Wednesday, 21 April 2010



Johnny La Guardia --- We have a story --- "Dear Mr. La Guardia, Do you think it's OK if I pretend I'm a zombie?  My mother died a long time ago but my father is rich and famous and perfect but I can't be like him.  He expects me to be happy but I'm clumsy and ugly.  I don't want anyone looking at me.  I can't do anything.  I can't do sports.  I can't dance.  I can't make friends.  I wrote to you before but only in my journal."  The letter is signed A Real Zombie.  You have something very special inside you, young lady.  The seed that contains your unique self.  Maybe you're all alone, that's a pretty scary place to be.  I know about it.  You may have to jump off into the darkness.  How desperate they feel, those moments before you jump.  But sometimes you just got to do it.  You gotta pull yourself up by your bootstraps and you gotta jump.

Tiny fossil bones
Translucent skin
Million year old eyes
Dinosaur, you don't belong here
They'll kill your for tiny tusks
But your ribs are my ladder, Nicky
I'm so amazed, I'm so amazed.
(Pamela's poem about Nicky).

Johnny La Guardia --- Time to shut off the TV set, David.  Come see Times Square in the flesh, not from the windows of your limo.   It's hot down here --- It's Rio at carnival time.  It's ripe, baby --- get in touch with that place inside of you that craves slime more than plastic, David.  And vitality more than manners, David.  And life more than television.

Nicky --- Hey, you really sick or what?
Pamela --- Well, I don't know really.  See, the doctors, they won't tell me what's wrong with me.
Nicky --- They ain't never gonna tell you what's wrong with you.   I get my revenge.  I'm not gonna tell them what's wrong with them either.

Pamela --- The evening lies spread out against the sky.  Like a patient etherised upon a table.  I have measured out my life in coffee spoons.
Nicky --- It still sounds like bullshit to me.
Pamela --- Nicky, what about songs?  What about the roses in the hospital?  What about take a piss, you asshole?  That's poetry.
Nicky --- It doesn't rhyme.
Pamela --- Well, it doesn't have to.  It doesn't have to fit in a book.  Nicky, everything you do or you say is poetry.  At least I think so.

Dear Daddy, I am not kidnapped.  I am me-napped.  I am soul-napped.  I am Nicky-napped.  I am happy-napped.  Doctors, lawyers, Indian chiefs --- we are looking after ourselves and having our own Renaissance.  We don't need anti-depressants, we need your understanding.  (Pamela's letter to her father that's read out on the radio).

Yes father dear, you want to make Times Square as cold as your icy eyes
Why do you want to punish people who aren't like you?
You know at home, I've heard you use these following words
Spic, nigger, faggot and psycho
Well, I just want you to know your daughter is one.
Spic, nigger, faggot, bum
Your daughter is one.
(Song by The Sleez Sisters that they perform on radio).

Pamela --- You only care about yourself, you faker.
Johnny La Guardia --- I feel like I give myself away everyday for a living.
Pamela --- You give other people away for a living.

Nicky --- They tell me I'm crazy but the truth is, I just know bullshit when I see it.

Nicky --- Please, I just got one more thing to say, one more thing.  I knew a girl named Pammy.  She taught me a lot of things about life.  She was real smart.  She knew a lot of things.  But she knew one thing long before I ever knew it.  That she was the best friend I ever had.


ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN DECEMBER 2004. Robin Johnson fan site with an excellent page devoted to this movie.

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