The old hopeless emptiness
Subo algunos post pendientes de Febrero.
I
FRANK: I hear you're a mathematician.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: You hear wrong. It's all gone now.
FRANK: All gone?
THE MATHEMATITIAN: You know what electrical shock treatments are?
FRANK: Yes. Yes, I do.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: I've had 37. Supposed to jolt out the emotional problems. Just jolted out the mathematics.
APRIL: How awful.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: "How awful"? Why, because mathematics is so interesting?
APRIL: No. Because the shocks must be awful and, well, because it's awful not to be able to do what it is that you want to do. I think mathematics must be dull.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: I like your girl, Frank.
FRANK: Me, too.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: So, what do a couple of people like you have to run away from?
APRIL: We're not running.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: So what's in Paris?
APRIL: A different way of life.
FRANK: Maybe we are running. We're running from the hopeless emptiness of the whole life here, right?
THE MATHEMATITIAN: The hopeless emptiness? Now you've said it. Plenty of people are on to the emptiness, but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness.
II
THE MATHEMATITIAN: Okay. Okay, it's a question of money. Money's a good reason. But it's hardly ever the real reason. What's the real reason? Wife talk you out of it or what? Little woman decide she isn't quite ready to quit playing house? No, no, that's not it. I can tell. She looks too tough and adequate as hell. Okay, then. It must've been you. What happened?
MOTHER: John, please. You're being very rude.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: No, no. What happened, Frank? You get cold feet? You decide you're better off here after all? You figure it's more comfy here in the old hopeless emptiness after all, huh? Oh, wow, that did it. Look at his face. What's the matter, Wheeler? Am I getting warm?
MOTHER: All right, Son. I think we'd better be...
THE MATHEMATITIAN: You know something? I wouldn't be surprised if he knocked her up on purpose just so he could spend the rest of his life hiding behind a maternity dress. That way he'd never have to find out what he's really made of.
FRANK: Now look, I think that's just about enough out of you. I mean, who the hell do you think you are? You come in here and say whatever crazy goddamn thing comes into your head, and I think it's about time somebody told you to keep your goddamn mouth shut.
MOTHER: He's not well, Frank.
FRANK: Not well, my ass! I don't give a damn if he's sick or well or dead or alive, he should keep his fucking opinions in the fucking insane asylum where they belong!
MOTHER: Let's go, Son.
FATHER: Come on, John.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: Big man you got there, April. Big family man. I feel sorry for you. Still, maybe you deserve each other. I mean, the way you look right now, I'm beginning to feel sorry for him, too. You must give him a pretty bad time if making babies is the only way he can prove he's got a pair of balls.
FRANK: You fucking...
MOTHER: No! He's not well, Frank!
FATHER: All right, John. Let's get on out to the car now.
MOTHER: April, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: Oh, right. Sorry. Sorry! Sorry! Ma, have I said "I'm sorry" enough times? Damn! I am sorry, too. I bet I'm just about the sorriest bastard I know. But get right down to it, I don't have a whole hell of a lot to be glad about. Do I? But, hey, you know what? I am glad about one thing. You want to know what I'm glad about? I'm glad I'm not gonna be that kid.
I
FRANK: I hear you're a mathematician.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: You hear wrong. It's all gone now.
FRANK: All gone?
THE MATHEMATITIAN: You know what electrical shock treatments are?
FRANK: Yes. Yes, I do.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: I've had 37. Supposed to jolt out the emotional problems. Just jolted out the mathematics.
APRIL: How awful.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: "How awful"? Why, because mathematics is so interesting?
APRIL: No. Because the shocks must be awful and, well, because it's awful not to be able to do what it is that you want to do. I think mathematics must be dull.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: I like your girl, Frank.
FRANK: Me, too.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: So, what do a couple of people like you have to run away from?
APRIL: We're not running.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: So what's in Paris?
APRIL: A different way of life.
FRANK: Maybe we are running. We're running from the hopeless emptiness of the whole life here, right?
THE MATHEMATITIAN: The hopeless emptiness? Now you've said it. Plenty of people are on to the emptiness, but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness.
II
THE MATHEMATITIAN: Okay. Okay, it's a question of money. Money's a good reason. But it's hardly ever the real reason. What's the real reason? Wife talk you out of it or what? Little woman decide she isn't quite ready to quit playing house? No, no, that's not it. I can tell. She looks too tough and adequate as hell. Okay, then. It must've been you. What happened?
MOTHER: John, please. You're being very rude.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: No, no. What happened, Frank? You get cold feet? You decide you're better off here after all? You figure it's more comfy here in the old hopeless emptiness after all, huh? Oh, wow, that did it. Look at his face. What's the matter, Wheeler? Am I getting warm?
MOTHER: All right, Son. I think we'd better be...
THE MATHEMATITIAN: You know something? I wouldn't be surprised if he knocked her up on purpose just so he could spend the rest of his life hiding behind a maternity dress. That way he'd never have to find out what he's really made of.
FRANK: Now look, I think that's just about enough out of you. I mean, who the hell do you think you are? You come in here and say whatever crazy goddamn thing comes into your head, and I think it's about time somebody told you to keep your goddamn mouth shut.
MOTHER: He's not well, Frank.
FRANK: Not well, my ass! I don't give a damn if he's sick or well or dead or alive, he should keep his fucking opinions in the fucking insane asylum where they belong!
MOTHER: Let's go, Son.
FATHER: Come on, John.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: Big man you got there, April. Big family man. I feel sorry for you. Still, maybe you deserve each other. I mean, the way you look right now, I'm beginning to feel sorry for him, too. You must give him a pretty bad time if making babies is the only way he can prove he's got a pair of balls.
FRANK: You fucking...
MOTHER: No! He's not well, Frank!
FATHER: All right, John. Let's get on out to the car now.
MOTHER: April, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
THE MATHEMATITIAN: Oh, right. Sorry. Sorry! Sorry! Ma, have I said "I'm sorry" enough times? Damn! I am sorry, too. I bet I'm just about the sorriest bastard I know. But get right down to it, I don't have a whole hell of a lot to be glad about. Do I? But, hey, you know what? I am glad about one thing. You want to know what I'm glad about? I'm glad I'm not gonna be that kid.
Revolutionary Road, 2oo8
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