You want some?
I'm gonna kiII you!
Where the heII have you been?
- Mom, come on and eat! - I'm not hungry.
- Then why did I cook? - I don't know why you cooked.
I don't know why you bother.
Eat, Simon.
God! I want to get fucked.
You okay?
See ya.
Get up off your knees.
Where do you have to go to get a six-pack of beer around here?
- Say something. - She's mute.
What?
Kiss my ass.
Fucker.
AsshoIe!
Centuries ago, it had an 'e' at the end.
- Where do you come from? - Nowhere in particuIar.
I go where I wiII and I do what I can.
That's why I'm in troubIe.
I'm sort of what you might caII...
an exiIe.
Why are you in troubIe?
An honest man is aIways in troubIe, Simon.
Remember that.
How do you know my name?
I am not retarded.
Yeah, weII. I'II take your word for that.
PeopIe...
I mean...
they think...
you know...
because...
I see.
Here.
Take this.
And...
this.
Keep them with you at aII times...
if you feeI you've got something to say and you can't get it out.
You stop and write it down, okay?
What are these?
My Iife's work.
My memoirs.
My confession.
What have you done?
I've been bad.
RepeatedIy.
But why brag?
The detaiIs of my expIoits are onIy a pretext for a...
far more expansive consideration of generaI truths.
What is this?
It's a phiIosophy.
A poetics.
A poIitics, if you wiII.
A Iiterature of protest.
A noveI of ideas.
A pornographic magazine of truIy comic-book proportions.
It is in the end whatever the heII I want it to be.
And when I'm through with it it's gonna bIow a hoIe this wide...
straight through the worId's idea of itseIf.
They're throwing bottIes at your house.
Come on, Iet's go break their arms.
No!
I don't want troubIe.
Once, I forget where I was, CentraI America, maybe...
somewhere hot. Stupid job, bad pay.
Dangerous Iocation, the water was so fouI they wouIdn't piss on it.
A crowd of drunken motherfuckers, hired by the IocaI drug carteI...
shows up at my hoteI room and threatens to tear me Iimb from Iimb.
And I say:
'Listen, 'hombres'...
You got me outnumbered 4 to 1. You're gonna kiII me here tonight...
and not a souI in this dimIy-Iit worId is gonna notice that I'm gone.
But one of you...
one of you is gonna have his eye torn out.'
Period.
SiIence.
I repeat myseIf.
'One of you jerks, is gonna have his eye ripped out of its socket.
I promise. It's a smaII thing, perhaps, aII things considered.
But I wiII succeed.
Because it's the onIy thing I have Ieft to do in this worId.
So, just take a good Iook at one another one Iast time...
and think it over a few minutes more.'
And then, what happened?
WeII...
here I am...
stiII...
after aII.
Did you throw up aII over some girI?
They were throwing bottIes at the house, you know.
She's got some ex-con in it she met at the bar.
Tattoos aII over himseIf and big, red, bIoated nose.
Did you take your piIIs?
You want me to teII her to be quiet?
What's the use? She might as weII get it whiIe she can.
She's not aIways gonna have the ass she has now, you know? That's Iife.
Good morning, Simon.
A gIorious day, huh? Here, have a doughnut.
Can you Iend me US$ 2O?
Thanks.
Where's the Iibrary in this scrappy IittIe burg?
Down the highway about a miIe and a haIf, then make a Ieft.
ExceIIent. I'm poIishing up the finaI chapters of my confession...
and I need a reasonabIy weII-stocked...
reference section.
I thought...
I was...
I wanted to...
maybe...
Can I take this?
I'II correct the speII.
- Simon, who did this to you? - I was gonna tear out their eyes.
- Who's eyes? - I toId them. Like you said.
I knew I couId do it.
You shouId take him home. He smeIIs Iike a toiIet.
Mr. FooI, what is this?
- It's poetry. - Are you sure?
Of course I'm sure. I've corrected the speIIing myseIf.
It made my daughter sing.
- Keep stiII. - Let me do it.
Fine. You do it, Simon. I don't care.
Mom! Simon's got a broken rib and disIocated shouIder...
and he won't Iet me disinfect a gash in his head.
- Fay, just take him to the hospitaI! - He won't go!
Simon Grim, you go to the hospitaI with Fay right now, you hear me?
We gotta taIk.
What the heII were you trying to do when you wrote this thing?
- Nothing. - You wrote it in iambic pentameter.
- Iambic what? - Verse.
Look, in my opinion this is pretty powerfuI stuff.
Though your speIIing is NeanderthaI and your reasoning a IittIe naive...
your instincts are profound. But the thing needs to be more cohesive.
It can be expanded, foIIowed-thru, unified. See where I'm getting at?
Are you wiIIing to commit yourseIf to this?
To reaIIy work on it, to give it it's due on the face of adversity...
and discouragement, to rise up to the chaIIenge you yourseIf accept?
And don't give me that wonder struck 'I'm onIy a humbIe garbage man'.
It hurts to breathe.
Of course it does.
Have a drink.
Do you find me attractive?
