Original subtitles

( Projector clicking )

( ice creaking, water dribbling )

MAN: Mr. Chinaski!

Hey, Chinaski, come on out here.

- You got a driver's license, don't you? - Yeah.

I got a driver out sick today.

We've got some rush orders we need to get out right away.

I need you to make these deliveries.

Hey, Chi...

( brakes squeal )

Ah!

Feelin' bad?

I've felt better.

Kid, I've probably slept longer than you've lived.

( Melted ice dribbling from truck )

MAN: Chinaski! You're fired.

Woman: ♪ Oh, fear is like clichés

♪ Shot to hell

♪ All the small faces looking out ♪

♪ Beautiful

♪ And we're leavin'

♪ And we're leavin'

♪ I wish to weep

♪ But sorrow is stupid

♪ I wish to believe

♪ Belief is for graveyards

♪ We've narrowed it down

♪ Down, down, down

♪ To the butcher knife

♪ Down, down, down

♪ And the mockingbird

♪ Down, down, down

♪ Wish us luck

Do you have a room?

- It's 150 a week. - All right.

Are you employed?

Self-employed.

May I ask what you do?

I'm a writer.

Oh!

Have you written books?

Well, I'm not ready for a novel yet.

Okay.

( Muffled conversation and music playing )

( coughing )

( spits )

MAN: Now most guys think they know how to drive.

But the fact is, very few people know how to drive.

They just steer.

Every day, I see two, three people simply run through red lights

like they didn't exist.

The lives people live are driving them crazy,

and their insanity comes out in the way they drive.

I'm not here to tell you how to live.

I'm here to teach you how to drive.

Now when is the only time a man can lose

control of his cab and he won't be able to help it?

- When I get a hard-on? - Mendoza.

If you can't drive with a hard-on, we can't use you.

Some of our best men drive with hard-ons all day long.

All night, too.

Now, come on. When is the only time

a man can lose control of his cab and he won't be able to help it?

- Um... - Yes, Chinaski.

Yeah, a man might lose control of his cab, uh...

when he sneezed.

That's correct.

All right. When you sneeze, what do you do?

- Are you Henry Chinaski? - Yes, sir.

Follow me.

Sit down.

( Clears throat )

( sighs )

We ran a check on you, Chinaski.

You have 18 drunk and disorderly arrests,

and one for drunk driving. You lied to us.

Yeah, there were two for drunk driving.

You falsified your application; you're disqualified.

( Knock on door )

Could you call me a cab?

( Wringing out wet clothes )

( siren wailing in distance )

CHINASKI: As we live, we all get caught and torn

by various traps.

Writing can trap you.

Some writers tend to write what has pleased their readers

in the past.

They hear accolades and believe them.

There is only one final judge of writing,

and that is the writer.

When he is swayed by the critics, the editors,

the publishers, the readers, then he's finished.

( Muffled conversations from below )

And of course, when he's swayed with his fame and his fortune,

you can float him down the river with the turds.

( Muffled conversation and music playing )

- A writer, huh? - HENRY: Yes.

Are you sure?

No, I'm not.

Why do you wanna work in a pickle factory?

It reminds me of my grandmother.

It does?

She used to, um...

serve me pickles whenever I visited her.

What do you write?

Mostly short stories.

I'm halfway through a novel.

What's it about?

Everything.

You mean, for instance, it's about... cancer?

Yes.

How about my wife?

She's in there, too.

( Glass jars rattling )

I wrote three or four short stories a week.

I kept things in the mail.

I imagined how the editors at the New Yorker must be reacting.

Hey, here's another one of those things from that nut.

I sent most of them to John Martin,

whose magazine Black Sparrow I admired.

( Toilet flushing )

Chinaski.

Wanna step in here for a minute?

Mr. Gentry's a writer, too.

I told him that you were a writer, and he wanted to meet you.

You don't mind, do you?

I don't mind.

