All language subtitles for Californication S07E01 [1080p] [x265] [pseudo]

Previously on Californication:

I have decided to go abroad,
for an indeterminate amount of time.

I want to make a literary pilgrimage.

Watching her go, I don't know,
it feels like the end of something.

It makes you wonder if she was the only
thing that was still keeping us together.

- We're getting married.
- The Runkles.

I now pronounce you
wife and early man.

What the fuck?

Dude, I told you I never wanna
see his ass on one of my sets ever again.

This is a producer-driven medium,
you ineffectual little shit bird.

Shut the fuck up, both of you.

I was thinking about
what I want for all the people in my life.

And I realized that
I just want you to be happy.

I wanna see you smile
and know you mean it.

Hank has to go.

- He's gotta see a horse about a girl.
- Is this about following your bliss?

- Is this about love?
- It is.

Then you must go.

Go and get her, pal.

Karen, hello.

What are you doing here?

I thought you ran off
with the rock 'n' roll circus.

I did.

But I came back, for you.

Karen.

Hello.

What are you doing here?

I thought you ran off
with the rock 'n' roll circus.

I did, but I came back, for you.

Well, I know it's overwhelming,
disorienting even.

But I couldn't be out there knowing that
you were back here alone, by yourself.

Getting older, by the way.

Karen, I love you.

I have always loved you,
and I will always love you.

But we need to resolve this shit,
wouldn't you agree?

- Sure, sure, but...
- No, no buts.

We gotta roll up our sleeves
and do the work right now.

I say we stay here
until we figure it out...

...or until we both get so fucking horny
we can't stand it.

Either way, it's a win-win for both of us.

- Hello.
- Dude, please, no, absolutely not.

We are not sharing our table with you.
Are you European or something?

- I'm sorry, should...?
- No. I'm really sorry.

- This is...
- This is... What is this?

Explain yourself, woman.

Hank, this is Chris.
He's in my yoga class.

- Oh, Jesus.
- And this is Hank. He is...

He is? He is?

- From my life.
- Yoga class?

That fucking old chestnut?
Karen, please, come on.

- I'm sorry.
- You should be.

Hey, what are we talking about here?
Bikram?

Who has time to make time during
Bikram? It's hot and farty there.

You ever let one loose in there, cowboy?
I'm sure you have.

It's hard not to let a little prairie dog
run in through there, huh?

Why don't we do this another time?

- Now, there's an idea.
- I'm sorry.

- Don't be.
- Yeah, don't be.

- It's totally cool. I know where to find you.
- Stalker.

- Really nice to meet you, Hank.
- Pleasure was all mine, yoga man...

...all fucking mine, all day long.
Bye-bye, now.

- Namaste away, buddy boy.
- Thanks.

Look, this is what makes us fantastic.

- Laughing about that creeper.
- What are you talking about?

- He's totally hot.
- What?

Westside yoga guy? That is the
oldest shtick in the book, Karen.

You're not falling for that.
His cum probably tastes like hummus.

Cummus.

Oh, my God.

This is not going as I had hoped.

Hanky Panky.

I thought I would find you here.

One pear Cosmotini, please,
my good man.

He's not kidding.
And he's not gay anymore, entirely.

No.

I came back for her, Charlie.

Yep, Atticus told me all about it.

I ripped my heart out
and threw it at her feet.

And what did she give me in return?
A shit sandwich to chew on.

Enough of my harrowing despair.
Tell me about your honeymoon.

Did you crazy kids
fuck each other's faces off?

- Never mind all that. I got news.
- Don't tell me. Another gnarly skin tag...

...has sprouted up on the underside of
that hideous pouch you call a scrotum.

That, and Atticus just fired me.

- Bummer.
- But not before he fired you too.

That's impossible.
That cunty little fucking ginger loves me.

- He was incredibly moved by my quest.
- Yes, he was. Yes, he was.

And then he got incredibly bored.

Your absence made him grow
fonder of Aaron Sorkin...

...who became incredibly available.
- Aaron Sorkin.

Bringing your Broadway career
to a sudden screeching halt.

Okay, well, what now?

I'm waiting. Go on.

- Say it. Come on, just say it already.
- Say what?