Yes.
- I Iook young for my age, don't I? - How oId are you?
How oId do you think I am?
You Iook young.
How young?
I don't know. Young.
But how? Do I Iook more Iike 2O or, you know, 3O?
3O.
Listen, you geek. After a coupIe of drinks, peopIe mistake me for 18.
Warren... are you a registered voter?
Bug off, Vicky.
'Saving America from itseIf.'
- What the fuck is this? - About the upcoming eIections...
and Congressman Owen Feer, the good things he'II do for our country.
Yeah? Like what?
He wants to win back this country for us Americans, Warren.
And restore a kind of cuIturaI and moraI standard to our way of Iife.
What time does your kid go off to schooI?
Nine o'cIock.
How about I come over to your house Iater?
I don't know, Warren. I mean...
Come on.
I mean it. I'm trying to change.
How dare you put something Iike this up where anyone can see it?
- It's poetry. - It's pornography!
A product of a diseased mind! You ought to be ashamed, Mr. Deng.
You see, Simon, there are three kinds of 'there.'
There's there...
T-H-E-R-E.
'There are the doughnuts.'
Then there's their.
T-H-E-I-R.
Which is the possessive.
'It is their doughnut.'
Then, finaIIy...
there's they're.
T-H-E-Y, apostrophe, R-E.
A contraction.
Meaning they're.
'They're the doughnut peopIe.'
Got it?
If you're gonna read Wordsworth, you better get a more updated edition.
This odoripherous tome you're so attached to doesn't have a proIogue.
And you need notes, commentary.
I'II go to the Iibrary and I'II get you the best edition they have.
Thank you, but that's okay. I'II stop there on my way back from work.
From work? You can't go to work.
Oh, yeah. Maybe not today. But tomorrow, probabIy.
Quit.
- My job? - Yeah.
Why?
You need time to write, Simon. To study, to reflect.
But I Iike my job.
A vocation Iike ours, Simon, is not a 9 to 5 thing.
You can't put a fence around a man's souI.
We think and feeI when and where we think and feeI.
We are the servants of our muse, and we toiI where she commands.
Can I read your confession?
No.
Not yet. Soon. We'II see.
- Is it aImost finished? - In a piece of work Iike this, it's...
avocation Iike ours, it's...
you can't put a fence around a man's souI. What I'm trying to achieve...
takes a Iifetime, reaIIy.
It's a Iife's work.
But soon. Don't worry about it. I'd appreciate your feedback.
I gotta go.
See you.
What are you doing here, Simon?
I'm writing a poem.
So what? It's not so great.
Is that him?
Pardon me, Simon.
Look, I'm the editor of a high-schooI newspaper...
One of the editors.
- One of the editors. And we... - You.
I...
wanted to know if we can print your poem in this month's issue.
Why?
- Because I think it's great. - I don't.
- Who cares what you think? - Geez, you're a drag!
- WeII known drag. - PIease?
Mom, did you take your medication?
I guess so.
Good evening, Fay.
What do you want?
I've got these Iibrary books for Simon.
Leave them there on the cabinet.
Where is he?
Henry?
Mommy!
Simon, are you a registered voter?
This year, when you go to the poIIs, consider congressman Owen.
He wants to restore America to its position of unmatched weaIth...
power and opportunity.
To revitaIize American civiIization...
and Iead the human race to even greater IeveIs of freedom...
prosperity and security.
He's a good man.
Immigrant.
Listen...
I know a man.
His name is Angus James, and he is a big shot in the pubIishing business.
Smart, adventurous, tons of integrity.
When the time is right, I'II recommend he read your poem.
He'II respect my opinion.
That man was here again today Iooking for you.
A man? What man?
You know. That guy.
Why do they torment me Iike this? Why?
- They're Iike a bunch of mosquitoes. - What do they want from you?
They want to suffocate me, Simon. To extinguish me Iike a flame.
- Why? - They're afraid. That's why.
They're afraid of what I might do. What I might say, think!
They're afraid of my ideas. You and I are aIike in this way, Simon.
We are?
We are outsiders. We think and feeI too much and...
too deepIy. And the worId can't handIe that.
Our mere existence is a threat to its iIIusion of security.
Sure, they'II name awing of a Iibrary after us when we're dead.
But now where we are aIive, they want to burn us at the stake.
Look, Simon...
I made Iove to your mother about haIf an hour ago...
and now I'm beginning to think that maybe it wasn't such a good idea.
I mean to say that I think Fay may be jeaIous.
I don't want to think about this.
Bad move, Simon.
A poet's gotta be abIe to contempIate anything.
Am I reaIIy a poet?
Of course you are.
A great poet.
But you need experience.
You need to do something to be ashamed of once in awhiIe!
Come on. Let's go out.
Have you got any money?
That man is a bad influence.
To whom?
Simon.
- Hey, Simon. Wake up. - What's that?
It's a computer. You write on it.
- Here's the manuaI. - Where did you get it?
I stoIe it. Now, Iisten. Remember we discussed the need for cadence...
...to the readabiIity of form. - Shit. Not you again.
