Original subtitles

Lesser, I know you're in there.

I heard the tippety-type of your typewriter.

You know I have nothing

but the greatest respect for writers.

I want you to finish your book,

win the Nobel Prize!

- Levenspiel.

Have mercy, Lesser.

- I can't work with you making that fucking racket!

- Lesser, let me in.

You're as pale as a dead fish, Lesser.

What kind of life is this?

I don't understand how you can stay

in this lousy flat all day.

Lesser, please move out

so I can break up this rotten building

that weights like a hunch on my back.

- I can't leave in the middle of my book!

If I did, it would take me six months to get back to work.

You don't know what you're asking, Levenspiel.

- Lesser, every other tenant has settled

for a $400 buyout.

You I offer $1,000 cash and you look at me

like I have a social disease.

Outside of your $72 monthly rent

which only half pays for the oil you use.

I have no other income coming in from this place.

So if you're really a man, Lesser, a human being,

please understand my situation.

- Levenspiel, I'm listening.

I've worked hard.

I'm gonna finish soon,

just please have some patience with me.

My last book, for reasons I won't go into, was a bomb.

I need to redeem myself in my own eyes.

Once I hit it right,

the book will be off my chest and your back

and I'll leave overnight and I'll go away.

For Christ sakes, you're eating up my writing time.

Let me work in peace, just go.

Go.

- Fuck your book!

Mark my words, Lesser,

in this world it's the heart that counts.

- Hey man, don't you see me writing on my book?

I'm sorry.

I'm a writer myself.

I live alone in this building, alone on this floor.

I'm writing a book myself.

- Baby, it's a long, hard, lonely life.

But dig this.

From now on, I'll be here writing on my book daily.

- You mean Levenspiel's letting you?

And which cat is that?

- He owns the building.

Haven't you met him?

Didn't he tell you you could work here?

- Look man, I'm not interested in no Jew landlord.

I was just looking for a place to finish writing my book

and hey, I ended up here.

- What sort of writing do you do,

if you don't mind me asking?

- Now that's a personal question.

And what I'm writing, it's my personal business.

- No, all I meant was out of curiosity.

Are you writing fiction, prose, short stories, what?

- It might be fiction, but nonetheless, it's real.

- Nobody said it wasn't.

Harry.

Harry Lesser's my name.

- Willie Spearmint.

- Well sorry for the interruption.

I better be getting back to my own book.

My third novel.

It was a surprise to find somebody else up here typing.

I thought for a second I was going crazy.

I--

I had gotten used to be the only man on the island.

Sorry again, I hate interruptions myself.

If you need anything,

I'm generally free in the late afternoon.

Like, you know, 5:00, 5:30.

You know what, make it 6:00, 6:00 is a pretty close bet.

Say man, can I leave this here

until the morning?

I don't want nobody to steal it out of my office.

I've been hiding it in the closet,

but that ain't like hiding, if you can dig what I'm saying.

- You through for the day?

- What's it to you? - Nothing,

just thought I'd ask.

I work from like 8:00-12:00,

four solid hours, then I'm out.

Man, I tell you, this writing stuff is no joke.

How long you go for?

- About six hours a day, sometimes more.

What about your manuscript?

You could leave it here.

Needless to say, I would respect your privacy.

- No sir.

This stays with Papa.

- I understand.

About what time will you be coming for the machine?

Eh, like 8:00 or 9:00.

But if I miss a day, don't even sweat it.

- Well, I'm up by then except Sundays.

- Sundays I'm flipping my girl.

Well, I envy you that.

- No need, man, it's me all around.

- The women I meet generally wanna get married.

- Stay away from that type.

Hey Les, is it cool if I leave my typewriter

on the table right here?

Man oh man, Less, this is a groovy apartment.

Yeah.

- I made some money on a movie sale about eight years ago.

I took it all in deferred payments.

I've done fine until now.

- Shit, Les, if I had that kind of bread,

I'd be king of shit mountain.

Whatcha gonna do when it's all gone?

- Well, most of it is all gone now.

But my book will be finished by the summer.

The advance on that should carry me another two, three years

to the next one.

- It take you that long to write a book?

Three years?

- Longer.

I'm a slow writer.

- Baby, you better put the pedal to the metal.

Rock Modonov, Ballios, Schumann.

- Be careful, those are pretty expensive.

- Man, what's this girl to you?

