A Broken Life Page #5

Jesus, l mean, he's the one

who did all that beautiful work.

He did all the beautiful drawings.

- My words were just filler.

- Oh no. ''Blood Sugar.''

That was my favorite one.

His work was never as good

after he dumped you.

- Dumped me?

- You know what l mean.

l'm sorry, man.

Wrong choice of--

Forget it, forget it.

You know what? You're right.

And he was right to dump me.

- l was holding him back.

- No way.

l learned to take comfort

in the routine.

l figured if you didn't rock the boat,

you could just sail forever.

But slowly, year after year,

my boat slowly sank

until l became

the stupid, f***ing moron

you see before you right now.

And then, bit by bit,

l became unable

to make even the--

the smallest decision.

Paralysis by analysis.

( laughs )

F*** me, man.

Paralysis by analysis.

Do you understand it now, Buddy?

You getting

an understanding of it?

- Actually, l only film, Max.

- Yeah?

Yeah, but l think you're wrong.

lt's 7:
00 a.m.

and we're on the bus!

Boarding the bus!

And what do l see?

What do l see, Buddy?

- l don't know.

- l see people just as exhausted as me.

People just as exhausted as me.

But sometimes,

l get up and give my seat

to a nice older woman, okay?

And l can tell--

l can tell

that she's nice. lt's something,

somehow, l can tell.

lt's-- it's somehow in the eyes.

lt says ''nice''!

You know?

But if she's not nice--

f*** her! l hold my ground.

l mean, why should

l treat an older b*tch

any different than l would

treat a younger b*tch, right?

But, anon!

We have arrived--

the sprawling metropolis.

lt's the working world.

And what is there?

l proofread

FedExed scribblings

of the supposed geniuses.

Oh, man. F***.

The world is f***ed up, man.

And this is the proof.

A good writer is by definition

a good wordsmith.

He's-- he's the equivalent

of a shipbuilder, right?

Talented, yes,

of course, but a thinker?

F*** no!

F*** no.

A thinker is like

a great captain, right?

But now

the wordsmith has somehow

become a motherfucking prophet.

lt's like calling a f***ing--

the-- the savant,

the genius!

F*** that!

And f*** 'em all!

But day after day,

week after week,

month after month,

l have to read this sh*t!

- ( sirens wailing )

- l have been conditioned

to accept it and keep

my motherfucking mouth shut.

Because that's the way

the world works.

That's the way

the system works.

Okay?

''Homostis stememis''--

motherf***er.

You know this word l'm thinking of?

''Homostemisisis.''

''Homostaseous.''

F*** it, l don't know. l forgot.

l have no idea

what you're talking about.

And then it's 1 2:00

and you run to the cafeteria.

But what for?

To chow down on garbage.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes