you're gonna raise your spoon
and say, "my fucking oyster,"
and then I'm gonna ask you,
"and whatcha you looking for?"
and you're gonna say,
"my fucking pearl."
You ready?
Ready.
What's the world?
My fucking oyster.
No, no, no, no, no.
No, no, no, no, no.
My fucking oyster!
Come on, get excited about it.
Make it an exclamation.
Okay?
What's the world?
My fucking oyster!
Whatcha looking for?
My fucking pearl!
There you fucking go!
I like to brush my teeth
in the shower.
Me too.
I like travel sized
accouterments.
I know.
You do?
Yeah, you told me already
when we first met.
I tend to repeat stories.
Occupational hazard.
What occupation is that?
Being forgetful.
Ah, yes.
I've got something.
Yeah?
You know that feeling you get
when you stretch your arm out the car window
and the wind catches under your fingers
and your hand just seems to float there
with all the air rushing around it?
That makes me feel free.
I wish I could live up inside
that feeling.
Just right up inside it.
Takes a lot to impress you.
What?
It's probably 'cause
you're jaded.
Just because I'm not easily impressed
doesn't mean I'm jaded.
You know I think it does actually.
You've got me all wrong.
You think so?
I do.
Tell me,
what impresses you?
I'm impressed...
by someone who holds my attention.
Ha!
So, you admit you're easily
distracted.
Shit.
No,
that's not what I meant.
I mean,
someone who can make me laugh
or...
who I don't have to pretend to be
completely interested in.
Or, holy shit.
I'm completely self-absorbed.
But we all are, aren't we?
I mean,
don't we all just really care about ourselves?
Not necessarily.
I mean there's people
who go to third world countries
and help poverty stricken children
learn to read,
or help build homes after earthquakes,
shit like that.
I hate when people spew
that altruistic bullshit.
They don't go there
to build a house,
they go there so when they
get back
they can tell everyone about
how they built a house.
It's like they're better than
everyone else or some shit.
My God you're cynical.
And you aren't?
Well, I prefer disenchanted.
Disenchanted?
Yes.
By what?
Everything.
You're mocking me.
I am,
but in good fun.
And was it?
What?
Fun?
Well, I thought it would be,
but now I'm sensing it might
not end so well.
It might not.
Look, I was only kidding.
Whatever.
It's fine.
I guess it's just one of those things
where you can insult yourself,
but you never really believe it
until you hear it from someone else.
I can't seem to stop hiding behind
sarcasm and irony
and mock sincerity.
I hide from real emotions
or I hide from talking about them,
because I'm afraid of the embarrassment
or self-loathing it could cause.
It's as if I'm afraid to take
myself seriously.
And sometimes I hate myself
for that.
People are cheesy every day
and they don't care.
They gush about puppies and
rainbows and they like it.
I mean maybe they don't know
they're being cheesy,
and...
they think of it as being deep.
But maybe they do realize it and they do it
anyway because they wanna feel.
And they don't care what
people will think about that.
There are days when I wish
I could just be one of them,
smiling at a rainbow.
I've been uncomfortably numb to emotion
for quite some time now.
Doesn't that make you sick?
Sometimes
when I really think about it.
And how often do you do that?
I think you know.
I do.
Say it anyway.
Constantly.
All day, every day, my friend.
What if we start now?
You and me.
We'll be emotional
and honest all the time.
What are you saying?
I'm saying maybe we decide to make some sort of
true effort to be cliched,
filled with honesty and emotion.
And we agree, you and me,
to smile and to sing and to believe.
And we ditch our cynicism and
we're happy all the time.
And we throw away our need to be tragic
because...
tragedy doesn't go well with
the colors of our new self.
And every morning we smile
because we're alive.
I mean, we're young
and we're open,
and there's no one
that's gonna stop us.
Except maybe ourselves.
Valid concern.
I think I hate us.
Let's kill us off.
Should we?
We'll put an end to our
self-inflicted misery.
I like that.
And in our place we'll live our
new self.
But how do we get rid of us?
Going to need a chariot.
Get on.
Ready?
Ginger ale for the lady.
I'd adore a ginger ale.
Why does our thought process
have to be so random?
What do you mean?
Well, I'm drinking this
ginger ale,
but you can't just
drink a ginger ale.
Suddenly, I'm thinking about
how this ginger ale affects me.
Tell me.
It's nothing really.
Look at the cart.
We agreed.
Ginger ale makes me
think of my grandma.
She used to pour a little into
her water.
It was about one quarter ginger ale
and three quarters Water.
That's how she drank it.
And then it gets really random.
Do you believe in reincarnation?
Can't really say that I do.
Yeah, me neither.
'cept for when I think of
my grandma.
Yeah?
Yeah.
I always felt like she knew me
before there was a me to know,
you know?
Like when I was little,
I would catch her
looking at me in this way,
and I would just smile at her,
just happy without thought.
And maybe I thought it was just love,
but...
when I remember that look,
she was not looking through me,
but inside of me,
to another part of me.
I like to believe she was
thinking of the me I would become.
Like she knew who that was,
because she'd seen it before.
She was just waiting for me.
I guess I just felt like
we knew each other from more than the time
we've had together.
We were connected without effort
for longer than I can remember.
So, maybe there really are
these other lives that we live
and we see people again.
Or maybe it's just me leaning on mysticism
because I can't stand the idea
that I might never see her again.
Maybe it's just me being weak.
Oh, don't say that.
You know,
I can't remember a single instance
of her yelling at me
or getting angry at me ever.
She would just look at me and
I would...
feel disappointment pouring
from her eyes because...
'cause she knew there was better in me.
And this is me crying.
How is it?
Well, I mean I'm crying.
I don't really cry
in front of people.
That was a nugget for me.
Can I tell you that was a
nugget of you that I wanna keep?
You wrap it up,
save it in a little box.
one that's small enough
to fit in my pocket.
Is that okay with you?
If you want.
I do.
Made me believe that we should
believe in mysticism.
Believing mysticism doesn't
have to be a bad thing.
It doesn't.
I desperately wanna believe
that there's a secret to world,
just so that I know it exists.
And I will love it without
really knowing what it is I'm loving,
just so I can breathe it in,
you know?
Do you know?
I'd like to.
I think you do,
unconsciously.
Is that possible?
Who are you?
No, really.
Who are you?
I don't know.
I don't either.
We're gonna have to
leave soon.
Yeah, soon.
I like you.
Yeah?
Yeah.
That was really hard
for me to say.
I like you too.