All language subtitles for A.Bucket.of.Bloo

I will talk to you of art,

for there is nothing else to talk about,

for there is nothing else.

Life is an obscure hobo,

bumming a ride on the omnibus of art.

Burn gas buggies.

And whip your sour cream
of circumstance and hope,

and go ahead and sleep
your bloody heads off.

Creation is.

All else is not.

What is not creation is graham crackers.

Let it all crumble to feed the creator.

The artist is.

All others are not.

A canvas is a canvas or a painting.

A rock is a rock or a statue.

A sound is a sound.

Or is music.

A creature is a creature or an artist.

Where are John, Joe, Jake, Jim, Jerk?

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

They were not born.

Before they were born, they were not born.

Where are Leonardo, Rembrandt, Ludwig?

Alive.

Alive.

Alive.

They were born.

Bring on the multitude
with a multitude of fishes.

Feed them to the fishes for liver oil.

To nourish the artist.

Stretch their skins upon an easel.

To give him canvas.

Crush their bones into a paste.

That he might mold them.

Let them die.

And by their miserable deaths

become the clay within his hands

that he might form an ashtray or an ark.

For all that is comes through
the eye of the artist.

The rest are blind fish swimming
in the cave of aloneness.

Swim on, you maudlin,
muddling, maddened fools.

And dream that one bright and sunny night,

some artist will bait a hook
and let you bite upon it.

Bite hard and die.

In his stomach, you are
very close to immortality.

Walter?

Walter, what are you doing here?

I was looking at Carla's picture.

Do I pay you to look at pictures?

Now get to work.

I was just lookin'.

There are empty cups all over the place.

Clear them out.

You shouldn't be so
rough on him, Leonard.

What do you say, Walter?

Hi.

I think I'll cut.

There's the man.

How you makin' it?

- Fine, man, how about you?
- Good enough.

- Valdez Vice.
- Yeah, Lacroix checkin' in.

Lou took over a couple of minutes ago.

Anything new at the door?

Nothing you can pound nails in.

A couple of hustlers.

One of them is short, fat, brunette.

Name's Skinny.

The other one was short also.

She was bleached and skinny.

- Name of fat.
- Probably.

I didn't get it.

They didn't give any pitches, though.

Guess you can keep an eye on 'em.

Okay, any heads?

Well, Jerry Sachs looked
like he was straight.

I'm sure he's on it, anyway.

I didn't see any pushers around the place.

Lou said he'd check out
Jerry and sound him out later

if he gets any higher.

I guess that's about it.

Okay, Art.

Go on home and get a good
night's sleep, you fink.

Okay.

So long, Paul.

Everyone listened to my new poem,

but do you think they really heard it?

- I heard it, Mr. Brock.
- Thank you, Walter.

I'm sure you did.

"Bring on the multitude
with a multitude of fishes.

"Feed them to the fishes for liver oil

"to nourish the artist."

That was word for word.

Is it?

I'd forgotten.

You don't remember your own poem?

I refuse to say anything twice.

Repetition is death.

I don't get it.

When you repeat something,

you are reliving a moment, wasting it,

severing it from the
other end of your life.

I believe only in new impressions,
new stimuli, new life.

I thought you believed
that life is an obscure hobo,

bumming a ride on the--

I do believe that, Walter,

but I also believe creative living.

To be uncreative, you might
as well be in your grave,

or in the army.

They tried to draft me once.

I couldn't pass the test.

Walter, Leonard's looking at you.

He's just about gone.

Walter has a clear mind.

One day, something will enter it,

feel lonely, and leave again.

Too much.

Yes, Cats, yes.

If you want to know how beatniks live,

William and me will show you.

We'll introduce you to some wild ones.

You may even discover
an artist of your own.

And how much is that going to cost us?

What cost?

A couple of bucks.

You wanna meet some beatniks, don't you?

Oh, no, it's the artists.

I'm just crazy about artists.

All that is comes through
the eye of the artist.

The rest are just blind fish

swimming in the cave of aloneness.

Oh, you must be an artist.

And working as a busboy too.

Feed him that, he will be satisfied.

The artist is.

All others are not.

That's most intriguing.

Are you a painter?

Well, no.

I'm working on something.

It's not ready yet.

What is it, man?

Finger painting?