Mr. Gentry's a friend of mine.

( Clock ticking loudly )

( clears throat )

Do you mind if I leave?

Okay.

That scene in the office stayed with me...

Those cigars, the fine clothes.

I thought of good steaks, long rides up winding driveways

that led to beautiful homes.

Ooh.

Trips to Europe.

Fine women.

Hey, Chinaski, what are ya doin'?

Chinaski, get back to work. Your shift's not over.

- I'm gonna get a drink. - No, no, you can't get a drink.

- What? - Come on, get back to work.

- Over here. - All right, all right.

Hey, hey!

( Both grunting )

Get off me!

( Stammering and grunting )

- Okay? - I'm fine.

I don't need this!

And then I met Jan.

I bought her a drink, and she gave me her phone number.

Three days later, I moved into her apartment.

( Indistinct conversations and music playing on jukebox )

( car engine rattling loudly )

( engine knocking loudly )

Jan had her $500 car.

The big trick with that car was how to turn on the headlights.

Of course, we had the advantage of broken springs.

- ( Both panting ) - JAN: Fuck! Fuck!

( Object clattering on floor )

Jan was an excellent fuck.

She had a tight pussy,

and she took it like it was a knife that was killing her.

JAN: Hey, I wanna know what time it is.

You said you'd fix the clock.

All right, let's see.

We set the clock by the TV at midnight last night.

We know that it gains 35 minutes every hour.

Um... it says 7:30 p.m. right now, but we know that's not right

because it's not dark enough yet. Okay.

That's 7 and a half hours, 7 times 35 minutes.

That's... 245 minutes.

One half of 35 is...

Seventeen and one half.

That gives us...

- 200... - ( sighs )

...and 52 and one-half minutes.

Okay, that's...

...4 hours and 42 and one-half minutes we owe them.

So we set the clock back to 5:47. That's it.

It's 5:47.

It's dinnertime, and we don't have anything to eat.

Let's open another jug of wine.

Should I make some pancakes?

No, I don't know if I could get another one of them down.

Oh, come on.

Okay, put the pancakes on.

Oh, we're still out of butter.

Well, fry 'em dry again.

They will be crisp... real crisp.

That's okay, baby.

( Footsteps and pounding in hallway )

JAN: Who is that?

( Footsteps and pounding continues )

MAN: Wake up. Everybody in the hall.

JAN: What is that?

( Pounding continues )

( indistinct chatter in hallway )

- ( knocking on doors ) - FIREMAN: Anyone in there?

( Indistinct radio chatter and people coughing )

It's just the fire department.

( Siren blaring on street )

- ( siren continues ) - MAN: Watch your step.

I finally got hired at a bicycle supply warehouse.

I had to demean myself to get that one.

I told them that I like to think of my job as a second home.

HENRY: Play the horses?

Yeah.

HENRY: Mind if I look at your paper?

Sure.

My Boy Bobby oughta take the eighth.

I know. They don't even have him on top.

All the better.

What do ya think it'll pay at?

About 9 to 2.

What time's the last race go off?

5:30.

- We get off at 5:00. - Never make it.

We can try. Racetrack's not too far.

- Wanna come along? - Sure.

Keep your eye on the clock. We'll cut out at five to 5:00.

( Tires screeching )

( truck horn honking )

See? Told you we'd make it.

( Indistinct chattering )

Thank you.

MANNY: Hey, My Boy Bobby's in the front.

He's in the lead!

We've hooked ourselves a winner!

Unless some big-ass closer comes out of the back of the pack.

Come on! Come on, Bobby! Come on, come on!

Come on! Yes! Yes!

We should have bet another $200 on that horse.

- You're right. - Come on, let's go get a drink.

All right. Excuse me.

The next day at work, some of the other employees asked us

if we would place bets for them.

Hank, we have to take their bets.

Manny, those guys don't have any money.

All they've got is their coffee and chewing gum money

that their wives give them.

