Words and Pictures (2013) - full transcript

Dina?

Oh, hey. Sorry, I'm late.

- No.
- Are you ready?

Yes.

How you feeling?
Are you nervous?

Stop.

I've brought three casseroles,
and I put them in the fridge.

Here.

I can do this one.

Okay, here's your purse.

Your lunch is inside.



Um, there's a--

There's a ramp around the side if...

I'm fine.

Let's go, let's go.

Four minutes late, Mr. Marc.

Did you bring a note?

Stanhope,
read aloud where we left off.

"Richard and I went across the road
to the stubbly field,

"and I let him climb
in the tractor saddle,

"and I showed him..."

Stanhope, you're a sleeping pill.

It's not me.

It is you.
Of course it's you.

You've already been accepted at MIT,



and you're wondering
why you should care.

Why should Stanhope
care about John Updike?

Who can answer this?

Who are you droids?

Where is my class
that you've kidnapped and replaced?

He should care
because Updike wrote...

"The lesson over,

"he went to the garden patch
and joined his mother.

"He punched her stomach,

"and I watched them
pretend to box.

"Above them,
on a single strand of wire

"strung to bring
our house electricity,

"grackles and starlings
neatly punctuated

"an invisible sentence."

You ever heard that before?

Updike has handed you an image

that was never described before.

What do you think of his gift?

Fine. You know?

While I take a nap,
your assignment is to write

a never-before created image,

one that will shake me
and cause me to put your work

in the next issue
of the Croyden Lion.

Yes, Tammy?

You haven't graded
our last three assignments,

and I don't know where
I stand in this class,

and I need an "A" because
I'm not accepted to Princeton yet,

and they'll take this quarter's grade
into account.

What a dull, plodding sentence.

Of all the words
you had to choose from,

all the possibilities
of rhythm and sequence,

you gave me oatmeal

when you could have
served me a New York steak.

Just write the assignment
now, everyone.

Just one sentence
that elevates humankind

with one image
fresh-baked from the ovens

of your computer-deadened,

shopping mall-suffocated minds.

Shaftner, wake up!

Write, you droids.

Write.

- Good morning, Jack.
- Will.

You were late again.

Car trouble.

Who's the bastard that turned me in?

I am.

Why are you always late this year?

I don't know.

Why are you always dressed
monochromatically?

I guess I do tend
toward the look of a uniform.

Past life maybe.

You were an usher?

Come and see me
in my office,

first period after lunch.

What, because I was late?

More. There's more.

Antihistamine.

Antihistamine.

- Ellen?
- Not playing.

Not playing.

Walt? Antihistamine.

Bifurcation.

Only four syllables.
My point.

Don't encourage him.

Okay, bifurcational.

Hlaccept

So we're getting
three of them today,

the teachers from
that failed Croyden school.

Coextensively.

We're getting art honors.

Do you know
who's teaching art honors?

- No.
- And what they call her?

- Coextensively.
- Will you stop?

Will you stop interrupting?
It's Walt's turn.

Diabolical, and I quit.

Who is this?

Dina Delsanto.

She's a very successful painter.

You couldn't afford to collect her.

The only thing Walt collects is lint.

So what do they call her?

The Icicle.

They say she caned a student.

She caned a kid?

That's nonsense.

They would have put her in prison.

Well, let's check for a tattoo.

Good morning.

I would like to introduce
our new teachers--

Miss Elliot, Latin,
Mr. Chow, Math,

and Miss Delsanto, Art Honors.

Please make them feel welcome.

Any questions,
we'll defer to Walt,

'cause he's been
teaching here since, uh,

when was it, 1842?

Two.

This way.
I will show you to your classes.

Miss Delsanto,
make yourself at home, please.

Excuse me.

Mr. Chow, I will see you later today.

Hi.

My name's Jack Marcus.

Kids call me Mr. Marc.

And now you say your name.

We were introduced.

I never listen to the headmaster.

So what do you teach?

Art Honors.

Hence the scarf.

And you?

Honors English.

Hence the hence.

Feel like a warm-up game?

Uh, no.

I say a five-syllable word
that starts with

you say a five-syllable word
that starts with

and we go on
until someone is stumped.

Antihistamine.

Antihistamine.

All right, I'll allow that.

Carolingian.

Now, you can challenge my word
if you think it's wrong,

but if you lose the challenge,
it's an extra point for me.

Carolingian.

Divertimento.

Italian, not allowed.

You didn't stipulate English.

Of course the game's in English.

Carolingian.

Five English syllables, please.

Dumb-dumber-dumbest.

All right, I'll allow that.

Examination.
"F" to you.

This is the lounge, isn't it?

Would you please
allow me to lounge?

Certamente, Signorina.

Thank you.

There's just one thing.

Did you really hit
a student with that cane?

No. It was a teacher.

Feasibility.

Morning.

Afternoon.

Miss Delsanto, we'd hoped
you'd bring in some of your paintings.

My favorites are
the ones that you did

when you lived in New York.

Personally, I'm a fan
of your more figurative work.

Swint!

And we're so glad
that you chose our little town.

I didn't choose.

But moving from New York
to the country...

Family.

So you want to know why I moved
out of the city, hmm?

Interesting.

And odd, because I have no curiosity
at all about your private lives.

I don't need to get to know you.

I don't need anyone's life story.

We're not going
to become good friends,

and I'm not the kind of teacher

you're going to come back to visit
when you're all grown up,

bringing a box of chocolates
and a Hallmark card.

Whose work is this?

That's mine, Gloria Belser.

This is skill.

We all appreciate skill.

The dictionary says
"art is human creative skill."

So if you accept that definition,
this is art, correct?

What's your definition, Miss?

Correct?

- Yes.
- Yes.

Thank you.
And this one?

That's mine.

This has skill, too,
and something else.

I feel the presence
of something else here.

I feel.

Maybe that's the key.

This one registers in my brain.

This one registers in my brain
and in my chest,

- or I could say...
- Chest.

Stop.

Heart, or I could say...

Lower.

Shut up.

Emotion?

Is that the key, emotion?

Oh, be careful,

'cause if your doggy just died
and you look at that,

you might become very emotional
and call that art.

But that's not the art
we're interested in.

In this class, we're interested
in what we might call fine art.

Fine art, whatever that means.

The trouble is in the words.

Don't trust the words.

The words are lies.

The words are traps.

We're going to look,
we're going to feel,

we're going to see,
we're going to learn,

until you can show me
what fine art is, all right?

You can start.

Greetings, my Captain.