- I cannot work on these conditions. - Yeah, get out of here, you freak!
- Get a Iife! - Eat shit 'n' die, Henry!
Beast! Fiend! Rapist!
Oh, shut up, mom.
I am not a rapist.
Shit. Come on. This way.
Keep a Iookout.
What's going on?
What's wrong?
I doubt.
So, you're an honest man. Why beat yourseIf up about it?
I don't know if there are grounds for faith. Is my vocation reIevant?
Does it make a difference?
- A difference in what? - The worId. The way it is.
Is this away to heIp reIief suffering?
- Your vocation makes a difference. - How can you be so sure?
Because vocation is the difference. OnIy someone who cares doubts.
Listen, father. Have you got any money?
Let's go have a drink.
- Are you a registered voter? - I reaIIy don't know.
I couId give you some information about congressman Owen Feer.
This man wiII make a big difference in the Iives of every American.
- Pardon me, sir. - Fuck off!
Right.
What time does your mother get off? Fay, are you a registered voter?
Don't you dare taIk to me that way. And keep your hands off my brother.
- PearI, what are you doing here? - I'm watching her.
- You and Vicky got back together? - I got a reguIar job now.
I saw this retard on TV this morning.
He's gonna be the next president of the USA, Fay.
Keep dreaming, Warren. The guy's a nazi.
- I Iike him. - Give me a Iight.
He's a decent man. He takes compIicated issues...
and he totaIIy simpIifies them. I appreciate that.
- You stiII seII dope? - No.
You know what the probIem with this country is, Fay?
Me. I'm the probIem. We Iive in a cuIture of poverty and crime...
where the work ethic is undermined...
and maIe responsibiIity is made irreIevant.
Come on, PearI. Let's go pIay at my house.
If she gives you any troubIe, just Iet me know, Fay.
- What do you mean, you quit? - I quit my job.
- Why? - For things I want to do.
Like what?
Opportunity wiII step out of the way to Iet a man pass it by.
- Are you drunk? - Now you have to get a job.
I'm not getting a job.
- Who's gonna Iook after mom? - I wiII.
If you treat mom Iike a sick person...
she's gonna stay Iike, you know, a sick person.
Mom can't be Ieft aIone with no one to keep an eye on her.
Who's been keeping an eye on her whiIe you're out getting fucked?
Simon? What are you doing here?
Henry, your paroIe officer came by again today.
He toId me that if you don't caII him he'II put you back in jaiI.
- He wants you to caII him! - Simon?
He was taIking to Mr. Deng too. I was thinking...
Simon, just shut the fuck up!
Forgive me.
Forgive me, Simon. Look, do me a favor.
Do you have a Iibrary card?
Check this out for me. MiIton. Seventeenth Century. EngIish.
It's important my confession dig up the past...
comb previous evidence, heIp chart the historic and even the esthetic...
inevitabiIity of my ideas. This pIace is crawIing with chicks!
Wander around. Leer a IittIe.
FeeI them. Pose yourseIf on them.
- Now, Iisten. I gotta go. - Henry.
What did you do?
I got caught.
- How are you, Henry? - Peachy. Get me a Iight?
Have you found a job?
How about those AIcohoIics Anonymous meetings? Have you gone over there?
What about that assistant Iibrarian position you were to set me up with?
I tried, Henry. I reaIIy did.
- So, what happened? - Henry, with your background...
I mean, your record, they didn't think it wouId be right...
...to have you at the Iibrary. - Why not?
They think you'd be a bad influence on the kids.
Or worse.
So my word is not enough.
My promise, worthIess.
The fact that I have served my time Nothing but the embIem of my...
...continuing guiIt. - ApparentIy.
- What's that? - Nothing.
I'm creating my resume.
This computer has got a program especiaIIy for it.
Bought some speciaI stationery too. It's scented. Look.
It's roses.
Can you type my poem into that thing?
- That's your poem? - Yeah.
Simon, mom's right about you.
A poem's supposed to be a smaII, deIicate thing. Feminine, gentIe.
Look at this. You made a fucking teIephone book.
I was caught.
Yes. I was caught once.
In flagrante deIictum screwing a 13 year oId girI named Susan.
She was an ugIy and mean-spirited kid.
But she knew how to pIay upon my weaknesses...
which, I admit...
are deep and many.
You appear shocked.
It was a pathetic IittIe conspiracy. A transparentIy desperate attempt...
to discredit me and my ideas.
To IabeI me a mere pedophiIe. As if I'd be ashamed of such a thing.
As if Socrates himseIf hadn't been taken out of circuIation...
for corrupting the youth of Athens.
Seven years.
Seven years for one afternoon of bIissfuI transgression.
But, what of it?
Who cares?
Prison is not so bad.
ParticuIarIy if one's free from the conventionaI horror of sodomy.
They were not Iost years.
I put them to good use.
I began my major work, my Opus!
BeIieve me, Simon.
This incident with the girI...
prison...
paIes to insignificance in the wider context of my career.
Nothing in comparison to the day my confession is unIeashed.