Draw me a picture of a house, Walter.

Make some smoke coming out of the chimney.

I am working on something.

I'll show you soon.

Walter.

Is he, uh...

Did you get a good look, kid?

Go on home.

Hello, Mrs. Swickard.

Oh, Walter.

You look awful pale.

What did you have to eat tonight?

I had a salami sandwich, Mrs. Swickard.

If you were my son.

Why don't you let me fix
you a nice bowl of soup.

Won't take but a minute.

It's okay.

I can fix myself something.

Besides, I got something important to do.

Oh, say, Walter.

Did you see anything of Frankie
tonight when you went out?

I didn't see him at all.

If you do, tell him I've
got a nice, fresh piece

of halibut for him.

Tell him that?

I mean, do you think he'll understand?

He's only a cat.

Good night, Walter.

Frankie?

A canvas is a canvas or a painting.

A rock is a rock or a statue.

A sound is a sound, or it's music.

Come on.

Be a nose.

Be a nose.

Frankie, shut up!

Oh, what's the matter, Frankie?

How'd you get yourself stuck in a wall?

Wait a minute, I'll get you out.

Frankie?

Frankie?

You all right, Frankie?

Oh, Frankie.

Oh, Frankie.

Oh, Frankie.

I'm sorry.

Poor Mrs. Swickard.

She had a nice fresh
piece of halibut for you.

I'll give you to her in the morning.

Repetition is death, Frankie.

Let them die.

And by their miserable deaths

become the clay within his hands

that he might form an ashtray or an ark.

Pray that you might be his
diadem, gold, glory, paint, clay,

that he might take you in
his magic hands and wring

from your marrow wonders.

Where are John, Joe, Jim, Jerk?

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Hi, Carla.

Well, Walter, what are
you doing here so early?

I've brought something.

I think you'll like it.

Take that stuff to
the laundromat, Walter.

- Huh?
- Don't mind him.

What have you got?

It's a thing I made.

Walter.

- You like it?
- What's he got?

Come look at this, Leonard.

Where'd you get that, an auction?

I made it.

You made that?

I said I did, didn't I?

Walter, it's very good.

- Honest?
- Honest.

What's it called?

Dead Cat.

Dead Cat?

That's its name?

Sure.

Well, it sure looks dead enough.

You wanna buy it?

Buy it?

That thing?

It'd scare people out of the place.

Don't be silly.

It's tremendous.

Look at the detail.

The anatomy's perfect.

Look at the expression on its face.

How come you put a knife into it?

I didn't mean to.

Just got carried away, huh?

Well, all right.

I'll tell you what I'll do.

I'll put it in the corner of the alcove.

If it sells, we'll split 50-50, okay?

Sure.

Does this mean I'm an artist?

Maybe so, if you can
do other things as well.

All that is comes through
the eye of the artist.

Yeah, you're a real artist now.

Now go in back and scrub
down those garbage cans.

March now.

You really like it?

We like it.

Now go on.

Did you see my cat?

What's the matter, you lose him?

How do you like my cat?

You made this thing, man?

Uh-huh.

It's crazy.

Crazy.

You wanna buy it?

Who me, man?

I'm tapped.

He likes my cat.

Get to work.

Hey, hey, Walter.

Come here a minute.

Hey, congratulations, man.

Walter, you're famous.

I saw your cat.

Did you like it, Mr. Brock?

You may call me Maxwell.

How'd you do it, Walter?

Oh, I just took some
clay and fixed it up.

Attention.

Attention, everyone.

As you passed through
these yellow portals,

I'm sure you noticed on your
right a small clay figure

and assumed this transfixed effigy

to be the work of a master sculptor.

And indeed, so it is.

That master sculptor is in our midst.

He is none other than Walter Paisley,

our very own busboy whose hands of genius

have been carrying away the
empty cups of your frustrations.

Mark well this lad.

His is the silent voice of creation.

Within the dark, rich soil of humility,

he blossoms as the hope of
our nearly sterile century.

Beautiful, Maxwell.

Bring me an espresso, Walter.

Maxwell, really beautiful.

Thank you.

Man, you are in.

Oh, Walter, you're wonderful.

Wonderful!

Listen, man, you got a pen?

Hey, Pops, what's happenin'?

Makin' a big scene for Walter.