- She's real.

She talks to me. - Talking ain't tellin'.

Are you an expert on the black experience?

- I'm an expert at writing.

- Good 'cause I hate all that black like me bullshit.

White folks trying to tell me what it's like to be black.

Nice crib, Lesser.

Would like to throw a party in here.

Not this week, maybe next.

Say, baby, let's just have a good time tonight.

I don't need for you to be frowning down like that.

Come on, girl, stop being so uptight.

Put a smile on your face.

You're too beautiful for that.

Say Lesser, what's happening, baby?

Come on, woman, come on.

How you doing this evening?

- I'm Mary Kettlesmith.

- Sam.

- Willie's white chick.

- Say Lesser, I would've brought more people

but it's cold as fuck outside

and you know black people don't do well

in those conditions.

Say Lesser man, what is this shit you're listening to?

- It's hard music.

- I got some righteousness here for you.

Not that watered down shit you're used to.

# As I look all around, all I can see #

# Is more and more people who agree #

# They have enough, yet they want some more #

# And then steal, leave and kill to get some more #

- You know, I only live a few blocks away

on Court and 4th.

- I'm sorry.

- It's okay, don't worry about it, Harry.

I like you just fine.

You smell white.

- What's white smell like?

- No smell at all.

- Say Lesser, have a seat, man.

Come take a hit of this.

It's part Lebanese.

Hashish.

Don't smell it, boy, suck it in your gut.

Hey, give me that.

What's your book about?

- Love, I guess.

It's about this guy who writes

because he's never really told the truth.

And he's dying to.

What's yours about?

- Shit, me?

- How's it coming?

- Smooth.

How's yours?

- Slow.

- Shit, I'mma win the fucking Nobel Peace Prize.

They're gonna give me a million dollars in cash, baby.

- After me, Willie.

I'm writing my best book.

It's a small masterpiece, this book.

This book is gonna grant me immortality.

Harry Lesser, I'll be remembered.

- Pile on this shit, man, pile it on.

Pile on the coal 'til you see the smoke.

You can had it in mortality shit.

Me, I only shovel up to breathe.

- Hmm, it's only money, Willie.

- That's all I want, fuck everything else.

- No, art's the glory.

Art is the glory.

Money has schmuck thinks otherwise.

- Say Lesser, don't bug me with that Jew word.

I know what you're thinking about.

Don't think I don't.

My book will be dynamite

and I'm gonna drop it on the first white prick I see.

- Fuck off.

I'm Willie's girl.

- Sorry.

Do you bite your nails?

- Yes.

My real name is Belinski Napel

and I've been Willie's girl for two years.

Anything else you wanna know?

What's your book about, Lesser?

- Love.

- What do you know about love?

- Say Lesser man, cool it.

Don't go pulling that ape shit on me.

Say Lesser, thanks for the book time tonight, baby.

We groove on art.

You my man.

My favorite man.

We're gonna be real tight, baby.

Say Les, let me pull your coat about something, man.

- Willie, I know.

I am so sorry about last night.

It was the hashish, I was stoned.

I wasn't myself.

I'm sorry.

- I was thinking I could leave my manuscript here tonight.

- Sure.

Sure.

Don't worry about anybody reading it.

You have my word on that.

- Look, I'm asking you to read it.

I sat in my office today reading over my book.

I had a funny feeling I fell off track some-fucking-where.

I don't know why, where or when,

all I know is that my vision got blurred up.

- You need some distance, Willie.

Just walk away from it for a minute.

- Man, I tried that bullshit already.

You'd save me a lot of worry and a lot of trouble

if you tell me where I went wrong.

- You want me to read your manuscript?

- Nobody else I know has two novels published.

- Well, I will if you really want me to.

- Now would I be asking you if I didn't want you to?

- Willie.

I'm ready to talk about it whenever you are.

- Thank you, Lesser, for reading it.

- Drink?

- Let's cut the preliminary bullshit, Lesser,

and get right down to it.

Willie, you asked me to read your book.

If you think you're gonna be uptight about what I say,

then maybe we oughta call it off right now.

- I am uptight, man, because that's my nature

as well as my personal privilege.

- Well I've got my own nature to consider

and it likes to live in peace.

All I'm saying is if we can't have a reasonable talk,

then let's just forget it.

I've been on my book for years and finally wanna get it done

and for that, I need peace and quiet.