- Oh, that.
- Yeah.

No, I won't say that. I can't.
It would be irresponsible of me, Hank.

I do not have an offer for you.

Oh, that's not entirely true, actually.

Yeah, some kid keeps e-mailing
about wanting to interview you...

...for his college newspaper.
- I need a fucking job, Charlie.

Yeah, so do I, Hank.

I need to present myself
as an adult with a job.

A hunter and a gatherer, a provider.

You're sweet.

And totally fucking naive.
There are no jobs, Hank, not anymore.

Why, you don't ask?

Because you have pissed on
and pissed off...

...anyone and everyone
who's ever given you one.

You have taken a shit on all of it, Hank.

- Books, movies, theater...
- What about television?

- What about it?
- I could shit on that.

- You don't even watch television.
- Doesn't mean I can't write it.

- What are we gonna do, Hank?
- It's all right.

It's all right, baby boy.

Tonight we drink.

Tomorrow you start
making some phone calls.

An opportunity will present itself.

If not, we can always
stuff our pockets filled with rocks...

...and walk hand-in-hand
into the Pacific.

- That sounds romantic.
- Speaking of romance...

...I wanna hear about your honeymoon.

Did you give your aging bride
a kidney infection?

No, really? Okay.

Talk to me, buddy boy.
Tell me all your woes.

Dr. Hanxtable is most definitely in.

Where's my bride?

- Marcy Runkle.
- My beautiful bride.

- Cokey Smurf.
- Are you serious right now?

This is just what we need, Charlie,
a bad case of whiskey dick.

- No whiskey.
- Don't worry, Marce.

- Didn't drink whiskey.
- Been slamming pear Cosmotinis.

- He probably grew a big lippy puss.
- I'm gonna fuck you so hard, Marcy.

I'm gonna fuck you.

Let's not write any checks
your limp biscuit can't cash, okay?

Hey, hey. Be gentle with the boy.

- He's delicate right now.
- What about me?

I impulse remarried a depraved lunatic
who can't even get it up for me.

I know. It's not good.
I'm sorry, Marcy, you deserve better.

- Yeah, I do. I do.
- Hey, you guys. Bring it in. Take a knee.

Okay.

You guys gotta get
this shit in perspective, okay?

I came back for the love of my life,
she rejected me...

...which bums me out on many levels.
Not the least of which...

...is that you fucktards
got your shit together before we did.

Now, you, you're letting
your pasty-white cone head...

...get in the way of the prime directive.
Yours is not to reason why.

Yours is to seek and destroy
her shimmering snatch.

Don't be fucking with her elf-esteem.

Thanks, Hanky.

And she's got the magic vagina.
You know you want it.

I do want it.

- I'm gonna fuck your face off, Marcy.
- All right.

- You're gonna be seeing stars.
- All right.

- Step at a time.
- Gonna fuck you.

Let's see if we can get some blood
flowing to that thin, bent wang of yours.

Yes, baby.

Wait. Hank, stay.

You're not coming.

What can I do for you?

Settle down, dude.
Are you Charlie Runkle?

Who's asking?

Levon. I've been e-mailing you
about Hank Moody.

- I want to interview him.
- What are you talking about?

I sent you, like, 20 e-mails.

Why are you here?
Who told you where I live?

The Internet told me.
You got a pretty retarded name.

Know how many Runkles
there are in L.A.?

- You got the wrong Runkle, kid.
- You're lying.

That's you.
You're the masturbating agent.

Look, whatever.
If Hank's into it, I'll be in touch.

- Come on, man, can I meet him?
- No!

- No, that's impossible.
- Please?

What's the racket? How the fuck a
brother supposed to get beauty sleep?

That's him. You're him.

- Who?
- You're Hank Moody.

Hank Moody I must be. Who you be?

This would be Levon,
the kid I've been telling you about.

He wants to interview you
for his newspaper.

What the fuck?
I didn't tell you to set that up.

You lying, fucking masturbating asshole.
You did get my e-mails.

I like this kid. Levon, huh? That's pretty
groovy. Parents big Elton John fans?

My mother.

Must have good taste.

That's debatable.

