Hello
Rachel
Yeah, Michael
Yeah, it's really me
So, how are you?
Bored
Bored out of my fucking mind
I can't believe
What are you doing these days?
Oh, same old thing, politics aunt
Actually, there's this big
Stormont anniversary rally down there this weekend
Leigh and I were thinking of maybe
I know it's not much notice
Are you kidding?
I have a spare room now, yes, come
Cool
And there's someone else here who wants to talk to you
Michael?
Yeah, how are you?
Sarah?
Yeah
What's going on?
Absolutely nothing
What are you...
Last I heard you were in New York
Was
But I'm moving back out here again
I have no fucking idea where
So you're coming down then too, right?
No
Of course
I can't wait to see you
Plus, I'm bringing along friends
I'm getting married, Michael
No shit
Why don't you ever write
And fill me in on these
Insignificant little events in your life
See you and Peter
Finally
No, Greg
You'll meet him
Friday, I think
Here, Greg has to be here
Yeah, Michael
Michael?
Great, I can't wait
See you then
Drive careful
Fine
Bye
Thanks
Bye
Thank you.
I was sure you'd crashed and were dead on the highway.
Have I ever been on time for anything?
Leah, has your hair gotten spikier
or am I just getting a little bit of a headache?
I'm getting more conservative in my old age.
Huh?
Well, it is hip to be square nowadays.
Sarah, you look great.
Thanks.
You look like shit.
Michael, this is Greg.
Greg, Michael.
The mystery fiancé.
You a musician, too?
No, I...
You know I never mess with my own car.
I'm an art student, sort of.
I'm hungry.
Let's eat.
Here we are.
Let's eat.
Well, now what?
Any good clubs?
They all suck.
Movies? Sorry, films?
The cinema is dead.
Isn't Cosby on? There's always trivial pursuits.
I have a great idea.
Let's sit around and reminisce about the good old days.
Saved. The male stripper's finally here.
What the fuck are you doing here?
Glad to see me.
Alex.
I need you to stay, just for a couple of days.
No. No way.
Come on, Michael.
No, Alex.
I'm sorry.
Michael, we're bored.
Just a second.
It's been six months.
You miss me?
I can't fucking believe you.
Coming back here after...
Michael.
I need your help.
Michael, what...
Hi, Alex.
Hi, Rachel.
What do you want from Michael now?
Come on.
We're gonna do M.D.A. and go roller skating.
Call the fucking paramedics. I'm dying.
Shit.
What happened to Sharon and Greg?
I think they're both there watching the sidewalk grow.
I'm fucking in the bushes.
Oh, shit.
Here, I'll kiss this naked batter.
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.
Did you guys always eat or what?
Ow.
Oh, wow.
What is that?
I was just thinking.
What?
I really like sex.
I don't have it.
At least I don't...
What do you want from me, a fucking blood test?
Hey, get around.
Yeah.
Just don't get it, okay?
I couldn't take losing you, too.
I care, Alex.
No matter how much I hate you sometimes.
Come on, baby.
Oh, God.
I don't feel so good.
Michael?
Everything all right?
Yeah.
I don't know.
I am dying to coffee.
Old bag heaven.
I knew this girl, Linda.
She wrote a story about laundromats.
What happens in between rinse cycles.
How isolated everyone is.
Sorting through their underwear.
Pretending nobody else is around.
Totally lost track of her.
Linda.
Wonder what she's doing now.
So, when are you moving back to LA?
I don't know.
Anything.
I still have a place wherever I go.
My whole fucking life is a wreck.
I mean, look at me.
Don't I look so much older?
And fat.
Tell me, Michael.
I've gained so much weight.
If you were any thinner, you'd disappear.
Sometimes I wish I could do just that.
Dematerialize.
Vanish.
I haven't got a clue as to where I'm heading.
I'm just wandering.
I don't know.
I'm just, I'm just wandering around like a blind ballerina in a minefield.
Everyone I know is just barely surviving in this age of prosperity.
I feel like I'm still looking for it, desperately looking for it.
Only I have no fucking idea what it is anymore.
You getting another band together?
As always.
How about you?
What ever happened with your film?
What film?
I'm junking it.
It just all suddenly struck me how vain and ridiculous it was.
I'm embarrassed to even talk about it.
At least you're not too hard on yourself.