We don't have time to waste at the $2 windows.

We're not gonna bet their money. We're gonna keep their money.

Suppose they win?

They won't win. They always pick the wrong horse.

They have a way of always picking the wrong horse.

Suppose they bet our horse?

Then we know we got the wrong horse.

( Crowd cheering, hoof beats pounding on track )

I think she's gonna do it.

I think she's gonna do it! Come on, Spitfire! Let's go!

Go, Spitfire! Let's go!

Yes! Way to go! Oh, great!

- You married, Manny? - No way. No.

- Women? - Sometimes.

- It never lasts. - What's the problem?

A woman is like a full-time job.

You have to choose your profession.

Yeah, I suppose there is an emotional drain.

Oh, physical, too. They wanna fuck night and day.

Well, get one you like to fuck.

Yeah, but if you drink or gamble,

they think it's a putdown of their love.

Well, get one who likes to drink, gamble and fuck.

Who wants a woman like that?

I bought some expensive clothes and a good pair of shoes.

The owner of the bike supply warehouse

didn't look so powerful anymore.

Manny and I took a little longer with our lunches

and came back smoking good cigars.

The new life didn't sit well with Jan.

She was used to her four fucks a day,

and also used to seeing me poor and humble.

Mr. Horse Player.

Mr. Big Horse Player.

You know, when I first met you,

I liked the way you walked across a room.

You didn't just walk across a room.

You walked like you were walkin' through walls,

like you owned the place, like nothin' mattered.

Now you got a few bucks in your pocket,

you're not the same anymore.

You act like you're a dental student or a plumber.

Don't give me any shit about plumbers, Jan.

You haven't made love to me in two weeks.

Love takes many forms. Mine has been more subtle.

You haven't fucked me in two weeks.

Have some patience.

In six months, we'll be vacationing in Rome and Paris.

Look at you.

Pourin' yourself that good whiskey,

lettin' me sit here drinkin' this rotgut wine.

You're Mr. Big Time Horse Player.

I give you soul, I give you wisdom,

I give you light and music and some laughter.

By the way, I am the world's greatest horse player.

Horse shit!

No! Horse player!

( Slams door )

I understood too well

that great lovers were always men of leisure.

I fucked better as a bum than as a puncher of time clocks.

I wanted to go ever since I was a kid.

- MAN: It's quite nice, actually. - JAN: Yeah, I bet.

You know, I try to make a woman out of you

but you're nothin' but a goddamn whore!

If anybody here doesn't like what I just did,

then say something!

Sit down, Chinaski.

You knew we were gonna let you go.

Yeah. Bosses are never hard to fathom.

You haven't been pullin' your weight around here

for over a month, and you know it.

You know, a guy busts his damn ass,

and you don't even appreciate it.

You haven't been busting your ass, Chinaski.

I've given you my time, which is all I've got to give.

All any man has... for a pitiful six bucks an hour.

You remember, you begged for this job.

You said your job was your second home.

I give you my time so you can live in your big house.

If anybody's lost anything on this deal, on this arrangement,

I've been the loser.

You understand?

All right, Chinaski.

- All right? - Yeah. Just go.

Now listen, Mantz.

I don't want any trouble about my unemployment payments.

You guys are always trying to cheat the working man

out of his rights.

So don't give me any trouble, or I'll be back to see ya.

You'll get your unemployment. Now get the hell outta here.

I didn't see Manny again...

and I missed the trips to the track with him.

But I had my winnings and the bookie money.

I just sat around, and Jan liked that.

After two weeks, I was on unemployment,

and we relaxed and fucked and toured the bars.

And every week, I'd go down to the unemployment,

stand in line and get my nice little check.

Hank.

Love you.

$10 try on the four with one and two.

( Computer beeping )

The racetrack crowd is the world brought down to size.

Life grinding against death and losing.

Nobody wins finally.