Hey, look, are you okay
with whatever this is?

Yeah, it's fine. Come on in.

You got 15 minutes.
I want you out of here before I wake up.

- Now, what do you want to talk about?
- Okay, right.

So where were you born?

Oh, you want to go way back.
I was born and bred in the Bronx...

...but my parents moved to raise me
on the Island of Long.

Which ultimately inspired me to escape
back to the big, bad wilds of the city...

...as soon as I was vaguely able.

How many girlfriends have you had?

A few?

How many significant relationships?

What, you writing my obituary?

Do you consider yourself
a misogynist?

Not really.

I mean, I'm a big fan of womaninity.

I like it all. You know, big, fat, tall, short,
small, white, black, yellow, purple.

Big fan of ladyness.
You wanted to talk writing?

- I've read your books.
- And?

- Do you have any children?
- Yeah, one, a daughter.

Okay. Does she think
that you are a good father?

I'm sure she has issues with the old man.
Do you think you're a good interviewer?

- How many hearts have you broken?
- Hey, kid, you have a problem with me?

- Did I fuck your girlfriend or something?
- Hank! Hank, you were right.

A new day has dawned, and an
opportunity has presented itself.

Change your clothes.
We got ourselves a meeting.

- Where?
- I'll tell you on the way.

- You, kid, out of here.
- Wait.

Can I come with you guys?
It might be good for the article.

You know what? We'll reschedule.

Really great start today.

Bye.

Just don't come off as one of those
snotty, pretentious fucks...

...who looks down on television.
- Me? Never.

How is it?

To be honest,
it's like a colonoscopy of the mind.

- Hank...
- But if he asks, I will tell him:

"It's totes fucking brill." I will be my
absolute best self in there.

Good boy.
It's weird seeing you like this.

All driven and shit.

Funny how these things
come full circle, huh?

When people are truly connected,
they can never fully escape each other.

- Speaking of which, how's Marcy?
- Good. Great.

Yeah. Just back from
the honeymoon, actually.

Gosh, Runkle, you really know
how to kick a guy when he's down.

I know exactly what that woman
is like on a honeymoon.

Our magnificent sex organs
were fused 10 days straight.

I couldn't stand not being inside of her.
I'd walk around the hotel room and boom.

- Right there on my jock.
- Steady, Runks.

Hey, kid, nice to see you.
How you doing?

Oh, I'm great, Moody.

Last we met, I was directing
Santa Monica Cop, the movie.

Now I'm peripherally involved with
Santa Monica Cop, the TV show.

So things are going well.
Thanks for asking.

Shit. What the fuck happened?

I recall things going to shit somewhere
around the time you showed up.

- The very idea.
- Hey, hey, hey.

Let us not
rehash ancient history, right?

Okay, Sam went off the rails,
they shut the picture down...

...my beloved wife divorced me.

But did I wallow?

Well, yeah. Sure.

But then I picked myself the fuck up,
I dusted myself off...

...and I sold that messy,
late-term abortion...

...as a TV pilot,
because that is what a producer does.

He takes a sudden burst of rain
and turns it into a golden shower.

Quiet. Writers start talking shit about you
the second you leave the room.

I want to know whose option
not to pick up when the time comes.

Rosenberg.

You fucking dick.

You'll get yours.

Very nice.

Try paying for private school
next year with no job.

- You must be Hank.
- Henry James Moody I.

Rick Rath. Call me Rath.

- Who are you? Why are you here?
- I'm his agent.

He likes to make sure
I don't use my feces as a crayon.

Take a walk. You guys too. Get out.

Leave us alone. Talent only.

Remember what I told you.
Guy's a monster.

- Leave us alone. Talent only.
- Just a fucking monster.

I'm not gonna hire you, Hank.

- Really?
- Yeah.

Don't even want to hear
what I think about the script?

I had a whole speech prepared...

...followed by a PowerPoint presentation
and brief, but very moving puppet show.

Stu asked me to sit down with you,
I admit I was intrigued...

...but then I did my due diligence.

And every single person
I reached out to...

...said you're an
absolute fucking nightmare.

So there you have it, case closed.

I mean, sorry, last thing I need around
here is some snotty, pretentious fuck...