That's why I like it up here.

No serious disturbances. - Instead of preaching

to me, Lesser, you need to get off your white ass

and speak your true peace.

I don't want you to bullshit with me

nor do I want to argue with you.

- I heartily agree.

Willie, what can I tell you?

I mean, what can I say to a man

who has seen the things that you have seen?

First off, there's no question that you're a writer.

Both parts of the book, the autobiography and the story,

both strong and moving.

I especially like the last story.

"I Write for Black Freedom,"

the one about Ephraim, Harry and the white girl?

Stunning.

Whatever the writing lacks,

there's obviously a talent at work here.

- Oh, come on now, Lesser,

who you talking to?

You ain't telling me nothin'.

Get down to the cold shit truth of it all.

- Okay, Willie.

The truth is the book is good, but it could be better.

- I told you that myself.

Now tell me what I really asked you.

Where did I steer off track?

I would say that the form of a whole

really isn't sufficient.

There's a flawed quality which you call blurred

that gives it that shifting effect

that seems to bother you.

- Lesser, I'm gonna show you

how completely full of shit you are in what you just said.

First off, the way you classify my work, dead wrong.

The part you call autobiography, made up.

I made this shit up, it's pure fiction.

I made it up as I was going along.

The guy narrating, that ain't me.

Shit, I was born in Harlem, 129th Street.

And I moved to Bestow with my mom when I was six years old.

The closest I've been down south

is swimming at Coney Island.

I never lived in Detroit, Michigan,

despite my father did for three years

working at a shitty job cleaning out toilets.

On the other hand, the four short stories that I wrote,

that shit was real.

It's about brothers like me, and live a hard life,

they gotta deal with redneck motherfuckers

like yourself every day.

That's the only art about it, this book had to bring.

That's it, end of story.

- Well, the book has its home of an autobiography,

but even if it's pure fiction,

the point is something's not coming off right

or you wouldn't have asked me to read it.

- Lesser, how can you be so fucking sure

about what you say if my book turns out

to be two different things than you thought?

- In any case, we both agree it needs more work.

- Work?

I work my ass off to the flat bone.

I work past misery, man.

This is my fourth draft.

How many more I got to do?

- Maybe try one more. - Fuck that!

- Listen, Willie, I've got to get back to my own book now.

- Look man, don't give me that grieve shit.

- I know how you feel, Willie.

I've been in your shoes.

- Ain't no white motherfucker been in my shoes.

This book is about a black man.

White fiction is completely different.

You don't understand this shit.

- You can't turn the black experience into literature

just by writing it down!

- Black fiction ain't white.

It can't be.

We feel different, we write different,

our chemistry is different.

I write for the souls of all the black people crying out,

we ain't gonna be slaves

in this motherfucking country no more.

We ain't gonna deal with you redneck motherfuckers no more.

You wouldn't understand that, though, Lesser

because your brain is white.

- Willie, a million black men

can have the same appalling experience.

It takes one unique man to write it down.

Then it's not a black thing.

It's not a white thing.

It's a human thing.

It's your job to make it my experience.

That's what a writer does, Willie.

That's what a writer does.

- Being human ain't shit.

It ain't never done nothing for us.

- Willie, why don't you just find yourself a publisher

and let them read it, okay?

Let them read it. - Them redhead motherfuckers

don't wanna hear what my book has to say.

They scared of it.

What a fool, what a black ass fool I was

letting you read my fucking book.

- Willie.

Where you been?

I was worried about you, Willie.

- Call me Bill, Lesser.

My writing name is my real one from now on.

Bill Spear.

- Okay, well Bill it is then.

- Lesser, I wanna say something to you

going back to that rap we had the other day.

Won't take but a minute.

- What is it, Willie?

I'm sorry, Bill.

- I went by the library by my girl's house

and checked out your books, both of them.

I might add, the second book gives off a bad smell.

But the first one you wrote, classic.

It's the truth.

Irene said I'd be talking to myself.

Wasn't expecting nothing like that from you, Les,

such a square like yourself.

- Well thanks anyway, Bill.

- But there's one thing. - What?

- The sister in the book, the chick,

to me she wasn't black, but I liked her attitude

and I wouldn't mind if there was some pipe in the pants.

- Well, at least she was real enough to want to fuck.

- Yeah, she was real, but not like anybody I know.

At least nobody black.

