All language subtitles for Copie db

Subtitles by explosiveskull
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"Resfeber.

Swedish.

The restless race
of the traveler's heart

before the journey begins,

when anxiety and anticipation
are entangled.

As I packed my bags,

my resfeber surged
at full-throttle,

elevating the smallest decisions
into epoch-making significance.

The choice between sneakers
or flats was lent gravity

usually reserved for
matters of national security."

Just catch some good sleep.

I won't sleep tonight,
I'm too nervous.

- That's just resfeber .
- It's what?

Resfeber, a Swedish word.

It's when you're about
to travel, and you're anxious,

but excited
about the journey ahead.

- Oh, nice to know I'm not alone.
- Enjoy your stay.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

Sorry.

Buonasera, madam,
welcome to the Ramada Venice.

Hello, I have a reservation
for three nights,

under the name of Jovana Fey,
with a J.

Thank you.

Madam I'm afraid
your booking was canceled.

That's not possible.
Is your manager here?

That's me.

Perhaps you need to make a call?

This is Alec.

Alec, it's Jovana, um,

I just went to check in

at the Ramada Venice,

and the reservation
was canceled.

Do you know what's happening?

- Amber!
- What?

Tell me you rang Jovana Fey.

I told you I called her
and I left a message.

She says she called
and left you a message.

Um, that's impossible,
I don't use message bank.

She says she doesn't
use message bank.

Jovana is the Bengali
refugee, right?

No, Amber, that's Yolotzyn.

I should have called you myself.

And I've been so busy packing
that I forgot to chase you up.

Packing?

Alec, you're scaring me,
what was the message?

Jovana,

I've gone bankrupt.

- What?
- When we agreed to publish your book

we were already on thin ice,

but were hoping the tides
would turn,

but it never happened,
we're finished, I'm sorry.

Alec,
my novel was released yesterday.

I've just arrived in Venice.

I have a three week tour ahead

to publicize this damn
thing across Europe,

and you're telling me this now?

What are you doing?
Are you typing?

- Speak to me!
- I'm sending you an email.

All rights to
Don't Read This On A Plane

have reverted to you,
effective immediately.

The book stores
at which you'll be speaking

have already bought
and received their copies.

It's your decision
whether to reprint,

whether through a vanity press,
or different publisher, or online.

All your hotel bookings
have been canceled,

because they were payable
upon check-in.

But we did pre-purchase
your flights,

so you can still do
the tour if you like.

You'll just need to pay
for your own taxis,

food, accommodation, promotion,

insurance, communications,
and miscellaneous expenses.

Oh, the Greeks did insist on
upfront payment for your driver.

Uh, nothing
like a collapsed economy

to spark a bit
of entrepreneurial spirit.

Alec, I don't have
a cent to my name,

what use is a bunch of flights?

What about your husband?
Doesn't he work on an oil rig?

Those guys bring home the bacon!

He took a pay cut
to keep his job.

He can barely afford
his share of rent.

Jovana,

I apologize profusely.

Maybe this is for the best. Hm?

I am stranded

and penniless, Alec.

So, how could this
possibly be for the best?

- Name?
- Jovana Fey...

With a J.

- It is possible.
- No, it's not.

- No, it is.
- No, no, no, it's impossible.

If we don't know
what dark matter is,

how can we picture it?

Okay, think about it like this.

Think of a man
blind from birth, right?

He knows that he's blind,
but he has no concept

of what sight actually is.

Is it like hearing, taste,

touch, balance, or temperature?

Right? Then one day,
he undergoes

a revolutionary form
of optical surgery.

They take off the bandages,

and just like that,
he can see the world.

And sight; the perception
of shapes, colors, patterns,

and textures, is like nothing
he could have ever imagined.

That is how
dark matter will be to us.

We know that it's everywhere,

we can detect
its gravitational effects,

yet, we can't observe it, and...

one day, in the near future,
we'll unlock its mystery.

And then we'll be like the blind
man who can finally see.

Or it's a parallel reality,

a civilization
more evolved than us.

And they're
watching us masturbate.

Excuse me,
have you finished with the jam?

- All yours.
- Thanks.

Are you enjoying
Comfy Bed Hostel?

Uh, my back has had better days,

but I hope they've spiked the jam with aspirin.

Yeah, last time I was moafing

I slept on a yoga mat
on the floor,

that was more comfy than here.

Moafing?

Moaf, M-O-A-F,

it means "Mattress On A Floor,"

it's a network of travelers

who'll let you crash for free.

Sometimes you get a couch,

sometimes a hammock.

Sometimes even a bed!

- Ciao, Jovana.
- Oh, ciao, Adamo!

- Lovely to meet you, finally.
- Oh, likewise.

How was the hotel?

Hmm.

You stayed at the Ramada
if I recall?

Yes!

Living the dream.
Come on, let's go.

Oh, leave it there.

"Breeding with the faraway tribe

brings healthier offspring,
she knows subconsciously.

My low-cut top seals the deal.

We barely shout a word
before our mouths lock,

grinding thigh to crotch.