...who's gonna look down on television.
- Yeah, but if I'm not wrong...

...you need a writer
who can write, right?

Well, yeah, talent's always a plus, but life
is too short for shenanigans, Hank.

I'm too old to be babysitting toddlers
with toxic personalities.

Okay, just hang on
and hear me out, okay?

If I'm not mistaken, you got a room full
of hacks and wannabes in there.

The hacks give you a safe,
fear-driven mediocrity...

...because they want
their pools heated.

Wannabes wanna be
because the lifestyle looks swell...

...but have nothing to write,
and it shows.

That's an incredibly
cynical generalization, Hank.

I am the best of both worlds.

I have the sexy,
energetic brain of a newbie...

...and the body of a drunken old hack.

And you shit the bed all over this town.
So why would this gig be any different?

Fair enough. That's a good point.

And I have squandered
a lot of opportunities, it's true.

- Yeah.
- I could give you a bunch of excuses.

I could blame my masturbating agent,
or chalk it up to...

...fear and self-loathing in Los Angeles,
but the truth is that...

...I�m trying to grow
the fuck up for once.

I'm on a quest to reclaim the best parts
of myself before it's too fucking late.

And it all starts with me getting a job.

Well, that's very inspiring, but are you
sure you can actually handle the job?

- Yeah.
- Yeah?

- Can you show up on time?
- Yeah. Yeah, yeah.

Play nice with others?

Maybe. Yeah.

Can you take a note
without getting defensive?

Possibly.

Can you work with actors without
fucking them or punching them?

- So you have read my work.
- I've read your work.

I like your work. It reminds me
of some of the shit I used to write.

Once upon a time, back in New York.

Before all of this shit
swallowed me whole.

Hey, man...

...I�m a sucker
for a good redemption story...

...but I am suspicious of your motives.

What is this really about?

I guess you could say it's about a girl.

The writer's assistant just IM'd me.

Rosenberg's doing
his impression of you again.

- Think he's trying to stage a coup.
- Motherfucker.

I'd give the fucker a titty twister,
but that's just me.

- Thank you for seeing me.
- No, hey. Sit.

You stay.
I'm not guaranteeing anything...

...but I might have an open seat
in about 45 seconds.

I got eyes and ears all over
this fucking building, scumbags.

Okay. To be perfectly honest, I'm just...
I'm feeling a little bit nervous.

Okay. Can we just not
be such a fucking girl, Charlie?

This is just me.

It's just me.
Your sexy, little fuck ninja.

- What?
- Nothing.

It's just that seems like something
Stu would call you. I'm sorry.

Yeah. Yeah, it probably is.
Among other things.

And I'm sorry, baby.
I just get confused.

Things happened so fast between us.

I know, I know.
Look, maybe we just made a mistake.

Hey, you shut the fuck up.

No retreat, no surrender.

I am not ready to call this shit yet.

Okay? Give me kissy.

Give me more.

Oh, hey, no, not yet. Not so fast, okay?

Just, it's...

You know, it's a little handsy.

Okay.

Okay, baby.

Why don't you just let Mommy
work her Mommy magic, okay?

Okay.

Yes, please, Mommy.

But don't actually call me Mommy,
because that's fucking creepy, right?

Right. Yeah, my bad.

- Okay.
- Okay.

Okay, it's not working, Marcy.
It's just, it...

- Oh, my God. Stop it.
- I want to feel something. Anything.

No, be nice to my penis. Stop.

It's just so upsetting, Marcy.

I know, baby. I get it.

Okay? But just breathe.

You gotta relax.

- Just breathe.
- Okay, know what?

- Let me go down on you. I'm gonna go...
- What? No, no, no...

Yes, Marcy! Yes, please!
I insist, okay?

I'm gonna go down on you because
I need to feel like a man tonight.

Okay, so munching my box
has become all about you?

You're such a fucking narcissist,
Charlie.

I need to go down on you, Marcy!

Fine. Go ahead.

Okay.

Oh, my God, Charlie.
If you're gonna eat me out you can't cry.

Okay. I'm sorry.

Okay.

- Yeah, Papi, get it.
- Is it good?

