10.7.2003 by , every Wednesday.
Nathan Lane comes over every Wednesday to the house to watch a movie, or just chat with Dan. Dan found these little chats so interesting, he decided to tape-record them and tell the world all the neat things Nathan had to say about movies and stuff.
This is Monday, the first day of seven. I have no idea what the sky looks like.
Breathless (1960): A young car thief kills a policeman and goes on the run with his American girlfriend. Starring Jean-Paul Belmondo and Jean Seberg, written and directed by Jean-Luc Godard.
(Nathan is sitting on his high horse)
Nathan: Did you know the actual title of this film is A Bout de Soufle?
Me: This is unlike you.
Nathan: We're out of pogos.
Me: It ended five minutes ago, I don't remember a single thing that happened.
Me: Aw, stop.
Nathan: No, seriously, I'm surprised I didn't think of that.
(an h-bomb is tested somewhere in the world, it begins to rain cancer outside my window)
Me: You look at Godard, right?
Nathan: I don't look at him.
Me: Just...stay with me.
(somewhere, people go out to breakfast, just to be safe)
Me: Do you think all he had to say was hello before people were like, "He's a total genius."
Nathan: Do you think it's written on people's foreheads?
Me: Well, it must be. Every genius I've ever seen has had it written on their forehead.
Nathan: Yeah, like graffiti. Like a moustache on the newspaper.
Me: Oh, you don't think you're special.
(I live on a one-way street)
Nathan: Not in the way you think. You're trying to look at a song the same way you look at a painting.
Me: Don't tell me I'm stupid.
Nathan: Are you drunk?
Me: It's gonna be a good week.
Nathan: Just keep talking.
Me: About what? You want me to talk? What do you want me to say? This is me talking! Woo-hoo, helloo!
Nathan: About something intelligent. Not like you're actually speaking into a microphone.
Nathan: I'm handing this conversation in for marks.
(I start laughing, I don't know why)
Nathan: I know, I know. Just shut your...mouth.
Me: Hey, I'm alive. I know that for sure.
Nathan: Talk about girls or something.
Me: The stars above used to shine on cue.
Nathan: Oh, don't start this crap. At least talk about the movie, then.
Me: Now they're acting a bit confused.
Nathan: Cynthia called me the other day.
Me: What'd she say?
Nathan: That got you. I don't know, I think her father died.
(not true, Cynthia called an hour after this conversation to say that now, not then, had her father died)
Me: That's too bad. I met him once.
Nathan: I met him once too. He stood so straight.
Me: He was a doctor, wasn't he?
Nathan: Made it so babies could be born.
Nathan: In his spare time, he built tractors. Helped everything that grows in the world to grow.
(my neighbour has a drum set, he hit the crash cymbal really hard)
Me: I wish she were here. She'd have something to say.
Nathan: You wish.
Me: You're my american girlfriend.
Nathan: Your life is not a fucking movie!
as always, you can e-mail Nathan, but like I said, he won't get it.
Nathan and I were cleaning, and we found a sweater. If anyone owns a light blue sweater with rolled cuffs, that you might have left here, let me know.