I take her hand, lead her
through a gyrating throng.

Past security.

Past double-stacked beer barrels

and broken blue milk crates."

You need to
turn left at Calle Lunga!

You've crossed the wrong bridge!
You need to turn left...

- Shh!
- Sorry!

Hey, I've got to go.
Figure it out.

"Grass wet with midnight dew,

her breath mist shines
yellow in the highway lamps.

The playground's
primary colored pirate ship

glows in a starry vodka haze.

'My finger is wet.'

She half protests.

As I take a breather
from licking

an 18 year old girl's ass and
pussy in a dimly-lit quadrangle,

I glance down, and notice

the freshly-chalked squares
of a hopscotch court."

Grazie.

And with a straight face,
the guide said,

"For your information Madam,"

"...I hear that
ten times a day."

Wow, people need some fresh impressionism jokes.

There's plenty
of food in the fridge.

- Buona notte.
- Make yourselves at home.

Buona notte.

Buona notte.

Thank you so much for having me!

Don't mention it.

- Oui, allo?
- Hi, Jovana.

It's Ksenia
from the Beehive Bookstore,

calling from Oradea, Romania.

Do you have a moment to talk?

Uh, yeah, sure, hi.

Oh, I just realized
I didn't check the time there.

- Is it late?
- Um, it's midnight here in Venice.

Venice Beach, California, right?

- Italy.
- Oh, my God, I'm so sorry!

For some reason
I thought you were in L.A.

I'll call you another time.

No, it's okay,
I was still awake.

Okay, I'll keep it brief.

I wanted to confirm your
reading at the Beehive Bookstore

here in Oradea
on the 28th of this month.

I'd like
to publicize it in advance.

Yep, that's locked in.

Great, I'll leave you
to sleep then.

Um, while I have you,

what type of publicity
were you thinking?

Some online magazines,
but mostly radio if that's okay?

- Sounds good.
- Excellent.

You have a beautiful voice,
so that'd be perfect.

Oh, you think so?

Definitely, it's mellifluous.

You know, "mellifluous" is my
all-time favorite English word.

- But it's not well-known.
- I know!

I used to love "serendipity,"

then strippers started
tattooing it on their ankles.

That's true! Another
nice word is "petrichor."

Oh, my God, yes.

The earthy scent
of rain falling on dry soil.

Oh, my God, you're the first
person I've met to know that.

Not that we've met, but,
you know what I mean?

Am I really the first?

Yes.

I'm sorry Jovana,
I'm keeping you up.

Thank you for
confirming the reading.

If you have any other questions,
just call.

Perfect.

Thanks, Ksenia, good night.

Ciao!

Django Reinhardt
invented hip hop 50 years

before it officially
happened in the Bronx,

but there are no recordings.

These French jazz guys would
improvise on the guitar, violin,

the clarinet and then the
drummer would break into a solo.

And then,
as legend would have it,

they'd take turns
improvising rhymes.

We'd now call that rapping,
right?

- Sure.
- Hm-mm.

But the reason why
they never thought to record it,

- can you guess?
- I don't know.

To them they were
only joking around.

Think of that for a second.

A multi-billion dollar industry,

spanning decades,
with worldwide reach,

could have started
fifty years earlier,

on the other side of the world,

if only one
guy pressed the button.

But they didn't know
it was music.

"They didn't know it was music."

Sorry, I'm not being rude,

I'm just going
to take a note of that.

Are you a writer or something?

Trying to be.

- Ever published?
- Three novels.

Wow!

And you're hitching
through the rough,

tough streets of Italy?

Yep.

Honey,
let me tell you something.

It was my dream
as a kid to drive a truck.

All the boys
wanted to be footballers,

the girls wanted
to be ballerinas.

But when I saw
these big shiny beasts

driving by my school,
I'd fantasize

about being behind the wheel,
the road ahead,

and ten tonnes behind me.

And look at me now,
I'm living the dream.

You really are.

You're goddamn right I am.

So, let's have some jazz baby.

Whoo!

"...windswept and
rugged, where a middle-aged Indian man,

frostbitten, with
crimson cheeks and cracked lips,

held a single
thread of gnarled string

attached to an upturned piano.

He stared at it in frustration.

Clearly, the piano
was an ineffective kite."

"The credits rolled
as I cracked up laughing,

the others clapping
in perplexed politeness.

The Q&A was awkward.

As Esme stood
blinded in the spotlight,

I stared at her knee-high boots

and the cheeky hint
of thigh they revealed.

I raised my hand.

'What was your inspiration?'
I asked.

'Good question, ' she lied.

I recognized that look.

The prolonged eye contact,
dilated pupils;

I knew I'd soon gaze upon them
somewhere more comfortable,

her flat mate watching T.V.
in the next room,

superheroes shaking
walls with subwoofers,

conveniently disguising
the ebbs and flows of two girls

making getting-to-know-you
sounds amongst ruffled sheets,

the rough threads
of exposed mattress,

and the sickly-sweet cocktail

of girl sweat and insufficient
air conditioning.

