All language subtitles for Factotum.2005

Downloaded from
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( * projector clicking )

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( 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 *