July 18th, 2006

Los Angeles, at the C.A.C, 2003.

  • Jul. 18th, 2006 at 2:33 AM
lu: (Sad)
[Shane walks into a large exhibit that is a dazzling roomful of mirrors and softly glowing neon lights. Cherie is there. Shane quietly walks up behind her, her image reflecting a dozen times in the mirrors.]

Cherie: You heard him. He'll kill you.

Shane: (hesitant) You know... my entire life, people have said that... I would become a psychopath if I didn't learn how to feel.

[Cherie turns around and faces Shane.]

Shane: But I wanna know, Cherie, what the fuck is so great about feeling? Because I finally let myself. And I feel like my heart's been completely ripped out.

Cherie: I'm sorry.

Shane: I had this insane idea that you and I could be together. Because it felt real.

Cherie: It was a delusion.

Shane: Then I'm delusional. Because, I swear you felt the same way about me.

[Shane looks crushed. Even though Cherie speaks gently, her words sting.]

Cherie: What if I did? What difference would it make? What if, in the time we spent together, I felt more alive than I have in the last 20 years of my life? What if that were true? Do you think that I would leave my husband? My child, my... houses in Bel Air and East Hampton, my trips to Paris? My black tie galas?

Cherie: To run to some... rank little love nest, with a 25-year-old... assistant hairdresser... who barely has her foot in the door? (near tears) In this fucking ugly world, that kind of love does not exist.

[Shane stares at Cherie, wounded. After a moment, she walks away.]

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You like bowling, don't you, Montag?

If you don't want a man unhappy politically, don't give him two sides to a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none. If the government is inefficient, topheavy, and tax-mad, better it be all those than that people worry over it. Peace, Montag. Give the people contests they win by remembering the words to more popular songs or the names of state capitals or how much corn Iowa grew last year. Cram them full of noncombustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information. Then they'll feel like they're thinking, they'll get a sense of motion without moving. And they'll be happy, because facts of that sort don't change. Don't give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy.

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