Paul Dano Monologues

You know what? Fuck beauty contests. Life is one fucking beauty contest after another. School, then college, then work… Fuck that. And fuck the Air Force Academy. If I want to fly, I'll find a way to fly. You do what you love, and fuck the rest.

I wish I could just sleep until I was eighteen and skip all this crap-high school and everything-just skip it.

You know what? Fuck beauty contests. Life is one fucking beauty contest after another. You know, school, then college, then work, fuck that. And fuck the air force academy. If I wanna fly, I'll find a way to fly. You do what you love, and fuck the rest.

No, you're *not* my family! I don't wanna *be* your family! I hate you fucking people! Divorce? Bankrupt? Suicide? You're fucking losers, you're losers! No, please just leave me here, Mom. Please, please, please. Please... just leave me here.

No, you're *not* my family, okay? I don't want to *be* your family! I *hate* you fucking people! *I hate you!* Divorce? Bankrupt? Suicide? You're fucking *losers*! You are losers!

No, *please* just leave me here, Mom. Okay? Please, *please*. Please just leave me here.

I apologize for the things I said. I was upset, and I didn't really mean them.

This is the true and impossible story of my very great love. In the hope that she will not read this and reproach me, I have withheld many telling details: her name, the particulars of her birth and upbringing, and any identifying scars or birth marks. All the same, I cannot help but write this for her, to tell her "I'm sorry for every word I wrote to change you, I'm sorry for so many things. I couldn't see you when you were here and, now that you're gone, I see you everywhere." One may read this and think it's magic, but falling in love is an act of magic, so is writing. It was once said of Catcher In The Rye, "That rare miracle of fiction has again come to pass: a human being has been created out of ink, paper and the imagination." I am no J.D. Salinger, but I have witnessed a rare miracle. Any writer can attest: in the luckiest, happiest state, the words are not coming from you, but through you. She came to me wholly herself, I was just lucky enough to be there to catch her.

Naming your dog after him? It's a little disrespectful. Think about it. You're a novelist. You think this guy's the greatest. So you name your dog after him to cut him down to size. This way, you can put him on a leash… and yell "Bad Scotty" and feel all superior because you pee inside. Kill your idols, man. I'm all for it.

Ruby Sparks. Twenty-six years old. Raised in Dayton, Ohio.

Sounds romantic. Ruby's first crushes were Humphrey Bogart and John Lennon. She cried the day she found out they were already dead. Ruby got kicked out of high school for sleeping with her art teacher... or maybe her Spanish teacher. I haven't decided yet. Ruby can't drive. She doesn't own a computer. She hates her middle name, which is Tiffany. She always, always roots for the underdog. She's complicated. That's what I like best about her. Ruby's not so good at life sometimes. She forgets to open bills or cash checks and... Her last boyfriend was 49. The one before that was an alcoholic. She can feel a change coming. She's looking for it.

I'm not writing about you. I wrote you. I made you up.

It was once said of Catcher in the Rye: That rare miracle of fiction has again come to pass.A human being has been created out of ink, paper and the imagination.

She wasn't happy. So I made her happy... and now she's like this all the time.

I'm sorry for every word I wrote to change you. I'm sorry for so many things. I couldn't see you when you were here. And now that you're gone, I see you everywhere. One may read this and think it's magic, but falling in love is an act of magic. So is writing. It was once said of Catcher in the Rye, that rare miracle of fiction has again come to pass. A human being has been created out of ink, paper and imagination.

The only reason girls ever want to sleep with me is that they read my book in high school.

So they're not interested in me, they're interested in… some idea of me.

Sometimes it scares me to think where it's coming from, you know? Like… There's someone else in there, not me. Well… What if I…

What if I lose it and never get it back? What would I do then? Take a listen to this again, I wanna... do something with it. Um... I've got - I think I've got it. The music part, it worked out in my head, but... I don't know anything else except that it should... it should sound like, you know, a cry, but in sort of a good way or something. I want these voices at the end just to sound...

Tony and I think that if you close your eyes you can see a place or something that's happening. It's like being blind but because you're blind you can see more. Don't you think it's a spiritual kind of thing?

I want to do a chanting album. Okay? No words. All Hawaiian thing. And we can turn it into a children's show for television - and it'll be completely unstructured - and it'll be about animals and eating right.

Mahalo lu le, mahalo lu la, keeni waka pula. Everyone! Mahalo lu le, mahalo lu la…