Lieutenant Swint, all secure?

Yes, sir.

Any duties for me?

Flood the moat,
keep the rabble from the gates.

Hey, Mr. Marc?

Why do you always eat
lunch in your car?

So that for half an hour

nobody can ask me
an inane question.

Mr. Marc, there are
sixty new girls in school today.

One of them is going
to break your heart, Finetti.

I hope so.

You're going to turn
an award-winning magazine into a what?

An online blog?

They don't even give
those awards anymore.

There hasn't been
a lit mag competition in years.

They are too expensive,
and frankly I don't--

Elspeth, um...

Jack, you know
Miss Croyden from our board.

Miss Croyden, yes.

Imagine a low bow here.

Will was just about to get frank.

Yeah. Jack,
we have found the magazine

to be disappointing lately,

uninspired, I'm afraid.

And, Jack, you started
the magazine with such a bang,

with some of your own work.

Your students were motivated.

You were a published author.

I'm still a published author.

It doesn't go away
like the mumps.

- Six years...
- What the hell is this?

Publish or perish?
Are you kidding?

This is friggin' high school.

Who else has had anything
published here? You?

You were our literary star.

What difference does
my publishing make?

It made a difference.

It made it easier
to forgive your faults.

Faufis?

You were banned
from The Huntsman.

Oh, for God's sake.

A Croyden teacher banned
from the town's best restaurant?

I had an argument
with that pompous maTtre-d.

You were drinking, Jack.

You have drinks with dinner,
for Christ's sake!

Jack, you were drunk!

We got the calls.

You told us last year
there would be no more incidents.

What the hell
is going on here?

You have surveillance on me

in case I stumble
and fall on my ass?

The work in the magazine

goes up and down according
to the talent of the current students,

and the classes,
the honors classes, yes.

Uninspired, yes.

The whole friggin' school.

You know, we're teaching
in the era of the undead.

We're all trying to inspire.

I then have words
with some smug waiter,

and suddenly,
I'm surrounded and stoned.

What else?
Who else has a complaint?

Anybody else here
got any bad news for Jack Marcus?

Hey! Come on out!

Let's have it all!

We're putting together
a really good issue,

The Lion.

You know, there's
some new work planned for it,

my own work,

beyond the essay that I do.

There's a new poem.

The magazine is important
to Croyden. It is.

As for The Huntsman,
that was nothing.

I already apologized.

It was nothing.

What else?

That's it, Jack.

It's good news
that you're writing again.

It really is.

Elspeth.

Is my job in jeopardy?

You'll meet with the board
next month.

Jesus Christ.

What happened to you, Jack?

You came here full of literary awards
and full of promise.

You turned the classes
on their heads.

Yeah, I remember.
I got laid a lot then.

You going to punish me with that?

- Do you know me that well?
- It was just one slip.

Forget it.
Elspeth, I need this job.

Then show us something.

With your students' work,
with the magazine,

with your new poem.

Be who you were.

Nobody can do that.

Hello?

Dina?

Hey, why are you painting
in your pretty blouse?

I'm retiring this blouse.

I'm giving it to you.

No, we'll just have it re-sewn
with a Velcro strip like the others.

Do you want it or not?

Here.

At least put this on.

I can do it.

Okay.

So how was your first day
at Croyden Prep?

Not one of them
has any fire in the belly.

There's one very gifted girl

and an English teacher who's a...

madman.

Barry sent these back?

He doesn't understand them.

He said that critics will filet me
if he shows them.

Well, does he know about...

What's the point?

sympathy?

I know what it needs, but...

You should rest.

Go home and feed your family.

Mom wants a call.

After I work.

Thanks, Sabine.

In the beginning,
there was the word.

And the word was

indefatigability.

That's eight.

Eight?

Eight.

It's R. A., isn't it?

You can tell.

Well, my wife suffers from it
for years now.

I noticed the...

But she's doing much better
on the new drugs.

So far my body hasn't
found a drug it can tolerate.

The doctor says that he'll make me
just the right cocktail in time.

Interdenominational.

Is he insane?

Who?

No, it means he likes you, Dina.

God help you.

- Antiegalitarianism.
- Oh, please.

No, it's a ten.
I've been saving it.

It's yours.

Your generation has
the most agile thumbs in human history.

Look at you.

Twittering your friends
in no more than 140 characters

and saying what?

Showered, you watched
some shitty reality TV show,

you ate a yogurt.

What if you had
to say something meaningful

in just three lines
and about 17 syllables?

"Morning and evening,

"someone waits at Montsushima.

"One-way love."

What is that about?

That's about
400 years old, Freidman.

It's a Haiku, an early Tweet.

It tells us that somebody's waiting,
waiting all day,

but no one is coming

because this is

a...?

Oh, a one-way love?

One-way love.

Okay, okay, okay,
pass the assignments forward.

All business today, sir.

What was the assignment, Swint?

Three paragraphs on the ant?

Specifically?

Three compelling paragraphs
on the ant.

Specifically.

Oh, we have to use
the actual encyclopedias,

not the computers.

Which is really archaic.

Is it?

Who can tell me
who Baron Anson is?

Baron Anson
for an immediate "A" grade.

Come on.

Come on, come on!

He was a British naval commander.

He sailed around the world.

And he brought
the first British warship into China

and started the Marines.

Beautiful, just beautiful.

Where is the town of Ansonia?

Who the hell
is Christopher Anstey?

Swint, put your phone away.

British poet.
Had a big hit in 1766.

Huge.

Bravo.

You see, you use a computer,
you click on the word "ant,"

you get the data. Fine.

You pick up a book and leaf
through the pages to find the ant,

you're going to bump
into a saint, an admiral,

a poet, a town in Connecticut.

You're going to learn something
outside of the assignment

just because of your own undeniable
and most valuable curiosity.

You're going to see a word,

and you're going
to jump on it,

or it's going to jump on you.

Then you have it forever.

You know, Mr. Marc,
I can type in "ant" in the drop-down

and get a whole bunch
of words like antonym,

Antarctica, Antigua,

anthropology,
and even Anthony Hopkins.

Anyway, Miss Delsanto
said words are lies.

Yeah, they're traps, she says.

Lies?

Traps?

She said that?

What about truth, power?

I think a pictures is
a lot more powerful than a word.

Really?

How many think that?

Don't you?

No.

No.

"We hold these truths
to be self-evident

"that all men are created equal."

Self-evident, created equal.

Shocking words in their time.

Powerful.

"And endowed by their Creator
with certain unalienable rights."