Who'd he shoot?

He made a cat.

Out of clay.

- See you around.
- Yeah, later.

Will somebody clear
this table, please?

Will somebody clear this table?

Did you hear them, Mr. De Santis?

They all like my cat.

Yeah, very good.

Now, look, Walter.

You must be tired.

Why don't you take the
rest of the night off?

- I don't want to.
- No, no.

You got it coming.

Besides, you're creating an incident.

When people are applauding,
they don't order coffee.

So, go on home and work on something.

Make another cat.

Well, I haven't got another cat.

Look, just go to the movies.

Please, Walter.

Go.

All right, Mr. De Santis.

Good night.

Good night, Walter.

Walter.

Walter, wait a minute.

Oh, hello, Naolia.

Walter, I dug it.

My cat?

It was the most wonderful, wildest,

like, wiggiest thing I've ever seen.

Walter, you've done something to me.

Something deep down inside of my prana.

I have?

Oh, Walter, I wanna be with you.

You're creative.

You've got a hot light
bulb glowing inside of you,

and I wanna be warmed by it.

Gee, that's nice of you, Naolia.

Walter, take me away from here.

Take me away to some cool
blue place and gas me.

I can't.

I gotta go home.

Oh, then I'll go home with you.

Oh, no.

Mrs. Swickard wouldn't like that.

She's my landlady.

Isn't there anything
I can do for you?

I don't think so, Naolia.

Oh, Walter.

I can't let you just split like this.

I've gotta do something.

I've gotta contribute.

You don't have to do anything.

Wait.

Wait, there is one thing I can do.

One little thing.

Don't leave, Walter.

I wanna give you something.

Something that will make you remember me.

Put it in your pocket.

Now go, Walter.

Don't look back.

Just go!

Can I have your autograph, Mr. Paisley?

Why, certainly, my good woman.

Everybody likes my cat.

You wanna buy my statue, mister?

$10,000?

Okay.

Gee, I'll be famous.

And then I can ask Carla,
and she'll say yes.

I know she will.

Hello, Walter.

Oh, hi.

You're Lou, ain't you?

I seen you at the Yellow Door plenty.

Come on in.

I was just making some pancakes.

You can have some if you like.

Did you see my cat?

Yeah, I saw your cat.

I also saw that chick lay these on you.

Oh, that was Naolia.

She's a nice girl.

She's kind of strange, though.

I guess she figures I get
headaches or something.

Okay, Walter, who's your connection?

Connection?

Yeah, connection.

Who do you score from?

Where do you buy your horse?

Horse?

Horse.

Junk.

White stuff.

Heroin.

Is that what that is?

I never seen any of that before.

I always thought that was expensive.

Yeah, Walter, that
can be real expensive.

Gee, wasn't that nice of Naolia

to give me that expensive horse?

- Walter.
- Huh?

Police officer.

Oh, you're like an undercover man.

You're under arrest, Walter.

Under arrest for what?

Possession of narcotics.

Who, me?

What are you talking about?

Walter, I got you cold.

Now you just come along quietly.

I didn't do nothin'.

Naolia gimme those.

I didn't ask her for it.

I didn't even know--
Alright.

You can tell them that downtown.

Now let's go.

I ain't goin' no place with you.

Walter, do I have to point this at you?

You're gonna shoot me!

No, don't shoot me!

Walter, just relax.

No, you're gonna shoot me.

- Now just relax.
- Don't shoot me!

- Just shut up, would you?
- No, you're gonna shoot me!

Don't shoot!

Walter?

Walter!

Walter!

Are you all right?

I thought I heard you
shouting a minute ago.

Walter!

What's all the noise in here?

Noise, Mrs. Swickard?

What noise?

Don't tell me I didn't hear a racket.

Are you sure you're all alone?

I'm always alone, Mrs. Swickard.

Walter, have you been
talkin' to yourself again?

Well, I guess maybe
I have, Mrs. Swickard.

Somebody's got to.

Walter, you know,
what you need is a girl.

She doesn't have to be pretty,

just so long as she
takes good care of you.

I can take real good care
of myself, Mrs. Swickard.

Yeah, I can see that.

Look at this pad.

It's terrible.

Why don't you ever clean it up?

And when did you change these sheets last?

