I think of Leonardo DiCaprio in Revolutionary Road,
with his attaché case, his office affair, his dreams, his ambition.
His job in computers. His house in the suburbs. His commute.
His bat-shit crazy wife. I have no sympathy for him. I hate people
like that. They stand on my neck, if they can. They think of me
as a hick, an outlander, a little person, someone to use. They are
in book publishing. I think of Joey Pants in Second Best, fucking
a crossing guard who says, "Come up on my belly." Yankees.
Tony Danza says Andy Kaufman wouldn't have lasted five minutes
in his neighborhood. Good for you, Tony. Conversations with has-beens.
Whatever happened to Richard Yates. They finally made a movie of
his book.