Unalienable.

Unable to be given or taken away.

What a word.

"So that this nation
shall have a new birth of freedom

"and that government
of the people,

"by the people, for the people
shall not perish from the earth."

"And the sons of former slaves

"and the sons
of former slave-owners

"shall sit down together
at the table of brotherhood."

Wow.

What was that?

Who did you hear in that collage?
Anyone'?

Jefferson?

Lincoln.

King.

Words that began a country,
a whole country,

then protected it in a time of war,

and then dreamed it better,
made it better.

Words did that,

not pictures.

Words.

This is war.

War!

So words are lies? Traps?

Yes. Even mine.

And pictures are?

Do I have to actually say it?

- Say it.
- All right.

- A picture is worth...
- Don't you dare say that.

- That is bullshit, and you know it.
- ...Is worth a thousand words.

Good-bye, I'm tired.

If words are lies,
then what's the truth?

A picture?
Something you painted?

Here's a word for you.

Arrogance.

And here's a picture.

I am going to crush you.

Hey, Dad, so we're
at The Grill just finishing up drinks.

Hang on, hang on, hang on.

Hey-

Are you still at The Grill?

Yeah.

I hope that you're still coming.

I don't want to hold you up.

No, no, it's fine.

I really want you
to meet Catherine.

God, we're beat.

We did every hill in the county.

They're all flat now.

There you go.
That's a good image.

That's a damn good image.

No, you flattened the hills by riding
over them like ironing wrinkles.

No, that's good, Tony.

Are you writing?

You haven't sent me
any of your writing for ages.

You all right, Dad?

They're trying to take
the magazine away,

fucking bastards.

You know, they're downsizing.

So...

So you're there with your girl?

Yeah, with Catherine.

Yeah?

You wearing your funny clothes?

Yeah.

Why can't you people
wear normal clothes?

Wear the helmet, fine,

but drop the weird clothing
unless you're actually racing.

What if all car drivers
dressed like NASCAR racers?

Be fucking silly, you know?

But you guys, you know?

You GUYS--

You know what?

I'm going to come.

I'll be like 2O minutes,
and we'll have dessert.

Dessert's on Dad.

No, Dad, don't.

Another time, okay?

What? Why?

Because you shouldn't drive, right?

Yeah.

Well, you want
to come here and stop by?

I can meet her.

No.

Thanks, but we're beat,

so another time.

You be well, all right?

You be well.

Sorry, guys-

- ls your dad coming?
- No.

Princess, get in.

Come on,
I'll drive you to the door.

Leave her alone, Swint.

I can't.
I'm sorry, I wish I could.

I honestly wish I could,
but I can't.

I think it's that geisha walk.

Just keep walking.

Your friend Emily here
is such an exotic beauty,

which is very rare to these parts.

Come on,
I'll drive you right to your desk.

You dare me? Huh?

You dare me?
Come on, Emily.

You are my Madame Butterfly.

Come fly with me.

Swint!
What are you up to?

You know what,
I'm sorry, Mr. Cowan.

It's the hunt.
You know, it's eternal.

Park your car in the street
and get to class.

Stop for a moment
and hold up your work so I can see it.

Are you satisfied?

Is that good enough?

Doesn't anybody want
to change the world?

Too late.

Ah, so then
you strive to be what?

Complacent?

Not in this class.

Cole, if violent fantasy
is as far as you want to go,

at least make it your own.

I've seen that before.

Emily, start over,
correct the proportion.

Start over?

Yes, look at the neck.

You can elongate the neck,

but you still have
to have some balance.

Hey, Emily, Emily.

Study Modigliani, El Greco.

- It's good.
- Shut up.

- Swint?
- Miss?

Do you think a cartoon cliché
will get you through my art honors?

It won't.

Go back to work.

Come on.

All right, Miss, I'll change it,

but...

calling this a cliché
is kind of ironic,

because Mr. Marc
said that you teach cliches.

We weren't supposed to say anything.

Mr. Marc's declared war on you,

so what are you going to do?

I don't know or care
what you're talking about.

Keep your focus
on improving your work.

Okay.

Imagine this is the best drawing

of a human brain
you have ever seen.

Now listen.

Listen.

"The brain's fundamental secret
will be laid open one day.

"But even when it has,
the wonder will remain

"that mere wet stuff

"can make
this bright inward cinema of thought,

"of sight and sound and touch.

"Could it ever be explained

"how matter becomes conscious?"

Not a thousand words.

Only roughly 5O by Ian McEwan
in his novel Saturday.

Now, are you telling me
that this picture

is worth more than these words?

Are you kidding?

Doesn't that cliché piss you off?

You are students of honors English,

students of a language,

students of a literature.

Words are your gods,

and somebody
is insulting your religion.

And we're going
to prove her wrong.

Now.

Hey, come and look at this!

This is crazy!

Mr. Marc!

Marc's got his stuff out.

Wow.

It's better than I thought.

We're not going
to just lay down for this, are we?

Aren't you in honors English?

Yeah, but it shouldn't be
all one-sided, you know?

Hey, Tony, it's me.

Listen, I'm really sorry
about last week, you know.

I was so tired,
I could hardly talk,

but I really want
to meet Catherine.

So let's arrange it,
you know, Friday, whenever.

Okay?
So give me a call.

What do you have
in the afternoon?

She got you, Mr. Marc.

Check that out.

You can't draw that well.

Yeah, that does look like you.

Uh-oh!

Brava, Signorina.

You throw a good punch.

I'm rocked.

My knees are wobbly.

I'm cut.

Beyond the boxing imagery, um,

is there a point?

Oh, I get it.
You're being aloof.

No, that's fine.
We need loofs.

Do you know
where the word "aloof" comes from?

- No.
- Dutch.

Sailing into the wind,
like a big ship.

You know what I have here?

I have a preview
of the coming issue

of the Croyden Lion just for you.

Read it and weep.

The next punch is mine.

Oh, and here's a seven.
lnternationality.

Sorry?
I didn't hear your response?

Antiegalitarianism.

It's a ten.

You had that ready.

Would you mind sailing off now?

You had that ready.

- Come on.
- You've been studying.

The title is "Who Are You?"
by Jack Marcus.

"I am a small poem on a page
with room for another.

"Share with me this white field,

"wide as an acre of snow,

"clear but for these tiny markings
like the steps of birds.

"Come now.

"This is the trough of the wave,

"the seconds after lightning.

"Thin slice of silence
as music ends,

"the freeze before melting.

"Lie down beside me.