They look like they're alive.

Mrs. Swickard, I gotta meet some friends

in a little while,

and I gotta take a shower.

- Why don't you clean up this dump
- If you don't mind.

Well, what's the matter with you?

I didn't mean to hurt you, Lou.

But if you'd have shot me, you'd
be moppin' up my blood now.

I can't help it if I
got scared and hit you.

I didn't mean it.

It's crazy.

It's crazy.

I didn't know you had it in you, Walter.

How'd you do it?

Well, I just took some
clay and fixed it up.

Go home and make something, Walter.

Make another cat.

But I haven't got another cat.

Well, I reported in
here around midnight.

Lou had already been gone over an hour.

No.

Nobody seems to know where he went.

Why don't you put an alert out on him,

and I'll check on him from here?

Okay, right.

The little fraud.

Louis Raby.

Age 29.

5'11" tall.

Dark complexion.

Hair, black and curly.

Last seen wearing blue
jeans and gray sweater.

♪ Tim Evans was a murderer
all in his prison cell ♪

♪ And those who read about his crimes ♪

♪ They damned his soul to hell ♪

♪ Saying, go down ♪

♪ You murderer, go down ♪

♪ For the murder of his own true wife ♪

♪ And the killin' of his own child ♪

♪ The jury found him guilty ♪

♪ And the hangin' judge, he smiled ♪

Dig the fuzz.

What do you suppose they want here?

You, man, you.

Hey, maybe they're
looking for old Walter.

He's the criminal type.

Ain't you, Walter?

Sorry, Mr. De Santis.

That's all right, Walter.

Sit down.

- Who me?
- Sit down.

Greetings, man.

I'm not supposed to
sit with the customers.

Swing!

Why shouldn't you sit
at the table, Walter?

After all, you're a big artist now.

A true creator above mere mortals.

What's the big idea?

Idea?

I was just telling Walter the truth.

A man wanted to pay me $100 for the cat.

In fact, he's taking it
home to show to his wife.

Proves that I underestimated
Walter's ability.

His work has enormous realism.

You can hardly tell it
from the real thing.

Boy, that sounds like a real put-down.

Get off Walter's back, Leonard.

Am I on his back?

You're not very funny.

I'm not trying to be.

Walter, what are you gonna make next?

A dog, maybe.

Or a bird?

How about a few dozen
cockroaches from your room?

Hey, man.

Why don't you make an elephant?

I got a new one.

Great.

What is it?

It's a full-length, life-size figure.

Crazy.

What is it called?

Murdered Man.

- When do we get to see it?
- Anytime.

Hey, that's a pretty
far-out name for a statue.

I saw a statue once.

It was called, The Third Time
Phyllis Saw Me, She Exploded.

Man, what kind of a statue was that?

I don't know.

It was made out of driftwood
and dipped in fluoric acid.

It was very wild.

What's wrong, Leonard?

Nothing.

It's the food in this dump.

Oh, man.

You should try the Sorrel Sewer.

They got wheat germ bagels.

Too much.

Excuse me, please.

I think he really is sick.

So who isn't?

De Santis.

I've been trying to get you all evening.

Gotta make a call.

Gotta call Lieutenant Valdez.

Listen, I was wrong about my wife.

She wants that cat after all.

Do you hear me?

I'll give you that $100 for the cat.

I can't talk to you just now.

All right, then, 200.

No!

No!

$300, and that's tops.

$300 for the cat?

I know I'm going out of my mind,

but I've been collecting art pieces

all over Europe for years, and this boy,

Walter Paisley, has got it.

I want to buy his first work.

And to make very sure that I get it,

I'll pay you $500.

$500 for the cat.

And the first look at his next stuff.

Someone has the cat just now,

but I'll have him back in a few days.

Then you can have it for the $500.

Oh, thank you, sir.

I think I've made a bargain.

Call me when you're ready.

Good night.

Leonard.

Feel better?

Listen.

I'm going over to Walter's later,

after the place closes
to see Murdered Man.

You feel up to coming along?

♪ And a washer behind his ear ♪

♪ And the prison bell was tolling ♪

♪ But Tim Evans didn't hear ♪

♪ Saying, go down ♪

♪ You murderer, go down ♪

Look at the size of it.

Well, it's not really that big.