We're only seeking a reprieve.

A moment out of the glare.

- Sir, you're in our seats. - These seats aren't reserved.

There are no reserved seats in this section.

I know there are no reserved seats in this section.

But it's a common courtesy.

You see, some people get here early...

Poor people like you and me...

Who can't afford reserved seats, and they lay down newspapers

to indicate that these seats are saved.

Because if the poor aren't going to be decent with one another,

nobody else is going to be.

I'm not poor.

If you can't be a gentleman, at least don't be a hog.

Jan, sit down.

I'll stand.

( Indistinct P.A. announcement )

Let's get a drink.

That man in our seats... he's got nerve.

I don't like the guy.

He sure got your goat.

He was just a little guy. What was I supposed to do with him?

Bullshit. If he'd been big, you wouldn't have done anything either.

What do you do for a living?

Real estate.

I make 500,000 a year.

Why don't you get yourself a reserved seat?

That's my prerogative.

You know, you have the nicest blue eyes.

Uh-huh.

JAN: Got a cigarette?

( Clears throat )

Pardon me, sir, but you're in my seat.

Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?

Pardon me.

Come on, baby.

( Loud traffic noises )

( Henry sighs deeply )

( Henry groans )

( coughing )

( coughing and retching )

( retching continues )

( toilet flushes )

( refrigerator door opens, closes )

( coughing )

HENRY: Whoo!

How do you feel?

I feel bad.

I wanna be alone.

You don't have enough love. It's warped ya.

People don't need love.

What they need is success of some form or another.

Can be love, but it doesn't have to be.

The Bible says love thy neighbor.

That could also mean leave 'em alone.

My half is yours.

It's another woman, isn't it?

No.

- You don't love me anymore? - Stop that shit, would ya?

You're tired of fuckin' me, aren't you?

( Exhales loudly )

Hank, stay with me.

Here, take it.

You'll manage.

Hank...

( crying )

( sniffles )

Even at my lowest times, I can feel the words bubbling inside of me.

And I had to get the words down

or be overcome by something worse than death.

Words not as precious things, but as necessary things.

Yet when I begin to doubt my ability to work the word,

I simply read another writer,

and then I know I have nothing to worry about.

My contest is only with myself to do it right...

with power and force,

and delight and gamble.

( Loud blues music playing on jukebox )

Yes, I'll have a Scotch, please.

Bartender, I'll have another one.

Get the little lady whatever she's having.

( Sighs )

That drink was my last. I'm broke.

Are you serious?

- You have a place to stay? - No.

And you haven't got any money or anything to drink.

No.

Two Evan Williams, a six-pack of beer...

two packs of cigarettes...

some chips, some mixed nuts...

some Alka-Seltzer.

A good cigar.

Cash or credit card?

Charge it to Pierre.

I'll have to phone him.

- Where we goin'? - My place.

( Indistinct phone conversation )

- It's okay. - Thank you.

( Switching radio channels )

( slow music plays )

- I like this kind of music. - Yes.

Swell.

- What? - You're great.

You think you're hot shit.

- No. - Yes.

I could tell by the way you act.

I like you though.

I liked you right away.

Hike up your skirt.

You like legs?

Yes.

Hey, you're not some kind of maniac, are you?

There's a guy's been pickin' up girls,

cuts crossword puzzles into their bodies with a pen knife.

Well, I write...

...but I'm not him.

Then there are guys who fuck you and chop you into little pieces.

Find your ass in a drainpipe in the ocean.

Tit in a trashcan downtown.

I stopped doing that years ago.

( Rings doorbell )

Stand back from the door.

He's got a camera that lets him see who's at the door.

Let him just see me, then when the buzzer sounds,

you follow me in.

( Buzzer buzzing )

Sweetie. So good to see you.

( laughing ) Oh, Pierre.

Hi.

How are you?

Who's the guy?

Oh, I want you to meet a friend of mine.

Hi.