"Make angels.

"Make devils.

"Make who you are."

So you see? This poem
is an invitation to the reader...

To lie down in the snow.

To reveal himself or herself,

and that's what you'll do,

not with words,
but with a drawing or a painting

that shows us what you feel,

what you see as you read
this poem, okay?

Sorry, Mr. Marc!

All right. Bring it.

Tackle him, guys.

Get him!

Dribble all the way!

Nice one!

He's holding!

Come on, Mr. Marc, get up!

Get up, old man!

He's really cute.

Like, look at him.

We love you, Mr. Marc!

Hey, Roy, you know
where "mayonnaise" comes from?

The word.

The French army,
after conquering the city of Mahén,

had their cook create a new sauce
in honor of the victory.

Mahén-aise.

By the way,
you got some on your lip.

And, Ellen, the word avocado
is actually an Aztec word.

It means testicle.

True story.

Are you having another war?

He's Iago.

He's after my job,

and she's his Lady Macbeth,

and I know I'm mixing up
my Shakespeare, but I'm tired.

You actually spoke to me.

I want to talk to you
about your magazine.

I'm having my students
draw their reactions to your poem,

and some are already finished.

The work is very good.

And is the poem good?

Yes.

And did you draw one?

I'm talking about my class.

You did one, too, didn't you?

I want you to include
the three best works in your magazine.

No.

You'll have to put them
in the art magazine.

There is no art magazine.

Exactly.

Why not include artwork?

Because a poem
doesn't need a picture.

If you could capture a poem
with a picture,

there'd be no need for the poem.

Need? Oh.

Need.

You're being awfully
precious about the poem.

Do we need your poetry?

All we need is food and shelter
and air and sex.

The rest is optional.

Words are optional.

Yes, but you're using them now,
aren't you?

Because you need
to communicate.

Even the most basic cave societies
needed to communicate.

Yes, hence the cave paintings.

Paintings before the words.

And you know where you can put

your stuffy, drab,
pictureless magazine.

And the round goes to Delsanto!

- Delsanto?
- Ding, ding, ding.

What are you talking about?
She left the ring.

She quit.

It was hit and run.

All right, all right,
I have a challenge for you.

Forget the poem.

You pick a subject, paint a picture,
we print it in the issue.

I write a thousand words
on the same subject.

We have an assembly.

Words versus pictures,
which is worth more?

Why should I bother?

This is your inane war.

Because then I will print
the best of your students' work.

You can choose them.

Come on.

It'll give them
something to shoot for.

This inane war
is energizing these kids.

No, I'm not painting.

I will choose the best work
of my students,

and you write
your thousand words off that.

No, it's not allowed.

I want you, Delsanto.

You're always sailing off
against the wind.

I like that.

Then, Shaftner, let me know
you're hungry.

Finetti, let Tammy
know you're attracted to her.

Tammy, let him know
you don't want him.

Okay, Stanhope, tell us you want
to gather the tribe together at noon.

You want to talk
about making arrows

and finding a better place
to dig for roots.

See, grunting is fine,
but it only goes so far,

and so are gestures
and cave paintings.

And so people
out of necessity invented

words,

one by one,

then codified them

by usage,
by mutual agreement,

tribe by tribe, nation by nation.

We went
from "root," "dig," "fire," "arrow,"

to "multitask,"

"irreverence,"

and what is supposedly
the most beautiful-sounding phrase

in the English language,
"cellar door."

You see, your language
is a living, growing thing

that sheds old words and absorbs
new ones every clay.

And that's what I want you to do,
each of you,

invent a new word.

Tell us what it means,
where it comes from,

and why you think it might stay
and live in the language for a while.

The ten best new words

will appear
in the coming issue of the Lion

and just maybe spread from there
into usage around the school.

Then the country,

then who knows?

The entire world.

Oh, would you look at that?

I'm going to faint.

Give it up.

- What? Give up dim sum?
- He's so disgusting.

Why should I, man?

She's the one I want.

I really feel bad for you.

Lots of guys want her.

You know,
I bet you want her, too.

Hey-

Hey, why ignore me,
Princess,

when I could show you
a very good time?

Yeah? You showed Carol Garson
a good time,

and then you bragged it
all over the school.

Give me a break.
She bragged, too.

Why won't you give me a break,
Your Highness?

Leave me alone!

Oh, my Princess, why?

Because you're slimy
and you're mean!

Rejected.

What are you laughing at?

Hey, get up!

What the hell are you doing?

Nothing, man! I just touched
the little shit's shoulder!

Yeah, like that?

Go, Cole!

Sabine?

Hello?

I can't undress.

The flare is killing me.

Okay, Dina?

Dina, I'm going to come
over right now.

Take some ibuprofen, okay?

Yes, thank you.

Thanks for seeing me.

I just wanted to apologize
face to face for what happened.

I was having
some personal problems that night.

It won't happen again.

People want to feel safe
and relaxed in here, Mr. Marcus.

It's a haven.

It is.

It is a haven, I know.

I swear an oath, Mr. Franks,

may God strike me
not necessarily dead,

but seriously injured if I fail.

No, no, I really am serious.

Very well.

Thank you.

Hey, you're early.

Good boy.

Have you seen
Delsanto's work?

Yeah, I looked her up, too.

It's incredible.

Yeah.

Why the hell doesn't she
just stay at home and paint?

You think that cane
is from a football injury?

She has rheumatoid arthritis.

You know,
there was a time when my Edie

couldn't even brush her teeth.

Good morning.
Good poem, Jack.

So you saw it?

Yes, honors art class made copies,
and I saw one.

I'm eager for the magazine
to come out.

But it's not coming out
for weeks,

and I've got my review coming up,

so you'll tell them?

Certainly, I will show them
the poem, but...

But what?

What are my chances?

Looking better.

Some of your colleagues
will be interviewed.

We will see.

You know I'm back
in good graces at The Huntsman.

Good.

And the work in my class,

you should see
some of the essays.

Bring me the essays.

Hey, you all right?

I mean,
you were out for a while, so...

So you missed me?

And yet you greet me
so antienthusiastically.

That's a nine.

Nine.

Welcome back, Delsanto.

That's not your best.

- It is my best.
- It's not.

I can judge that better than you,

and I can show you
what to do and how to do it.

But every time I'm trying to do
what you say,

it's never good enough for you.

It shouldn't be
good enough for you.

But I like it.

I'm proud of this,

and I'd like to finish it,
and you don't let me.

You will finish it,

and it will appear
in the magazine.

