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Sunday: Twins
11.18.2003 by Dan Beirne, 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.

Sunday, the seventh day of seven. It feels like we're driving home, but we're just in my room. Maybe it's the sun piercing through my windows.

Twins (1988): A physically perfect, but innocent, man goes in search of his twin brother, who is a short small-time crook. Starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito, directed by Ivan Reitman.

(Nathan and I are getting dressed. Cream suits and beige shoes; red ties)

Me: Isn't this kind of a hokey pick?

Nathan: Yeah, keep pretending this is important.

Me: I just thought it would be nicer if we chose something a little more...fitting.

Nathan: Mine fits fine.

Me: So does mine.

(the birds outside are singing "here". it's track 9)

Nathan: So what did you think about the movie?

Me: Wait, what?

Nathan: Nothing.

Me: No, say what you said.

Nathan: Forget it, can we do this thing?

Me: You asked me what I thought.

(a glass on my desk just broke spontaneously for no reason)

Nathan: So?

Me: You've never done that.

Nathan: You missed a button.

Me: Don't you have a quick take-down for this movie? It is Twins, Nathan.

Nathan: (looking through his wallet) Hmm, two more subs..

Me: I can't believe what I'm hearing.

(my mom is playing the cello upstairs. my dad, the piano)

Nathan: If I had a hat, I'd be pulling it over my eyes.

Me: Just be honest!

Nathan: I have nothing! I'm fucking empty!

Me: Mmm.

(silence. like elephant-sized silence)

Nathan: Don't pick a fight, Dan. Stop smiling.

Me: Julius Benedict, if you don't mind.

Nathan: Do you think the whole world exists on the top? You can't really think that.

Me: It doesn't matter what you say, I can see where you're weak. I can see what makes us...two.

Nathan: Please don't. Please don't make this retarded.

Me: We're all trying. Even you.

Nathan: You might as well look back at the room and close the lights.

Me: If I did it honestly, you couldn't fault me.

Nathan: I can always fault you.

(there was supposed to be an earthquake here, but the weatherman is never right.)

Me: Keep smiling, Nathan.

Nathan: My aunt's not here yet, I still got a few more minutes.

Me: Oh... Cause I was thinking I would just--

Nathan: I made you something!

(children clapping)

Nathan: You have to make things. Or you won't survive.

Me: What is it?

Nathan: A tape!

(a honk from the driveway)

Nathan: Oh, that's me.

Me: Thanks, for the tape.

Nathan: I'll get you that book back.

Me: Yeah, cool.

(the door closes. Diana waved to me from the driveway. her hand was on fire.)

Me: Let's see what's on--

[end of tape]

nathan lane no longer wants to be contacted.


this was on the tape that Nathan gave me:

Nathan: I'm not going to talk about this anymore....No, well, I know I shouldn't have called you...well, my fault then...I have to go anyway...I'm making a tape for know, Dan that I do that thing with...yeah, a good-bye tape...yes, for real this time...don't say you want to help if you don't actually want to help...good-bye, Cynthia.

(clearing his throat and getting a glass of iced tea)

Sorry about that, Dan. That was Cynthia on the phone. So, this is me making you a present.

(looking at a poster of some obscure movie)

It has to suffice for every birthday for the rest of your life, so I guess it should be good.

(thinking about having cereal, but not wanting to stand)

Well, I guess this is the most I can...share, so it'll be worth it.

(Nathan's impersonations of tropical birds. They're pretty good, even though I'm not that familiar with how tropical birds should sound. Then he does a pretty good thunder imitation too. Then the sounds of chairs moving, closing the blinds. Then the unmistakable sound of Nathan making himself disappear. For ever)

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