I got it on kind of a stand.

Let's see it.

I'm a little nervous.

I ain't never did a person before.

You can do anything if
you set your mind to it.

It's hot in here.

You want me to open a window?

Come on, Walter.

Take off the sheet.

Don't you like it?

Walter, it's a masterpiece.

I've never seen anything like it before.

And I hope I never see
anything like it again.

Neither do I.

It's hideous, and it's eloquent.

It expresses modern man
in all his self-pity.

How did you ever find
that in yourself, Walter?

Well, it wasn't easy.

What's the matter with you?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

I've never seen anyone so squeamish.

What's your opinion, Leonard?

Don't ask me.

Oh, come on.

Even you must see its value.

Do you think that you or I

could have conceived of such a thing,

much less executed it?

Well, then admit it.

It's a work of genius.

I admit it.

Then let's take it
down to the Yellow Door.

- No.
- Why not?

I'll tell you, but
you cover it up again.

Please, huh?

Please!

Thank you.

What is all this nonsense?

Why do you want to hide it?

Well, I've been thinking.

I didn't realize how much
talent Walter actually had.

It would be wrong to show
his pieces one at a time.

Dead wrong.

You're right.

He should build a collection first.

Yes.

That's the idea.

Maybe when it's big
enough, we can have a show.

A show?

- Just for me?
- No!

Not exactly.

I mean, it would take years and years.

It's getting hot again.

It would take you years
to make that many statues,

but your work would be featured.

It's a wonderful idea, Walter.

It's the only way to gain recognition.

The big art critics and
art dealers will be there.

It'll be an event.

Yes, then we could
unload and sell this stuff

for a lot more.

But the show, how soon could we go?

Don't rush things.

It takes time.

But first of all, you've
got to stop making

these horrible statues.

Carla and I will guide you.

Maybe you can turn to free-form.

Free-form?

That's the movement today.

With his talent for realism?

You can see the direction
his realism takes.

It's unhealthy.

But you said I was a genius.

I don't wanna be a busboy anymore.

Maybe you got a point there.

You shouldn't keep working
at the Yellow Door.

Look.

I'm sure that man is gonna
buy your dead cat, so here.

Here's your fee in advance, $50.

And if you need more, I've
got it, so don't worry.

I've got great faith in you, Walter.

Gee, $50 for something I made.

Now you're a professional.

Let's go.

Okay.

Good night, Walter.

Keep up the good work.

Yeah, but don't rush things.

You got all the time in the world.

Come on, Carla!

Good night, Walter.

Good night.

Yippee!

Did you holler, Walter?

I'm an artist, Mrs. Swickard.

Yeah?

Oh, sure you are, Walter.

I am.

Look!

Good heavens!

One of the greatest
advances in modern poetry

is the elimination of clarity.

I'm proud to say my
poetry is only understood

by that minority which is aware.

Aware of what?

Not of anything, stupid.

Just aware.

Man, this place is beginning
to feel like a lineup.

Yeah, baby.

If it don't cool off pretty soon,

I'm gonna haunt somebody else's joint.

We may have to start drinking.

Yes, man, yes.

Yes, that's my man.

Yes.

Yes, man, yes.

Good evening, Walter.

Good evening, Carla.

Sylvia, didn't you see
me wave my zen stick?

Why, it's Walter Paisley.

Bring me a cappuccino and
a piece of papaya cheesecake

and a bottle of Yugoslavian white wine.

Yes, sir, Mr. Paisley.

Good evening, Walter.

Maxwell, how have you been?

I see the rewards of
achievement have come your way.

Well, after all, I'm a
successful sculptor now.

Indeed.

Hey, man, dig Walter the wigger.

He's comin' out like
he just cured cancer.

Let us make the scene.

Crazy.

I was just suggesting to Walter

that he try his hand at free-form.

Why do you suggest anything to Walter?

Are you the spokesman for society,

come to put your stifling
finger in his eye?

Good evening, gentlemen.

Who invited these two
down from the clouds?

Maxwell.

Yoo-hoo!

Clear the table.

Bring a bowl.

I may be sick.

It's Alice the awful, come
to spread cheer and cholera.

Look at my suntan, everybody?

Do we have to?

Where have you been, Alice?

I went to Big Bur and
looked for Henry Miller.