In the Croyden Lion,
next issue.

Mr. Marcus
will write an essay on it.

Not now!

What?

What if I don't want that?

How could you not want that?

Because it's a part of the war,
isn't it'?

The picture worth a thousand words,
I thought you were painting that.

No, it'll be your painting.

This painting.

But I want to feel you.

I want to see you.

I don't want everyone
looking at it like it's a part of the war,

like it's a part of that.

What's the difference
why they're looking at it?

Because they're going to-
I don't want...

You don't want what?
What?

What?!

I don't want everyone
looking at me!

For God's sake, Emily,
to hell with them.

I can't say that!
You can!

- I'm not like you.
- No, say it right now.

To hell with them.
Go ahead.

Hear yourself say it.
To hell with them.

Say it because
they don't matter!

They don't.
None of them!

The work matters!

It matters to get the work right
and to get it right now,

and that's all that matters,

because that's what lasts,

and you think you have
all the time you need

to learn and grow and create?

You think you have
all that time?

You don't! Nobody does!

Nobody!

If I do,
if I paint it for the magazine,

can you please, please tell
Dale Swint to leave me alone?

Oh, to hell with Swint.

I'm telling you
what's important.

I'm telling you.

I have something to give you,
something of value,

and it's not the coaching
of your love life.

It's not all-Come on!

Emily, don't!

Hello?

Sabine?

Hello?

Delsanto, it's me.

I've been wondering,

a man is worth
more than his words, isn't he?

And a woman
more than her pictures?

Maybe we're less than that.

Maybe our work
is the best of us.

I hope not.

But there it is.

You're hard, Delsanto.

Am I?

Are you?

Is it...

too late for a visit?

Yes, it's too late.

Okay.

I'll make other plans.

Do you have other plans?

Yes,

other plans.

Good night then, Delsanto.

Good night.

Sorry.

That's fine.

Ugh! It's Swint.

Let me see.

Oh, my God.

"Date me or else?"

Else.

- Good one.
- Yeah.

There she is.

Yeah, there she is!

What's going on?

So, Emily,
who knows you that well?

Did you pose for this?

Em. Shut up.

Em, I'm so sorry.
It's everywhere.

It's all over the net.
Nobody knows who did it.

Stop laughing!
Go to your classrooms!

Go now! Go!

I'm sorry.

We removed it
from the website,

and I think we have
the boy who did it.

Look at me
when I am talking to you!

Do not--I said look at me!

I have to make this phone call
now to you parents.

Emily! Emily.

It wasn't me.

It wasn't me, Emily.

It was Swint!

It was Swint!

Let's go in the office.

They're after me, my Captain.

I think they want to hang me.

He says he didn't do it.

Of course he did.

And that you would
vouch for him.

I like Emily, sir.

I tease her,
but that's because I like her,

and that picture,
that's not my style.

I can't draw
that graphic novel stuff.

Miss, you know that.

He's a smart ass,

but I've never seen him
be malicious.

This has to be killing Emily.

I'm a cartoonist.

Everyone knows that.
I'm a cartoonist.

Wait outside.

Emily says she is sure it's Swint's,

but she has no proof.

This is Swint's book,

and these two,
they look the same.

No, they're not.

Cole has very short strokes.

Look at all the shading.

There's no shading at all
in this picture of Emily, none.

I don't think that either of these boys
would want to hurt Emily.

Oh, well,
you don't know Swint very well,

and you don't know art at all,

and I'm happy
to give you a lesson.

I don't need a lesson
in understanding my students.

You're accusing Swint
because you don't like him.

And you like him why?

Because he calls you
"my Captain"?

- It's from a poem.
- Yes, I know.

The Whitman poem,
"O, Captain! my Captain! our fearful--"

The military talk
is just some silliness between us.

He's a clown, but he's smart.

He's harmless.

How sure of that are you?

At least as sure as you.

Miss Delsanto,
this is very serious.

Criminal charges could be made.

I have to suspend Cole
while we look into this.

I see.

Yes.

Well, then...

I better get out of your way.

You're going to be very busy
suspending Cole Patterson

and looking
for a replacement teacher

for your art honors class
all on the same day.

Miss Delsanto?

Miss Delsanto!

I'd hold back
on that suspension.

She's resolute.

It's from the Latin reso/utus.

She has resolved.

So why would Swint
want to hurt Emily?

Because she refused him.

So?
We males are used to that.

You know, we accept it.

We eat it for breakfast.

And by the way, would you
have breakfast with me this weekend?

Sunday brunch?

Brunch is a benign invitation.

No. Thank you.

See what I mean?

MY point.

Is everything a game to you?

Hardly anything.

Someone struck out
at a fellow student today,

and it concerns this class
because they used art

as the weapon.

We're going to fight back
with the same weapon,

but we're not interested
in naming this attacker,

but in defining
what sort of person would do this.

So I want you all
to think of someone you've met

who is like this and draw them.

Wonder who that could be?

He's a shit.

Could be a she.
Could be a teacher.

This person enjoys
someone else's pain,

someone else's fear,

someone else's humiliation.

You've seen this person smile
or even laugh when someone's hurt,

especially when
they've done the hurting.

They enjoy it.

So draw as close
a likeness as you can.

Hey, Dad.

We have to cancel Friday.
I'm sorry.

School has been crazy,

and Catherine is assistant-teaching,

and we just have no time.

But, you know, we'll figure it out
when things calm down

and make sure
we get together, okay?

Captain.

Lieutenant Swint.
How you doing?

As well as can be expected, sir.

You sure? Because I know
what it feels like

to be surrounded
and outnumbered,

people sitting in judgment.

I know, sir.

It's shit, sir!

What do I do, sir?

You stand tall, soldier.

Yes, sir.

What are you doing?
You can't just take my book!

You can't just physically
take something from a student.

There are rules!

You're not allowed to do this!

Sir, you're hurting a student!

So are you.

This is stealing!

I'm going to charge you
for stealing.

Confiscation, four syllables,
from the Latin confiscare--

to appropriate for the treasury.

We now have evidence
that Dale Swint drew the Emily picture.

You were right, I was wrong.

What a surprise.

It's from Swint's sketch book.

Jack confiscated it.

- You did?
- I did.

And, well, it's of you,

so I'm not sure
if you want to see it.

Fry the son of a bitch.

He will be expelled
immediately.

Doesn't mean the war is over.

Last week, Emily used
words against Swint.

Today Swint drew a picture.

Look what happened.

I'm still counting
on your painting for the magazine,

my thousand words,

and then we'll see who wins.