The ineffective kite
was one effective lure."

Thank you so much Jovana,

does anyone have any questions?

Yes?

Hmm.

Thank you so much, Jovana.

You're welcome.

The girl with the red headband

asked me to give you this.

Are you off to your hotel now?

Yes,

the Ramada.

There is a Ramada in Porto?

Uh-huh, it's new.

♪ My heart ♪

♪ Oh, sweet, is there forever ♪

♪ It thrills ♪

♪ With love for thee alone ♪

...A lot of people
are religious, sure,

but nobody cares if you're not.

But if you confessed
in Eastern Sighisoara

that you don't believe
in God, oh,

it's like saying you don't
believe in gravity or something.

Oh, sorry,
do you mind if I take this?

- Of course.
- No, sure, take it.

- Alec?
- Jovana,

look, there's something
you should know.

In today's
Luxembourg Daily News,

there was an article about
a woman reading your book

on a Luxair flight.

Um, she was questioned by
security when she touched down.

Yeah, and then what?

Well, nothing,

it turned out to be just a book,
so they let her go.

But I thought it was
great publicity for you.

Thanks for letting me know,

but I doubt the Luxembourg press

will raise its profile much.

Which language was it in?

Uh, what language,

Amber, what language
was that article in?

Luxembourgish.

Luxembourgish.

Right.

Per capita Luxembourgians
are the second richest

people in the world,
second only to Qatar.

I dare say they can afford
your book, Jovana.

That's not the issue,
a book is hardly a Rolex.

Granted, but expense
is less of a barrier

than ignorance, or dare I say,
apathy.

This is publicity,
this is a good start!

Anyway, I've got to run.

Oh, okay, ciao for now, Jovana.

Ciao.

Thanking you, I'll get you
to sign here, thanks, mate.

So, uh, Jovana,
you mentioned your husband

was an oil rig worker, right?

Uh-huh.

How do you cope with him

being away so often?

The hardest thing is
that the rig is very remote,

so there's
no cell phone reception,

and only senior staff
have internet,

so usually we can chat
on the satellite phone,

but last week their receiver
was damaged in a storm,

and the repairman
only flies in next month.

So, I'll have a crackly-sounding
husband for a while.

But otherwise,
do you make it work?

Well, all things considered,

it's the best arrangement
I could hope for.

He's on the rig for 28 days,
then home for 28,

then away for 28,
then home for 28.

It's not for everyone,
but for us it's perfect.

Every time he returns,
we jump each other.

It's like
he's been away for a year,

and we barely leave
the bedroom all day.

For the next few weeks
we eat at cheap restaurants,

snuggle up on the couch,

buy olives at the market,

holding hands like teenagers.

And before he leaves,

there's always
that bitter-sweet sorrow.

But the weeks go quickly,

and soon we're together again.

I don't know
any other way to live.

Honey,
I think that could work for us.

Irina, I agree.

You need to find
work on an oil rig!

Kitchen.

Hola, Rafael, it's Jovana.

Uh, can I please speak to Theo?

Oi, Theo! It's your lady.

Bonjour, Baby Doll!

Hola, mon amour!

Baby, we're about to dish up,
can I call you back in an hour?

Um...

It's okay, I'm about to sleep,

I just wanted
to hear your voice.

Hey, what's wrong?

You sound a little down.

Um, the bad news

is that Alec
went out of business.

But the good news is
people are talking

about the book in the press.

Baby, I'm sorry,
I can't hear you,

the line's terrible,
this goddamn satellite dish.

Why the hell can't they charter
a chopper for the repairman?

- Cheap bastards, first they cut our pay and now this shit?
- Theo, listen.

The publisher
went out of business.

I am running out
of money very quickly

and you know we cannot
get a credit card

after the rent fiasco.

What?

Baby, I can't hear, can I call
you back in an hour? I'm sorry.

I need to sleep anyway,
we, we can try again soon.

Wait, what?

I said we...

Fuck!

Jovana!

"The longest time I'd spent

between meeting, meeting
a girl for the first time

and eating her pussy

was 18 years;

I met Katherine at school,

but we didn't get
together until we were 30.

The shortest time was with Bree,

it took seconds.

We'd chatted online for weeks,

and messages turned flirty,

then dirty.

Upon our earliest face-to-face
meeting at my doorstep,

we were kissing
with frenzied passion

before she'd laid down
her purse.

I took her hand,

led her into my room,

and before
a single minute had passed,

I lifted her skirt,
and plunged my tongue

deep inside her dripping,
wet cunt."

What's up, hungry homies?

Theo and ol' Raphael here

busy cooking up the best

honey-smoked mackerel

in this side of Soho.

Leave us a message!

Oh, hi, Jovana,
what a lovely surprise, how are you?

I'm well, thanks, Ksenia.

My flight's delayed, so

I thought I'd just run
something by you,

do you have a moment?

Um, sure! Go ahead.

Yeah, uh,
about the radio interview,

I was, uh, wondering, um,

- Yes?
- Yes.