Pierre, this is Henry Chinaski.

Good to know you, Pierre.

- Come on in. - Thank you.

LAURA: You're so good, Pierre. You're so good! You're a good person.

Hey, girls.

Hey, this is Henry Chinaski.

Henry, this is Grace, and this is Jerry.

- Hi there. - How you doin'?

PIERRE: Help yourself.

PIERRE: So what do you do?

- He's a writer. - PIERRE: Hmm.

I need somebody to do a libretto for an opera I wrote.

It's called The Emperor of San Francisco.

Did you know there was a guy who claimed he was

the emperor of San Francisco?

No, I didn't.

It's a real story. It's very interesting.

PIERRE: You look like you've been around.

You look like you've got class.

Would you like to hear some music from my opera?

Yes, I'd like that very much.

If it's okay with you.

Great.

( Playing classical music on wheezing organ )

( playing off-key )

- Whoo hoo! - LAURA: Yay! Bravo!

Marvelous.

Ah.

( Jingles coins )

- Ha ha! - ( drops coins )

He's a tight son of a bitch.

He likes to take care of the girls in the bars

that have no place to sleep.

But all he gives them is food and a bed.

Never any money.

And they only have drinks when he's drinking.

Jerry got to him one night though.

He was horny.

( laughs )

He was chasing her around the table.

She said, "No, not unless you give me 1,000 bucks a month for life."

- He signed a piece of paper... - Uh-huh.

Gave her 1,000 bucks a month.

Even after he dies, his family will have to pay her.

Jerry's his main girl though.

What about you?

Not for a long time.

I like you.

You do?

Watch, watch, watch.

Tomorrow, if he comes out with that sailor's cap on...

- With that captain's cap... - Uh-huh.

Means we're goin' out on his yacht.

- Hmm. - Doctors made him get a yacht.

Is it a long one?

Sure.

We're going out on the yacht.

( Dreamy dance music plays on radio )

- We are going back. - LAURA: What for?

Grace is having one of those moments.

Won't speak to me.

She just stands there staring at the water.

I'm afraid she'll jump off the boat.

She can't swim.

Just give her 50 bucks.

No. We're going back.

This happens every time we try to go out.

Grace goes into one of her moods,

stands there staring at the ocean.

She's never gonna jump overboard.

( Yelling ) She hates water!

Pierre died shortly after that.

Laura and I split up,

and I never saw any of them again.

( Rings doorbell )

- Hi, Mom. - Is that you?

Yeah. I just need a place to sleep for a couple of days.

Your bedroom is always waiting.

Your father's home.

Thanks, Ma.

Hey, Dad.

Thanks.

You got a job?

No.

Any man wants work can find work.

I suppose you're right.

Can't hardly believe you're my son.

You don't have any ambition, you don't have any get-up-and-go.

How the hell you gonna make it in this world?

Still think you're a writer?

I'm still writing.

You stay here, gonna charge you room and board plus laundry.

When you get a job,

what's yours we'll take outta your wages till you're paid up.

You're drunk.

Yes.

Where do you get the money to drink?

You don't have any money.

I'll get a job.

How?

You know, you act as if I murdered someone.

It's just as bad.

Are you finished?

Thanks for the food, Mom.

- You're not hungry? - No, but thank you.

Hey, Robert, what do you say you and I go out

and have a few cocktails?

You mean you wanna go drinkin' in the middle of the week without a job?

Well, that's when you need a drink the most.

I'm warnin' you.

I also need a piece of ass.

What's he sayin'?

I said I also need a piece of ass.

( Glass shattering )

MOTHER: Alex!

( Elevator mechanism whirring )

Now you see the cartons.

We have three different types of cartons,

each one printed differently.

This is for our super-durable brake shoe,

this is for our super brake shoe, those are for our standard brake shoe.

You run out, there's more cartons over here.

And these are the brake shoes.

They all look the same. How do I tell 'em apart?

