"Good words, But deeds must prove it also; ... remember you don't forget resolutions formed in the hour of fear."
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- Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte

                          MR FITZGERALD

         Did you notice the new secretary in my office? 

         A temp agency sent her to help out while Miss 

         Hamish was in the hospital. Her name's Samantha. 

         She's a really sweet girl. She's a newlywed, lives 

         here in town and... I could tell from the moment 

         she got here that she really wants to work here 

         permanently. I mean, a 5 minute commute, very 

         convenient for her, right here in town. It would 

         be a great job for her. Yeah. Anyway, this morning 

         she was trying to figure out through a series of 

         sideways questions exactly how serious Miss Hamish's 

         illness was. And, she was acting concerned of course, 

         but I could see in her eyes, you know, she doesn't 

         know Miss Hamish, she can't help it. There's a 

         part of her that wants Miss Hamish to die. It'll 

         get her the job.

                          TERRI

         So?

                          MR FITZGERALD

         So Miss Hamish is dead Terri. I got the call an 

         hour ago.

                          TERRI

         Sorry Mr Fitzgerald.

                          MR FITZGERALD

         Don't say things you don't mean Terri. You're not 

         sorry she's gone. You barely knew her.

                          TERRI

         Sorry.

                          MR FITZGERALD

         Now after I got off the phone with the hospital 

         I called the temp agency and I told them, you know,  

         we're going to hire Samantha permanently. And they 

         thanked me and they said they'd call her and give 

         her the news, and I said you know, if you don't mind, 

         I would rather do it, because I kind of wanted to 

         spring the news on her, you know, what a great way 

         for she and I to start working together, right? But 

         now, I have to tell her she's got the job, and I will  

         have to watch, while she pretends to be sad. 

         Life's a mess dude. But we're all just doing the best 

         we can. You know? You and me and Samantha. We're just 

         doing what we can. So if I hurt you or if I lied to 

         you, all I can tell you is I'm sorry, and I will try 

         to do better. Maybe I will do better, or maybe I'll 

         do even worse, I don't know. I screw up all the time.  

         Because that's what people do. You know?

Memorable Weekend Quotes.

"It's not about the bridges."

America.

America I've given you all and now I'm nothing.
America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I'm sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back it's sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I'm doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for
murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I'm not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there's going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right.
I won't say the Lord's Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over
from Russia.
I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let our emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
I'm obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It's always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie
producers are serious. Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.
Asia is rising against me.
I haven't got a chinaman's chance.
I'd better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals
an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 miles and hour and
twentyfivethousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in
my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I'm a Catholic.
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his
automobiles more so they're all different sexes
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they
sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the
speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the
workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party
was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother
Bloor made me cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have
been a spy.
America you don't really want to go to war.
America it's them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power mad. She wants to take
our cars from out our garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader's Digest. Her wants our
auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our filling stations.
That no good. Ugh. Him makes Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers.
Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.
America is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the job.
It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts
factories, I'm nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

Allen Ginsberg

If you spend half a working Monday googling depression are you

a) More productive than you would have been shuffling tea bags
b) Less productive than your colleague who
c) Depressed
d) Apat

The Second Coming.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

William Butler Yeats

Lesbian sex with Kathy Bates.