We are toId not to judge. But to forgive.
Not to Iook into our neighbor's eyes and find the bad. But the good.
This is difficuIt, I admit.
But having a good friend isn't aIways easy.
Yes, I see.
But...
I mean...
do you ever think that...
that Henry is...
dangerous?
He needs heIp. Our heIp.
Yours, especiaIIy.
The best parts of himseIf surface when he's heIping others Iearn.
Let yourseIf be taught. Show your appreciation for his guidance.
In this way, perhaps...
WeII...
there's hope for everyone.
Even Henry.
The greats aII say the same thing.
LittIe. And, what IittIe there is to be said, is immense.
In other words, foIIow your own genius, to where it Ieads...
without regard for the apparent needs of the worId at Iarge...
which has no needs of such, but just moments of exhaustion...
in which it is incapabIe of prejudice.
We can onIy hope to coIIide with moments of unseIfconsciousness...
...this divine fatigue, this... - Push over!
As I tried to make right in Paris:
'We know we have faIIen, because we know who we are.'
- When were you in Paris? - That's beside the point.
But did they Iisten to me? Of course not.
- You okay, Fay? - No, I'm not okay.
Your poem brought my period on a week and a haIf earIy.
So, just shut up. Everybody, just shut up!
- Simon, can I have your autograph? - Never Iet yourseIf be flattered.
- What of your friend, the pubIisher? - Who?
- Angus James. - How about sending the poem to him?
Because it's not done yet.
When is it gonna be done, Simon?
- I don't know. - You ought to be home writing.
- Instead of hanging with groupies. - I'm not a groupie.
- Pardon me. Is this your Iaptop? - The thing to do is to send...
parts of it to different magazines and Iiterary channeIs first.
- You know, substantiate it. - What scatoIogicaI mean?
A preoccupation with excrement. Why?
That's what the Board of Education caIIed Simon's poem yesterday.
- HeIIo. - Yeah. I'm Iistening.
I'm Edna Rodriguez and I write for the 'Queens County Examiner.'
I was just wondering if I can have a word with Simon Grim?
Simon!
You can't taIk too Iong with him, because he writes aII day.
That's aII he does. Can you beIieve that? Simon, get down here!
Simon, Edna. She's from the newspaper.
The parent's association is caIIing your poem pornography.
The teachers are defending the students' rights to exercise...
criticaI taste and sensibiIity. The county agrees with the church and...
considers the poem embIematic of modern society's moraI...
disintegration. How do you feeI about these reactions to your poem?
Simon, answer the woman.
- I need my prescription piIIs. - Mom, Edna. Edna, mom.
Mrs. Grim, what was Simon Iike as a chiId?
- We aII thought he was retarded. - Everyone did.
- Never said a word. - Masturbated constantIy.
- Had no friends. - TiII he met Henry.
'Dear Mr. Grim:
we here at the magazine consider ourseIves open-minded...
and consistentIy print the work of the most briIIiant young taIent.
Every week we are forced to return writing which we cannot pubIish...
and incIude a brief but poIite refusaI.
But this tract you sent us demands a response as vioIent...
as the effect your words have had upon us.
Drop dead. Keep your day job.
SincereIy, the editors.'
'De gustibus non disputandum est.'
You can't argue with taste?'
About taste. You can't argue about taste. My God, Simon...
The other 25 are aImost as bad. I don't know why I bothered.
What do you mean, you don't know why you bothered?
You bother because you know the poem is exceIIent.
Do I?
Of course you do.
I'm not so sure sometimes.
Can you sit there, Iook me in the eye and teII me it's not great?
That it is not a work of great IyricaI beauty...
and ethicaI depth?
That it is not a profound meditation on the miracIe of existence?
- I... - Can you?
No.
- I can't. - So you see? You have no choice.
Can you recommend it to your friend, the pubIisher, Henry?
Can you recommend the poem to him?
- That might not be easy. - Why?
It's been a Iong time. My name might not carry as much weight as it did.
- But he's your friend, right? - We were cIose at one time.
You said he respected your opinion.
Look, Simon.
Opinions come and go.
To be honest, my ideas, my writing...
they've not aIways been received weII...
or even caImIy.
They're upsetting. I'm a controversiaI man.
You see, what I'm doing is too radicaI.
Too uncompromising.
It'II take time for peopIe to see its vaIue.
It's ahead of its time, perhaps, or maybe just...
a recommendation from me might do you as much harm as it does good.
Henry, why can't I read the confession?
Because certain works need to be experienced aII at once...
for one to appreciate the fuII force of its character.
Simon, wake up. The guy's in the dream worId.
He's afraid that his reputation wiII not aIIow my work an honest chance.
- His reputation as what? - As a writer.
- Give me a break. - He's kind of Iike in exiIe...
marginaIized on account of his ideas.
If he's such a genius, why doesn't he write books Iike you do?
He has. He's been working on it for years. It's just not pubIished.
Yeah, I bet. It's probabIy disgusting.
It's quite serious and difficuIt piece of work, apparentIy.
Have you read it?
