James Mangold

You know exactly what I'm telling you. We've already heard that song a hundred times. Just like that. Just... like... how... you... sing it.

Bring… bring it home? All right, let's bring it home. If you was hit by a truck and you was lying out there in that gutter dying, and you had time to sing one song. Huh? One song that people would remember before you're dirt. One song that would let God know how you felt about your time here on Earth. One song that would sum you up. You tellin' me that's the song you'd sing? That same Jimmy Davis tune we hear on the radio all day, about your peace within, and how it's real, and how you're gonna shout it? Or… would you sing somethin' different. Somethin' real. Somethin' you felt. Cause I'm telling you right now, that's the kind of song people want to hear. That's the kind of song that truly saves people. It ain't got nothin to do with believin' in God, Mr. Cash. It has to do with believin' in yourself.

I got a couple of songs I wrote in the Air Force. You got anything against the Air Force?

You've got me all revved up. Now I've asked you forty different ways and it's time you come up with a fresh answer.

I'm asking you to marry me. I love you, June. Now I know I said and done a lotta things, that I hurt you, but I promise, I'll never do that again. I only want to take care of you. I will not leave you like that dutch boy with your finger in the dam.

You're my best friend. Marry me.

Now I've asked you forty different ways and it's time you come up with a fresh answer.

Aw, June, love's more important than the tour.

You're an angel.

You've been there with me.

But I've done so many bad things.

My Daddy's right. It should have been me on that saw. Jack was so good. He would have done so many good things. What have I done? Just hurt everybody I know. I know I've hurt you. I'm nothin'.

Now, I'd like to remind you all that we're recording live, so you can't say "hell" or "shit" or anything like that!

You know what your problem is, June Carter? You are afraid to be in love, you are afraid of losing control, And you know what June Carter, I think you are afraid of livin' in my big fat shadow.

There's only one actually.

There's only one "if" in that sentence, June!

I-I thought it was a good point… I mean, there is only one.

Why don't you tell them about the flood? Tell 'em about how you made a boat out of the front door and got us all out of there. They'll like that.

Next time I ask you to marry me, I'm gonna come up with a different way.

Fortunately I keep my feathers numbered for just such an emergency.

Once in El Paso, I had this bag of... Oh... you heard about that? You been in El Paso, too? Well, anyways, I felt tough, you know?. Like I'd seen a thing or two, you know? Well, that was till a moment ago... 'cuz I got to tell you, my hat's off to you now, 'cuz I ain't never had to drink this yellow water you got here at Folsom!

You know when I was in the service… I used to look at pictures of you… you know, in magazines.

No... Oh no, it wasn't like that. I mean, I... I liked your music, you know?

Yeah… Oh yeah, I mean, you were, well, you are… I mean, l-I kept track of you. You and your family. I listened to your voice my whole life, you know? Me and my brother, Jack… we always listened to your songs. Like "Swallerin' Place."

Yeah. We liked it when you'd sing one alone.

Don't give me no rules. All I got are rules.

It's funny, you know, because I haven't talked about Jack in a long time. After he passed I talked about him all the time. But I guess people grew tired of it... so I just stopped.

I'm really glad ya'll could be here today, especially you Dad, glad you came. Not everybody's here. Jack's not here is he, huh? Where you been? That's what you said to me, remember? I was twelve years old and he got Jack's bloody clothes, and you asked where I'd been.

On January 13th, I'll be at Folsom prison, with June and the boys. You listen to the tapes. If you don't like them, you can toss them.

You know, there's too many buttons in the world. There's too many buttons and they're just - There's way too many just begging to be pressed, they're just begging to be pressed, you know? They're just - they're just begging to be pressed, and it makes me wonder, it really makes me fucking wonder, why doesn't anyone ever press mine? Why am I so neglected? Why doesn't anyone reach in and rip out the truth and tell me that I'm a fucking whore, or that my parents wish I were dead?

Razors pain you, rivers are damp / Acid stains you, drugs cause cramps / Gun aren't lawful, nooses give / Gas smells awful, you might as well live.

I'm playing the villain, baby, just like you want. I try to give you everything you want.

You wanted your file, I found you your file. You wanted out, I got you out. You needed money, I found you some. I'm fucking consistent - I told you the truth - I didn't write it down in a fucking book! I told you to your face. And I told Daisy to her face - what everybody knew and wouldn't say, and she killed herself. And I played the fucking villain, just like you wanted.