You don't. They're all the same. You just divide 'em into thirds.

When you're finished with this, you come downstairs,

and we'll find something else for you to do, okay?

- When do I start? - You start now.

And absolutely no smoking, not up here.

You have to smoke, you come downstairs, okay?

Got you.

( Elevator door closes )

( elevator whirring )

A poem is a city filled with streets and sewers.

Filled with saints, heroes, beggars, madmen.

Filled with banality and booze.

Filled with rain and thunder and periods of drought.

A poem is a city at war.

It's a barbershop filled with cynical drunks.

A poem is a city.

A poem is a nation.

A poem is the world.

( Voice on dispatch radio, meter clicking )

I decided to look for Jan.

I toured the bars in her old neighborhood looking for her.

Whitey Jackson the bartender at the Pink Mule

told me that she was working as a chambermaid

in a downtown hotel.

Hank!

- Jan. - Jesus!

I thought I'd never see ya again.

Well, here I am.

Oh, come on, let me look at ya.

You're thin.

You've lost weight.

Well... you're looking good.

- Are you alone? - Yeah.

- There's no one else? - Nobody.

You know I can't stand people.

Well...

It's good to see you workin'.

Come on.

I'm embarrassed.

I love you, you idiot. We fucked 800 times,

so relax.

Still like my legs?

Hell, yes.

Finished with your work?

All but Mr. Clark's room.

Mr. Clark doesn't care. He leaves me tips.

Oh.

I'm not doin' anything. He just leaves me tips.

- Jan. - Yeah?

I love you, baby.

You bastard.

When I came home one night, she had moved in with me.

I decided to clean up the apartment.

I thought, "I must be turning into a fag."

Where is she?

Where's the bitch who cleaned the place, huh?

If I find her, I'm gonna kill her.

I swear.

You're gonna pay for this, Chinaski.

Okay?

She was continually using our arguments to justify herself.

It was just a cover for her own guilt.

She'd go off with anyone she met in the bar,

and the lower and the dirtier he was,

the better she liked it.

She left, and I got drunk for three days and three nights.

When I sobered up, I knew my job was gone.

Hello.

I was told you might be looking for reporters.

- Please fill this out. - Thank you.

Bastard.

Apply this ointment to the invaded parts

and wait 20 to 30 minutes before washing it off.

Under no circumstances leave it on longer than 30 minutes.

Thank you.

Hell, 30 minutes?

I'll leave it on all night and kill every one of these fuckers.

Oh!

( Pained groaning )

Ah!

Ugh! Oh!

- ( Groaning continues ) - Shit!

Hank?

- You fuckin' whore! - What?!

Look at what you've done to me.

- God, what is it? - Don't ya know?

Don't ya know? I haven't fucked anybody else.

I got it from you. You're a carrier.

- A disease-ridden slut. - What?!

Crabs, baby. You gave me the crabs.

I don't have crabs. Geraldine must have 'em.

What?

I stayed at Geraldine's, sitting on a toilet.

Oh, don't give me that shit. You got it off a toilet seat?

- Gimme a goddamn drink. - Okay.

( Phone rings )

Yes? What do you want?

Yes.

Yes.

As a reporter?

Not as a reporter?

What, today?

Okay. Thanks.

Who was that?

I got a job.

I'll fix ya up.

I can't wear pants.

I'll wrap you up in gauze.

- Think that's gonna work? - Mm-hm. I do.

- All right. - Here.

- Easy does it. - Mm-hm.

Okay.

Put it right around there.

Easy.

Anybody ever tell you how funny you are?

That's understandable.

Now for a little tape.

Now put your other leg up, lover.

Never mind the romance.

Around your big, fat thighs.

- Not as big as your big, fat ass. - Now, now, be nice.

Now... for the balls; your little red balls.

Just in time for Christmas.

Wait a minute. What are you gonna do to my balls?

