Thursday, July 18, 2013
MALE - DEV
ON THE LINE
Joe Roland
twenties to thirties
Dev, a blue collar guy, is talking to his buddies about the power and the beauty of women's legs.
I love legs. I'm not saying I'm a legman. That would be crass. But rhere is a power, a true and real power thar a pair of beautiful legs wields over me. I can't breathe, my heart races, my palms sweat and I feci like I did right before I asked Alissa Liberati to the prom. On I he verge. Suddenly the universe and its possibilities no longer escape me. In fact it's just the opposite. In the presence of physical heauty suddenly everything makes sense. I am here to bear witness. Yes it's uue I have fallen in love with strippers, but not the ones at lh<.: places where you're charged twenty bucks to get in, twenty Bucks for some fruity fuckin' drink and they run a credit check if, god forbid, some girl should happen to wave her ass in your general
direction. No. These girls work in places with no cover, no frills and no upward mobility. This is the last house on the block for rhcse girls. And every once in a while there's this exquisite beauty, quiet, lonely, unobtrusive, you know, "Look at me if you want to, I'll be over here." And of course you can't look away. Because she served you coffee in the diner that morning, or she sat next to you on the bus, or checked your groceries or came to your door offering you a weekend with Jesus. She holds the irresistible lure of the attainable woman. It is love. It's as real as any other ... Who's to say whose love is better than the next guy's. Love is love.
Joe Roland
twenties to thirties
Dev, a blue collar guy, is talking to his buddies about the power and the beauty of women's legs.
I love legs. I'm not saying I'm a legman. That would be crass. But rhere is a power, a true and real power thar a pair of beautiful legs wields over me. I can't breathe, my heart races, my palms sweat and I feci like I did right before I asked Alissa Liberati to the prom. On I he verge. Suddenly the universe and its possibilities no longer escape me. In fact it's just the opposite. In the presence of physical heauty suddenly everything makes sense. I am here to bear witness. Yes it's uue I have fallen in love with strippers, but not the ones at lh<.: places where you're charged twenty bucks to get in, twenty Bucks for some fruity fuckin' drink and they run a credit check if, god forbid, some girl should happen to wave her ass in your general
direction. No. These girls work in places with no cover, no frills and no upward mobility. This is the last house on the block for rhcse girls. And every once in a while there's this exquisite beauty, quiet, lonely, unobtrusive, you know, "Look at me if you want to, I'll be over here." And of course you can't look away. Because she served you coffee in the diner that morning, or she sat next to you on the bus, or checked your groceries or came to your door offering you a weekend with Jesus. She holds the irresistible lure of the attainable woman. It is love. It's as real as any other ... Who's to say whose love is better than the next guy's. Love is love.
FEMALE - DONNA
DONNA
Donna unfolds the pitfalls ofseeing a married man.
There was never any secret. I knew from the first he was a married man. So, I can't blame him. And, at first, it worked out okay. I'd made up my mind to accept the fact that there was no future. But as time went on, and I fell more and more in love, it became harder and harder to accept the fact that it was a totally hopeless situation.
In the beginning you sell yourself on the realities. I mean, you're an adult, you're going into this thing with your eyes wide open, right? And all of this sounds good at first, you buy into all the cliches. But where there are really deep feelings involved, well ... you can't intellectualize when it comes to feelings.
We met once a week. At my apartment. We never had weekends together, that was understood from the first. His weekends were reserved for his family. Initially this was okay, but after a while I wanted more of him and I began to resent him for being with another woman, a woman who obviously still had a hold on him and he respected.
Little by little, I grew to resent him-the whole situation. Even though I loved him, I started to grow angry deep down inside. And, after a while, this anger begins to eat away at you and it takes over and things are said which lead to arguments and uglies. And even though you make up, there is this residual anger that continues to undercut and there are lingering resentments and psychological reprisals. And once this happens, it's the beginning of the end.
I haven't seen Dave in over six months. And I still love him. Maybe I always will. But the whole thing was a lie, false. A woman needs her self-respect, needs hope and something solid and love that's free and open. And besides, there's something just plain sick about being involved with another woman's man.
Donna unfolds the pitfalls ofseeing a married man.
