253 to Euston 2007-07-18 18:28:07Finsbury ParkOriginally published on www.ftud.net 2008-08-24 22:15:04
W. S. Merwin
My friend says I was not a good son
I say yes I understand
he says I did not go
to see my parents very often you know
and I say yes I know
even when I was living in the same city he says
maybe I would go there once
a month or maybe even less
I say oh yes
he says the last time I went to see my father
I say the last time I saw my father
he says the last time I saw my father
he was asking me about my life
how I was making out and he
went into the next room
to get something to give me
oh I say
feeling again the cold
of my father’s hand the last time
he says and my father turned
in the doorway and saw me
look at my wristwatch and he
said you know I would like you to stay
and talk with me
oh yes I say
but if you are busy he said
I don’t want you to feel that you
just because I’m here
I say nothing
he says my father
you have important work you are doing
or maybe you should be seeing
somebody I don’t want to keep you
I look out the window
my friend is older than I am
he says and I told my father it was so
and I got up and left him then
though there was nowhere I had to go
and nothing I had to do
“Manic Pixie Prostitute”
She’ll turn your life upside down with her whimsical joie de vivre.
Starring Veronica Osorio and Dan Hodapp
Written by Leila Cohan-Miccio
Directed, Shot, and Edited by Adam Sacks
Sound by James Leggero
Three years after writing this sketch, it’s finally a video!
“Less sexy…more magical…”
So glad there’s a well-shot video of this sketch now. Everybody involved did a kick-ass job.
“This is so demeaning.”
this is pretty perfect
Last night I thought I kissed
the loneliness from out your belly button.
I thought I did, but later you sat up,
all bones and restless hands, and told me that
there is a knot in your body that I cannot undo.
I never know what to say to these things.
“It’s okay.” “Come back to bed.”
“Please don’t go away again.”
Sometimes you are gone for days at a time
and it is all I can do not to call the police,
file a missing person’s report, even though
you are right there, still sleeping next to me
in bed. But your eyes are like an empty house
in winter: lights left on to scare away intruders.
Except in this case I am the intruder and you
are already locked up so tight that no one
could possibly jimmy their way in.
Last night I thought I gave you a reason
not to be so sad when I held your body like
a high note and we both trembled from the effort.
Some people, though, are sad against all reason,
all sensibility, all love. I know better now.
I know what to say to the things you admit to me
in the dark, all bones and restless hands.
“It’s okay.” “You can stay in bed.”
“Please come back to me again.”
This is, and forever will be, one of my favourite movie scenes ever.
Motherfucker do you comprehend the intensity of that scene? Do you?
They pictured the feeling of tasting something that takes you way fucking back in time and makes you remember a certain moment of your life, a taste so comforting that makes you remember how happy you were back then.
MOTHER FUCKING PIXAR.