I was wondering, uh,

what is the expected audience?

Do they want short snappy
anecdotes, or deep analysis?

A bit of both,
anyone who reads books really.

Oh, great, okay.

Also, I wanted to know, um...

Yes?

Okay, I confess,
I just rang to talk,

but that's socially unacceptable

after about age 14,
so I said the radio thing.

Oh, silly,
you can ring me to talk!

Yeah? Really?
You don't think that's awkward?

Not in the slightest,
it's nice actually,

I can hear
your mellifluous voice.

You know,
when you said the other day

that you liked my voice,
I was too shy

to return the compliment.

Sorry, Jovana, I've got
to deal with something here,

Can we chat later?

Oh, oh, okay.

- Enjoy your galivanting.
- Galivanting?

Why you know
all the best words.

I really must go, bye.

Okay, okay, sure, yes, okay.

"So for
the first time in a year,

I stepped inside an actual
brick and mortar post office.

With a door and a queue.

And a randomly curated
assortment

of overpriced stuffed toys
in red Christmas hats.

In my early days
as an aspiring writer,

I'd post something
to someone somewhere daily.

I'd lick a small rectangle
covered with sweet adhesive gum,

and attach it to a larger
white rectangle.

This ritual went unquestioned.

A mere two decades later,

it seems like something
my great grandmother

would have done
between milking a cow

and sewing her own napkins.

A woman next to me
held a large cardboard box.

She was top-heavy
like an improper fraction,

with long burgundy hair,

and fingernails a shade
I'd later learn

was called 'Profondo Rosso.'

Her faint,
cheeky smile was familiar

yet distant somehow, like
viewing a Mona Lisa photocopy

from across a smoky room.

She had a pen.

I asked if I could borrow it.

That night we ate
Hokkien Mee in Chinatown,

and drank 2-for-1 Tsingtao
beers in a karaoke bar,

the buzz of attraction

adding zest
to mass-market mouthwash.

By midnight, we were like
circus contortionists,

devouring each other
on the back seat

of her Hello Kitty-upholstered
Daihatsu Mira,

serenaded by Christmas
songs on endless repeat

in the Westfield carpark.

To this day, I can't smell
Calvin Klein Euphoria

without Rudolph
the Red-Nosed Reindeer

dashing through my head."

Danke.

The cabbie rolls
down his window and yells,

"Oi, knob face!
She's too fucking tall for ya!"

It's on me pimps.

- Danke schön.
- Danke.

You're not having a
beer, Francis?

No, I only drink beer
in the shower.

What?

Hot water, cold brew. Tight.

So, Jovana,
in real life do you...

Do I?

...um, drink Tsingtao beer?

Or was that just fiction?

Are you really
asking me about beer?

Yeah!

♪ Don't worry girl
you don't have to wake up ♪

♪ Don't worry girl
I'll leave tonight ♪

- Like a fucking pimp!
- Yeah!

Okay, your turn, pick a country.

Um, let's see,

the Dominican Republic!

- Nice, now pick a kitchen utensil.
- Ah!

- Salt shaker!
- Perfect!

"The Dominican Salt Shaker"!

Ah, okay, but how do you do it?

Ooh, okay, uh, let's see.

Maybe you cum in her ass,
then shake dandruff on her face!

Your turn, country?

Um, Bulgaria.

Kitchen utensil?

Spatula.

The Bulgarian Spatula!

Ah, thank you so much Francis,
for the lift

and for taking care of the bill.

- No problem.
- Come on.

What? What are you doing?

- Come on, no!
- Shh!

- No, what the fuck!
- Come on, baby.

And that's the tour.

Remote controls are over there.

You seem smart. I'm pretty sure
you can work them out.

- Are you okay?
- Yeah, I'm fine.

If you're afraid of dogs,
I assure you

Tom's less dangerous
than a kitchen sponge.

Eat whatever's in the fridge,

there's a heap of frozen meals

in the freezer,
just help yourself.

- Oh, no I wouldn't.
- Don't be silly,

I get them delivered
and there's always too many,

so I end up giving half
to the homeless.

There's a well-stacked
book shelf upstairs.

Feel free to open
a bottle of wine,

maybe except
the Marius Symphony,

a gift from
my dear friend Roger.

That's about it,
I've got to run.

Uh, I'll probably be
back in the wee hours,

so, make yourself at home,

and call me
if there's a problem.

- Thank you!
- Tschüssy!

Up next we'll
chat to pop superstar Kiki

about her debut novel
A Star Shines Bright,

which has already sold
one million copies.

Here's a sneak peak.

♪ Every day and night ♪

♪ I'm longing
to call your name ♪

♪ Oh, oh ♪

I believe destiny is where you
end up if you follow your heart.

♪ You're a thousand miles away ♪

♪ But I feel the flame, oh, oh ♪

So dream big and see
where the universe takes you.

♪ Every day and night ♪

♪ I'm longing
to call your name ♪

♪ Oh, oh ♪

♪ You're a thousand miles away ♪

Morgen, Jovana.