So, what's with Greg? Is it love?
Good sex.
I don't know. He puts up with me.
It's like one of those dangerous relationship things to me.
Whatever you want to call it, it exists.
For the time being, at least.
I've run out of things to say to you.
What do we have left to talk about?
Stop talking. Let's make love again.
Call it fucking at least when that's what it is.
Okay.
Stop talking. Let's fuck.
What do you want?
I want you to break up with me because I'm too insecure to do it for myself.
But I love you, Rachel.
I love you too.
I don't want to have to rely on anyone.
Sometimes I feel so small.
Like I'm barely here at all.
I want to go up there.
Or out there.
How should it be?
Where would we be without all this adolescent angst?
I like to consider it transcendental depression.
I've gotten used to it.
I don't know how to be any other way.
I've been feeling this weird complacency lately.
Like, I have no future.
I have no past.
I just have a presence that's really, really fucked up.
You need to see it from the outside.
Get out of your own head.
Yeah, I'm already out of my mind.
And out of cigarettes too.
Fuck.
Hey, what are you doing out here?
Hi. Nothing.
You okay?
I feel like putting my head through a plate glass window.
Besides that, though, I'm fine.
It's lay on me.
The usual.
You want to talk about it?
You want to listen?
Yeah.
I'm going to.
Sarah?
Sorry.
It's okay.
I'm done.
Looks like we met formally.
Greg, Ferris, Alex, Michael.
Well, nice to meet you.
Hi.
Sometimes I think I'm really losing it.
I mean, I sit here staring at these four walls and I can feel myself going mad.
We're all just hanging by a thread.
It's tough being the new lost generation. Pepsi doesn't even want us anymore.
Me, Decade Dropouts, aerobicizing towards Armageddon.
Shit. Give her a joint and she turns into Susan Sontag.
Think we're ever gonna grow?
Why? It just means getting older and dying.
Listen to this nihilistic despair.
So, do Michael and I get to throw your bridal shower?
How come?
Marriage, house, kids, oblivion, the American dream come true.
It's crazy. I can't even conceive of what I'll be doing tomorrow.
Do you think that has anything to do with being born under the shadow of the ages?
The shadow of the A-bomb?
I think it comes more from being hopelessly neurotic.
I'm really glad you're here.
I needed the company.
I'm glad you're back.
I'm glad I wasn't crawling distance of bed.
It's been a long night.
I died an hour ago and nobody bothered to tell me.
Coming?
I want to finish this cigarette. I don't know, I feel edgy.
I insist on staying up with you, but I'm not going to be able to maintain verticality here much longer.
Go on to sleep, both of you.
Good night, Michael.
Good night.
Hi.
I'm sorry.
I missed you.
Why do we fight so much?
What's gonna happen to us?
Are you asleep?
Not much.
What's the matter?
Time in a month, huh?
I don't remember inviting you to stay over.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.
I don't know why I have to make everything so hard.
You don't have to fuck for room and board anymore, okay, Alex?
You're a shithead.
Good morning.
Mr. Coffee's the only indispensable man in the whole world.
You're up at the crack of noon.
Couldn't sleep.
Too much sex?
Not getting enough?
Not wanting any.
Any food around here?
Doubt it.
Watch out for anything green or furry.
Don't you have any sauce in there?
I'm about to start my period and I think I need the animal protein.
Haven't you heard meat is murder?
I found some ham.
I'm a mess.
The bladder's exploding out here.
Hold on to your over-ancient dick.
If I squeeze it any tighter, it'll turn blue and fall off.
Go pee outside.
Hi.
Where the fuck are you going?
To run, swear on my head?
Try a little 45.
Come on.
You know, the guy who wrote all those running books
dropped dead of a heart attack at 40.
Coffee. Inject immediately.
You'll have to scratch him, Claude. I beat him to the pot.
Oh, really?
Oh, that's a decaf, by the way.
Fuck you.
No question. My days of recreational sex and drugs are over.
Mine are so far gone, I forgot what they were like.
A long-lost youth.
So, what thrill-a-minute activities are on the agenda for today?
Michael, the cheery tour guide.
It's terrifying, I know, but Greg wants to do the Southern California thing and go to the beach.
No.
Leia wants to do something as obnoxious and touristy.
Shop Melrose for overpriced souvenirs for her poser friends back home.