What's it really all about,
this artificial war?

YOu?

Yes.

Me.

They want to fire me.

I'm sure they'll interview you.

I'm being reviewed.

Can you think of one good thing
to say about me'?

I'm at a loss for words.

Your Grace.

I'm not sure this
is a very good idea

for you to be here
on the eve of your review.

You know, I thought about that
and I said to myself,

"Jackfl
which is what I call myself.

"Jack," I said,
"it's time to show the colors

"and let the community know
you are now accepted

"at the sacred Huntsman
and in charge of all your faculties."

Then Jack reminded me
that it's you, Elspeth,

who are in charge
of all the faculties around here.

So you would know
what my chances are.

What are they?

There's quite a bit against you.

I can't lie.

But in your favor is the poem

and the fact
that you're writing again.

I don't want
to talk about the poem.

What about the student essays?

What about
the school-wide interest in our debate,

Words Versus Pictures?

That proves
the value of the magazine.

The magazine
is an economic issue.

As for your place
at Croyden Prep, I don't know.

I need a promise from you.

I promise.
I'll sign it in blood.

What is it?

I need to know that if the...

if the decision goes against you,

you won't punish me for it.

You're still worried
that I'll spill our old secret?

I would just
like your word on it.

I do think you're a good man.

No.

I'm not.

But I am a good teacher,

and I'll fight for that
with any means I have.

And why should I promise you?

Maybe if I keep you in fear,

you'll say some good things
about me tomorrow.

Hey, Tom, give me the usual.

You got it, Jack.

Make it on the weak side.

Ready?

Three, two, one.

I'm sorry, sorry.

That's okay.

Ladies, these are on Jack.

Thanks, Jack.

You know he's a real writer.

What do you write?

Short stories,
you know, some poetry.

And he's published, too, right?

You know, I've been
in the Atlantic Monthly, and...

What he doesn't know though
is I was, uh...

I was in Playboy, too.

- Really?
- Yeah.

What?

I was.

I was Miss January.

You want to see
what I looked like?

Whoa! Whoa! Gently!

Sorry, sorry.

That's okay.

You have to leave.

What, you out of vodka?

I want you out of here.

Jesus. Nothing serious.

Ladies, Tom.

What'd I do?
I fell off my chair.

It's not about the chair.

You're not funny,
you're not charming.

You have a drinking problem.

It's not a problem.

It's a hobby.

You know, some people
collect wooden ducks.

Call somebody.

Get a ride home.

You all right?

- Okay, good night.
- Hey, what are you doing?

Come in for Christ sakes.

You don't have to just
turn right around and go back.

You want some coffee?

You want me to make it or...

No, I got it.
Sit down.

It's bullshit, you know?

The manager at the Huntsman's
just got it in for me.

I'm sorry
to drag you away from Cathy.

It's Catherine.

Jesus.

What does she call you,
Anthony?

By the way,
what do you call Bill?

Do you call him Dad, too?

I call him Bill.

Does he drink?

Does ever get drunk,

or am I the only one
in your world that likes a drink?

Why is my poem on your board?

Because it's good.

It's your best.

When are you going
to get your car?

I'll just take a cab
in the morning.

You know, uh...

they're trying to fire me, so, uh...

desperate measures
are called for.

What are you going to do?

Everything.
I'm going to use everything.

Good luck.

Everyone.

'Cause I'm a good teacher,

and that's worth saving, isn't it?

I don't really want any coffee,
and I'll call you tomorrow.

Hey. Hew-!

Give me a hug.

I hope you keep your job, Dad.

Okay?

He has a large ego.

Well, we all know that.

I've never seen him drunk
personally,

but he's loud,
and he can be annoying,

obnoxious.

He reveres the language.

He knows more about it than most,

even most English teachers,

and he cares.

What more can you ask
from a teacher?

He really cares.

He's scattered, disorganized,
never has a lesson plan,

or if he does,
he never sticks to it.

Most of his assignments
are not even graded.

It's all very cocky,
seat-of-the-pants, you know,

all that "I'm a writer" bullsh--

And the magazine?

Nothing but an ego rag
for Jack Marcus.

Excuse me

for being so blunt.

Thank you.

I hardly know him.

Just your impressions.

Well, I'm impressed by the fact

that I've been studying
multi-syllable words

just to beat him
at his own game.

I'm impressed
at how the students

have picked up
on this war of his.

You've seen the installations.

They're ideas
that the students came up with,

and they're good.

They're good.

And, um...

last night,

I painted my first workable painting
in six months.

Something I thought
I might never do again.

I did it to show him a picture
he could not do justice to

in words.

He's a pest,

always challenging.

Thank God for that.

Oh, damn it.

"Come in," she said.

What do you want?

"Come in," she said,

suddenly smiling a broad,
welcoming grin.

Those are for me?

I don't answer
inane questions.

They're beautiful.

Look at this.

Wow. This is good.

Don't touch it.

It won't be dry for...

This is really good.

Well, it's um...
I'm still working on it.

It's very different
from what I've done.

There are vases in the sink.

You paint to this?
It's beautiful.

Why did you bring me flowers?

Because I heard
what you said in the review,

and I thank you.

I've kept my job, Delsanto.

Congratulations.

I want to celebrate.

Are these from the poem?

Are these your drawings
from the new poem?

It's nothing, it's just...

Well, you put them up.

Oh, my God, Delsanto.

You should see something.

You should see
how you look in that light.

Oh, for God's sake.

I wish I was a painter.

Words fail.

Pictures, too.

I can't tell you how much

I want us
to put our mouths together.

Oh, really?

You're attracted to me?

Very much.

Why?

Same species, different sex.

Aren't you attracted to me?

Not in the least.

Did you think I would be?

Well, I had high hopes
for this jacket.

I mean, it's old,
but it's custom made,

and yet you feel nothing?

Admiration.

Good.

For your tailor.

God, you're fantastic.

You're such an ass.

You have such an ass.

Oh, you know
nothing about my ass.

Excuse me.

I've studied
its dimensions for months.

Delsanto,
I am going to walk over there

where the light is falling on you,

and I am going to kiss you,

unless you speak
a loud, resounding no.

There haven't been
any men in my life for years...

by choice.

Theirs?

This is ridiculous.

No, this is great.

The tape on your hand
is ridiculous.

Well, take it off then gently.

Listen to me.

You're covering my ears.

Listen.

We can decide right now
to take this afternoon to bed,

no discussion, no debate,

no words, no pictures,

no angst, no past, no guilt...