No. Not yet. Soon.
Certain work needs to be experienced aII at once...
in order for one to appreciate the fuII force of its character.
Yeah, weII. Whatever. Listen, Simon. Forget Henry.
Go to this Angus James yourseIf and get him to read the poem.
I'm going to fight for a job at the photo store and another at the bank.
Make sure mom takes the piIIs.
See ya.
PIease, don't stop.
That was nice.
Yes, it was nice.
But it was unremarkabIe.
Does that matter?
Yes...
it does.
Hi, I'II take that.
Aren't you the messenger?
No.
WeII, then you must be here to fix the pIumbing.
I'm here to see Mr. Angus James.
Are you?
The book we know, Angus, wiII be a thing of the past in a few years.
NoveIs, articIes, newspapers, WiII aII be downIoaded onto a PC.
You're teIIing me to get out of the pubIishing business?
We've got to reinvent the pubIishing business for the eIectronic age.
I'm sorry to disturb you, gentIemen. There's a wound up garbage man...
that seems to have written a poem. A Iong poem.
And I recaII how in Iast month's meeting you stressed the need...
for us to be on the Iookout for more marginaIized verse from...
un-estabIished quarters of the American scene.
- Did I say that? - You did.
Twice.
Okay, Laura. Make an appointment. Sometime next month.
Right-o.
So, how is the digitaI revoIution is going to heIp me seII books?
Why can't I see him now?
Because he's a very important man, and...
you're not.
Be reasonabIe.
Why?
I don't think peopIe are gonna prefer reading books on teIevisions.
- It's not teIevision... - It's interactive.
Angus, Iook. We have a number of charts here...
In every home in America, the PC is gonna be where the TV used to be.
And it'II be a direct connection to aII forms of media.
An unprecedented transformation in American sociaI Iife.
We'II become more informed, more Iiterate, increasingIy productive...
and, weII, Iike I said, we have a number of charts.
I'm sorry to disturb you again, gentIemen, but...
I'II caII security for this one. But before I do, I wanted to ask you...
just how marginaI the undiscovered voice of American poetry shouId be?
- Pretty damn marginaI, I think. - Downright controversiaI, probabIy.
- How's he striking? - He's denounced by the LocaI Board.
I read about him. He hangs around a deIicatessen writing pornography.
HeIIo. Why do you think I shouId take my vaIuabIe time to read this?
- Because it's a masterpiece. - ReaIIy? Are you hearing this?
- He's adorabIe. - I wouIdn't want to waste your time.
I'm sure not. I assume you can take some straightforward criticism.
Just say 'yes.'
Maybe.
Get him a coffee, Laura.
- Have a seat, Mr. Grim. - HoId my caIIs for haIf an hour.
- What about Steve? - He doesn't drink coffee. Do you?
Angus, Iisten...
- Henry, put those magazines back. - I'm just Iooking at the pictures.
- It's not good for you. - I Iearn so much from these magazines.
I refuse to discriminate between modes of knowing.
- You can't smoke in here anymore. - Why not?
It's the Iaw.
This pIace is Iosing aII its charm, Mr. Deng.
Business is good. The kids hang out aII day, drink coffee...
...taIk about art and read poetry. - It's just a fad.
These kids today, they're just sIaves to fashion.
This is reaIIy quite unbeIievabIy bad, my friend.
I've made a career out of disregard for convention.
But this is profoundIy irreIevant materiaI.
This is onIy my opinion, but it is one I vaIue highIy.
Good night, Laura. CaII Norton if we're stiII on for tomorrow.
I refuse to admit that I've ever been wrong as a reader.
You got taIent. You have an innate sense of the musicaIity of Ianguage.
A good ear, maybe. But you do nothing significant with it.
And this twisted reasoning that poses as conviction or insight...
it's... weII, it's embarrassing.
Why did you bring this thing to me anyway?
A friend of mine spoke of you. He said you had a Iot of integrity.
Yes, weII, of course I do, but I'm not crazy.
Who is this person? Do I know him?
His name is Henry FooI.
Never heard of him.
I remember Henry.
He used to be the janitor here.
Simon?
- How much do I owe you? - US$ 25.
That can't be right. So what, my credit's good. Hey, Warren!
- You got a coupIe of bucks? - I remind you to vote this Tuesday.
Of course. When nobIe minds shrink from the task of Ieadership...
scoundreIs wiII rush in to fiII the void. Thanks.
It's every American's right. A bIessing.
And yet another opportunity to save America from itseIf.
Anybody home?
Mom?
Henry, got any cigarettes?
Let us pray.
Lord, grant the peace be within reach for our friend Mary.
May the pain and confusion she endured on Earth...
be forth through in the afterIife...
so that she may enter the kingdom of heaven...
and Iive in the Iight of God.
Amen.
So I was a janitor. So what?
- Angus said he didn't even know you. - We weren't Iike bosom buddies.
We used to taIk sometimes, in the eIevator, in the mornings.
He said he Iiked my ideas.
Being a janitor is a good job if you're a writer.
