(no subject)
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchased in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?
Renton--Trainspotting
--
"Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll give it a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. So I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some guy from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile my buddy from Southie realizes the only reason he was over there was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish to scare up oil prices so they could turn a quick buck. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what do I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president. "
Good Will Hunting
--
BOB
(to Holden)
So there’s me an Amy, and we’re all
inseparable, right? Just big time in
love. And then about four months in,
I ask about the ex-boyfriend. Dumb
move, I know, but you know how it is -
you don’t really want to know, but you
just have to... stupid guy bullshit.
Anyway she starts telling me all about
him - how they dated for years, lived
together, her mother likes me better,
blah, blah, blah - and I’m okay. But
then she tells me that a couple times,
he brought other people to bed with
them - menage a tois, I believe it’s
called. Now this just blows my mind.
I mean, I’m not used to that sort of
thing, right? I was raised Catholic.
JAY
Saint Shithead.
Silent Bob backhands him. Jay raises his fist as if to
strike.
BOB
Do something.
(to Holden)
So I get weirded out, and just start
blasting her, right? This is the only
way I can deal with it - by calling
her a slut, and telling her that she
was used - I mean, I’m out for blood I
want to hurt her - because I don’t
know how to deal with what I’m
feeling. And I’m like "What the fuck
is wrong with you?" and she’s telling
me that it was that time, in that
place, and she didn’t do anything
wrong, so she’s not gonna apologize.
So I tell her it’s over, and I walk.
JAY
Fucking a.
BOB
No, idiot. It was a mistake. I
wasn’t disgusted with her, I was
afraid. At that moment, I felt small -
like I’d lacked experience, like I’d
never be on her level or never be
enough for her or something.
And what I didn’t get was that she
didn’t care. She wasn’t looking for
that guy anymore. She was looking for
me. But by the time I realized this,
it was too late, you know. She’d
moved on, and all I had to show for it
was some foolish pride, which then
gave way to regret. She was the girl,
I know that now. But I pushed her
away...
Everyone’s silent Silent Bob lights a cigarette.
BOB
So I’ve spent every day since then
chasing Amy...
(takes a drag from his smoke)
So to speak.
Renton--Trainspotting
--
"Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll give it a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. So I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some guy from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile my buddy from Southie realizes the only reason he was over there was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish to scare up oil prices so they could turn a quick buck. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what do I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president. "
Good Will Hunting
--
BOB
(to Holden)
So there’s me an Amy, and we’re all
inseparable, right? Just big time in
love. And then about four months in,
I ask about the ex-boyfriend. Dumb
move, I know, but you know how it is -
you don’t really want to know, but you
just have to... stupid guy bullshit.
Anyway she starts telling me all about
him - how they dated for years, lived
together, her mother likes me better,
blah, blah, blah - and I’m okay. But
then she tells me that a couple times,
he brought other people to bed with
them - menage a tois, I believe it’s
called. Now this just blows my mind.
I mean, I’m not used to that sort of
thing, right? I was raised Catholic.
JAY
Saint Shithead.
Silent Bob backhands him. Jay raises his fist as if to
strike.
BOB
Do something.
(to Holden)
So I get weirded out, and just start
blasting her, right? This is the only
way I can deal with it - by calling
her a slut, and telling her that she
was used - I mean, I’m out for blood I
want to hurt her - because I don’t
know how to deal with what I’m
feeling. And I’m like "What the fuck
is wrong with you?" and she’s telling
me that it was that time, in that
place, and she didn’t do anything
wrong, so she’s not gonna apologize.
So I tell her it’s over, and I walk.
JAY
Fucking a.
BOB
No, idiot. It was a mistake. I
wasn’t disgusted with her, I was
afraid. At that moment, I felt small -
like I’d lacked experience, like I’d
never be on her level or never be
enough for her or something.
And what I didn’t get was that she
didn’t care. She wasn’t looking for
that guy anymore. She was looking for
me. But by the time I realized this,
it was too late, you know. She’d
moved on, and all I had to show for it
was some foolish pride, which then
gave way to regret. She was the girl,
I know that now. But I pushed her
away...
Everyone’s silent Silent Bob lights a cigarette.
BOB
So I’ve spent every day since then
chasing Amy...
(takes a drag from his smoke)
So to speak.