You didn't find him, I hope.

- No, he's in Europe.
- Good.

Why is the busboy sitting here?

I'm not the busboy anymore.

That's right.

Walter has become a sculptor.

Oh, really?

I'm a model, you know.

I only charge $25 an hour.

Would you like to do me?

I just might.

Never mind that.

Walter's gonna try free-form.

There you go again.

I may take my business
to the Sorrel Sewer.

As a matter of fact, I was
going to suggest to Walter

that he try a female figure

as a change from the violent death theme.

You really should, Walter.

You know what?

If you like, I'll be your model for free.

I couldn't.

Not you.

Man, if you're gonna be an artist,

you've gotta do nudes.

Nudes.

Right.

Right.

Right.

Ain't nobody an artist
unless he does nudes.

Will you get them out of here

before we wind up in night court?

Let's change the subject.

I'm sick of hearing about sculpture.

Nobody knows how to do that anymore,

much less the busboy from the Yellow Door.

Who do you think you're talkin' about?

Don't shout at me!

I don't like you.

Nobody asked for your
opinion, Walter.

You're just a simple little farmboy,

and the rest of us are all
sophisticated beatniks.

That's all, man.

Let's split.

Yeah, man.

I gotta make me some air.

See?

You made them leave.

What did I do?

The first beneficial service
of your benighted life.

It proves we're all good for something.

Are you saying that this
busboy is better than I?

Yes.

I think this whole bit
about him being a sculptor

is just a big put-on for my benefit.

That's not true.

I am a sculptor.

Oh, yeah?

Prove it.

Make something out of this.

There.

Hand.

That isn't a real hand.

If you were a sculptor, you'd
create something for me.

A harpoon would be very nice.

I'm goin' home.

Alice, you're obnoxious.

But he's such an idiot.

Yes?

What are you doing here?

I wanted to apologize for
being nasty to you this evening.

So you apologized.

Good night.

Listen, twerp.

Why don't you get out of
here and let me go to bed?

I didn't finish talkin' to ya.

I decided to make that
female figure after all.

Oh?

I'd like you to pose for it.

Remember what I said about my price?

$25 an hour.

If you wanna pay it,
I don't mind posing.

When do you wanna start work?

Tonight?

You mean right now?

Uh-huh.

Wait till I get my sweater.

You could use a little more
heat around this place.

It's bad for the clay.

You'll get used to it.

Well, I'm almost ready.

Here.

Sit in this chair, and I'll pose you.

Kind of rickety.

How's this pose?

Oh, that's fine.

It's very good.

Just stay like that.

It doesn't look like very much clay.

Oh, it's enough.

Put this around your neck.

Ah, breakfast.

Watch it.

The plate's hot.

Are these fertile eggs?

Are these eggs fertile?

Naturally.

What did you fry them in?

We ran out of the safflower seed oil,

but I found a bottle of
peanut oil on the shelf.

Don't worry.

It's not hydrogenated.

Is that the cold-pressed stuff,

or the junk Hilda bought by mistake?

Yes, man, yes.

Hi.

- Good morning, Walter.
- Hi, Walter.

What brings you here?

- Have some breakfast.
- What are you having?

Soy and wheat germ pancakes,
organic guava nectar,

calcium lactate, and tomato
juice, and garbanzo omelets,

sprinkled with smoked yeast.

- Join us?
- No, thanks.

Sounds great, though.

I brought something to show you.

Could I have some of the guys help me?

- Is it Murdered Man?
- It's better.

Come on.

Porters.

Put it in the middle of the room.

When did you do this, Walter?

Last night.

It doesn't take me very long.

I should say not.

Well, let's see it, man.

Walter, I can't believe it.

I'm honored to know this man.

- Do you think it's nice?
- Yeah, she's beautiful.

Do you think it's
nicer than Murdered Man?

I don't know, Walter.

It's impossible to choose.

They're both great.

Walter, I am deeply moved.

To show my appreciation,

I'm going to give a party
tonight at the Yellow Door,

in your honor.

And I shall compose a poem.

Some more champagne, your majesty?

Hear, hear.

- Where, where?
- There, there.

That's fine.

Can I just have another little kiss?

Walter, you're a letch.

I am?

Here we go!

Here we go!

All right.

All right.