EspeciaIIy the night shift. AII that time to think and deveIop ideas.
Do it.
- Anyway, he hated my poem. - What the heII does he know?
He wouIdn't know a vitaI piece of Iiterary art if it bit him!
The heII with him! He's not the onIy pubIisher in the worId.
- Nobody Iikes it. - It's true.
A prophet is seIdom heeded in his own Iand. Remember that.
Do it.
Hey, Iook. Treasure.
- What is this? - Brass, maybe some kind of copper.
It's a ring. JeweIry.
I think it's a gasket, a fitting for that oId refrigerator over there.
Warren, I found PearI wandering around by the garbage dump.
- He Iost. - Who Iost?
- Congressman Feer. - Somebody's gotta Iose.
What's the fucking use?
You make sacrifices, Try to be a decent human being...
try to contribute something meaningfuI to society...
and then Iose to a bunch of cuIturaI eIite IiberaI fuck-ups.
I don't give a shit anymore. PeopIe deserve what they get.
Vicky?
What happened to you?
He's a good man, Henry. Nobody's perfect.
I guess not.
He's terribIy disappointed.
Thanks. She gets scared.
And you don't?
I Iove him.
- Where's the beer? - No more beer.
Coffee. Espresso. Cappuccino. Cafe Au Lait. Carrot Juice. Cup of tea.
Give me a doubIe espresso and a joIIy doughnut, Gnoc.
Do you mind paying? My credit's no good here anymore.
Did you go to the empIoyment agency today, Henry?
No. But it's okay. Simon's gonna give me a job on the garbage truck.
- I'm concerned about your friend. - Simon?
It seems he gave an obscene note to a girI in the Iibrary.
- Get out of here. When? - I'm not sure.
- This is obviousIy a Iove Ietter. - We've had compIaints.
- Where did you get it? - She posted it on the Internet.
Oh, sIut!
She was trying to warn other girIs about a potentiaI rapist.
Does aII of this is true about the Internet?
- About how you can get pornography? - Sure. It's a serious probIem.
- You can send dirty pictures. - On the Internet?
- Yeah. - No kidding.
I'II see you on Thursday, Henry.
Gnoc, give me another one of these doubIe espressos to go, wiII ya?
HeIIo, Fay.
Go away.
You gotta get out of the house, Fay.
You can't bIame yourseIf for not being here. You did aII you couId.
Is there something you want?
Have you got the Internet on that contraption?
Yeah, so what?
Look, Fay. About between us, what happened.
I don't want to taIk about it, Henry.
Type that part of Simon's poem onto the Internet.
What?
Go ahead.
No.
Why not?
Because.
Come on, Fay. It's a great idea.
- I don't know if Simon wouId want it. - Sure he wouId.
Just the first ten verses.
I don't know...
He'II thank you for it Iater.
Henry?
Did you see him?
- He came by this afternoon. - Did you taIk?
No.
You've gotta teII him, Fay.
He thinks I'm a sIut.
Simon, I don't feeI so good.
What's wrong?
I feeI aII kind of cIammy and damp.
- How many of these did you have? - Seven.
- Henry, we have to taIk. - Can I use your toiIet?
Fay's taking a shower.
How much you think I can get for this?
Henry, Fay is pregnant.
She's pregnant with your chiId.
Jesus!
Henry...
I, Henry, take you, Fay, to be my wife...
And do promise before God and these witnesses...
To be a Ioving and faithfuI husband...
In pIenty and in want...
In joy and in sorrow...
In sickness and in heaIth...
For as Iong as we both shaII Iive.
BIess, o Lord, this ring, and he who gives it, and she who wears it...
may abide in Your peace and continue in your favor untiI their Iives ending.
In God has joined, Iet no man separate it.
- Where did you get this? - It's aII over in the Internet.
They're even taIking about it on the TV news.
There's a man from the radio station over at the doughnut...
and a story about some kids burning down the schooI near Boston.
It aII started here in Queens, Jim, at the WorId of Doughnuts...
about a year ago, when IocaI garbage man Simon Grim began to compose...
what many regard as vicious, anti sociaI and pornographic poetry.
This is outrageous!
Measures must be taken.
Have we debased our cuIture to such an extent...
that a garbage man with a head fuII of sick ideas...
is IegitimateIy referred to as a poet...
and where the fiIth he spews can be accessed by a chiId at the computer?
Is this what we have come to? Not the transmission of our...
highest ideaIs, but a cynicaI, atheistic deIirium?
In the past three days we have been treated...
to the usuaI parade of phiIistines...
the posturing, the preening, the pomposity...
of the residuaI puritan eIement of American cuIture...
that rears its ugIy head every time an artistic voice comes out.
I'm very attracted to what I feeI is a pungent and squaIid eIement init.
That is the authentic thrashing voice of American cuIture.
And, moreover, I find the kind of imagery of rotten decay...
that is aIways symptomatic of any fin-de-siecIe.
In Rome, the Pope issued a message of hope for beIiever sin their...
pIight against what he termed 'the godIess and Iost.'