There was never any secret. I knew from the first he was a married man. So, I can't blame him. And, at first, it worked out okay. I'd made up my mind to accept the fact that there was no future. But as time went on, and I fell more and more in love, it became harder and harder to accept the fact that it was a totally hopeless situation.
In the beginning you sell yourself on the realities. I mean, you're an adult, you're going into this thing with your eyes wide open, right? And all of this sounds good at first, you buy into all the cliches. But where there are really deep feelings involved, well ... you can't intellectualize when it comes to feelings.
We met once a week. At my apartment. We never had weekends together, that was understood from the first. His weekends were reserved for his family. Initially this was okay, but after a while I wanted more of him and I began to resent him for being with another woman, a woman who obviously still had a hold on him and he respected.
Little by little, I grew to resent him-the whole situation. Even though I loved him, I started to grow angry deep down inside. And, after a while, this anger begins to eat away at you and it takes over and things are said which lead to arguments and uglies. And even though you make up, there is this residual anger that continues to undercut and there are lingering resentments and psychological reprisals. And once this happens, it's the beginning of the end.
I haven't seen Dave in over six months. And I still love him. Maybe I always will. But the whole thing was a lie, false. A woman needs her self-respect, needs hope and something solid and love that's free and open. And besides, there's something just plain sick about being involved with another woman's man.
FEMALE- PAULA
PAULA
Paula, a waitress, speaks of the time when hopes for a successful acting career were a consuming, driving passion.
I was going to be famous. And rich, of course, oh sure. Anyway, this is what I'd promised myself. I think a lot of us set goals like that when everything is new and untarnished. But as time wears on, and the years slip into history, you learn to settle for less, to lower your expectations for ruling the world. I mean, after all, there are realities. When I carne to work here the idea was for it to be like a temporary thing, kind of a stopover on my way to stardom.
At first, for a heck of a long time, I didn't take the job seriously. I fluffed it, goofed off, you know. My mind wasn't in it. I don't know how they put up with me. I was lazy and flip and a terrible waitress. On my days off I'd go around to agents and casting directors and production companies trying to make connections and pick up acting work. I was in a little theatre group, a workshop, you name it. Every now and then I'd get work in a feature or something on TV. Nothing big, just in a background shot or a group or maybe I'd have a line or two. Just enough to keep me going because people would see me and compliment me and tell me I was this great type. But the jobs were few and far between. Most of the time-nothing. After a few years of living on the edge and hearing a lot of false flattery and phony promises I began to tire of it. It was a hopeless, frustrating life.
Little by little I began to settle in here. Started to get more into the job, got to be a better waitress, became professional. Now, I'm the best here. And the best paid. And I make the biggest tips. I do all right. And I like the job and the people. Especially myoId, steady customers. It's like-like they're family, you know. Occasionally, though, I wonder if I could have made it. I was a great-looking girl. And I had talent, I think. Who knows?
Would either of you like dessert?
Paula, a waitress, speaks of the time when hopes for a successful acting career were a consuming, driving passion.
I was going to be famous. And rich, of course, oh sure. Anyway, this is what I'd promised myself. I think a lot of us set goals like that when everything is new and untarnished. But as time wears on, and the years slip into history, you learn to settle for less, to lower your expectations for ruling the world. I mean, after all, there are realities. When I carne to work here the idea was for it to be like a temporary thing, kind of a stopover on my way to stardom.
At first, for a heck of a long time, I didn't take the job seriously. I fluffed it, goofed off, you know. My mind wasn't in it. I don't know how they put up with me. I was lazy and flip and a terrible waitress. On my days off I'd go around to agents and casting directors and production companies trying to make connections and pick up acting work. I was in a little theatre group, a workshop, you name it. Every now and then I'd get work in a feature or something on TV. Nothing big, just in a background shot or a group or maybe I'd have a line or two. Just enough to keep me going because people would see me and compliment me and tell me I was this great type. But the jobs were few and far between. Most of the time-nothing. After a few years of living on the edge and hearing a lot of false flattery and phony promises I began to tire of it. It was a hopeless, frustrating life.
Little by little I began to settle in here. Started to get more into the job, got to be a better waitress, became professional. Now, I'm the best here. And the best paid. And I make the biggest tips. I do all right. And I like the job and the people. Especially myoId, steady customers. It's like-like they're family, you know. Occasionally, though, I wonder if I could have made it. I was a great-looking girl. And I had talent, I think. Who knows?