- How did you sleep?
- Oh, like a baby.

And Tommy kept me company again.

Funny you say that, Jovana.

You've been the perfect guest
these past few days,

so, how would you
feel about staying longer?

Staying longer?

I'm flying to Reykjavik
for three months tomorrow.

Tommy doesn't like many people,
but he's really taken to you.

I was planning to drop him
off at the doggy hotel, but...

if you like,
I could pay you to dog sit.

What do you say?

Here? For three months?

Correct.

And you'll pay me?

Well, it won't pay much,
but enough to cover

your rent in Paris.

So you'll break even at least.

That's a very
generous offer, Harry.

But I have to catch
a flight to Budapest today.

♪ Lost in your illusion ♪

♪ Fade away
every day I follow you ♪

♪ Enamored in agony ♪

♪ Lost in your illusion ♪

♪ Fade away
every day I follow you ♪

♪ You're burning my effigy ♪

You'll be our grand finale,

so you're welcome to have
a coffee in the green room,

or listen on the preceding
presentations.

But I warn you,
they might sound a tad bookish.

And some are in Hungarian.

It's okay, I'll listen in,

maybe I'll learn something.

Okay, great, that way.

The epistemology that informs
phenomenological methodology

must be either objectivism
or constructivism.

Epistemology studies
the nature, creation

and dissemination of knowledge...

Köszönöm.

Before we get started,
I have to confess

what I was doing
during the last presentation.

I was looking up
a few words from the topic,

namely "auto-ethnography,"

"constructivism,"

"epistemology," "hermeneutic"
and "phenomenology."

Either Hungarians
are really smart,

or I'm the victim
of a hidden camera prank.

But then the taxi driver

sticks his head out the window,
and yells,

"Oi, knob face!
She's too fucking tall for ya!"

Yeah, right,
it's that type of absurdism

you'd expect from Murakami.

Though with fewer talking cats.

If you don't have Forint
you can give me 30 Euros.

Right, so,
uh, where are we going?

Should we hit the Buddha Bar?

No, too many wanna-be pornstars.

How about Tuk Tuk?
Do you like cocktails, Jovana?

Actually, I, I think
I must get back to my hotel.

- I have a lot to organize before I fly tomorrow.
- No!

Yeah, but it's been great
to meet you all, really,

and thank you, Eva,
stay in touch.

Nice to meet you.

Yeah! Have fun!

- Allo.
- Allo.

- Thanks so much.
- Hello.

Third book published.
You're generating great

publicity through
a genius marketing strategy.

And you're
on an international tour,

which will take you
here to beautiful Oradea.

It all sounds very exciting.

Can you describe for us
your typical day on the road?

It's every writer's
dream, Razvan.

Each morning I eat
black caviar for breakfast,

bathe in sparkling Perrier,
and have my personal sculptor

carve dolphins from a cube
of Greenlandic ice.

No, it's true!
I don't even know what you look like!

Does that matter?

That's uneven!

You know what I look like,

because I'm on the back
of the book,

but I googled you, and there's
a million women with your name.

It's a common name.
But why would you care

how I look anyway?

What,
are you some kind of monster?

It doesn't matter,

I'm really looking
forward to meeting you,

even if you do look like Shrek!

And then he said,
"Where is my fish?"

- Kitchen.
- Hola, mon amour.

Aww, Baby Cakes! How are you?

Theo! I need your help!
I need money!

Oh, no.

This phone's still
a piece of shit, what?

Wha... How's the tour?

Alec went bankrupt.
I've been trying to tell you

but the phone,
the phone keeps cutting out.

I have been hitchhiking
everywhere...

...stranger's mattresses.

Baby, did you, did you say
"stranger's mattresses"?

Do we have anything in the bank
somehow, somewhere?

Baby.

Why can't they fix
this fucking phone, dude?

I don't understand.

Baby, what?

Hello?

Jovana?

Shit.

Throwing the phone
will not fix the problem.

If I can't throw the phone,
I'll throw you! How's that?

Throwing me
will hurt your shoulder.

Try this.

Better?

A little, thank you.

What's up, hungry homies?

Theo and ol' Raphael here busy

cooking up the best
honey-smoked mackerel

in this side of Soho.

Leave us a message!

Hi, it's me, it cut out again,

like it does every fucking time.

If you somehow receive
this message,

can you try to call me back?

Bribe your boss to,
to use the internet.

I know we don't have
any savings, but maybe

your work can give you
an advance or something?

Let me know. Okay? Je t'aime.

Here is

twenty euro.

It not much.

You maybe buy little bit food.

No, I couldn't possibly...

Please.

I have job.

Take.

Thank you.

You are welcome.

"Katja and I had a
lost weekend in a hotel in Budapest.

Only a twin room was available,
so we pushed two beds together.

As I felt myself slipping
between mattresses,

Katja narrated the scene

her lover falling down
a huge crevasse,

necessitating a search party

of specially-trained
sniffer dogs raised from birth

to descend the slippery
slopes of crisp white linen.