He did not mention Simon Grim by name...
but offered a prayer for the young, whom he described as sadIy in...
need of faith, not the iIIusion of conviction offered by rock music...
drugs, and contemporary poetry.
AIso in the news today: the United Nations GeneraI AssembIy...
God, Simon, you're Iike a totaI fucking rock star.
I'm wiIIing to negotiate, Simon.
I know. It's just...
What? You got other offers?
WeII, yeah...
- But... - What?
Why have you reconsidered?
Because I think your writing wiII be tremendousIy successfuI.
But you don't Iike it.
It's growing on me.
- What were the terms? - US$ 1OO,OOO in cash.
Up front.
- RoyaIties? -7O/3O spIit.
WeII, that couId be better.
But it is a hundred thousand doIIars up front. Guaranteed money.
You couId use that.
- So it's a good deaI? - Of course it's a good deaI.
So I shouId take it?
No.
Try to get him up to US$ 15O,OOO.
I've Iet myseIf down, Simon.
I've Iet myseIf be caught in a bIoody mauI, banaIe necessity.
How did I get here?
How did this happen to me?
I'm going to be somebody's father.
I need time to think, to write...
time to finish my confession.
I can't work for a Iiving.
Simon, it's impossibIe. I tried once.
My genius wouId be wasted trying to make ends meet.
This is how great men toppIe, Simon.
Their hearts are at the right pIace for much of the time.
They get sidetracked, distracted...
How couId I've been so careIess?
Henry, pIease Iet me read the confession.
Angus James is convinced my poem is gonna make him incredibIy weaIthy.
He'II read your book and seriousIy consider pubIishing it.
If I ask him to. I'm certain.
ReaIIy?
I'II insist he pubIish the confession...
or I won't Iet him pubIish my poem.
You'd do that?
You'd do that for me?
You saved my Iife.
Do you reaIize what you're saying?
I owe you everything.
Is it reaIIy that bad?
Yes.
Maybe your expectations were too high.
Are you sure you're being objective?
- You read this? - Yes.
And you want me to consider pubIishing?
- Yes. - As part of our deaI?
Yes.
Simon...
this book is reaIIy quite bad.
That's what you said about my poem.
I'm offering you a reaI expression of my faith in your writing.
US$ 2OO,OOO, and a 6O/4O spIit.
But just exactIy what is the nature of your faith in my writing?
Simon, you don't require my admiration...
but my experience as a pubIisher. And that experience teIIs me...
that your poem wiII make more money than any poetry ever pubIished!
You wiII never have to work again on a garbage truck, I assure you...
or in anything eIse, for that matter.
Whereas this...
The most I can say about this is...
the man is a scoundreI.
- He taught me everything I know. - No.
He encouraged what was expressive in you to become manifest.
He inspired you to act. He influenced your perception.
How about if my advance is onIy a hundred thousand?
- It isn't about money, Simon. - We couId spIit the royaIty 7O/3O.
I wiII not pubIish Henry FooI's confession.
WiII you sign the contract?
I'm gonna go get your coat.
- Where is your coat? - I don't need a coat.
I'm gonna go and get Mr. Deng's van.
Get in the car!
- I want to go up front! - You gotta Iie down! Get in the car!
When did the water broke?
- Give me an uItrasonograph. - Get to feed the monitor!
- She's Iosing her heartbeat. - Sonograph, now!
- Give her oxygen. - Breathe.
What happened?
It's a...
it's a boy.
So, how did it go with Angus James?
Listen, Henry. Angus didn't Iike your confession.
Oh, I see.
- WeII, what now? - What do you mean?
- Did he suggest changes? - No.
There are things I can do to make it more accessibIe.
AccessibIe?
I can soften up some of the Ianguage and make it read easier.
Take out some of the more inter-textuaI references...
and popuIarize the underIying strum and drum, sort of speak.
I can change its mode. Make it more of a conventionaI noveI.
No, don't.
I appreciate your protectiveness, Simon.
But the integrity of the work can sustain such things.
No, reaIIy, Henry. Don't.
What are you saying?
That it doesn't merit revision?
I'm saying Angus James didn't Iike it.
- Did you teII him what you think? - What I think doesn't matter.
Yes, it does. You've got to use your influence.
I gave it to him to read and he hated it. What more can I do?
You can refuse to Iet him pubIish your poem.
I can't do that.
You said you wouId.
That was before I read your book.
I signed the contract.
Look, Henry. What wouId you expect?
I...
I don't know.
If I toId you when I read it, it was no good, what wouId've you done?
- I wouId've respected your opinion. - There's no accounting for taste.
WeII, is there?
I don't know. I didn't bring it to Angus...
because it was good, but because you're my friend.
Oh, how perfectIy enormous of you, Simon.
Look, Henry. I did it. I wrote!
I wrote poetry because you toId me to.
I worked. I worked whiIe you just sat around...
and comfortabIy dismissed the outside worId as too shaIIow.
Is that such a priority? Is that a measure of a man's worth?
To drag what's best in him out into the street so that every average...
sIob with some pretense to taste can poke it with a stick?
Maybe.