Well, could be Universal Studios and Knott's Berry Farm.
Don't give him any ideas.
I am hungry.
Can you do anything besides eat piss and wine?
Yes.
Why don't we all grab breakfast on Melrose?
You and Leia can stay and shop while we head out to the beach.
Like Frankie and Annette. Rad, man.
Greg'll be running for, like, hours.
You guys go on ahead, though, and by the time you get back, I ought to have mainlined enough caffeine.
To be able to endure a day of fun in the sun.
I want to start a revolution.
Where'd that come from?
I'm serious.
I ought to wake people up.
Make them think.
No one questions anything.
No one ever asks why.
Why am I sitting here watching this shit spewing out of the TV?
Why are my tax dollars going to slaughter babies in Central America?
Why is the president such a fucking moronic asshole?
Questioning is only the first step.
Action is what's really essential.
You guys are like the Cicaden and Fonda, only without the aerobics.
Imagine what would happen if every man, woman, and child spent like an hour a day, just one hour,
while stuck in traffic, doing the dishes, or going through the same old in and out routine as fast.
Just thinking about how fucked up society is, and how it could be improved.
Well, that'd sure make the population a little unhappier.
Discontent is the catalyst for change.
Where do you get all these slogans from?
Webster's Dogma Phrasebook?
People don't give a shit, and they like not giving a shit.
It's the dogma you talk in the world.
So what's your alternative, Michael?
Sit back and watch as it all goes straight to hell?
That's a pretty grim question.
There you go.
Sorry, but I'd much rather spray paint a few pounds of seedy and march in meaningless rallies than do nothing.
At least I sleep better at night.
Well, there's always my favorite political act.
The Bernie and Bruce Springsteen album.
I think we woke up one morning and the sky was straight.
Very applaud.
It must be wild.
You're weird.
Where's Sarah?
Going for a walk.
How introspective.
Is she all right?
I don't know.
I asked.
She doesn't want to talk about it.
Did you ever hear of Midol?
Fuck off, Alec.
She's just going through a lot of shit right now.
I think that makes me feel like it's not my fault.
2 delivered
1 hit
1 Fu
Come on.
No. Leia, I'm bored with everything.
Every single day we wake up together.
Fuck the same way. Eat the same thing for breakfast.
Right. Let's go get fudge and yogurt.
You don't listen to a thing I say.
What flavor do you want?
I think we should see other people.
I'm getting carob almond.
I can't stand being a couple anymore.
No. Smoke a fudge.
And go fuck yourself. I'm taking the bus back.
Sure are a lot of cops around.
Welcome to Nazi America.
Shit.
The other day,
I wake up to find the parking fascists
have immobilized my car for a bunch of
tickets I can't afford to pay.
So I go to call them to beg
for mercy, and GD's
fucked up my bill and disconnected my phone.
I run
across the street to use the payphone.
This butt-ugly storm trooper
gives me a fucking ticket for jaywalking.
Finally,
I get to the phone.
It's my last quarter.
So what'd you do?
I went back to bed.
God, I hate cops.
Hi.
How was the beach?
Cold.
No rest?
Hellish.
Where's Leah?
What's wrong?
Headache. Me too.
No Tylenol.
I'm taking a shower.
I'm gonna stick my head in the oven.
You guys are as much fun as a Republican convention.
Stop tormenting yourself.
Who else
am I going to torment?
Life really sucks.
It sucked my tongue.
Not enough letters,
shithead.
Tried to kiss my labia.
How about licking my shaft?
Trying to make me lose my lunch?
Yeah.
What is this?
The Anhui Hotel.
We're just laying out our career strategy.
And working on upgrading
our resumes.
Where's we're going?
I'm scared.
I think he went out to read poetry under a tree or something.
Not funny, Leah.
You thought so.
He probably cried when John Belushi died, too.
I'm beat.
I'm taking a nap.
That's the best idea I've heard all day.
I'll sleep first.
We're on our way.
I saw this red적...
We'll pull up at 10 this afternoon.
Are you sure this is whereкуюne go?
Go down this alley.
Just like A expand over the alley.
Hmm.
We're just on our way.
Just fish.
Michael?
I'm lost.
Sarah said you make films.
I used to.
What happened?
I found out I was allergic to bullshit.
So what do you do?
Eat.