But I will admit, it got me thinking.

After reading your book, both of 'em,

I understand what you was talking about with that form shit.

What's the matter, man, you all right?

- I just got a lot of stuff on my mind.

- But you see what I mean.

Because I don't wanna become some half-assed white writer

or some black writer who writes

what the white man tells him to write.

I gotta write from the heart.

I mean, we are different than you, Lesser.

We write different, we feel different, we are different.

What I wanna do is take what you know, add onto what I know,

put 'em both together and write black art

as a black man should.

And if I gotta learn from you or any other white man,

then so be it, that's what it's gonna be,

that's what the purpose is all about.

So I want you to take everything that I gave you

and throw it away.

I got some new shit.

I got this story I'm working on

where this kid and his mom,

they just go out and kill white people all day in the south.

Yeah.

Been thinking about calling it

"Kill Whitey: a Revenge Story."

Check this out, Les.

Here's what I want you to do for me

and I wouldn't be asking this if we both wasn't writers.

Tell me how can I write the same things,

the same ideas, but only better?

- I don't know if this is a good idea

considering how things went the other day.

- Well baby, if you don't wanna read what I show you,

fuck your white ass.

Who's the gorilla in old timer's old flat,

a friend of yours?

- Which gorilla do you have in mind?

- Don't get cute with me, Lesser.

I found a typewriter on the table in the living room.

Also an apple, less a few bites.

And a piss-smelling mattress in the middle of the floor.

Where's he hiding?

I'll take your word for it.

Who is this son of a bitch?

- I don't know.

He comes and goes.

- Well, he's some kind of writer

'cause I read some of the rolled up paper balls

he throws on the floor.

One begins with a small little boy in Harlem.

Who is he, colored?

- I don't know.

- Well you tell him, whoever he is, that he's trespassing

and I'm gonna throw him out on his ass.

- You're trespassing on my writing time.

- Hey.

So how's the work coming?

- On and off.

Too many interruptions.

- May I ask you, will you take $1,500 if I made the offer?

I'd take it, it's pure gold.

- I'll keep it in mind.

I'm writing as fast as I can.

You rush, you distort.

- That's your final offer? - Final once removed.

Once final, I seek, but can't find.

- Tell that nigger I'm coming back with a cop.

- Tell him yourself.

- Went to get a typewriter--

Who took my stuff, Lesser, you?

- Levenspiel found your stuff.

Went to get a cop. - What the fuck for?

What harm am I doing here?

- Trespassing. - In this shit hole?

- He had one writer to get rid of and now he's got two

and you don't pay rent.

- The Jew son lord bastard.

- Cut the Jew stuff, Willie.

- Bill is my name, Lesser.

- Okay, Bill, cut out the Jew stuff.

- Oh, shit.

Go into the bathroom.

Police, open up.

- Levenspiel, what's your business?

- Our business is legal, Lesser.

We broke up your friend's furniture and apartment

which he was trespassing.

But I know you're in possession of his typewriter.

That I already saw.

- I hope you're proud of yourself.

- Well they're my rights.

Not that a landlord has many in this farkakte city.

They're my rights.

I don't owe you any apologies, Lesser.

I'm about to search every apartment in this building

and if we don't find your black friend anywhere else,

I'll know that you're hiding him here.

- Bring a search warrant if you wanna get in.

- We will.

- What are your plans, Willie?

- I don't got no fucking plans!

Look at this shit.

Me and my girl just got in a fucking argument

the other night.

I can't go back to her place.

Goddamn!

- Listen, you can, you can work in my kitchen tomorrow

or if it makes you feel claustrophobic

we can move the table into the living room.

In a couple days, we'll find you a new place.

I know a secondhand store on 3rd Avenue.

We can pick up a few things there.

- Les, man, I ain't got no bread.

It's what me and Irene keep arguing about.

She wants me to get a gig.

- Well, don't worry about it.

I still have a few dollars in the bank.

- My man.

You all right, Lesser.

Right on, Lesser, right on.

- I know the artist.

His name was Lizzar Cohen.

I know the woman, too.

She was his girlfriend at the time.

He worked on it for many years and then gave up.

He never thought he got it right.

His friends persuaded him to release it for sale,

but didn't do him any good.

He's dead.

He hit a truck with his motorcycle on Hudson Street.

- Is Willie a good writer?

I mean, will he be?

