All language subtitles for dear_john_s03e18_the_poet_1

By the time you...

is filmed before a studio audience.

Shoo -do -be -shoo -be -goo.

Yeah. Hi, guys.

Oh, hey.

Ladies, ladies.

We're taking a break, okay?

Do you mind?

Wait till you hear what my husband
Orlando did. This morning he told me he

shipping out again and I just hate to
see him go because being in the merchant

marines, I only get to see him a few
days at a time and then he's gone three

four months.

Just hope I don't get seasick.

What?

Orlando likes to make love in a hammock.

Say less.

Uh, ladies, if you wouldn't mind, could
we get back to rehearsal now? It's not

too much trouble. No, sorry. It's okay?
Yeah, okay.

Damn sugar is frozen solid.

There's got to be some more sugar
around.

It's in the storeroom, John.

Why the hell aren't there any backup
supplies here?

In the storeroom, John.

Maybe there's some in the storeroom.

Sugar,

sugar, sugar.

This isn't about sugar, is it? No, no,
I'm just having one of my days.

I was about to leave school and I... I
found out I had to make out a whole

of these curriculum evaluation reports
by Monday.

It's just a bunch of meaningless,
bureaucratic, busy work that's going to

all Saturday and most of Sunday. You
can't find a damn thing here. Where the

hell do they hide the sugar?

Oh, thanks.

I had this great weekend planned. I was
going to do nothing, absolutely nothing.

No appointments, no parties, no dates.
Doesn't that sound perfect?

No, but it does sound familiar.

Oh, Dan, let me try this.

Here, let me help you with that.

Oh, is John okay? Did you tell him
what's wrong?

Ladies, can we worry about John later?

Remember, we only have two weeks to
rehearse.

John will have problems forever.

Hey, guys, look who I just met in the
hallway. Mary Beth, you're late to do

rehearsal. Oh, big deal.

All you let me do is... There.

You mean he won't let you sing?

No, he thinks I'm tone deaf.

Who the hell are you?

Kirk.

Don't you ruin?

No, no, no, it's a good question.

Who am I?

Am I the gale force wind that mocks our
vain constructions?

Am I the tidal wave that plays with
vacation homes like small boats in a

bathtub?

Am I the sea, the sand, the sky, all
empty now?

Or am I just a poor poet looking for the
lightning flash of inspiration and

weeping with joy at the muffled voice of
its distant thunder?

Must take you forever to fill out forms.

Y 'all, this is Grant Hollander, John's
creative writing teacher from back in

college. Of course.

John's talked endlessly about you. Oh,
she didn't mean... I mentioned you were

coming. It's a surprise.

His next -door neighbor told me he comes
here on Friday nights. Oh, yes, he's

here. He's in the storeroom. Has he been
a bad boy? Oh, no.

No, he spilled some sugar.

I'll just tell him you're here. No, no,
wait, wait. Let me do it.

I wonder if he'll recognize me. It's
been 20 years.

John spilled the sugar?

Well, good for him.

What an...

Do you realize who this is? This is the
best teacher I ever had.

You know those poems of mine I've read
you from time to time? Well, Frank here

is the guy that got me started.

Great! Now maybe he can get you to stop.

Kirk, haven't you got somewhere to go?

Perhaps Finland?

Frank, I can't tell you. It's so good. I
can't believe you're really here.

How the hell are you?

Your last letter said you were living up
in a barn in Vermont?

Yes, I'm working on a new book of poems.

My cash flow has dwindled to a mere
trickle, so I'm here to talk my penny

-pinching editor to advancing me a few
bucks till the book is finished.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Frank, if
it's money you need, say no more.

Oh, right, Kirk. You're going to give
him a loan.

No, I just want him to say no more.

I'll be all right.

My editor just has this thing about
deadlines.

She doesn't realize that poems have to
simmer underground, gathering heat and

weight. before they can finally burst
forth with the full force of nature.

Oh, I could listen to you talk all
night.

Yeah, I don't know what it is about
poets, but they're a real turn -on.

Uh, Red?

What?

There once was a girl from Nantucket.

I can't tell you how great it is to hear
you yell at me again.

I mean, it's been 20 years since I've
been called an ass.

Oh, uh, when Frank called a student an
ass, it was a compliment. It meant that

he had the guts to be different, you
know, to take risks.

Yeah, and I've always believed if you
spend your life playing it safe, you

up dying, never having lived.

Hear, hear.

Hey, hey, hey, you remember you used to
say that it was unhealthy to spend too

much time in a classroom so we'd go to
some little dark, smelly bar?