Sleep.
There's gotta be something more to life than that.
Like?
Art.
Right.
I don't know.
I feel so... adrift.
Like Sarah's the only anchor in my life and she has no idea what's going on.
Who does?
We're all just biding time until we die.
Has anybody ever accused you of being a little on the gloomy side?
Actually, I was gonna ask this friend of mine about that, but he committed suicide before I had the chance.
You ever wonder what happened to kill off all these guys?
I'm so full of feeling.
I think sometimes I'm gonna explode.
But I can't write, tape, play music.
I have no outlet for all this pent-up emotion.
Go out and kick over garbage cans or something.
I'm in.
If you're lucky, you can be too sick of it all to want to bother.
I just don't know what to do with my life.
Oh, fuck.
These sensitive guys want to play cards or have an angst jerk-off session.
I feel left out, lacking the proper equipment.
Not what I read on the bathroom wall.
Throw your life in a bin.
What are you guys, 12 years old?
So, what's with that hat?
I'd rather be trendy than boring.
I'd rather be dead than trendy or boring.
This is like Bad Partridge family reruns.
I'm out. I need to breathe some air that's not male-dominated.
I still don't know what to do with my life.
I'm fed up.
Everything.
From sex with Leia to the international political scene.
It's all such utter chaos.
I feel so anxious about the future, filled with a sinking dread.
Nausea.
Yeah.
Nothing makes sense.
Nothing's working out.
I mean, whatever happens.
We used to be so directed.
We had goals.
We knew what the hell we wanted to do.
We left college.
God.
I want to go away.
Far, far away.
And never be heard from again.
Weren't you going to go to El Salvador or something?
Nicaragua.
It fell through.
Like every other planet I've ever seen.
Ever made.
Maybe you ought to just do it.
Take off and leave it all behind.
What's there to lose?
Yeah.
Socks.
Leia.
Hi.
Did you put some clothes on?
You look like an ad for one of those 976 porn lines.
I'll leave you two to your whatever.
Fine.
Want some?
I don't want to spoil my dinner.
.
I'm not into cock, okay?
I'm taking a poll.
What do you want for dinner?
What are you doing?
Nothing.
Can I see?
If you have to.
Your love is a baseball bat rammed down my throat.
Sulfuric acid devouring my eyes.
I'm screaming.
Oh, another syrupy top 40 ballad I see.
Socks.
I can't do anything anymore.
I can't marry Greg.
It's insane.
It's not his fault.
He's perfect.
It's me.
What?
I'm sorry.
It just reminds me of a really, really lame bar joke.
The perfect lover.
Somebody who can fuck till four in the morning and then turn into a pizza.
That's awful.
Yeah, well, I told you it was kind of lame.
Now what do we do?
We're going to the bathroom.
Anything anybody wants.
They're trendy, pretentious art openings.
Trendy, pretentious clubs.
Trendy, pretentious poetry readings.
Lucky thing, L.A. is such a cultural mecca.
Rather than make a compromise decision that pleases no one, I say we split up.
Like there's this radical feminist recital I heard about that I want to do.
That sounds like a blast.
No.
No penises allowed.
The first one to ban is when I hit the law, so.
It's so horrid I would force anyone else to do it.
Whatever.
It makes no difference.
You know?
Another wacky, fun-filled night in the modern world.
I disagree.
Motherfucking rap music.
Rap music sucks, man.
Motherfucking rap music.
Shit on the rap.
Motherfucking rap.
Rap music.
Crap.
On the floor, man.
Shit.
Fuck.
Rap is rap.
All that crap.
Kick out a sucker.
Damn.
Rap music sucks.
Fuck.
Rap music sucks.
Motherfucking rap music.
Rap music sucks.
Motherfucking rap music makes me want to blow up.
Shit on the rap.
Motherfucking.
You know, it's funny how...
I was just thinking about when I was a kid, like 13, 14.
My mom used to read these really trashy suburban porn novels.
You know, Harold Robbins, Judith Clance.
And after school, like when no one was around, I used to sneak into my parents' room.
I'd skim through them, you know, looking for the dirty part.
And then go into the solarium bathroom.
It was all sunny and warm.
Decorated golden yellow.
And I used to get off right there.
On the peel and stick tile floor.
I did this, like, all the time.
Sometimes, like, three times a day.