- He could be if he stays with it.

There's no half-assed way to be a good writer.

- There's nothing half-assed about Willie.

You know, you really hurt him, what you said about his book.

- I didn't mean to.

- Well, he said you didn't think much of it.

- I liked the stories better than the life.

They're a lot more original.

- But it isn't just autobiographical.

Willie came to Harlem from Georgia when he was 16

with his mom and kid sister.

- I thought it was Mississippi.

- Changes his birthplace every time he talks about it.

There's a lot of stuff

he just really doesn't like to remember.

- Did he really do a stretch in prison?

- Two years.

You know, but most of it's made up.

Willie's a very imaginative guy.

He enjoys being imaginative.

You should hear when he gets to talking about himself.

That's the tone I'd like to see in his next book.

What do you think of it so far?

- I think if he stays with it seriously, it oughta be good.

- How seriously?

Have to break your balls to be a good writer?

Everything with you is so fucking serious, Lesser.

When do you laugh?

- I laugh when I write,

which is what I should be doing now.

- You know, I read your novel, the first one.

It was good, it was much better than I thought it would be.

The girl in it, she reminded me of myself actually

when I was her age.

I was a very fucked up girl.

- What do you mean?

- Oh, I just quit college

and I thought I wanted to be an actress,

but really I was just looking for a way

to skip being myself.

A lot of this came out in therapy.

Anyway, I was a fucked up kid.

I was having a rough time.

And then I met Willie.

At first we got along really badly,

but then things got better and he moved in with me.

- How do you and Willie stand as of now?

- What do you mean?

- You seem to be together but you seem to be apart.

- Yeah, that's a good description of us.

- Do you love him?

- Why do you wanna know?

- 'Cause we're sitting here.

- I think if Willie loved me,

we'd probably be married by now.

But outside of his love for black people,

I don't think he loves anything except his work.

We talk an awful lot about race and color.

One thing about loving a black man,

there's times where you feel black yourself.

- Yeah.

Well, maybe you should find yourself another.

I gotta get back to work.

Hey Lesser, would you be a man?

You're holding me up, I've been looking for you.

- Oh, I just went for a walk.

I went uptown to a museum.

Left a note on your desk.

- Man, I can't rap to you right now.

It's the weekend, I gotta see my girl.

- I'll see you Monday.

- Lesser, man, for Christ sakes, cross over!

Got some soul people over here with me.

Say man, we're having a shindig at Mary's house tonight.

How'd you like to come along?

- Yeah, sure.

- Put you on the train.

- Oh no, no, no, hold up, man, hold up.

What's up with this?

- He's a fucking good writer.

Join the train.

- Hi!

Good to see you.

Thought you might come by

seeing as you live so close and everything.

I'm really glad you came. - Really, I'm glad I came too.

- I was happy to see you.

Listen, I have a key to a friend's apartment

across the hall.

As soon as everybody gets a little higher,

I'm going in there.

You should come, too.

If you're in the mood to.

Only give me about 10 minutes so no one sees us get up

and walk right out of here one right after the other.

Sam might take offense.

- Mary? - In here.

I hope you don't mind me getting undressed first.

I just thought I'd be a little warmer under here.

- My God, you're lovely.

- You've never been with a black woman before?

- No.

- Don't make too much of it.

Now come on.

Get in the bed with me.

- If you think you're white, you're wrong.

You're really black.

All white people are.

But the blacks are the true whites.

- Lesser, get your pale face ass over here.

Chum, we're gonna play a little game.

A game with nothing but naked words.

You throw yours on me, I throw mines on you.

The one who cries mama loses.

And we shit on them.

You dig?

- What's the point of that?

The point is the point.

- I thought we were friends, Bill.

- You got no friends here.

- Suppose I don't play.

- You're gonna fuck black, you're gonna face black.

Off this motherfucker.

- Listen, I'm gonna go easy on you

so you can join in on the fun.

Now I'm not gonna go on your mom or your sister

like we normally do,

but get down to the tough shit funk of it,

special for you.

Lesser, you think you're so hot

you got the look of a shit pot.

Now raise me on that.

Oh, and if you don't,

you might have to play a different game.

- Poker?

- Motherfucker, have you lost your nuts down the can?

- Okay.

Okay, Willie, Bill.

Bill, your mouth is a place of excrement.