- I'm gonna wrap 'em. - Isn't that dangerous?

It'll affect my tap dancing.

Oh, okay. Wrap that around like that and tie.

- I'll wrap 'em real nice. - They'll slip out.

In a little cocoon. Real nice.

Let me see.

Now they're better.

A little bit of tape.

Hey, don't tape my balls to my asshole.

- That's the best place for 'em, baby. - Yeah.

You're as good as new.

Now get up, walk around.

This is all right.

I feel like a eunuch.

This is all right.

- Want some soft-boiled eggs? - Sure, baby.

Call for help if you need to move the lift.

Remember, we're very proud of this guy.

It's called "Vision of Peace."

( electronic lift squeaking )

Why was I chosen to do this?

Why couldn't I be inside

writing editorials about municipal corruption?

Give the readers my vision of peace.

Questions like these demand a deeper consideration.

( Lift squeaking )

Superintendent Barnes.

Buy you a beer?

You are fired, Mr. Chinaski.

Please return your uniform and clean out your locker.

Yes, sir.

( Door closes )

- Is that you, Hank? - Yeah, baby.

I got canned.

Caught me drinkin' on the job.

What about your check?

Funny. They didn't mention it.

You worked almost a full day. They owe you wages.

Yes, they do.

- Well, go get it. - ( Hank coughs )

- As soon as the office opens. - Okay.

Let's hit the market for some stew meat and vegetables,

and then let's get a couple of bottles of really good French wine.

Jan, they told me the check wasn't ready yet.

What?! They...

- It's the law! - I don't know.

They said it would be ready tomorrow.

Oh, Christ! I've walked all this way in high heels.

- Hey, you look great, baby. - Yeah.

I can't walk in 'em. Nope.

Pays to be a tough son of a bitch.

World belongs to people with balls.

Just get the check, daddy.

I'm Henry Chinaski.

- Yes? - Yes, I was here yesterday.

Yes?

Right. You told me my check would be ready today.

Oh.

That's right.

I'm sorry, Mr. Chinaski. Your check isn't here yet.

But you said it would be.

I'm sorry, sir.

Sometimes it takes a little longer for a payroll check to process.

Look, I want my check.

I'm sorry, sir.

You're not sorry.

You don't know what sorrow is. I do.

Now I wanna talk to your boss' boss now!

Mr. Handler? Mr. Chinaski would like to see you

about a termination payroll check.

Right.

Room 309.

Thank you.

Me and my old lady have walked down here now

two days runnin',

just to be told that you don't have my check.

Now you and I know that that's pure crap.

All I wanna do is get my check and get drunk.

That might not sound, uh... noble...

but it's my choice.

You got a smoke?

Thank you.

Miss Simms?

There's a check due a Mr. Henry Chinaski.

Yes, Henry Chinaski. I want it down in five minutes.

HANDLER: Thank you.

Listen, John, I've got two years of journalism school

at Los Angeles City College.

You couldn't use a reporter, could you?

Sorry. We're overstaffed now.

I see.

Your check will be downstairs.

Thank you.

You might as well not have any goddamned ears.

You never listen to me anymore.

Well...

That's because you keep sayin'

the same damn thing over and over again.

Okay. Let's have a drink and talk about it.

You've had your ass up in the air ever since we got back together.

Shit.

Come on, let's face the obvious.

I don't need you.

You don't need me.

Yeah. I know.

A week later, Jan moved outta my place

and shacked up with some rich guy.

After that, I couldn't pay the rent.

The landlord threw you out?

Yeah.

Did you get the job?

- No. They didn't want me. - How come?

Well, I don't have an address.

Hank, I hate it when he fucks me.

Sure, babe. Take care.

This is for you. It got too small for him.

See ya around, Hank.

You'll manage.

Amazing how grimly we hold on to our misery.

The energy we burn fueling our anger.

Amazing how one moment, we can be snarling like a beast,

then, a few moments later, forgetting what or why.

