Vodka Helps

"The stitches already strained against the burden of keeping his face together".
Ann Patchett, Bel Canto

Vertically Letting the Life From You

Because, right now, there are hundreds of people on a single college campus and every last one of them knew my father, or know of him.
Because I had to go to sleep every night so that he could change my batteries.
Because he got lost on purpose.
Because he told me to invite the mummy to tea.
Because he waited to be a father to everyone else.
Because he wouldn't let us kill spiders.
I'm jealous of all those who can write about their fathers.
Because obviously, I can't.

Bel Canto

"She had no talent for asking but she was a genius at being quiet."
Ann Patchett, Bel Canto

"I Know How Hard This Is For You"

Claire: I know how hard this is for you.

Catherine: Listening to you say how hard it is for me is what's hard for me.

Proof
David Auburn

"Pasta Would Be Easy"

Robert: Pasta, oh God, don't even say the word "pasta." It sounds so hopeless, like surrender: "Pasta would be easy." Yes, yes it would. Pasta. It doesn't mean anything. It's just a euphemism people invented when they got sick of eating spaghetti.

Proof
David Auburn

"What Do You Do For Sex?"

Catherine: So, Hal.

Hal: What?

Catherine: What do you do for sex?

Hal: What?

Catherine: At your conferences.

Hal: Uh, I uh-

Catherine: Isn't that why people hold conferences? Travel. Room service. Tax-deductible sex in big hotel beds?

Proof
David Auburn

"It's a Good Sign That You're Fine. . ."

Robert: Where's the problem?

Catherine: The problem is you are crazy!

Robert: What difference does that make?

Catherine: You admitted- You just told me that you are.

Robert: So?

Catherine: You said a crazy person would never admit that.

Robert: Yeah, but it's. . .Oh. I see.

Catherine: So?

Robert: It's a point.

Catherine: So how can you admit it?

Robert: Well. Because I'm dead. Aren't I?

Catherine: You died a week ago.

Robert: Heart failure. Quick. The funeral's tomorrow.

Catherine: That's why Claire's flying in from New York.

Robert: Yes.

Catherine: You're sitting here. You're giving me advice. You brought me champagne.

Robert: Yes.

Catherine: Which means. . .

Robert: For you?

Catherine: Yes.

Robert: For you, Catherine, my daughter, who I love very much. . . It could be a bad sign

Proof
David Auburn

"Even Your Depression is Mathematical"

Robert: Bullshit. Those days are lost. You threw them away. And you'll never know what else you threw away with them - the work you lost, the ideas you didn't have, discoveries you never made because you were moping in your bed at four in the afternoon. You know I'm right.

Catherine: I've lost a few days.

Robert: How many?

Catherine: Oh, I don't know.

Robert: I bet you do.

Catherine: What?

Robert: I bet you count.

Catherine: Knock it off.

Robert: Well do you know or don't you?

Catherine: I don't.

Robert: Of course you do. How many days have you lost?

Catherine: A month. Around a month.

Robert: Exactly.

Catherine: Goddamn it, I don't-

Robert: How many?

Catherine: Thirty-three days.

Robert: Exactly?

Catherine: I don't know.

Robert: Be precise, for Chrissake.

Catherine: I slept till noon today.

Robert: Call it thirty-three and a quarter days.

Catherine: Yes, all right.

Robert: You're kidding?

Catherine: No.

Robert: Amazing number!

Catherine: It's a depressing fucking number.

Robert: Catherine, if every fucking day you say you've lost were a year, it would be a very interesting fucking number.

Catherine: Thirty-three and a quarter years is not interesting.

Robert: Stop it. You know exactly what I mean.

Catherine: (Conceding) 1729 weeks.

Robert: 1729. Great number. The smallest number expressible-

Catherine: -expressible as the sum of two cubes in two different ways.

Robert: 12 cubed plus 1 cubed equals 1729.

Catherine: And 10 cubed plus 9 cubed. Yes, we've got it, thank you.

Robert: You see? Even your depression is mathematical.

Proof
David Auburn