- Lesser, you're a mammy rammer, shit for brains,

no-good redneck motherfucker.

Oh!

- What good is a contest of imprecation?

All this does is raise bad feelings.

- Would you listen to this soft bowl of shit?

- Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam.

This hunky belongs to me.

Chill out, this is my guest.

- Willie, baby, can we go home?

- Go.

Go, get.

- Well can't you come with me?

- Irene, go fuck yourself.

- Well if I could, what are you gonna do for kicks?

- Yeah, whatever, bitch.

Now Lesser, I called you a too big good-for-nothing

redneck motherfucker.

Now aren't you gonna answer back?

- If you have to do this, why don't you write it?

I thought you were a writer.

- Look motherfucker, don't tell me how to write.

I don't need no Jew motherfuckers

trying to tell me how and what to write.

- You have some sort of complaint with me,

why don't you say it directly?

If what you have to say

is none of your business in the first place,

then let Sam say it.

- I told you not to let this redneck shit eater

come along here in the first place.

- How much more of a motherfucking coward

are you gonna be?

Just answer the questions that I lay down.

- Okay, okay, Bill, okay.

I could call you a filthy prick.

I withdraw that. - No you're not, motherfucker.

You ain't withdrawing nothin'.

That's the rules to this shit.

Now the reason why you wanna withdraw

is 'cause you really wanna call me a filthy nigger prick,

but you ain't got the balls to say it, do you?

I didn't say that.

I didn't say that.

I thought of that

because I knew that that's what you wanted to hear.

- Yeah, fine and dandy.

Now I'mma call you a motherfucking redneck Jew shit eating,

dick sucking, dike face motherfucker.

- I get the message, Bill.

I get the message.

And I concede the game.

That's my last word.

- Say brothers, let the white spook exit.

Fuck outta here, Lesser.

Damn, Lesser, I didn't get shit done.

Not one fucking cent.

Man, I tell you, I'm hungover like a motherfucker.

I want you to know, Lesser,

that I saved your ass last night.

- Saved whose ass?

- Sam wanted the brothers to beat up on you

for putting meat to his girl.

But I cooled him out with that game.

- Well in that case, thanks.

I'm grateful. - You sure as shit

don't look it.

- Trust me.

- I just wanted you to know that.

- Listen, Tovalt, I've heard when a wife

abandons her husband's house as I am doing now,

he's legally free from all obligations towards her.

In any case, I set you free from any obligation.

You're not to feel yourself bound to me in the slightest way

anymore than I shall.

There must be perfect freedom on both sides.

Here is your ring back.

Give me mine.

- All over.

Laura, are you sure you're never think of me again?

- I know I shall often think of you and the children

and this house.

- Irene!

Irene, it's Lesser.

- What are you doing here?

- I came to tell you I love you, Irene.

I thought you'd wanna know.

- I thought you liked Mary.

- I slept with her for want of you.

- You're in love with me

because I'm Willie's Jewish white girl.

You trying to save me from a life

of poverty and crime with a black man, an ex-con?

- My love professes no more than love.

I love you.

I want you.

- What kind of want?

- A long want.

- Say it plainly, I'm not very subtle.

- I wanna marry you after I finish my book.

- You're both alike.

My feet are cold.

Let's go upstairs.

Take off your coat.

- Why a black Jesus?

- Willie won't let me hang any pictures of whites.

And I want him to choose the flowers.

I like real flowers.

- But why Jesus?

- Rather than H. Rap Brown.

Is there a black Moses?

I believe in God.

I'm afraid of what we're doing

even though I wanna do it.

- You're worried about Willie.

- And myself.

Mostly really afraid

of getting involved with another writer.

- I love you, Irene.

Would you consider moving to San Francisco?

- Sure.

After I finish my book.

- I made up my mind.

I'm giving up acting.

I'm not a natural.

This is my last play.

I'm fed up with my life here, I'm fed up with New York.

- Yeah.

Okay.

- Took if we say, three, four,

maybe five months at the latest.

- Sure.

- I'm just worried about Willie.

- What do you mean?

- Well, he doesn't really have anybody

and I've been pretty much supporting him

since he moved in with me.

He has very little to live on as it is

and I just, I don't want him to go back

to running numbers, dealing.

- He'll get a job.

I worked plenty of shitty jobs writing my first book

and I still had time to write.

- Yeah, but any job he got

would pay him half as much as what you earned

and make him work twice as hard.