Too lazy to do dishes,

we ate Crunchy Nut
Corn Flakes from cups.

Katja went to make coffee,

and returned to find me
hugging a pillow.

She stood there, naked,

French press in hand,
and feigned admonishment.

'I'm gone five minutes,
and you've already found someone else?'

Sunrise, and she woke me
with her tongue between my legs.

When we finally spoke, I asked,

'Is that how you
always say good morning?'

She replied, 'Yes,

it can be awkward
when I bump into friends

on the bus.'"

"Katja found a job
as an in-house typographer

in an agency in Dublin.

I said goodbye
at the departure lounge

clutching an overpriced
caramel latte.

I said, 'Don't be a stranger.'

She kissed my hand, winked,
and disappeared through customs.

I went home,
watched Dirty Dancing,

and ate cereal from a mug."

Efcharistó.

Thank you, Jovana.

That was very enjoyable.

I have many comments,
but I will open it to the floor.

- Anyone have a question, yes?
- Yes.

Hello, Jovana.

I'm, I'm Elias from
the Traveling Book Buff.

I'm pretty sure that you've
heard of my channel before?

No?

Really?

Oh, ha-ha, okay.

Well, I just have
one question for you.

That's, um,
is your book autobiographical?

We are maybe getting
a little personal there.

Jovana?

Um, American Psycho

got inside the mind

of a serial killer, but

do you think Bret Easton Ellis

actually chopped up
women with an axe?

Let me just say,
I am happily married.

Well, that's a very smart
way of dodging a question,

but I find it very disingenuous
to mislead your readers...

- That's enough.
- My followers need to know!

Sir! Sir,
you're being disruptive.

I think you should leave.

This is censorship, seriously!

I don't...

I don't speak Greek,

but I kind
of get your point, yeah?

Um, Jovana, I'm just saying,

I'm never going to model
for Calvin Klein

like Tiny Banderas over here,

but I'm going
to front my videos,

not hide behind a facade.

My apologies, everybody.

Yes, yes up the back there?

♪ Silence is your enemy ♪

You could
cut the tension with a knife.

So the question remains,

did Jovana Fey
sleep with a hundred women?

Ooh!

Okay, the big
ol' elephant in the room.

Did I sleep
with all those women?

Oh, is that the time? I've got a friend to meet!

♪ Silence ♪

♪ Is your friend ♪

♪ Silence ♪

♪ Is your enemy ♪

Sorry about the mattress.

We had an foam one but, uh,

the dog pissed on it.

There.

You have a dog?

No.

I, uh, sorry to pry,
but, uh, are you an author?

Yes.

I don't suppose
you wrote a book called, uh,

Don't Read This In The Air?

Don't Read This On A Plane,
yes.

I thought so, I watched
a review of it today,

so your face is familiar.

Oh, good to know.

- So, is it true?
- Is what true?

- That you, uh...
- That I?

That you're, you know,

intentionally being
controversial

to, uh...

Court publicity.

...to court publicity.

Is it true?

You mean,
is it autobiographical?

No! I don't care
about the sexy stuff.

Come on!
What year is this? 1955?

But apparently,

there's a bit
in the book that's designed

to get someone arrested
if they read it on a plane.

That's just a joke,

nobody would take it seriously,

surely.

Whatever helps you
sleep at night.

Anyway, bathroom's here,

I'll show you the trick
with the tap.

Oui, allo?

Jovana!

This is Alec!
Have you heard the news?

It's happened again,
only this time in The States.

This could be
the big breakthrough!

What news?

I, I'm sending you the link,
have a look.

Uh, I just woke up,
can you read it to me?

Oh, okay, okay, okay, okay,
so, so, the headline is

"Woman Questioned
For Reading Book on Plane.

A woman on a Jet Blue
flight from Atlanta to Denver

was met by anti-terrorism
officials upon disembarking.

Sources indicate
she was reading a book titled

Don't Read This On A Plane by
Paris-based novelist Jovana Fey.

The book contains a,"
blah-blah-blah,

it goes on to describe
the offending passage

and says she was released
without charge.

Not much of a story,
but fantastic publicity!

Cool!

Yeah, cool, cool, cool,
indeed, yeah!

Only I think today's youth
would call it "sick"!

And semantics aside,
this is what we needed, Jovana.

What do you mean "we," Alec?
You're no longer the publisher.

You're right.

I'm just saying,

as a friend,

you should make the most of it.

Because this, my dear,

is what success feels like.

This is what you've been working
for your whole lifetime.

So,

take a look around and,

breathe the air and,

soak up the moment!

Thank you Alec, all the best.

Hi, um, I'm looking for Nicu.

- Yeah, tall guy, grey hair.
- Okay, thanks.

Jovana, you've made it,
I'm Nicu.

Nice to meet you.

Have a koekje!

Oh.

"I met Harriet
in a retro bar in Montreal.

She said she had
dental floss stuck in her teeth,

but was enjoying the irony.

She was a petite Australian

with a pierced lip, green hair,

and a tattoo of a walrus
on her left buttock.