Why don't we hold our group in Clancy's
tonight?

Oh.

What about rehearsing for the contest?

We'll rehearse next week.

Fine, fine. But be forewarned.

I once quit a singing group because of
this same lax attitude.

And that's why you never heard a song by
Peter, Paul, and Kirk.

Hi, guys. Hi, Ralph. Hi, Ralph. You
know, this community center is getting

crowded. I couldn't find a place for my
motorcycle, so I said, the heck with it.

I'll double...

You really took a risk, Ralph.

Yeah, you didn't play it safe.

Well done, Ralph. You're a real ass.

And

that

was the origin of The Girl from
Nantucket.

Oh, who is that?

John loaned me one of his books once.

I think your poetry is sublime. Well,
thank you. Didn't you win some award?

No, no, not some award. Frank won the
National Book Award.

Oh, hey, congratulations,

Frank. I, for one, know how good that
must feel. Because I am, myself, a

published author.

Letters to Penthouse don't count.

Says who?

Oh, this is great, isn't it? Sitting
around, drinking.

discussing poetry.

I feel like I'm back in creative writing
401 now.

Frank, whatever gave you the idea to
hold your class in a bar?

Well, I always felt there was more to
learning than books. Exactly.

That it was important for students to
get out in the real world and experience

life. Exactly. And I was an alcoholic.

Exactly.

Excuse me?

Why do you think I'm drinking mineral
water?

Frank, I never realized you had a
problem.

Well, neither did I at first. But
there's an easy way to tell.

You have a few drinks in Chicago.

And the next thing you know, it's eight
days later.

You're lying on the ground in a little
village in Spain.

And a local senorita is dancing the
flamenco on your chest.

I don't drink much, but thanks. I'll
watch for those signs.

That was two and a half years ago. I
haven't had a drop since.

Was it have to be Spain? No, Ralph.

accomplishment, Frank. Did you go to AA
or a clinic?

No, no. I quit cold turkey. I just
decided I had enough.

So I poured my last half bottle of gin
right out the window.

How'd you get up the courage?

I drank the first half.

So, Frank, where are you staying while
you're in town? I have my eye on a

apartment up on Woodhaven Boulevard.

That's my street.

It's also your apartment.

Oh, that's great. That's great. I'm glad
to have you.

And maybe if you don't get too busy,
maybe you could read some of my new

I'd be glad to. Go!

In honor of my college days, you know
what I'm going to do?

Shuggle log a pitcher and puke your guts
out?

No, I'm going to pull an all -nighter.
I'm going home right now and work on my

poems. Maybe I'll write a few new ones.

Yeah, but John, what about all that
paperwork for school? Oh, to hell with

Frank, you showed up just in time. You
reminded me how important it is to do

what you taught me.

Loosen up.

Take some risks.

Be an ass once in a while.

That's right. I'm an ass.

ass.

He'll never get a cab that way.

I hate to interrupt you while you're
reading my poems, but I was just about

put the milk in, and I suddenly realized
you might prefer buttermilk pancakes.

So what do you think?

Buttermilk's fine. No, I was talking
about my poems. I know you haven't

finished, and I don't want to pressure
you. I hate it when people pressure me,

so it's the last thing I want to do is
pressure you. So how do you like them?

John, maybe you should get some sleep.
You've been up all night.

No, no, I'm fine. I drank lots of
coffee, huge amounts of coffee, vast

quantities of coffee.

Does it show?

Yes. Oh, John, John, I'm almost done.

Now just relax. Yes, yes, yes, relax.
Good idea. I'll just go have another

of coffee.

So, how do you like them?

Well, they're a little thin, John.

Thin? I remember your poems as having
more substance.

You mean you didn't like any of them?

Not even the one about the stray German
shepherd?

I just feel that... I feel you need to
dig deeper.

I feel you need to take that leap of
faith.

You need to give your poems that
personal voice that's yours.

And yours alone.

Not even the part where he brings the
little stick back?

Your poems still show promise, John.

You've just got to keep working at it.

Don't let it get you down.

No, no, no, of course not. Don't be
silly.

What kind of a writer would I be if I
let one little rejection get me down?

Three, four, leave those suckers wanting
more.

I love you like I do.

Don't know I love you.

Don't know I care.

I thought I was supposed to go over
to... Where is our beloved leader, Kirk?

That lunkhead was supposed to be here,
what, an hour ago?

How are we supposed to practice our
moves without a lead singer?

No, no, really, I'm not very good.

Oh. I wonder why.

I wonder why.

Mary Beth, I know you've never heard
this before, but you're flat.