God, that was horny little shit.
студetz. Review
I know I fell in love with boyfriends, taken versions of them.
The ones you lived with?
When I told them we were a couple months in Athens.
Greece?
Georgia.
No big deal.
Basically, physical thing.
Yeah, it's probably the best fuck I've ever had.
Big dick and a really huge dick.
Come on, you know we have good sex.
Don't make this sound so dangerous.
sex. Don't make this into a big male ego thing. Sorry. It comes with owning a penis. I love
you. Doesn't that override idiotic sexual prowess contests? I'm still a little curious
as to how I rate. Oh, God. Wouldn't you be? Not at all. But then again, I'm not blessed
with an insecure piece of meat dangling between my legs. Well, am I a contender? Third runner
up? In the horse race at all? I refuse to answer this stupid question. You're in the
top ten. Okay? You fucked her. I can tell by the way she smiled when she saw you. So
I have. So what? Why didn't you tell me?
Because I really didn't think it mattered, especially in a relationship as open and
mature as ours. But her, I mean her poetry is such shit. I thought you liked her stuff.
That was before I heard her read. Christ, Claire, you sound like some clingy parasitic
housewife. I just want to know how many arrogant lesbian poets you've laid. About as many
as the number of punkette trendoids you've notched into the bedpost.
I'm sorry if I love you too much. Don't go pulling this shit. Okay? I'm not in the mood.
I'm sorry. For what?
For anything.
From what?
...thing I've ever done or will do to you.
How did we ever get so fucked up?
We thought we were so fucking cool.
Buying London Calling in fear of music the first day they came out.
We were totally ready for the world to just end.
It was a fucking letdown when things just got worse and even duller instead.
No future. No future for you.
God, I'm cold.
That's because you're so fucking skinny. No insulation.
I've never felt so fat in my entire life.
Sarah, don't you know it's passe to make yourself the victim of an image-obsessed fetishizing patriarchy?
I'm alright.
I'm always a step behind the latest trends.
I am getting worried about you, Sarah.
Just because I have a severe eating disorder.
There are worse ways to die.
At least I'll be fashionably thin in the casket.
That's not funny.
Karen Carpenter thought so.
Did you guys think about other people when you're having sex?
Always.
Never.
Okay. Occasionally.
But when I do, I know it's near the end.
I figure if I have to fantasize about someone else to make it, then I ought to be with someone else.
Michael, it's the only way to sustain a relationship that lasts longer than that.
Stay in a relationship that lasts longer than twelve hours.
My best orgasm ever was with Debbie Reynolds.
What? Were you bugging on a sewing machine or something?
Singing in the rain was on TV.
My fantasies are getting kinkier and kinkier.
It's almost frightening.
Oh, do tell.
No, it's too embarrassing.
Craig would die if he knew.
Ever wonder what's going through his head?
Matter of fact, no.
I don't think of anyone else when I'm with Alex.
In fact, you know, when I'm with other guys or by myself, he's often the someone else.
He's still got you, doesn't he?
No.
Let it go.
It's all over now.
He's fucked you over so many times.
I don't like what he does to you.
You should see someone new.
I don't want another relationship.
I mean, what's the point?
You meet somebody, get involved, it's great for a little while, and it just explodes in your face.
I don't have the time anymore.
That's a healthy attitude.
It's the way it is.
Hi.
I don't even know what to do anymore.
Well, you can't share a hypodermic needle.
And don't swallow.
Again, I don't know what to do anymore.
I even start having questions.
Stop it.
Let's stop.
Let's just...
Stop.
What, did you make it already?
No, I can't.
I just...
I want to talk about our relationship.
I can't give meaning to your life.
That's way too much for any one person to handle.
It's just not possible.
What are you doing out here?
Nothing.
Oh.
Rach?
How are you?
We made it.
We survived another night.
We made it.
Another beautiful, selling California day.
I noticed.
Why is everyone up so fucking early?
It's only 1.30.
She's so old, Tia, I thought.
How come the TV isn't on yet?
Shit.
Hey, Micah.
You mind dropping me off at the store on your way?
Told her out of beer.
Sure.
Okay, if I come along.
I need air.
Can I come too?
You always have to tag along.
Laurie, Tom, I don't care.
Forget it.
Still, still, I'm choking on it.
I'm not even drinking.