Because it makes you the good guy, sweet pea. You come back all sweetness and light, and sad and contrite, and everybody congratulating you on your bravery. And meanwhile, I'm blowing the guys at the bus station for the money that was in her fucking robe!

They didn't release you 'cause you're better, Daisy, they just gave up. You call this a life, hmm? Taking Daddy's money, buying your dollies and your knick-knacks. And eating his fucking chicken, fattening up like a prize fucking heifer? You changed the scenery, but not the fucking situation - and the warden makes house calls. And everybody knows. Everybody knows. That he fucks you. What they don't know… is that you like it. Hmm? You like it.

Hey man, it's cool, it's okay. It's fine, it's fucking fine! A man is a dick is a man is a dick is a chicken… is a dad… a Valium, a speculum, whatever, whatever.

All you have is mustard and your chickens! I am going to be the Cinderella at Walt Disney's new theme park, Susanna's gonna be Snow White. You can come if you want. You can be the Cocker Spaniel that eats spaghetti.

You think you're free? I'm free! You don't know what freedom is! I'm free! I can breathe! And you... you're gonna choke on your average fucking mediocre life!

What needs to happen? No one's ever gonna' kiss her, man. You know, they're building a new Disneyland in Florida. If I could have any job in the world, I'd be a professional Cinderella. You could be Snow White. And Polly could be Minnie Mouse. Everyone would hug her and kiss her and love her and no one would ever know what was in that big ol' head of hers, you know?

Yeah, well that's what ther-rape-me's all about. That's why fuckin' Freud's picture's on every shrink's wall. He created a fuckin' industry. You lie down, you confess your secrets and you're saved. Ca-ching! The more you confess, the more they think about settin' you free.

Help me understand, Dais 'cause, I thought you didn't do Valium. Tell me how this safety net is working for you. Tell me that you don't take that blade and drag it across your skin and pray for the courage to press down. Tell me how your *daddy* helps you cope with that. Illuminate me.

Bald guy with a little pecker and a fat wife. You're ther-rapist, sweet pea. Unless, ah… unless they're givin' you shocks. Or, God forbid lettin' you out. Then you get to see the great wonderful Dr. Dyke.

Alright, listen. Tongue your meds tonight. After o'clock checks, Gretta always goes out for a smoke. Check the mirrors and if they're clear, you go to Hector's closet. It's near the art room and it will be open.

We have to go. We have money... Susanna, don't be stupid. Alright, fine. Be stupid.

Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought your train moving while sitting still? Maybe I was just crazy. Maybe it was the 60s. Or maybe I was just a girl… interrupted.

Because you're dead already, Lisa! No one cares if you die, Lisa, because you're dead already. Your heart is cold. That's why you keep coming back here. You're not free. You need this place, you need it to feel alive. It's pathetic.

I've wasted a year of my life. Maybe everybody out there is a liar. And maybe the whole world is "stupid" and "ignorant". But I'd rather be in it. I'd rather be fucking in it, then down here with you.

I don't know. That I was sorry. That I will never know what it was like to be her. But I know what it's like to want to die. How it hurts to smile. How you try to fit in but you can't. You hurt yourself on the outside to try to kill the thing on the inside.

How the hell am I supposed to recover when I don't even understand my disease?

When you don't want to feel, death can seem like a dream. But seeing death, really seeing it, makes dreaming about it fucking ridiculous. Maybe, there's a moment growing up when something peels back... Maybe, maybe, we look for secrets because we can't believe our minds...

All I know is that I began to feel things again. Whatever I was, I knew there was only one way back to the world and that was to use the place to talk. So I saw the great and wonderful Dr. Wick three times a week and I let her hear every thought in my head.

Then what's wrong with me, huh? What the fuck is going on inside my head? Tell me, Dr. Val, what's your diag-nonsense?

Is that your... *professional* opinion, huh? Is that what you've learned in your advanced studies at night school for Negro welfare mothers? I mean, Melvin doesn't have a clue, Wick is a *psycho* and you... you *pretend* to be a doctor. You sign the charts and dole out meds. But "you ain't no doctor, Miss Valerie. You ain't nothing but a black nursemaid".

Declared healthy and sent back into the world. My final diagnosis: a recovered borderline. What that means, I still don't know. Was I ever crazy? Maybe. Or maybe life is.

Crazy isn't being broken, or swallowing a dark secret. It's you, or me, amplified. If you ever told a lie, and enjoyed it. If you ever wished you could be a child, forever. They were not perfect, but they were my friends. And by the 70s, most of them were out, living lives. Some I've seen. Some never again. But there isn't a day my heart doesn't find them.