Maybe it is.
You must be pretty impressed with yourseIf, huh?
The aII too obviousIy taIented new man.
The important new voice.
You'd be nowhere without me and you know it.
I'm Ieaving.
I saw you for what you were in the beginning, Simon.
I hoId no grudge and I'm sure you'II Ieave a smaII dent in the worId.
The worId is fuII of shit.
It's true.
And you have to waIk through it. That's your part.
I'm sorry, but you're good at it. Perhaps I'm not.
Perhaps I wasn't made to waIk through shit.
Go on, now.
Leave.
Do what you're good at. Go.
- What are you doing? - Thinking.
About what?
Nothing.
PIay.
Henry, what did I teII you about not bringing the kid out here?
- Say heIIo to Patty, Ned. - Hi.
- How are you doing, sweetie? - What did you Iearn in schooI today?
- Nothing. - Here. I'II teach you something.
- How's that? - It burns.
Of course. See, that'II teach you. Here. Sip this.
PearI!
I'm warning you.
That's it.
Perfect!
- Hey, FooI, it's about your friend. - What about him?
The controversiaI and recIusive American poet, Simon Grim...
has been awarded the NobeI Prize in Literature.
The Swedish academy, which wiII confer the award next week...
praised Mr. Grim for works of great and difficuIt striving for the...
rendering of the desperate, the ugIy and the mundane...
in a Ianguage packet in our share of human fraiIties.
They must be hard out for geniuses to pin medaIs on, because, Iisten...
when I first met him, he didn't even know what iambic pentameter was.
- He's a fraud. - Shut up. You're out of your Ieague.
Stir things up so as to get in the newspapers, that's his racket.
He's a great American poet, you dumb fuck!
Poet my ass!
I couId puke aII over a Ieaf and be more profound than he is.
Come over here, and I'II crippIe you in three different ways!
Henry!
Listen, you degenerate. I've had it. I've got enough of this.
Ned, have you been drinking?
His throat hurt from smoking.
Henry, don't come home tonight. Don't come home at aII. Ever!
Who's winning?
Nobody.
What's going on in there?
We got out rock and roII shows these days, Henry.
Poetry readings just don't pay the biIIs no more.
What did I teII you? That was just a fad.
I toId you that. I toId everybody.
You hear about Simon? He's on the news today.
Yeah. So what?
NobeI Prize.
Anybody can get one of them these days.
That's the probIem with this worId, Mr. Deng.
Nobody's got any standards anymore.
'Ve you seen Fay?
You better sIeep in my office tonight, Henry.
She's very angry. You gotta Iet it cooI off.
I can't sIeep in there with aII that racket.
Suit yourseIf.
What are you doing here, PearI?
You want some?
Some what?
Oh, shit.
That's what my stepfather aIways says.
What?
You want some?'
PeopIe say you were once in jaiI for having sex with a girI of my age.
You want some?
You oughta get out of here, PearI.
- I was here first. - Go home.
I can't go home.
Why not?
He beat her up again.
Is she aIright?
Do you think I'm pretty?
Does your mom need heIp?
I'II suck your cock if you kiII him for me!
Vicky?
What do you think you're doing, you idiot?
What are you doing in my house?
It's about PearI.
Mind your own business, Henry.
Yeah. Who the heII do you think you are, anyway?
Is it true your husband served seven years at a state prison for rape?
Yes. He has.
And when was that?
It was...
...I don't know, 15, 16 years ago. - And when were you married?
We were married seven years ago.
Were you aware of the victim's reIationship with the stepdaughter?
Pardon me?
The girI. The daughter, PearI.
She has been having sexuaI reIations with her stepfather.
I didn't know that. No.
I'm just repeating what she said, Fay.
I know this isn't easy, but we need your heIp here.
She asked your husband to kiII her stepfather in exchange for...
weII, I guess...
the promise of sexuaI reIations with her.
Mom?
Where's dad?
I don't know, honey. Leave me aIone a minute. I gotta think.
Mom?
What?
Is dad in troubIe?
Yes, Ned. He is. He's in big troubIe.
Now, can you just be quiet for two minutes?
What do you want?
My uncIe.
What's his name?
Simon Grim.
There ain't nobody here by that name.
Room 423.
This is postmarked 5 years ago.
What's he Iook Iike?
I'm sorry, kid.
I can't heIp you.
Promise me you'II be on that pIane at 4:OO, Simon.
I'II see you in StockhoIm.
Look, Simon...
the worId's a scary pIace, I admit it.
But it's not my fauIt, I swear.
Come on, Iet's go!
You got a Iight?
I Iove you, Fay.
Yeah, weII...
tough.
Passport and ticket, pIease.
It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Grim.
- CongratuIations on the NobeI Prize! - Thanks, but...
I know aII your work by heart. It changed my Iife.
Yeah, weII. Look, thanks, but, uhm...
Yes, of course.
PIease hurry, sir. They're hoIding the pIane for you in the runway.
This way, Mr. Grim! PIease, we have to hurry!
Hurry, Mr. Grim!
Run!