Will you shut up.

You'd have to be careful.

I've had a vasectomy,
and I'm very clean.

With me, you idiot.

With my body.

You just have
to tell me what hurts,

where, and how much.

This is a terrible idea.

No, people do this all the time.

They just have
a couple of dinners first.

Were you ever married?

No, Why?

Long relationships?

I lived with a man
in Barbados for six years.

I was married to a pediatrician.
It ended badly.

I got a son in college.

I got a great aunt who's 107.

That could have taken us
two dinners and a movie

before we got
to your Barbadosian...

and my Aunt Nell,

and yet here we are,
ready, now.

I'm feeling better.

The meds seem to be...

But how can I trust it?

Not yet.

So I want you to know
that if I say yes,

it's partly because, uh...

life keeps taking
things away from me,

and I'm never sure
when it's the last chance

I have to do something,

and to do it fully,

and if it is,
I don't want to miss it.

Can we do that again?

Wait, for God's sake.

It's been...

nine minutes.

I'm not ready.

Will you give me an ETA then?

You know, an experience
like that should be savored.

I'll just read
until you've recovered.

Give me my book.

Yeah, get a big, thick book.

I'm going to have to fill
my dance card with other suitors.

Give me my book.

You Jezebel.

You Rip Van Winkle.

You know,
I think the norm's like, uh,

2O minutes.

Mmm. Then I'll call Norm.

Norm, come here.

Norm, can you hear me?

Norm, I'm dying.

Please, Norm.

What?

For a man who saved
his job today and got laid,

you're looking a little bit lost

and forlorn.

Really?

Why is that?

Is it this?

- Us?
- No, no, no, no.

Isn't that a beautiful word, forlorn?

You know, it comes
from the Old English for/eosan...

Don't change the subject.

Delsanto,
I don't want to go home.

Can I stay?

Sleeping together,
that's a major step.

Is it?

I think you have to start
by calling me Dina.

Who's Dina?

- Dina.
- Dina.

No, that's weird.

Dina.

You have to look, Dina, please.

Can you talk?
Can you look?

I'm not feeling well.
The medication.

Can you see this?

Are you drunk?

Look at this picture,
it's perfect.

You, uh...

You remember this?

You remember the poem?

- Yes, I remember it.
- Yeah, well, listen.

Listen.

I never wrote it.

I stole it.

From my son.

I did.

I never wrote a poem that good.

Never.

I stole it.
I said it was mine.

I saved my ass.

I saved my job.

How could you do that?

What if the fire just goes out?

Whoa!

I need a camera.

I just want to capture this look of

disappointment and revulsion.

You're using the wrong words.

No, words
are my business, Delsanto.

Pity is the one
you're looking for.

Yeah, I don't want that.

You can't choose what I feel.

You want me to go?

You can't.
You're too drunk.

I want you to stop drinking.

Go lie on the couch
and pass out.

Go away.

Oh, shit.

I want you to walk
out of my door.

I want you to exit my life.

I am so sorry.

I want you to go now

without one...more...word.

Are you saving these
for your vodka museum?

Christ, Jack.

I see your culinary skills
haven't improved.

You're still eating
beer-battered chicken?

I'm Jack.

I'm an English teacher at, uh...

I'm an alcoholic.

I've been sober for six days.

Just give it to Jesus, man.

Jesus, there's a good teacher.

You know,
Gandhi, Martin Luther King,

Mrs. Betty Hilliard, fifth grade,

my own personal angel
and role model, but...

I'm not aiming that high.

I just want to quit drinking.

Forever.

Please get to the point,

and if this is Jack Marcus,
good-bye.

The point, Delsanto, is contrition.

I'm not asking for forgiveness.

I'm just hoping you're all right.

Are you in any way
the least bit all right?

You know, good-bye
is actually a shortened version

of God be with you.

Anyway,
thanks for the thought.

I'll keep trying.

For now, so long.

That, by the way,
comes from salaam,

which means peace be with you.

Which is all I'm really trying to say.

You didn't write the poem?

It's not yours?

I can't believe I'm hearing this.

Makes me sick.

This is my resignation.

I wrote it myself.

If it's possible,
I would like to finish out the year.

Finish out the year then.

- Thank you.
- No, it's not for you.

It's so no one asks why,
so no one knows.

You can give us that.

What will you do?

I'll try to find a school
that will take a chance on me.

- I wish you well.
- Oh, God.

Oh, my God.

What about the assembly,
Words Versus Pictures?

It's still on the schedule,

but I don't think you will
have Miss Delsanto.

She has asked
for medical leave.

Delsanto!

Medical leave?

What are you doing,
you hiding?

Come on!

You're needed at the school.

You know, don't let me
take that away from you.

You know,
I'm not worth that.

Delsanto!

- Shut up!
- Just come outside. Take--

Take a swing at me.

You know,
kick me in the balls.

Thank you. I might.

Her sister, Sabine.

- Jack Marcus.
- No kidding.

Why are you speaking
to that shit?

No!

Look, tell her...

Don't say anything stupid, okay?

Tell her I want to buy
that painting.

Whatever her price would have been,
I want to buy it.

The painting is not for sale.

And she said to tell
that arrogant, self-absorbed asshole

that my medical leave
has nothing to do with him.

She had a knee operation.

- Tell her...
- Oh, make this good.

She's shutting down,
and it scares me, so step up.

Tell her I want
to tear out my heart,

I want to hand it to her,

and I want to watch her eat it.

When?!

This is my Dad.
Catherine.

It's nice to finally meet you.

Oh, it's a pleasure, really.

- And Hank.
- Hank.

Nice to meet you.

Maybe I'll let you two talk.

See you in a minute.

Yeah.

This is a surprise.

She's pretty.

Nice smile, good energy.

What's on your mind?

You remember
that, uh, poem you wrote?

Yeah.

You know,
the one I put on my board?

I actually told some people
that I wrote it.

Kind of put my name on it
for a while.

So now I'm telling
people the truth.

I'm resigning from the school,

and I quit drinking.

Now, I know you've heard
that before,

but maybe after time goes by
and you see your father

always sober, never drunk,

maybe you'll begin to believe me.

And even though I'm awful,

please don't let me
be dead to you, Tony.

I love you.

And I want to know her.

Good-bye!

And that has nothing
to do with God!

Oh, shit.

Emily!

Emily?

Hi.

I thought it was the maniac.

Come.

Oh, wow.

I love this.

It's so damaged.

I gave up trying to fix it.

No, I can see
what you wanted.