I don't want you to think
I am European or anything, you know...

...but maybe I could share your table?

Oh, I'm sorry, mademoiselle, but I'm
meeting somebody from my Pilates class.

Very flexible guy. He can suck himself off
and clip his toenails at the same time.

We're taking it slow.
Just getting to know each other.

Hank, I'm not involved with anyone.

Well, that's good to know. Me neither.

Just kidding about the Pilates guy.

Good to know.

- So, what are you doing here?
- Oh, I'm meeting this kid.

He's gonna interview me
for a college newspaper.

- Oh, dear. Has it come to that?
- I know, right?

Remember that lady from
The New York Times who wrote...

...that nice profile on me
all those years ago?

I do. The one with the ample bosom.

Yes, she did have an ample bosom.
Know what I didn't do?

I didn't sample that ample bosom
because I loved you so much then.

- And I still love you.
- Because you're incredible, Hank Moody.

- Finally you speak the truth.
- Yeah.

I'm sorry about the other day.

Yeah, I'm sorry too.

Although I don't know why I'm
apologizing. I came back for you and all.

It was a lot to process, you know?

And the timing was all off and...

Well, that's us in a nutshell.

Couple of good-timers
with exceptionally bad timing.

No, I'm not...

Hello? Excuse me.

Are you the wife?

- No. No, I'm not.
- This is the mother of my child.

- Oh, okay.
- Yeah.

- Did he leave you?
- No.

- She left me.
- Actually, it's complicated.

Yeah, sounds like it.

I believe we actually had
an appointment.

Oh, yeah, sure. I'm gonna shoo.

Let's talk later
about things big and small.

I wanna tell you all about my new job.

I'm intrigued.

Stop it.

It was nice to meet you.

My name's Karen, by the way.

Okay. Bye.

Okay. Good luck.

- Is it cool if I record this?
- Yeah, whatever you gotta do.

Okay, great.

- Hi.
- Hi, yourself.

Okay, so I'm here with Hank Moody...

...writer of books
and some movies, I guess.

Anything else?

No, I think that about covers it.

Thanks for the intro, Charlie Rose.

- She's pretty hot. That lady.
- I concur.

- Like in a MILF-y way.
- Oh, that's the best-y way.

Yeah, I guess.

- I guess you hit that, huh?
- Totally.

I totally hit that.

Cool. Do you still love her?

I do. Very much so.

Are you guys, like, together still?

Not, like, at the moment, like, no.

It's smart to keep your options open.
Wouldn't want anything tying you down.

Yeah, but freedom is just another word
for missing someone.

I think Taylor Swift said that.

- You want to be a writer, huh?
- No. No, not really.

- Seems like hard work.
- It's the worst.

It sucks balls. It's having homework
for the rest of your life.

What do you want to do?

Well, I kind of want to be an actor.

Right on. Noble.

- Practical.
- Yeah.

My grandmother says
I remind her of a young...

- Dustin Hoffman.
- No, Marlon Brando.

It just seems like fun. You show up,
everyone's always really nice to you.

Hang out with beautiful actresses,
kiss them and shit, have a nude scene.

Touch their boobs.

Then you get to move on, do the same
thing all over again somewhere else.

Seems like a really great life.
The life I'm trying to lead for myself.

Sure.

Bet you fuck a lot of actresses, huh?

Sorry, what is this
supposed to be about again?

You. The type of guy you are.

- Things of that nature.
- How do you know what type of guy I am?

Well, I don't know.
I'm trying to figure it out.

- I know you seem kind of into yourself.
- You have some weird beef with me, kid.

You sure I didn't fuck
your girlfriend or something?

- Not at all.
- You sure about that?

Pretty much, yeah. Never really
had what you'd call a girlfriend.

- Well, I'm sorry to hear that.
- Yeah.

- But you did fuck my mom.
- What?

- You fucked my mom.
- Really?

You're not fucking with me?

Oh, dear. Oh, me, oh, my.

Believe it or not, this happened before.
Very unpleasant.

But we're gonna get through it,
just keep calm and carry on, all right?

Now, when did this unfortunate moment
of carnal whimsy occur?

I don't know, I guess about
nine months before I was born.