When I asked whether
she were a John Lennon fan,

she said, 'Not really, I just
reckon walruses are cool.'"

"She played jokes

whenever an opportunity knocked,

from burning my lips with
weapons-grade ghost peppers,

to pretending to be
a stranger on public transport

before showing inappropriate
levels of affection."

"Prior to my departure
from a recent rendezvous,

she scribbled a note
in my journal.

I went to read it, but
she said to save it for the air.

Mid-flight, I opened the page
at the bookmark she'd placed.

Five words,
my heart skipped a beat,

and I slammed the pages
together in a mad panic.

Regaining my composure,
if not my breath,

I slowly opened
the book for another look,

there I saw it..."

"'There's a bomb on board.'"

"As I pictured
my new life in Guantanamo Bay,

I finally
understood the walrus tattoo,

tamed, they can perform
tricks at Seaworld,

like the spectacle of a dainty,

green-haired,
nymph reading Bukowski

while sipping bourbon in
a windowless Montreal speakeasy.

But turn your back,

and you might find a tusk
through your abdomen."

Bedankt.

Great response there, Jovana.

I think you really have some
serious fans here in Maastricht!

Any questions from the audience?

- Yes.
- Hi, Jovana.

Have you ever had a headbutt?

What?

♪ Every day and night
I am longing ♪

♪ For your name, oh, oh ♪

♪ You're a thousand
miles away... ♪

What?

Hello, allo, allo, allo,
allo, allo, allo, allo.

♪ Baby, say...

I can't hear you, what?

Okay, and now?

- Do you hear me?
- Ah!

I can hear you!

Finally, wow, hi.

Okay, um, I don't know
if you got my last message,

but I have completely
run out of money.

Do, do we have
anything in the bank?

Some notes stuffed
into the mattress even?

I'm desperate.

Baby, I'm sorry, I did...

get your message, I just...

I've been ashamed to admit
that I can't help you.

And, Jovana, I need
to provide for you better,

I know that,
and I promise you, baby, I will.

Okay, I'm going to come through for you.
When I open my restaurant

it'll be a huge success and
I'll take care of everything.

Okay, Theo,
save your breath, okay,

I'm so fucking tired
of this shit.

Fuck!

Oh, hello there,

calling me again in the wee
hours of the morning?

I just rang
to talk if that's okay?

Yeah, of course it's okay!

Okay, so are you all
prepared for my reading?

Of course.

Though my bookstore
isn't big enough,

so we're moving
to another venue.

What? That's great news.

I have to start
charging an appearance fee.

Well, we're a small operation

but I can probably find
a way to reward you.

Oh, my God,
it sounds rather suggestive.

I will neither confirm
nor deny that intention.

But, uh, you don't know
what I look like, remember?

I could be hideous.

You don't sound hideous.

A voice can be deceiving.

I once spoke with a publisher's
intern on the phone,

she had a beautiful,
chirpy voice,

and I pictured her wearing
a yellow summer dress

and a white hair ribbon.

When we met,

she had dreadlocks and horns.

Horns?

She had implants under her skin.

Yuck!

But she spoke like
the voiceover girl

on a toothpaste commercial,

and soon we'd share lemon tea
without me even noticing.

And then she went home

and carved a pentagram
into a kitten's forehead.

Jovana?

Yes?

Did you sleep
with all those women?

If I did,
would that make me a slut?

Maybe it's time we admit

that everyone's a bit of a slut.

But you're just
a little sluttier.

Oh! I'd slap your face
if I had longer arms.

Nice to meet you, finally.

So now I know how you look like.

I gave the jar
to my client Frederik,

explaining explicitly

that it's to be spread very
thinly on toast, with butter.

But that gets
lost in translation

when I'm invited
over for dinner,

and Frederik's wife brings
it out with the barbecue pork.

She unscrews the jar,

scoops a big Vegemite
dollop onto her plate,

and dabs the meat into it like

dirty black mustard.

I didn't want her
to feel stupid,

so I did the same,

as did Frederik
and the other guests.

No one was eating this black
sludge because they wanted to.

We were all doing it
for the sake of someone else.

Sorry, I'm waffling.

No, not at all.

I think it's a lovely story.

It calls for a toast.

So, here's for not doing things

just to please others.

There are not many left.

Do you want to give them
a link to the e-book?

Uh, whatever you like.

Sorry, um,

maybe we get an intern
to do the reading?

There are hungry hoards
out there awaiting your wisdom.

I heard, um,

there's a waterpark
with nice jacuzzies and stuff.

This has been fun.

Multumesc.

Thank you so much.

Chapter 67,

"Lorraine.

I first met Lorraine

at the frozen quiche section
at the Huntington Supermarket.

And..."

You know what?

Let's get back to Lorraine
in a minute,

but first
I want to say a few words.

Whenever I do a reading,
someone inevitably asks

whether Don't Read This On A
Plane is autobiographical,

did I sleep
with a hundred women?