It's really good.

It was the best I've done
since my body stopped cooperating.

Sit down.

I've been trying so hard
to paint what I see, Emily,

and now I'm learning to see
what I can paint.

Something that excites me.

Take it.
If you like it, you can have it.

I can't look at it anymore.

Thank you.

I want you to see
what I'm painting now.

I miss your input.

Your not being satisfied.

Bring your work over.

I'd be glad
to be dissatisfied with it.

Would you?

Would you teach me here?

I mean, on weekends
or after school?

It's not just me, though.

Cole Patterson,
he would like lessons, too,

or maybe some of the others.

Class is just
not the same anymore.

Nobody's pushing.

They just go,
"That's good, Emily."

You are good.

You're good enough
to please a lot of people,

most people.

Well...

to hell with them.

Yeah.

So here we go.

New words!

Never before seen.

Friedman.

Textulating--
making love via texting.

Cole.

Slumba--

a Latin dance
in an impoverished neighborhood.

Say that again.

A Latin dance
in an impoverished neighborhood.

Isabefla.

Emblend.

To hold somebody close.

Aw, Isabella!

Mr. Marc?

Mr. Marc, this is cool and all,

but we really want to talk
about your war.

Yeah, um,

how can you have a battle
without Miss Delsanto?

She'll be here.

She's not coming.

She won't be here
until next year.

That's not acceptable.

She has to.

She has to.

Hey-

Hi.

Oh, hello again.

I will just go check

and then tell you
when they're ready, okay?

Okay, that's good.

You want to sit down?

Can't sit in that one yet.

I thought your leg was better.

Yes.

I can even kick you
in the balls if you try to help me.

You want something?
A drink or...

No, thanks.

- Irrepressibility.
- Oh, for God's sake.

Incorrigibility.
They're both sevens.

Masturbationalistic.

Play with yourself.

Tell me.

Up to the part
where I got disgustingly drunk,

it was good, right?

I don't remember.

I'm sober 36 days.

Then you'll probably
want to celebrate with a 12-pack.

Yes, it was good.

Yes.

That's why
I'm so goddamn angry,

because of what you're capable of
and what you throw away,

what you destroy.

I don't give a damn
about this stupid war.

You'll do the Mr. Marc show,
and the students will vote,

and you'll win and be happy,

and then you can
leave me alone.

I'm only here for Emily.

It's great to see you, Delsanto.

Ladies, gentlemen,
welcome to Words Versus Pictures.

Representing Pictures
are the Arts Honors students,

whose works
you see surrounding us.

Hold on.

And their teacher,
the artist, Miss Dina Delsanto.

It's her art we see on the screens.

Stanhope?

So which has more impact,

more value, more worth?

The word or the picture?

Come on, pictures!

And words!
Guys, come on!

Just clap.

"A picture is worth
a thousand words." Anonymous.

"There is no frigate like a book
to take us lands away."

Emily Dickinson.

"A picture shows me at a glance

"what it takes dozens of pages
of a book to expound."

Ivan Turgenev.

Shakespeare's portrait appeared
on his First Folio of plays

with these words--

"Reader, look not at his picture,
but his book."

"What is the use of a book,
thought Alice, without pictures?"

Lewis Carroll.

"A picture is something
that requires as much knavery,

"trickery, and deceit
as the perpetration of a crime."

Edgar Degas.

For evidence.

Speaking first,
representing pictures, Miss Delsanto.

It was Mr. Marc's idea
that I repair it.

I hope you don't mind.

It's great.

It's even better.

Why art?

If our senses and consciousness

were entirely in tune with nature,

if we could communicate
and understand each other,

then there wouldn't be
any need for art.

In fact,
we would all be artists,

because we would all be as one.

I have nothing else to say,

except this?

I started it,
and Emily finished it.

And this.

And, of course, all the student paintings
you can see here.

Thank you.

Representing words,
Mr. Jack Marcus.

Come on!

Wow, there's your pictures.

And here's my thousand words,

except it's not a thousand.

It's roughly 400,
but I think it's enough.

There's a problem, though.

If writers are called artists, too,

then as a fellow artist,

I'm not in the same league
as Miss Delsanto,

because Delsanto in her art

takes us from here

to somewhere else.

She takes what we look at
every day,

and she elevates it
out of the ordinary.

As when John Updike looked at birds
sitting randomly on a wire

and called them
"punctuation for an invisible sentence."

Or Jeanette Winterson describes

"tripping over slabs of sunshine
the size of towns."

And Joyce Cary speaks
of a cold morning with

"frost on the grass
like condensed moonlight."

And James Agee speaks of men

removing their stiff collars
in the evening

and their "newly bared necks
seeming tall and shy."

Each artist makes the world
his or her own,

and in doing so elevates it.

And in doing that elevates us,

gives us a larger view.

"Art is the most intense mode
of individualism

"the world has ever known."

Oscar Wilde.

Proust said that only through art
can we get outside of ourselves

and know another's view
of the universe.

And Agee and Updike
and Winterson and Delsanto,

they give us that view
because they give us themselves

through words,
through pictures.

And all we can say is...

because what we feel
is indescribable.

And the value of artists like that,

artists like Miss Delsanto,

is that through their gifts,
their agonies,

their energies,
and their vision,

they make us feel

our best.

They make us want to be

our best.

And I thank her.

And I thank all of you
for allowing us this opportunity

to honor the artists and the arts,

not through a battle,

but through a...

a coming together,

a mating

of words and pictures.

Emily, Cole, take it away.

Shakespeare said,

"Shall I compare thee
to a summers day?

"Thou art more lovely
and more temperate.

"Rough winds do shake
the darling buds of May."

I'll just go get the car, okay?

- And meet you back here in a minute.
- Okay.

You all right?

The sun is awfully strong.

Afraid you'll melt?

Not a chance.

"I refuse to melt,"
said the icicle.

"Ha ha," said the sun
and shined.

You know who wrote that?

Your son'?

You ice cold bitch.

You drunken,
art-wrecking bastard.

I am a small poem

On a page
with room for another

Share with me this white field

Wide as an acre of snow

Clear but for these tiny markings

Like the steps of birds

Come now

This is the trough of the wave

The seconds after lightning

Thin slice of silence
as music ends

The freeze before melting

Hurry

Lie down beside me

Make angels

Make devils

Make who you are

This is the trough of the wave

The seconds after lightning

Thin slice of silence
as music ends

The freeze before melting

Hurry

Lie down beside me

Make angels

Make devils

Make who you are