Prelude to a Kiss

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#If you hear #

# A song in blue #

# Like a flower crying #

# For the dew #

# That was my heart #

# Serenading you #

# My prelude to #

# A kiss #

I love...

the little sign when you buy

your ticket to the rollercoaster-

"Ride at your own risk."

As if the management is not

at all concerned with your safety,

the entire contraption

is about to collapse,

and to top it off,

there are supernatural powers

out there...

just waiting to pull you

off the tracks...

and out into your worst,

cruelest nightmare-

the wild blue.

They want you to believe

that anything can happen.

And they're right.

Open that window.

# Spendin' cash

talkin' trash #

# Good-bye, I showed you

a real good time #

# Come along with me and

leave your troubles behind #

- Hey, Terry. I'm splitting.

- Hey, Pete. Did you meet-

Rita.

No. Hi.

- Hi.

- Peter, Rita. Rita, Peter.

- Actually, I'm gonna go-

- What' s everybody drinking?

- Rit?

- Oh.

- Can I fill you up there?

- I'll have another Dewar's, thanks.

- Pete?

- Uh, no, thank you. I'm -

Oh, don't worry. I'll get it.

You two just relax.

So, one, uh, Dewar's,

and one, uh, beer.

#I love myself

I want you to love me #

# When I feel down #

# I want you above me #

# I search myself #

# I want you to find me #

# I forget myself #

# I want you to remind me #

# I don't want anybody else #

How do you know

the Sokols?

I don't.

Except from the hall.

- Oh, you're a neighbor?

- I couldn't sleep.

Oh, really? Why?

How long have you lived here?

I haven't slept

since I was 14. Two years.

Did you say you hadn't slept

since you were 14?

Pretty much.

You look great,

considering.

Thank you.

- Rita what?

- Uh, Boyle.

Peter Hoskins.

- Hoskins?

- As in "Hoskin's disease. "

Oh, Hodgkin.

No, no.

It was just

a nonhumorous flail.

- What?

- # I don't want #

# Anybody else #

- # When I think about you I touch myself #

- I like your shirt.

# I don't want anybody else #

- Dewar's, madam.

- Thank you.

- No beer. Sorry.

- Wine's fine, thanks.

Rita has insomnia.

Oh, yeah?

Listen, I gotta pee.

I'm sorry.

Excuse me.

Forgive me.

So, what do you do

when you're not not sleeping?

Oh, I usually write

in my journal.

You mean, for a living?

I'm a bartender.

- Oh, really, where?

- Yeah. At the Tin Market.

You work Saturdays?

Well, you must

make good money.

- What are your aspirations in that case?

- I'm, like, a graphic designer.

Oh, great.

So, why can't you sleep?

You know what's good?

I forget what it's called.

It's an herb.

- I tried it.

- Didn't work?

I can't remember what it's called

either. My memory's terrible.

Maybe that's why you can't sleep-

you forget how tired you are.

Well, if you need any help

getting to sleep, I -

Sorry.

Nice talking to you.

You too.

I stood outside for awhile...

just listening to the silence.

Then I tried to figure out

which window was hers,

and what her life

might be like,

and why she couldn't sleep.

Like that.

The spell was cast.

# There's always something

in the road #

# Always something in the road #

# Keeping me from

the one thing #

# That I want #

# The one thing

I will never have #

Hi.

Oh, hi.

Is this all right?

No, I'm sorry.

You can never come in here.

What's new?

Since yesterday?

Let's see.

So much has happened.

You look great.

What will you drink?

Do you have Molson?

- Did you get some sleep?

- Eventually.

- You?

- Sleep? Oh.

I don't have

any trouble.

But let's see.

I read The White Hotel

today.

Oh.

That was pretty much it.

How was it?

- Did you read it?

- No.

But I read some of the case histories

that it was based on.

You have?

Freud.

You've read Freud?

- Have you?

- No.

But this book starts...

with this very highfalutin',

sexual dream thing, you know?

Yeah, I hear everybody beats off

when they read it.

I'm sorry.

You heard that?

- Go on.

- This lovely, very neurotic woman...

goes into therapy

with Freud him self.

- Right.

- And he sort of cures her,

so that she can go on

to live for awhile...

before being killed

by the Nazis...

in a... lime pit.

Uh, happy, happy stuff.

So,

why were you in Europe

for ten years?

How did you know

I was in Europe?

Word gets a rou nd.

You asked Taylor

about me?

You were asking around

about me?

Let's get ma rried.

Okay.

Okay.

- This is the story, and I'm not making it up.

- Okay.

- And it's not as sad as it sounds.

- Shoot.

My parents separated

when I was four.

I went to live

with my grand parents-

who are unfortunately

deceased now-

- I'm gonna make this as brief as possible.

- Take your time.

- And- - We can go up to

my place when you're done.

And everything worked out

great for everybody. It was amazing.

No. Go on.

I'm four years old. I go to live

with my grand parents,

who both wound up having

to go into nursing homes when I was 12.

They were both sick.

So I go to live

with my mother,

who by this time

is remarried to Hank,

- Uh-huh.

- A very unhappy person.

Ridicules me in front of the other

two children they have created...

from their unsavory loins.

So I go to live with my father, who has

also remarried with three other children.

Sophie, the new wife,

hates me even more

than Hank.

This is like Dickens.

The only nice thing Sophie ever did

for me was make the same food twice...

when I made the mistake

of saying thatlliked it.

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