Walter, the bird that flies now,

pays later through the nose
of ambidextrous apathy.

Necrophiles may dance upon the place mats

in an orgy of togetherness.

The highway of life cuts sharply

through the shady ghettos
and the ivy-covered tombs.

And laughter rings from every time capsule

in the star-spangled firmament.

And in the deep freeze,
it is the children's hour.

And no one knows that Duncan is murdered.

And no one knows that
Walter Paisley is born.

Duncan knows.

Tuesday's sunrise knows.

Alley cats and garbage cans
and steaming pavements.

And you and I and the nude
descending the staircase

and all such things with souls,

we know that Walter paisley is born.

Ring rubber bells.

Beat cotton gongs.

Strike silken cymbals.

Play leathern flutes.

The cats and cans and you and I,

and all such things with souls,

we shall hear Walter Paisley is born.

And the souls become flesh.

Walter Paisley is born!

Marvelous, darling.

Marvelous.

Man, like, that was the
greatest gas I ever heard.

Crazy, what did he say?

Didn't you hear him?

No, man, I'm too far out.

Maxwell, that was magnificent.

I feel so elegant.

Walter deserved every word of it.

It makes me so glad I'm aware.

Did you hear what he said?

Yes, Walter.

All about me.

It's true, isn't it?

Every word.

You better hold off
on the bubbly, artist.

Yeah, why?

You might talk too much.

What would I say?

Most anything, I expect.

Are you two trying
to ignore the rest of us?

Oh, not me, Maxwell.

I wouldn't ignore you.

I know what it is to be ignored.

Tell us what you're
going to do next, Walter.

I'm gonna make the most wonderful,

wildest, wiggiest things you've ever seen.

I'm gonna make big statues
and little statues,

tall statues and short statues.

I'm gonna make statues of nobodies

and statues of famous people.

Statues of actors and poets.

And people who sell things on television.

And a statue of the mayor.

And some opera singers and
their intimate friends.

And everybody will say,
"Walter, let me shake your hand.

"It's been a real pleasure
to have known you."

Hear, hear.

Alley cats and garbage cans,

they know that Walter Paisley is born.

Ring rubber bells.

Beat cotton gongs.

Strike silken cymbals.

Play leathern flutes.

Tell us what you're donna do next, Walter.

I'm gonna make big
statues, little statues.

Movie stars and poets

and guys who sell things on television.

And the mayor and some opera singers.

What you gonna do next, Walter?

What am I gonna do next?

What am I gonna do next?

I gotta do something before they forget.

I know what it's like to be ignored.

Who are you?

What do you want?

Life is an obscure hobo,

bumming a ride on the omnibus of art.

Huh?

What did you say?

What is not creation is graham crackers.

Let them all crumble to feed the creator.

Oh, beat it.

You must be nuts.

No!

No!

No!

No, no!

No!

Hello, Leonard.

Beautiful morning, isn't it?

Was.

What's that you got in the box?

Just wait till you see this.

Extra!

Extra!

Horrible murder in furniture factory.

Read about the man who got cut in half.

Extra!

Extra!

Police can only find part of him.

Leonard.

What's the matter, Leonard?

You made a bust.

Yeah.

Isn't it wonderful?

What's the matter, Leonard?

Put it down, Walter.

Please.

Walter.

Walter, listen to me carefully.

I don't want you to make any more statues.

Do you understand?

No more statues.

Well, why not?

I gotta make statues, Leonard.

You heard Brock.

They want me to make them.

If I stop makin' them, I'll
just be a busboy again.

Brock.

He's behind all of this with
his stupid, bitter poetry.

Listen.

You've got to stop and right away.

I'm beginning to feel responsible.

Why?

What did you do?

Never mind.

Walter, I've decided to have
that show for you right away.

Yes.

When Carla comes, we'll have her work up

some nice invitations.

We'll have them printed up.

We'll invite the critics
and the art collectors.

We'll tell them.

Well, I don't see why we can't go.

Mr. Leonard de Santis is
afraid to have you come.

You, who buy his coffee
and lure his tourists.

You, who are the heart and soul
and meat of the Yellow Door.

He's slighted you.

Did you get an invitation?

I did not.

But I'm going anyway.

Not to drink his champagne,
but to see Walter's triumph.