- I worked my ass off.

- I know we're not,

but I just feel like we're a couple of whiteys

giving some nigger a kick in the ass.

Come on.

I don't feel that way.

All this amounts to is two people, you and Willie,

finally agreeing to end an affair.

That's all.

Forget about the whitey bit.

- Hello?

Irene, I won't be coming around this Friday.

This chapter's giving me a hard time lately

and I've got to stay home.

- Well I'm sorry to hear that.

I will be around in about a week or two.

I mean, I'm telling you,

I can think of a whole lot of things

I wanna do to you right now.

- Well, don't depend on it.

Don't think I'm not thinking about you, baby.

- All right, I'll see you later.

- What are we gonna tell him?

- What do you mean?

- You know what.

Either you tell him or I tell him.

Or we tell him together.

- Can we just let it die naturally?

I'd like it better if Willie tells himself

and when he tells me it's over.

But if it comes to actually having to tell him,

I'd like to do it myself.

- The sooner the better

or I'll be knocking down your door next Friday

expecting to sleep with you.

- Sex isn't the important thing.

How's every little thing, Lesser?

Keep knocking at your fucking door,

but nobody gets up to open it.

You hiding on me?

You find a girl?

- I've been getting out more lately.

My book is moving and so am I.

- So you got past your rough, swampy place, huh?

- Yeah, that's right.

- My eyes keep jamming me up.

Every morning when I wake up,

I see that big fucking typewriter machine

staring at me like a motherfucking eagle.

"None but the brave deserve the fair."

- Say what?

- It's a poem.

- Black or white?

- John Dryden, Englishman.

- Yeah, right on.

I will read it.

Anyway, why I came up here

is I want you to take a look at this new chapter.

The mother is giving me trouble.

Can't seem to get her to die right.

I done wrote it like 20 times

and now I think she's expiring like she ought to be.

- How do you feel about it yourself?

- If I really knew, I wouldn't ask you.

Honest to God, I wouldn't.

But Les, if you can give it a read for me today,

we can rap about it for a half hour.

- Every good book is written in uncertainty.

I'll take a look at it. - Thanks, Lesser.

It'd be a real relief.

Especially to help me get this part of the book finished.

I haven't seen my girl in about a month

and I got blue balls.

Really need to spend some time with her.

Can you dig what I'm saying?

She pacifies me, but mm, mm, mm.

What a sweet lady.

- Do you love her?

- Man, that's my business.

And if I get to see her

depends on that chapter you have over there.

Now if you tell me I got it right or halfway right,

then I get to fuck off my weekend with her.

But if you think it needs a little more work

and I agree with you, then I have to bang it out some more.

So take a look at it and tell me what you think.

- How'd it go?

- I am so over it.

- Willie gave me his book today.

I can't do this.

I can't.

We've got to tell him something.

- I know, I know, he came by the house today.

- What?

When?

- Relax, Harry, he just took a shower

and he changed his underwear and then he left.

He was gone before I was even out of the bathroom.

All he cares about is his book.

You gotta trust me on this one.

- I trust you.

- Let me tell him.

Bill.

Bill, I read your chapter.

- Speak your piece, Lesser.

- Bill, I really don't think we oughta fool around

with your book anymore.

This stage, whatever you think you're doing right,

you gotta go on doing.

You know, you're a gifted writer.

Ultimately it's your book.

- All I wanna know, what I really need to know

is did I get the boy and the mama right.

Are they for real, man?

And don't bullshit me on that.

- For the first couple of pages,

up to the mother's death.

After that, Bill, the stream of consciousness,

it just doesn't work.

- You trying to fuck with my mind and confuse me, man?

Huh?

You try to kill off my natural writing

by pretending you're interested

in my fucking form of it all?

Knowing you're afraid of the truth

of what my book has to say

which is blacks have to murder you white motherfuckers

for crippling our lives.

Get your ass out my motherfucking spot.

Can't believe I was believing in you.

Get your Jew ass out my motherfucking pad.

Fuckin'--

- Bill.

There's more to it than I told you, Bill.

- Say man, I'm quitting this writing thing.

It's no fault of yours.

Decided it ain't no gig for me.

I've got to get off my broke ass and get this true action.

Get out there with my brothers in the struggle.

- Writing is action.

Don't give up on that, Bill.

- Action is my action.