Sometimes Greg just exasperates me.
I mean, I'll be the biggest bitch to him and he'll be so damned understanding in return.
Could be you're just testing his feelings for you before you take that next big step.
I don't know.
I'm just so tired of dealing with it all.
I saw this really great graffiti on a bus once.
Feel, fuck, forget.
Take it from someone who's forgetting, the first two are a lot more fun.
Do you think things will ever get better again?
No.
Fuck, I'm bored.
What are you doing?
Thinking?
That girl from the years can be a real charmer.
She's moody, I'm used to it.
I don't know what to do.
I'm used to it.
You know how if you stare at something long enough,
either it'll eventually bore the hell out of you or,
or you'll figure something out.
Or you'll have to go out and take a piss.
Let me know when you land back on Earth.
Fuck this shit.
Oh, fuck.
Fuck.
Hi.
I really am sorry.
Where's Michael?
He said something about going to the record store.
Oh.
I got you something.
Wow.
Oh.
Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Don't worry about it.
It doesn't matter.
Really.
Either you see my butthole surfers tape.
What did they have against the butthole surfers?
Oh.
Uh...
We'll figure something out about it.
Welcome to the container lab.
Just a second.
Uh-huh.
Well, good luck.
Thank you.
Have a good day.
Now, this is a pretty sight.
Hey, Mikey.
Bad day at the office, dear?
How about some love action, babe?
I've been cooped up here all day taking care of the kid.
What the fuck are you on?
Me?
I'm high on life.
The joy of being alive in this great, big, wonderful world.
I don't want to fight, Alex.
What do you want, huh, Michael?
I know what you wanted last night.
I know what I want.
I'm so bored.
I'm losing my mind.
And what am I supposed to do about it?
Entertain you?
Keep me fucking company.
Don't just disappear and leave me here to play host to your fucking loony friend.
I do know what I want.
I want everyone to just leave me alone.
You got it.
Only let me do the ditching out this time.
You are so fucked up.
I really don't know why I...
Oh, that's this is going to be horrible.
No wonder.
I'm going now.
There's no other choice.
Yeah, hands off, dai.
I changed the station.
But I can't get up off the couch.
Why bother?
Hey, how'd it go?
Fucked.
It was a pretty sad turnout.
It was fucked.
Sorry to hear that.
That's easy for you to say, sitting around on your spelt, apathetic ass.
Leah.
Don't you guys give a shit that this country's following Hitler's step-by-step recipe for a Jew barbecue?
Or is that insignificant compared to your own existential self-pity?
Back off, okay, Leah?
What's with Little Miss Revolutionary?
Mother stopped payment on the credit card?
I may be middle-class, but at least I'm fucking out there making an effort.
Come on, you guys.
How am I supposed to take on the world's problems when I'm so incapable of handling my own?
Has it ever occurred to you that your own neuroses may not be so fucking important?
Leah, what do I have to do, sing into your room?
Fuck you all.
You can sit around here bitching and commiserating.
I don't care.
I'm sick of it.
Hi.
You're tad temperamental.
I'm pregnant.
And Greg doesn't know.
Oh, shit.
Oh, fuck.
Shit.
Oh, fuck.
How far?
Past the point of no return.
Why didn't you...
Is it mine?
Sarah, Sarah, would you just wait?
No, I... I'm sorry.
I... I don't know what to say.
What do you want to do?
This is just a real bad time right now.
I mean... I mean, the responsibility's involved.
Will you just listen?
This problem, we...
I feel really confused.
You can get out of it, you know.
It's easy enough.
I don't want to.
Don't lie.
You're scared shitless, admit it.
But you aren't trapped.
There's no obligation here.
You can just walk away from the whole fucking mess.
I...
I'll love you, Sarah.
Fuck you.
Can I bum a cigarette?
Cigar out.
I don't smoke anything.
I had this party once. Someone handed me what I thought was a joint.
Hmm?
Turned out to be heroin.
I was wrecked for days.
A kid. I don't know what I'm gonna do.
It's not a good situation.
That's the understatement of the century.
You're lucky being gay.
I mean, at least you don't have to worry about accidents like this.
Just lethal viruses.
I guess you're screwed no matter which set of genitalia you find yourself in bed with.
Your
If you don't mind me asking.
Have you been queer since the day I was born, probably?