After that, we go no more.

Hi, Maxwell.

I won't say, good luck, Walter.

Why not?

It would imply that
you could not succeed

on your ability alone.

You look so handsome.

I do?

So do you.

I mean, you look so pretty.

Thank you.

Are you ready?

We've got plenty of time.

I know, but I wanted to talk to you.

Okay.

We can go now if you like.

Bye.

Later, man, later.

Swing.

Man, why do you suppose
Walter wants to get her alone?

Do you suppose he could be
physically attracted to her?

No, man.

He ain't the type.

He don't get enough Vitamin E.

Maxwell gave him a bottle
of wheat germ oil once.

Maybe he just started taking it.

What did you want to
talk to me about, Walter?

Well, what kind of
people do you like, Carla?

Oh, thinking people,
artistic people, I guess.

You think I'm artistic?

Of course I do.

That means you like me.

I like you very much, Walter.

I thought you did,

on account how you kissed
me the other night.

Oh, that was for your
sculpture of the girl.

Your Nude in the Chair.

Carla, I've been alone for a long time,

and I know you been alone

'cause you never seem
to go out with anybody,

even though Leonard's always
asking you to go out with him.

And I just...

What are you trying to say?

Carla, I don't want
to make statues anymore.

I wanna get married to you.

How long have you been
thinking about this, Walter?

Oh, for a long time.

Ever since you first
came to work at the club.

You were the only one
who was ever nice to me.

I didn't know you loved
me until you kissed me.

Walter, I do like
you and I did kiss you,

but that was because of your work.

There's more to being in love
with someone than just that.

You mean you don't love me?

I'm afraid that's what I mean.

But you gotta love me.

Why do you think I made
that statue of Alice?

Walter, I'm sorry, but--

You just can't be sorry.

I wanna marry you.

Now, calm down, Walter,

and let's go in there

and then maybe when the show's over,

we can talk about it some more.

Well, I don't wanna talk about it.

I get it.

I see the whole thing now.

Nobody knows that Walter Paisley is born.

Carla, will you do one favor for me?

Just about anything, Walter.

Would you let me make a statue of you?

Would you really like to?

That would make me very happy.

Okay.

Tonight.

I'll make a statue of you tonight, okay?

Come on.

Walter?

No, thanks.

This could bring about
a return to realism.

Yes, a one-man return.

We have many artists
about but no craftsmen.

This man knows his anatomy.

I'd give 1,500 for this.

After you read my review,
it'll probably cost you 5,000.

So, what's the trouble?

Why should you be so depressed?

Have you heard the things they're saying?

You can make 25,000 on these pieces alone.

I thought you put money down.

I do, but 25 thou?

Leave me alone.

Out!

Man, we have come to make the scene.

How about some cappuccino, man?

We got the bread.

We're not open for business.

This is an art exhibit.

No bums.

Get out!

- That art is a bum, man.
- Yeah, and he's sober.

That's his problem.

All right, man, alright.

We'll wait outside.

Yeah, you wait outside.

Where you goin', Carla?

What's the matter?

Walter, there's a
body inside that statue.

Oh.

Oh, that's Alice.

It's all right, Carla.

Maxwell says it's all right.

"Let them become clay in his
hands that he might mold them."

Walter, you stay away from me.

Don't you see, Carla?

I made them immortal.

Don't you see?

I can do the same for you.

Call Valdez.

Have him send me some cars.

I'm going after Paisley.

I'm going with you.

Hey, man, what is the score?

Walter Paisley's a murderer.

Man, I saw him chasing
Carla down the street.

Walter.

What was that?

Nobody knows I'm here.

Walter.

No.

He couldn't know.

They're dead.

- How could they know?
- Did you see him?

He's hiding around
here someplace.

He can't hide just
because we're in clay

and he isn't.

Walter, go home.

He won't know where else to go.

Walter, go home.

Where is he?

What's the matter with you?

Walter.

Walter.

We'll find him.

We'll have him soon, Lou.

We'll teach him
he can't murder us

and get away with it, won't we?

Walter.

Walter.

What you gonna do now, Walter?

I'll hide where they'll never find me.

There's his room.

He's gone crazy.

Paisley!

Paisley, open up!

Paisley!

I suppose he would have
called it Hanging Man.

His greatest work.