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: [handing Tony Wilson a piece of paper
] Joy Division, you cunt!
: So this is permanence; love-shattered pride. What once was innocence, has turned on its side.
: When you look at your life, in a strange new room, maybe drowning soon, is this the start of it all?
: I wish I were a Warhol silk screen hanging on the wall. Or little Joe or maybe Lou. I'd love to be them all. All New York's broken hearts and secrets would be mine. I'd put you on a movie reel, and that would be just fine.
: Side effects include: drowsiness, apathy, and blurred vision... I'm taking two.
: Existence. Well, what does it matter? I exist on the best terms I can. The past is now part of my future. The present is well out of hand.
: Ian... Ian Curtis
: Hmm? Annik Honore
: I'm a little scared. Ian Curtis
: Scared of what? Annik Honore
: Scared of falling in love with you.
: I don't want to be in the band anymore. Unknown Pleasures was it. I was happy. I never meant for it to grow like this. When I'm up there, singing they don't understand how much I give and how it affects me. Now they want more. They expect me to give more. And I don't know if I can. It's like it's not happening to me, but... someone pretending to be me, someone dressed in my skin. Now we're going to America. I have no control anymore. I don't know what to do.
: I struggle between what I know is right in my own mind, and some warped truthfulness as seen through other people's eyes who have no heart, and can't see the difference anyway.
: [shouting across the bar
] Wilson, ya fucking cunt! Tony Wilson
: That's original.
] Tony Wilson
: Your drink's coming. Is he a friend of yours? Rob Gretton
: Yeah, he's our singer. Ian Curtis
: [crossing the bar to approach Tony
] Out of the way, Steve. Tony Wilson
: Hi, Tony Wilson, pleased to meet you.
[Ian just glowers at him wordlessly
] Tony Wilson
: ... Is he gonna hit me? You're quite close to me there. Ian Curtis
: Yeah, I know, I wanna be. Tony Wilson
: Why? Ian Curtis
: 'Cos you're a cunt, mate. Tony Wilson
: I know, I heard you the first time.
: [listening to their recording of "She's Lost Control"
] I sound like Bowie. Tony Wilson
: That's good. You like Bowie. Ian Curtis
] I hate fuckin' Bowie! In "All The Young Dudes" he sings about how you should die when you're twenty-five. Do you know how old he is? He's thirty, twenty-nine, something. He's a liar. Tony Wilson
: Look, it doesn't matter. A lot of great artists produce their best work when they're... older. You know, W.B. Yeats... Ian Curtis
: I've never heard of him, mate. Tony Wilson
: Yeats is the greatest poet since Dante. If he'd have died when he was twenty-five... Ian Curtis
: I would have heard of him, Tony!