- Forget what I said and write the way you have to.

- What was you gonna say

when you first came in here, Lesser?

- Listen.

After I finish my book,

Irene and I are getting married.

We're in love, Bill.

We figured you wouldn't care one way or the other

because you had more or less broken up with her.

You said so to both of us.

I wish I told you this before.

- That was my girl.

I taught her everything she know.

She ain't even know how to fuck until I taught her.

Fucker!

Keep to yourself, motherfucker.

- Dirty sons of bitches!

I'll get a court order, goddammit.

Oh my God, Lesser, look what you've done to yourself.

You're your own worst enemy!

Bringing a half naked nigger into this house.

If you don't take my advice and move out,

you'll wake up one morning

playing a tambourine in your grave.

- Yes? - Irene.

- I begged you to let me tell him.

Why wouldn't you at least tell me that you were going to?

- There was no chance.

It came up suddenly.

- Shit there was no chance!

You had to tell him.

It's your profession to tell everybody everything.

You couldn't wait. - I waited, I wait!

I waited too damn long for you to tell him.

You're crazy if you think he was about to leave you.

It would have gone on like this for years.

I had to tell him sometime.

- I know him.

I know that he wasn't happy with me anymore.

I know him. - Who are you concerned about?

Him or me?

- I told you that I love you.

I'm concerned about Willie!

He tried to throw me out a fucking window!

Would you fucking get that?

- He called me all these filthy names and then he told me

he couldn't stand the sight of me anymore.

So it's not exactly the opposite of what I'd hoped.

And how many for me when we broke up.

Then he remembered the good times.

I just wish you'd let me tell him.

- I wish you had.

- Harry, I'm frightened for you.

Me, why?

- Because they could easily get at you

in that creepy, empty town.

You know, Willie's friends are very loyal to him.

They could hide under the stairs or in the hall.

They couldn't do that here.

The elevator man will call the cops.

Why don't you just come stay here with me

for a little while?

- Anybody who is out to get me can get me,

elevator man or no elevator man.

- How are you gonna live in the same building with him?

No, he's not gonna stay in there.

There's no way because the landlord

found his place again so he--

- Harry, let's just get married.

We can just move to another city

or a different neighborhood.

- That's what we'll do.

As soon as I finish my book.

That's impossible, Harry.

- Irene, I can do this.

This has happened to other people.

I mean, I'm not the first writer that this has happened to.

T. E. Lawrence left his entire manuscript

of "Seven Pillars of Wisdom" on a train.

Carlyle accidentally chucked

all of his "French Revolution"

into John Stuart Mill's fireplace.

I mean, I can do this, Irene.

I know I can.

Listen, I remember most of what I re-worked.

I do, I can do this.

- Well how long is it gonna take?

- Six months at most.

- What about San Francisco?

- Irene, Irene.

I'm a creature of habit.

I need to finish the book where I started it.

- I thought you wanted more from your life

than your writing.

That's what you told me the first night we slept together.

- I do.

And I love you.

But for the time being, my first priority is my book.

- You know Harry, all you do all day

is sit on your ass writing

and all you do all day when you come over here

is sit on your ass reading.

Why don't you just save time all around

and go fuck your book?

Lesser, I found out I'm a sick man.

My doctor gave me a warning.

I've given up cigars, but it doesn't help.

$10,000 is my absolute top offer.

I received in the mail a bid from a money group,

an offer to take over this property

for high-rise construction.

I am considering that offer.

- I know, I know.

It was a little cold of me to send a letter,

but it's not easy to reach you

since you turned your phone off.

I couldn't wait any longer.

I've waited long enough.

- Irene. - Harry, don't bother.

I'm going to San Francisco without you.

You're free to finish your book now.

- Irene, just wait for me. - I've waited long enough.

And I've waited once before.

I'm through waiting.

You know I've always been attracted to these characters

like you and Willie

who are more deeply involved with their work than with me.

Maybe that's what I wanted then,

but that isn't what I want now.

Harry, I want a family.

- Irene, you deserve that.

I've become.

- Irene, I love you.

I love you.

I wanna marry you.

- You're already married, Harry, to your fucking book.

- No book is as important as you are, I know that.

I know that.

- That's such bullshit.

It's you and your book forever 'til death do you part.

And if it's not this one then it's the next.

I gotta go.

Good luck, Harry.

Lesser!