Henry & June Page #3

You use women!

You used me, you f***er!

You f***!

Get rid of her.

I'll drive you wild.

I love you.

I wanna be drunk.

And make...

you drunk.

Because I'm intimidated by you.

I need to feel free to say anything | and know that you'll forgive me.

I want to tell you things | so you won't stumble through life.

I've done the vilest things...

foulest things.

But I've done them superbly.

I feel innocent now.

Do you believe that?

You are innocent.

I want to be innocent like you.

I want to experience everything | you've experienced.

Take care of Henry for me.

I'll be leaving in the morning.

What?

The morning?

But when will you come back?

Maybe soon.

Maybe never.

There is so much I wish | I could've done with you.

I wish I could've taken opium with you.

Give me your wrist.

No! You have so few things.

I wanted to give you more.

I wanted to hold you.

She's crazy. Don't you see it?

No, I don't see. | I don't care.

She's just using you.

You just don't understand. | You're jealous of her.

No, I'm not.

Besides, you'll never see her again.

Where did you get this?

Show me!

Does she think she can love anything | in you I haven't loved?

Henry, you may have genius | and passion...

but something is definitely missing.

Oh, yeah? What?

Compassion.

Compassion for whom?

June, for instance.

Might as well have compassion | for the moon.

I'm going to write a book about June.

I'm writing about her.

I know more than anybody will know | about her.

I'm talking about something | totally different. As a woman.

From the inside out.

I can get into the poetry of June.

Hey, she's my f***ing wife.

You don't understand | your own f***ing wife.

I kissed her.

Write about whatever you want | to write about, for Christ's sake.

And more power to ya.

- I gotta get back to work. | - Stay longer if you can.

She's been under stress. | Just getting back on her feet.

Say, they've got Haitian drums | up there.

That fellow said I might sit in.

I saw your true nature | when you were dancing.

You don't understand.

Maybe I'm just a peasant, | and only whores can understand me.

You wanna dance?

Dance.

Move your legs wider.

I love you.

I need you.

What are you doing? | You're driving me wild.

Perhaps I am a demon to be able | to pass from Henry's arms into Hugo's.

Hugo lies next to me | as I write this.

I love Hugo.

And I feel innocent.

Did I ever tell you about when I was | a little boy growing up in Puerto Rico?

My father used to take me | to the carnival.

There were wild drums beating | and frightening masks.

There was something going on that was | terrifying, that I didn't understand.

I said to my father, | "I'm not afraid.

But give me your hand. "

I have to go.

Hello, Mr. Richards.

Hello, Hugo. | Mr. Grant can't join us till Friday.

Anais, I don't know how much | I dare write you.

I would call you, | only I'm afraid Hugo would answer.

God forgive if this letter's | ever opened by mistake.

I can't help it.

I want you. I love you.

I've been living with you constantly.

But I've been afraid to tell you.

I thought it would terrify you.

But today as I watched Dreyer's | Passion of Joan of Arc...

I saw the mad monk | played by Antonin Artaud.

I thought of you like Joan...

in all your youth and purity | and single-minded madness.

And I saw myself in Artaud.

A hungering monk in love with you | and with my madness...

and your madness.

And the demon in Artaud's eyes | was like the demon in your eyes.

We fit so well together.

With Hugo, it's so difficult sometimes.

We have to use Vaseline.

His penis is so big.

But you and I fit so well.

Oh, Henry, I want to know | what you know.

I want my life to match your life.

Look at that, will ya? | Isn't that something?

Just read your goddamn book | on D.H. Lawrence...

and my, oh, my | it's one hell of a book.

Shows me I didn't know sh*t | about Lawrence when I spoke.

Who am I to go shooting off | at the mouth about him?

He was much greater, finer | than I ever thought.

Never mind how he failed | or triumphed as a man.

As an artist, did he succeed?

I say magnificently.

He tried to liberate literature.

And that's our task: | Liberation, freedom.

Let's toast to Lawrence. | Let's toast to our defects.

Toast...

to our friendship.

Drink cold, piss warm.

To Henry.

F*** the Huns.

You know who I really am?

It's only me from over the sea. | I'm Barnacle Bill the sailor

I'm all lit up like a Christmas tree | I'm Barnacle Bill the sailor

I'll sail the sea until I croak | I'll fight and swear and drink and smoke

But I can't swim a bloody stroke | I'm Barnacle Bill the sailor

I'll put my mast in whom I please | I'm Barnacle Bill the sailor

I'll drink and fight and f*** and smoke | But I can't swim a bloody stroke

I'm Barnacle Bill the sailor | Barnacle Bill the sailor

Perverts yourselves!

- F*** you. | - Jack.

- What? | - Say, f*** you, Jack.

F*** you, Jack!

Twelve meters.

Pull it.

Yeah, scram.

Everybody says sex is obscene. | The only true obscenity is war.

I'd believe only in a god...

who understood how to dance.

Isn't that something?

Nietzsche says that at the same time...

the Huns and Germany are gearing up, | perverting, what he says.

We're given this gift: | The ability to understand.

Yet no one wants to understand.

We're given the ability to read.

Read Nietzsche, Thomas Mann...

read Spengler, Joyce, Rambaud.

Read f***ing Alice in Wonderland. | Huh, Osborn?

Everything's out of whack.

People just worry about money | and deny their inner self.

What is money, anyway?

There's an old Portuguese saying...

"If sh*t had value, | the poor wouldn't have asses. "

Money. Money.

They walk through the night crowd | protected by money...

lulled by money, dulled by money.

No single object anywhere | that is not money.

Money everywhere and still not enough.

Then no money or little money | or less money or more money.

But money. Always money!

If you have money or don't have money, | it's the money that counts.

And money makes money. | But what makes money make money?

I say, what the hell!

We gotta die to the world | like the clowns. Right, clowns?

I've never seen the sun rise in Paris.

I've never been up all night.

I've never been with a woman | I could be so sincere with.

I feel so free to write now.

I'll help you.

And I'll help you.

I feel so pure.

So strong.

So new, Henry.

You and I together, | not any man or woman together.

I'm gonna demand everything of you.

Even the impossible.

Because you encourage it.

Maybe I should get down on my knees | and worship you.

I'm gonna undress you.

Vulgarize you a bit. | Lift up your dress.

No, not here.

Don't look around.

You little aristocrat.

Don't care.

I want to f*** you...

teach you things...

humiliate you a little.

Wrap your leg around me.

I'm gonna make you come with me.

Remarkable.

This is one of the most beautiful things | I've ever read.

I've never shown this diary | to anyone before.

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