I've dodged the question

in public,

and in private,

trying to hold onto the mystique

a non-answer generates,

because mystique
translates into sales.

And I need to sell
books to survive.

But this whole charade
has weighed me down, so...

I'm going
to answer the question.

Is Don't Read This On A Plane
autobiographical?

Yes.

Absolutely.

I have indeed slept
with a hundred or so women.

And each one of the encounters
in this book happened to me.

I've changed the names
and a few details,

but the stories, and feelings,

are all based on fact.

And each one has shaped me.

And you want
to know something else?

I've been
on tour for a few weeks,

and during that time,
I've slept with

two more.

Actually, make that three.

Okay, four.

My husband Theo and I have
been married now for ten years.

Is he aware of my dalliances?

Of course he is.

In fact, he encourages them,

because he wants me
to be fulfilled.

But there is a caveat
to this arrangement,

he insists that my flings
stay purely physical.

He doesn't want me to be emotionally
involved with any of these women.

But see,
I'm not sure that's possible.

It's natural for me
to feel something

for every woman I'm with.

Sometimes I can walk away,

enjoy some lingering
sensations over breakfast,

and then think
nothing more of it.

Other times,
I'm swept off my feet,

with a rush,
like a teenager's first love.

Why am I sharing this now?

From a marketing
perspective it's self-sabotage,

I've ruined the mystique.

You all know the truth.

End of narrative.

Maybe I've killed my sales.

But if that's the price
of peace of mind, so be it.

Anyway, thank you for listening,

back to the frozen quiche.

Mon amour?
Are you back on land?

Hey, honey!
Even better, I'm home.

What? Don't move!

Hey! Baby.

Look, I'm so sorry
for what happened.

I'm aware that
most restaurants fail.

I am, okay, I,

I said to Rafael over there,
I said,

"I must be fucking crazy

to open yet another restaurant

right in the heart of Paris."

And he said to me, "Yes, Theo,

you are crazy,

but knowing you,
not even a straight jacket

will hold you back.

You'll be dicing onions with
a knife between your teeth."

It's true!

Regardless, as of tonight,

we've officially survived
one year in business.

- Woo!
- Thank you.

And, hey, we must be doing
something right,

because there
has not been a single

case of food poisoning!

I mean, wow.

Now as many of you know,

I imagined this place

as a cultural mecca.

Jazz, readings and recitals.

Granted it has taken
a while to get here, but...

ladies and gentlemen
I'm honored to finally host

- Savory Notes #1.
- Woohoo!

And I'm especially honored

to introduce our first artist,
my beautiful wife.

Or as you may know her,
Theo's beautiful wife.

She'll read
from her story titled,

They Didn't Know it was Music.

Over to you baby.

Merci, mon amour.

They Didn't Know it was Music.

"Resfeber.

Swedish.

The restless race
of the traveler's heart

before the journey begins,

when anxiety and anticipation
are entangled.

Chapter one.

As I packed my bags,

my resfeber surged
at full-throttle,

elevating the smallest decisions

into epoch-making significance.

The choice
between sneakers or flats

was lent gravity
usually reserved

for matters
of national security,

decisions deciding
the fate of civilization.

It was the Cuban missile crisis
of comfortable footwear.

My indecision was crippling.

I needed a random determinant
to unlock my subconscious.

So I flipped a coin.

Heads.

I'd take sneakers.

Damn it, I wanted flats.

Like a blind man
who could finally see,

I could now see
what I truly desired.

The coin was wrong.

But I had
to flip it to find out."

♪ Where's this going girl ♪

♪ Are you having fun
because I don't understand ♪

♪ I'm beginning to think
you're fooling me ♪

♪ because my feelings mean ♪

♪ I don't need to say that
for you it's just a game ♪

♪ When I don't want to bait ♪

♪ You used to kind
but now you're just obscene ♪

♪ I just want to say ♪

♪ Don't worry girl
you don't have to wake up ♪

♪ Don't worry girl
I leave tonight ♪

♪ You were a special girl
that I used to adore ♪

♪ And now you're
making me feel down ♪

♪ Like a rolling stone
when it starts to roll ♪

♪ And you're nothing
but a plonk ♪

♪ Oh, no, no, no ♪

♪ Lost in your illusion ♪

♪ Fade away, every day
I follow you ♪

♪ Enamored in agony ♪

♪ Lost in your illusion ♪

♪ Fade away, every day
I follow you ♪

♪ You're burning my effigy ♪

♪ Lost in your illusion ♪

♪ Fade away, every day
I follow you ♪

♪ Enamored in agony ♪

♪ Lost in your illusion ♪

♪ Fade away, every day
I follow you ♪

♪ You're burning my effigy ♪

♪ Every day and night
I'm longing ♪

♪ To call your name, oh, oh ♪

♪ You're a thousand miles away ♪

♪ But I feel the flame, oh, oh ♪

♪ Every day and night
I'm longing ♪

♪ To call your name, oh, oh ♪

♪ You're a thousand miles away ♪

♪ But I feel the flame, oh, oh ♪

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