Would either of you like dessert?
FEMALE - JULIE
JULIE
Julie remonstrates regarding her lesbianism during this parental confrontation.
You've really never accepted it, have you, Mother? You, the family-any of you. You're still all so embarrassed, so damned ashamed. It's so glaringly obvious in your attitudes.
And how do you think it makes me feel? And Sandi? You think that she can't tell, that she doesn't feel ill at ease because of your condescending manners, your devastating sidelong glances, your sweet smugness, your, "I guess we'll just have to grin and bear it," attitudes? Please, Mother, don't do us any favors,
okay?
Is it so terrible to love another woman? Is it? Does it make me some kind of far-out freak, or something? Is lesbianism something so unusual, so terrible, so sinful? (Pause.) Yes, I suppose for this family it is. It squares with all you've ever heard and imagined about the evilness of "queers" and "homos."
You're all so damned threatened, it seems, so weak. Like your religion. If your faith was valid it would have room for growth and enlightenment, wouldn't it, instead of having to protect itself through fear?
You're all so terribly afraid. Afraid of truth, afraid of honest feelings. You're all so hopelessly, terribly, goddamned afraid! And you know what? I pity you. Yes, I pity you, I really do. Because you're all so narrow-minded and unbelievably small and because your prejudices shut out love.
Julie remonstrates regarding her lesbianism during this parental confrontation.
You've really never accepted it, have you, Mother? You, the family-any of you. You're still all so embarrassed, so damned ashamed. It's so glaringly obvious in your attitudes.
And how do you think it makes me feel? And Sandi? You think that she can't tell, that she doesn't feel ill at ease because of your condescending manners, your devastating sidelong glances, your sweet smugness, your, "I guess we'll just have to grin and bear it," attitudes? Please, Mother, don't do us any favors,
okay?
Is it so terrible to love another woman? Is it? Does it make me some kind of far-out freak, or something? Is lesbianism something so unusual, so terrible, so sinful? (Pause.) Yes, I suppose for this family it is. It squares with all you've ever heard and imagined about the evilness of "queers" and "homos."
You're all so damned threatened, it seems, so weak. Like your religion. If your faith was valid it would have room for growth and enlightenment, wouldn't it, instead of having to protect itself through fear?
You're all so terribly afraid. Afraid of truth, afraid of honest feelings. You're all so hopelessly, terribly, goddamned afraid! And you know what? I pity you. Yes, I pity you, I really do. Because you're all so narrow-minded and unbelievably small and because your prejudices shut out love.
FEMALE - LISA
LISA
Lisa speaks before her chapter of AA.
I started drinking about seven years ago. Casually, at first. Beer and wine. Harmless enough, I thought. At least it seemed so at the time. I mean ... I was having fun, so-so why not, okay?
The habit crept up on me subtly, slowly taking over my life. I first realized I had a serious problem when drinking was no longer enjoyable. And afterward I felt flat and depressed. By then, though, I needed it. I had to have it. I was hooked.
At first, I thought I could shake it. But I couldn't. I tried but ... I couldn't. Every commitment I made to quit, I broke.
I was slipping more and more into the alcoholic pattern: Reckless behavior, car wrecks, trouble with relationships, murderoushangovers, waking up in strange beds. And my job was going straight to hell, too. Then there were the overpowering feelings of guilt and remorse and hating myself and all of that. Which became this terrible nightmare of a cycle, you know. Repeating itself over and over until I was on the bottom emotionally, constantly depressed, feeling utterly worthless and afraid.
Then finally, thank God, I called AA. I finally got up the nerve to face up, to come to grips with my problem. And that was the turning point; that's when I started coming back, regaining my self-respect.
It's been nearly a year since I've had a drink. A year this next Tuesday, to be exact. I'm making it. By God, I'm making it. One day at a time.
Lisa speaks before her chapter of AA.
I started drinking about seven years ago. Casually, at first. Beer and wine. Harmless enough, I thought. At least it seemed so at the time. I mean ... I was having fun, so-so why not, okay?