Come, Ralph, just to come again. We
won't do the choreography. We'll just go

through it.

Right, right.

and I sing in the tunnel. Oh, no, Ralph,
you are terrific.

Okay, guys, I'm here. We can get
started.

Excuse us, will you, Ralphie? We've got
a lot of work to do.

Um,

Kirk, Ralph just filled in for you,
singing lead, and he did an

excellent job. An extraordinary job. An
extraordinarily excellent job.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute.

What are you trying to say?

Well, compared to Ralph, you sound like
a goat being milked in the winter by a

farmer with no gloves.

Wow.

Yeah, yeah, we've worked really hard,
and we want a shot at winning that $500.

And we think Ralph would definitely give
us that shot.

What? What about you, Mary Beth? You
know music. You think Ralph can sing

than me?

May I question a question?

John, John, help me out here. They think
that Ralph has a better voice than me,

so they just want to push me out and let
him sing the lead.

Oh, get real, Kirk.

John's not going to defend you.

The hell I'm not.

Don't you realize that creating is an
act of courage?

I don't care if it's singing doo -wop or
writing a poem about a German shepherd.

Every time you create, you're making
yourself a target for rejection.

You don't seem to appreciate that. None
of you seem to care how deep a wound you

might be inflicting on the artist, the
writer, the poet.

It's no wonder we live in a cultural
wasteland.

Yeah!

A moving oration, John, but I can't help
thinking there's something else going

on.

Yes, okay, okay, okay. No big deal.

Frank didn't like my poems.

Oh, John, I'm sorry. You really had your
hopes up, didn't you? Yes, yes. As a

matter of fact, I did.

I thought it was some of the best work
I've ever done.

I wanted him to love them.

I thought he might be deeply affected.
You know, laugh, cry, the whole thing.

John, is Frank still in town?

Uh, yeah. He hasn't found out yet
whether he's going to get that advance

next book. His editor wants to read some
of his new work first.

Good. Then I suggest you give it another
shot.

Write some more poems and maybe Frank
will react more favorably.

Yeah, go for it. Shut up.

Oh, what the hell? I'm just fooling
myself. I can't... right. I don't think

ever could.

John, don't talk like that.

Remember when I first came to New York?
I wanted to be a writer, but nobody

would hire me.

I felt like giving up, and I probably
would have, but you gave me some really

good advice.

Remember what it was?

No.

That image of the lonely man walking
along the shore and then he picks up a

stick and throws it and the German
shepherd appears.

literature have triumphed. Come on. I
want to celebrate.

I know this little place on 53rd's got
the finest pasta on the eastern seaboard

and the calamari.

Calamari of the gods.

What's wrong, John?

Don't you like calamari?

Next week on Dear John.

How could you, Frank? How could you
steal my poems?

If it makes you feel any better.

a lot of students over the years. Some
good, some bad, some indifferent.

But you're the only one I ever stole
from.

Okay, okay. I had something I was going
to say until the end of the meeting, but

I think you could all use a little
cheering up.

I got your costumes for tomorrow night's
doo -wop contest.

Think I'd let you go out there naked?

Frank Hollander never wrote anything
without booze.

That is absolutely ridiculous.

Frank doesn't need liquor to write. Of
course not, but he thinks he does.

So he does.

I'm sorry, I can't accept that.

Hi,

I'm Roseanne Barr, a Valentine's message
to all you guys.

Hey, before you rush out to see that new
Julia Roberts movie, remember, I'm

hosting Saturday Night Live.

And Sunday, don't miss the chilling NBC
World Premiere miniseries based on the

true story.

Entertainment Weekly calls it
exceptional.

Love, lies, and murder, Sunday night.

It's so good to see you.

Frank, do you guys realize who this is?
This is the best teacher I ever had.

You know those poems of mine I've read
you from time to time? Well, Frank,

here's the guy that got me started.

Unfortunately, Clancy's isn't handing
out any $500 prizes for quite good. We

have to be great.

And we can be. Come on.

Stand tall.

Have some pride.

Remember, you're... Kirk S.

I remember your poems as having more
substance.

You mean you didn't like any of them?

Not even the one about the stray German
shepherd?

I just feel that... I feel you need to
dig deeper.

I feel you need to take that leap of
faith.

You need to give your poems that
personal voice that's yours and yours

Not even the part where he brings the
little stick back?

Just read your new poems, Frank.

They are incredible.

Fantastic. I especially like the one
about the stray German shepherd.

That image of the lonely man walking
along the shore, and then he picks up a

stick and throws it, and the German
shepherd appears out of nowhere and

it back.

I cried like a baby.