Not hours of this or days or months or years of this...

but decades.

Lifetimes completely used up,

given over to the pettiest rancor and hatred.

Finally, there is nothing here for death to take away.

All right, sit down. We'll see if anything comes in.

You look a little down in the mouth.

You all right?

I lost a woman.

Yeah, well, you'll have others.

You'll lose them, too.

Where do they go?

Try this.

- Ain't no women on Skid Row. - Thanks.

Don't let him see us drinkin'. That's the one thing he don't like.

Keep it low.

- Wine gnats. - Sons of bitches are hooked.

They know what's good.

They drink to forget their women.

Yeah, they just drink.

Ah, shit.

- Oh, here he comes. - All right, all right, get out!

Get out. Get the hell outta here, you fuckin' winos!

Let's go. Move it. Get outta here before I call the cops, both of ya.

- Let's go, both of you. - Take it easy!

Right now. Keep movin'!

Get outta here!

I'll call the cops, you goddamn degenerates.

Don't come back.

What?! This isn't a bar!

Sun's up.

Yeah. Sun's up good.

Well...

I gotta get goin'.

- See ya. - See ya.

Oh, uh, what do I do with Chinaski's mail?

Oh, he's gone. Just give it to me.

- Have a nice day. - Hmm.

( Siren blaring, tires screeching )

( gunshot, people yelling )

MAN: "Dear Mr. Chinaski:"

"We are returning these four stories,

"but we are keeping 'My Beerdrunk Soul Is Sadder Than.

"All The Dead Christmas Trees of The World.'

"We have been watching your work for a long time

"and we are most happy to accept this story.

Sincerely, John Martin, Black Sparrow Press."

HENRY: If you're going to try, go all the way.

Otherwise, don't even start.

This could mean losing girlfriends, wives,

relatives, jobs and maybe your mind.

It could mean not eating for three or four days.

It could mean freezing on a park bench.

It could mean jail.

It could mean derision.

It could mean mockery.

Isolation.

Isolation is the gift.

All the others are a test of your endurance,

of how much you really want to do it,

and you'll do it...

Despite rejection and the worst odds.

And it will be better than anything else you can imagine.

If you're going to try,

go all the way.

There is no other feeling like that.

You will be alone with the gods,

and the nights will flame with fire.

You will ride life straight to perfect laughter.

It's the only good fight there is.

WOMAN: ♪ It's just a slow day

♪ Movin' into a slow night

♪ It doesn't matter what you do ♪

♪ It's just a slow day

♪ Movin' into a slow night

♪ It doesn't matter

♪ It doesn't matter what you do ♪

♪ Everything just stays the same ♪

♪ No cats sleep it off

♪ No dogs don't bark

♪ Everything just stays the same ♪

♪ There's nothin' even dyin'

♪ Wadin' through a slow day

♪ Movin' into a slow night

♪ It doesn't matter what you do ♪

♪ It's just a slow day

♪ Movin' into a slow night

♪ It doesn't matter

♪ It doesn't matter what you do ♪

♪ Everything just stays the same ♪

♪ You don't even hear the water runnin' ♪

♪ Everything just stays the same ♪

♪ The walls just stand there

♪ A door stands open

♪ You're wadin' through a slow day ♪

♪ Movin' into a slow night

♪ Like tomorrow's never going to come ♪

♪ It's just a slow day

♪ Movin' into a slow night

♪ It doesn't matter

♪ It doesn't matter what you do ♪

♪ Oh

( instrumental break )

♪ Oh, just a slow day

♪ Movin' into a slow night

♪ It doesn't matter what you do ♪

♪ Doesn't matter what you do ♪

♪ It's just a slow day

♪ Movin' into a slow night

♪ Like tomorrow

♪ Like tomorrow's never going to come ♪

♪ And when it does

♪ When it does

♪ It'll be the same damn, damn thing ♪