The habit crept up on me subtly, slowly taking over my life. I first realized I had a serious problem when drinking was no longer enjoyable. And afterward I felt flat and depressed. By then, though, I needed it. I had to have it. I was hooked.
At first, I thought I could shake it. But I couldn't. I tried but ... I couldn't. Every commitment I made to quit, I broke.
I was slipping more and more into the alcoholic pattern: Reckless behavior, car wrecks, trouble with relationships, murderoushangovers, waking up in strange beds. And my job was going straight to hell, too. Then there were the overpowering feelings of guilt and remorse and hating myself and all of that. Which became this terrible nightmare of a cycle, you know. Repeating itself over and over until I was on the bottom emotionally, constantly depressed, feeling utterly worthless and afraid.
Then finally, thank God, I called AA. I finally got up the nerve to face up, to come to grips with my problem. And that was the turning point; that's when I started coming back, regaining my self-respect.
It's been nearly a year since I've had a drink. A year this next Tuesday, to be exact. I'm making it. By God, I'm making it. One day at a time.
FEMALE - ANNA
ANNA
AlIlla has the inside track on Doris Lehman's meteoric rise
within the film.
You really wanna know how she's gotten there? Well, I'll tell
you real quick how she's gotten there. She's screwed her way
to the top, that's how. She's made it with everyone from the
stock boy to the chairman. In fact, just between you and me, at
the convention in Cincinnatti last fall, you know-Joe Easton
saw her sneaking into the president's suite. The sly old boy
nailed her at the Hilton.
There must be at least twenty guys in this company who've balled her. They pass her around like chip dip. How do you think she got upstairs so quickly? Brains? No way. She's lame. But if you allow yourself to be on the bottom often enough-if you know what I mean-you're gonna make it to the top. And Doris Lehman would do it with a garden hose at halftime at the Super Bowl if she thought it would do her some good.
Sometimes I think it doesn't pay to be straight. Like me. What's being straight arrow gotten me? Zilch, that's what. Here I am, stuck down here in the computer pool with an old model Macintosh and a low-tech salary. And Lehman? Here she is making a bundle upstairs. And have you seen her office? An abstract desk, carpet a foot thick, original prints on the walls, three windows overlooking the river, and this steno chair from outer space.
And the couch in her boss' office? A hide-a-bed. (Pause.) Nope, I'm not kidding. One of the janitorial guys told me. The thing opens out and right away you've got instant motel. And knowing Lehman as I do, it probably has a built-in vibrator. The ambitious little bitch is screwing the balls off Ralph Humble, you can bet on it.
At the rate she's going she'll own this company some day. Hey, God only knows what she'll achieve. Doris Lehman could wind up humping her way into Forbes magazine.
AlIlla has the inside track on Doris Lehman's meteoric rise
within the film.
You really wanna know how she's gotten there? Well, I'll tell
you real quick how she's gotten there. She's screwed her way
to the top, that's how. She's made it with everyone from the
stock boy to the chairman. In fact, just between you and me, at
the convention in Cincinnatti last fall, you know-Joe Easton
saw her sneaking into the president's suite. The sly old boy
nailed her at the Hilton.
There must be at least twenty guys in this company who've balled her. They pass her around like chip dip. How do you think she got upstairs so quickly? Brains? No way. She's lame. But if you allow yourself to be on the bottom often enough-if you know what I mean-you're gonna make it to the top. And Doris Lehman would do it with a garden hose at halftime at the Super Bowl if she thought it would do her some good.
Sometimes I think it doesn't pay to be straight. Like me. What's being straight arrow gotten me? Zilch, that's what. Here I am, stuck down here in the computer pool with an old model Macintosh and a low-tech salary. And Lehman? Here she is making a bundle upstairs. And have you seen her office? An abstract desk, carpet a foot thick, original prints on the walls, three windows overlooking the river, and this steno chair from outer space.
And the couch in her boss' office? A hide-a-bed. (Pause.) Nope, I'm not kidding. One of the janitorial guys told me. The thing opens out and right away you've got instant motel. And knowing Lehman as I do, it probably has a built-in vibrator. The ambitious little bitch is screwing the balls off Ralph Humble, you can bet on it.
At the rate she's going she'll own this company some day. Hey, God only knows what she'll achieve. Doris Lehman could wind up humping her way into Forbes magazine.
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