But sociocultural oppression kept my hands off other males
till I was 21?
No, 22.
Actually, the very first time another guy touched me,
I was a kid, like six, seven, I don't know.
It was my cousin, Ralph.
It was like 10 or so at the time.
I remember every year at Christmas,
my family would take this tour through suburbia,
checking out all the decorations in the neighborhood.
It was always like this big deal.
And one year, cousin Ralph comes along.
There we were, sitting in the station wagon on those fold-up
seats in the back.
Without a word, Ralph reaches down
and starts fondling.
.
I mean, mom and dad are in the front,
oohing and awing about the Hendrixes' lights this year.
Cousin Ralph's sitting there with my pecker in his hand.
Ralph's one of the paunchy, polyesterized real estate
brokers now, living in Reseda with a fat wife and like a
dozen bratty kids.
I don't know what he's up to, but I'm sure he's got a lot going on.
I fell in love with Sarah the first night I met her.
I always thought that would be enough to get us through anything.
.
I've decided I need to explore the gay side of my personality.
.
Sarah is one of my oldest friends.
.
. She's my fiancee.
She's my fiancee.
.
Shit!
.
. . .
Thank you.
How could you?
How could you just go to a fucking bar, pick up some flat fucker,
and then come back here to tell me all about it?
This is it, Leia. This is really it.
Shit.
Let's go somewhere to talk about this.
I don't...
I really want to get out of here and talk about this.
What?
Yeah?
Messy.
First time?
Not a lot of converts.
I don't know.
Now,
all right.
What?
You want to smoke a cigarette or something?
No.
You want to do it again?
I don't think I can.
In that case, let's put our clothes back on and hope no one finds out.
Go ahead.
Shit.
I'm on my way to Noggle's like every other self-respecting citizen at 3 a.m.
What are you?
I'm freezing my ass off.
I'm dying for a cigarette.
You'd feel better if you sunk your teeth into one of these.
I'm not going to.
You'd feel better if you sunk your teeth into one of these.
Want to talk about it?
No. You're almost done.
Don't worry about even pretending to be civil. I was only asking.
Look, I just...
You wouldn't understand.
I know you don't understand.
I don't understand.
What do you think of me?
You and Rachel both.
I don't make excuses for the way I am.
I'm sexual. A fucking whore.
That doesn't mean I don't feel or care.
I'm just irresponsible.
That's all. I can't help it.
It's great.
I have to get away. From him. From everything.
It's all like a trap closing in on me. There's no way out.
I'm irresponsible and you're so responsible
I'm irresponsible and you're so responsible at killing you.
You're like fucking Michael carrying the entire world
around on your shoulders.
I don't pretend everything's okay.
I'm not into deluding myself.
I don't pretend everything's okay.
Well, you enjoy the agony, don't you?
Admit it.
You thrive on it.
It's what lets you know you're alive.
Just like Michael.
You think you're so perceptive
that you see it all
so lucidly.
I have problems like everyone else, okay?
The world's a cold, tough place
but I just try to put up with it.
Maybe you're better at it than me.
You know, I don't think I've ever seen you smile before.
But, in your eyes,
it's never the case.
But, in your eyes,
it is now.
I know you're in trouble.
I'm sorry, Michael.
André?
Hi.
Oh fuck.
Just don't mess up the sheets too much, okay?
Michael.
Michael, would you fucking wait?
Kiss me.
Just taste this in both our mouths.
I want you out of my life.
I mean it this time.
I still love you, Alex.
No matter what I say, no matter what I do,
I just keep on loving you.
And I can't do it anymore.
So what?
You realize you love me, so you want me to leave?
Yeah.
Don't be fucking stupid.
Michael, I know this sounds like bullshit,
but of everyone I've ever slept with,
you're the only one I've ever...
Don't.
It's true.
I don't care.
I don't want to hear it.
Would you turn that fucking record over?
Yeah.
Michael?
Yeah.
Um, if this is really bad timing...
Yeah.
Okay.
Where?
I'll be there in 20 minutes.
Now where are you off to?
You can't fucking do this.
You can't just drop everything and run every time.
Michael, don't go.
I don't know what I'm going to do without her.
We've been together for so long, it's like this big vacuum where she used to be.
I don't know what to say.
What am I supposed to say?
That everything's going to be fine.
