Resolution Page #5

when I did a line of speed off

some chick's dresser

at a party.

I saw you happy before that.

Nah, man, I was being polite.

I'm happy on meth.

Look, life gets better, okay?

You, you were just

dealt a shitty hand.

Oh, Jesus, man.

My parents.

I do drugs 'cause

my body chemistry

makes me wanna do drugs.

If I had your parents you

know what I'd be, man?

I'd be a guy with rad

parents who f***ing

loves doing drugs.

I mean, God,

I f***ing hate people.

F***, man, you know

what people do?

They f***ing kill dogs.

You, me, and f***ing those apes

that killed Sara.

We're all the same.

The only difference is that

I f***ing liked Sara.

I loved that dog.

I mean, I just...

I'd rather just do

drugs and end it

on my terms rather

than a virus,

or global warming, or some

sh*t just killing me slowly.

This is not the same guy that

painted the picture on my wall.

Being creative it's,

it's, it's not...

It's a curse.

It condemns you to a life of failure

'cause you can't sustain interest

in any boring rat race job long

enough to make a living at it.

I'm creative, I make a living.

You make, you're

a graphic designer, man,

you make pamphlets

and DJ fliers.

You're a f***ing sellout.

All right, well, you know why none

of this bothers me is because

I can't believe a word

that's come out

of your mouth in

the last three years.

Why don't you let me go then?

Everyone you've

ever known thinks

that you're a liar and a thief.

You know, you tricked us too many times

into thinking you were pulling it together.

Mike, when you

and I were f***ing

partying and doing

dumb sh*t together,

I was doing drugs and you

didn't give a sh*t then.

Oh, okay, so I guess then I'm,

uh, I'm like your enabler.

Call it whatever

the f*** you want, man.

Some of this sh*t

is your fault.

We all believe

in the possibility

that you're sick.

We think about all the f***ing horrible

things you've done in your life

and which ones we should

hold you accountable for.

You're saying I'm sick?

I never called it

a f***ing illness

or any of that sh*t at all.

So, f*** off.

We all have temptations, okay?

But most of us, we keep

them in check.

We keep them under control

so we don't hurt

the people around us.

You know, man, there

is a, there is a solid

possibility that you're

just f***ing selfish.

No f***ing sh*t

I'm f***ing selfish, man!

F***.

The only reason

you're f***ing here,

and I'm chained to

this f***ing pipe,

is so that you can have

something to f***ing save

and f***ing feel

good about yourself.

But guess what, Michael,

you're no f***ing

better than anyone else

and your f***ing life is

as meaningless as mine

and I swear to f***ing God

that I'm gonna f***ing sue

the sh*t out of you when

this f***ing sh*t is done.

I, uh, will be back

later tonight.

I'm really sorry about Sara.

Ah-h-h!

Sorry.

Ow, f***.

No, I'm just tired,

and I, uh, I sprained my ankle,

you know, on our morning jog.

So...

Actually, the, um, the

neighbor's dog, uh,

just like literally dropped

dead on Chris' porch.

I don't know, it was like, uh,

like a heart attack or

something, and I...

No, it's fine.

Don't, don't be sad, okay?

The dog was ugly as sh*t.

I just, um, I can't,

I can't decide whether

I should tell

the owner or just bu...

I don't know, I don't

know what to do.

Yes?

Oh, hi.

Um, I'm Michael.

I needed to, uh, talk

to you about your dog.

She's all right, I hope.

Uh, no.

Actually, I'm sorry.

Um, I found her by the road.

It looked like some

coyotes had gotten to her.

Impossible.

Poor Sophie.

Would you like to

sit for a moment?

I just made some tea.

I think it's just a sprain.

But, yeah, I mean, um,

yeah, I could go for some tea.

Thank you.

I, uh, I never

caught your name.

Byron.

I'm Michael.

You are from the city?

Yeah, yeah, I'm just out here

taking care of my friend.

Thank you.

Do you mind?

Oh, no, go right ahead.

Are you French?

Yeah.

How long have you

been out here?

Almost thirty years,

believe it or not.

I mean, how'd you, uh,

how did you end up here?

If you don't mind me asking.

I was studying archeology

at the Sorbonne, and, uh,

I receive a grant

to study native art.

And you just never went back?

I study man,

but I prefer not

to be with him.

You are fine.

I can run faster than

you at the moment.

So, you, uh,

you have a lot of time

to yourself here.

It is a unusual story.

I've, uh, I've got some time.

Two students came here with me.

They said they were studying

some related topics

in archeology and physics.

Something about new

carbon dating methods.

They were very excited

when they first arrived

but then the arguing began.

One would accuse the other

of hiding research

or stealing findings.

A lot of screaming

and slammed doors.

Oh, no, I'm good.

Actually, I haven't done

that since college.

Actually, what, what is that?

I've never seen

it red like that.

I cannot remember

the exact name,

but the seeds I brought

from South America

many years ago.

It grows nicely on the hillside

this time of year.

What?

What was I saying?

You were telling me

about the students.

Yes.

I do not know what they

were actually studying

but the yelling was constant,

and one day the noise

went into the woods

and they never returned.

- Did they go back to France?

- They left their passports.

I tried to find them

through university

but there was no

record of them.

And you don't know what

they were researching?

I found some papers

in the trash,

some esoteric writings

on manipulating

light and sound waves.

I think they were

searching for monsters

and they found each other.

Monsters?

The people come here, Michael,

to look for aliens,

ghosts, and cults,

and gateways to hell,

and secret military bases

looking into other dimensions.

I think if there is something

it is not none of these things,

or perhaps all of them.

I'm sorry, I'm not at

all following

what you're saying.

How does an isolated

tribesman in Ecuador

know the difference

between an alien,

an angel, and a ghost?

I have no idea.

He doesn't,

but he tells a story

to make sense

of the infinite.

Sometimes when

I stare up

and look into the infinite

I see film.

A film?

A membrane there,

and behind it is another,

and another,

and another.

Do you see?

No, I, uh... No, I don't.

I'm sorry.

Each one has a beginning,

middle,

and end.

Beginning,

middle,

end.

Beginning,

middle...

...end.

Thank you so much for the tea

and the aspirin.

I, uh, I should make my way

back home now.

Again, I'm sorry

about your dog.

Aspirin?

Sh*t.

Sh*t!

F***, Chris!

What?

What's happening? What?

F***.

God.

What's wrong with you?

Jesus, are you all right?

F***ing "A".

Oh, no, dude, I'm fine, man.

This is nothin'.

Oh, no big deal.

No, I was, uh...

I couldn't find an artery

with a coffee cup,

so I was trying

to pull a spring out

of the mattress here,

but this mattress

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