But it's not. It's not, and we both know it.
It's all fucked up, way beyond repair, and there's not a damn thing we can do to change it now.
Thanks for all the encouraging words.
I can't do what everyone else wants anymore.
I can't even say I'm here of my own free will.
Not because I feel obligated, like it's expected of me.
It sure is nice being able to count on friends like you.
Then don't.
I never asked you to, and I won't depend on you being there for me either.
Michael, this is really too much.
I mean, this whole thing with Lance.
This whole fucking weekend.
Life in the modern world is hard.
Especially when the people you love turn out to be self-centered pricks.
As the saying goes, love is a one-letter word spelled I.
Do you like him?
Do you?
Meaning?
I don't know what it means.
You fucked him too.
It's a little different in my case.
Yeah?
I don't know what it means.
What does anything matter anyway?
I think I need to go away for a while.
Funny.
That's exactly what I was about to say.
Alex, I don't know how to...
Fuck.
Alex, I want you to live here with me.
Alex, what do you think would happen?
Fuck.
You can't.
Alex?
No.
Everything is falling apart, all around me, and I don't know what to do.
I want to smash a window.
I want to drive off a cliff.
I want to fuck my own brains out.
I want to be held.
Thanks.
I'm leaving.
I'm sorry.
I can't stand the silence anymore.
You'll feel better if you talk about it.
I don't want to talk about it.
I hate this feeling like an intrusion.
I can't do this to you.
Not the city.
Not the site.
You.
You don't even know me anymore.
Bullshit, Michael.
We love you.
That doesn't work like it used to.
When we were 20, naive idealistic punks in college, it made all the difference in the world.
But not anymore.
Too much has happened.
We've grown too old.
To deny that fact is just a crazy delusion.
I can't keep on lying like that.
Sometimes I feel like I've gotten so fucked up, so alienated, that I can't handle being with people anymore.
No one can stand being around me.
Like exposure to low-level radiation.
Vacationing in Chernobyl for long contact can be harmful.
Fatal, even.
So we should all be stuck in isolation capsules as we slowly wither away and die.
I can only speak for myself when I say I need time alone.
I'm exhausted.
I'm not accustomed to so much company for this extended period.
I'm tired of feeling guilty about not keeping everyone entertained.
Being responsible for everybody's happiness.
You've taken that burden upon yourself.
No one's imposed it on you.
Regardless.
It's there.
I can't deal with this much disruption of my routine.
I can't wait till you're all gone so I can have my space, my mundane, absurd life back.
I'll be able to just sit here in my meager little apartment, smoke a cigarette and listen to the quiet for a while without having to worry about doing anything.
I'm sorry, Michael.
I'm sorry you feel that way.
And I'm sorry for anything I've done that's hurt you.
I'm gonna miss you, Michael.
You'll miss who I used to be.
I'll miss who you were, who you are, and who you're going to be.
Now.
If I see the light yellow word120 then I'm done.
If I can see it with my eyes-
Then
Now.
If I don't miss the moment in my life, I'm going to be beautiful.
If there's a time I want you to be wonderful.
Then I'll miss you, Michael.
I don't know.
What the fuck?
You want to ride, or are you just going to stand around gawking?
Why'd you...
Stop it.
Shit.
Where are you going?
Away.
Hey.
You coming or not?
What is this, a fucking remake of Bonnie and Clyde?
I see you.
I mean, you snatched real well, too.
What are you doing?
No, to Michael.
I wanted to at least try.
I just don't know what...
I do love you.
So got all your stuff together?
Yeah.
Well, like they say, today is the first day of the rest of our lives.
I can't help it.
I just see him and all I want to do is touch him so bad.
But he won't let me.
I think about him all the time whenever we're apart.
I can't even remember what it's like being without Rachel.
It's like all the shit in the world didn't matter when we held each other.
I don't know what's going to happen now.
God.
I feel like we should say something, do something.
Now what?
Where to?
Home for you, I guess.
And you?
In six months, the maternity ward.
Besides that, I don't know.
I really don't know.
Well...
Bye, Michael.
Call dad.
Binh?
No.
You don't really need to think that much, afterward.
Please.
I said I just don't deserve it.
I'm sorry.
No.
You didn't mean it.
No, I mean...
No.
No, my god.
Oh, oh no.
Your husband is gone.
Thank you.