Miles Raymond: Well, the world doesn't give a shit what I have to say. I'm not necessary. Had. I'm so insignificant I can't even kill myself.
Jack: Miles, what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Miles Raymond: Come on, man. You know. Hemingway, Sexton, Plath, Woolf. You can't kill yourself before you're even published.
Jack: What about the guy who wrote Confederacy of Dunces? He killed himself before he was published. Look how famous he is.
Miles Raymond: Thanks.
Jack: Just don't give up, alright? You're gonna make it.
Miles Raymond: Half my life is over and I have nothing to show for it. Nothing. I'am thumbprint on the window of a skyscraper. I'm a smudge of excrement on a tissue surging out to sea with a million tons of raw sewage.
Jack: See? Right there. Just what you just said. That is beautiful. 'A smudge of excrement... surging out to sea.'
Miles Raymond: Yeah.
Jack: I could never write that.
Miles Raymond: Neither could I, actually. I think it's Bukowski.
Maya: You know, can I ask you a personal question, Miles?
Miles Raymond: Sure.
Maya: Why are you so in to Pinot?
Miles Raymond: [laughs softly]
Maya: I mean, it's like a thing with you.
Miles Raymond: [continues laughing softly]
Miles Raymond: Uh, I don't know, I don't know. Um, it's a hard grape to grow, as you know. Right? It's uh, it's thin-skinned, temperamental, ripens early. It's, you know, it's not a survivor like Cabernet, which can just grow anywhere and uh, thrive even when it's neglected. No, Pinot needs constant care and attention. You know? And in fact it can only grow in these really specific, little, tucked away corners of the world. And, and only the most patient and nurturing of growers can do it, really. Only somebody who really takes the time to understand Pinot's potential can then coax it into its fullest expression. Then, I mean, oh its flavors, they're just the most haunting and brilliant and thrilling and subtle and... ancient on the planet.
Jack: If they want to drink Merlot, we're drinking Merlot.
Miles Raymond: No, if anyone orders Merlot, I'm leaving. I am NOT drinking any fucking Merlot!
Miles Raymond: What about you?
Maya: What about me?
Miles Raymond: I don't know. Why are you into wine?
Maya: Oh I... I think I... I originally got in to wine through my ex-husband.
Miles Raymond: Ah.
Maya: You know, he had this big, sort of show-off cellar, you know.
Miles Raymond: Right.
Maya: But then I discovered that I had a really sharp palate.
Miles Raymond: Uh-huh.
Maya: And the more I drank, the more I liked what it made me think about.
Miles Raymond: Like what?
Maya: Like what a fraud he was.
[Miles laughs softly]
Maya: No, I- I like to think about the life of wine.
Miles Raymond: Yeah.
Maya: How it's a living thing. I like to think about what was going on the year the grapes were growing; how the sun was shining; if it rained. I like to think about all the people who tended and picked the grapes. And if it's an old wine, how many of them must be dead by now. I like how wine continues to evolve, like if I opened a bottle of wine today it would taste different than if I'd opened it on any other day, because a bottle of wine is actually alive. And it's constantly evolving and gaining complexity. That is, until it peaks, like your '61. And then it begins its steady, inevitable decline.
Miles Raymond: Hmm.
Maya: And it tastes so fucking good.
Maya: [on answering machine] Hello, Miles. It's Maya. Thanks for your letter. I-I would have called sooner, but I think I needed some time to think about everything that happened and... what you wrote to me. Another reason, um, I didn't call you sooner is because I wanted to finish your book, which I finally did last night. And I think it's really lovely, Miles. You're so good with words. Who cares if it's not getting published? There are so many beautiful and... painful things about it. Did you really go through all that? Must have been awful. And the sister character - jeez, what a wreck. But I have to say that, well, I was really confused by the ending. I mean, did the father finally commit suicide, or what? It's driving me crazy. Anyway, it's turned cold and rainy here lately, but I like winter. So, listen, if you ever do decide to come up here again, you should let me know. I would say stop by the restaurant, but to tell you the truth, I'm not sure how much longer I'm gonna be working there, because I'm going to graduate soon. So, I'll probably want to relocate. I mean, we'll see. Anyway, like I said, I really loved your novel. Don't give up, Miles. Keep writing. I hope you're well. Bye.
Jack: Yo! Yo! Here's my boy! Here's my boy! But who's your daddy? Now who is your daddy?
Miles Raymond: Put me down, Jack.
Jack: I'm so proud of you! Let me love you! So tell me everything. Details. I like details.
Miles Raymond: No.
Miles Raymond: It's private.
Jack: You're kidding, right? Tell me what happened, you fucker, or I'll tie your dick in a knot.
Miles Raymond: Let's leave it alone.
Jack: You didn't get any, did you? You're a homo.
Jack: Listen, man. Cammi gets off in an hour, so I was thinking I'd just hang around and have a drink, and make sure she gets home safe.
Miles Raymond: You're joking, right?
Miles Raymond: Un-fucking-believable. Can't we just... go back to the motel... and hang out... and get up early, play 9 holes of golf... before we head home?
Jack: [puts his hand on Miles' shoulder] Listen, man. You're my friend, and I know you care about me. And I know you disapprove, and I respect that. But there are some things that I have to do that you don't understand. You understand literature, movies, wine... but you don't understand my plight.
Jack: I might be in love with another woman.
Miles Raymond: In love? Really? 24 hours with some wine-pourer chick and you're fucking in love? Come on! And you're gonna give up everything?
Jack: Here's what I'm thinking: you and me, we move up here, we buy a vineyard. You design the wine; I'll handle the business side. You get inspired, maybe write another novel, one that can sell.
Miles Raymond: Oh, my God. No, no.
Jack: As for me, if an audition comes up, LA's right there, man. It's two hours away, not even.
Miles Raymond: Jesus Christ, you're crazy. You're crazy. You've gone crazy.
Jack: All I know is that I'm an actor. All I have is my instinct. You're asking me to go against it.
Miles Raymond: [looking in mirror after pulling away from Maya] You're such a fucking loser. You make me fucking sick.
Miles Raymond: Let me show you how this is done. First thing, hold the glass up and examine the wine against the light. You're looking for color and clarity. Just, get a sense of it. OK? Uhh, thick? Thin? Watery? Syrupy? OK? Alright. Now, tip it. What you're doing here is checking for color density as it thins out towards the rim. Uhh, that's gonna tell you how old it is, among other things. It's usually more important with reds. OK? Now, stick your nose in it. Don't be shy, really get your nose in there. Mmm... a little citrus... maybe some strawberry...
Miles Raymond: ... passion fruit...
[puts hand up to ear]
Miles Raymond: ... and, oh, there's just like the faintest soupçon of like asparagus and just a flutter of a, like a, nutty Edam cheese...
Jack: Wow. Strawberries, yeah! Strawberries. Not the cheese...
Miles Raymond: [while tasting wine] It tastes like the back of a fucking L.A. school bus. Now they probably didn't de-stem, hoping for some semblance of concentration, crushed it up with leaves and mice, and then wound up with this rancid tar and turpentine bullshit. Fuckin' Raid.
Jack: Tastes pretty good to me.
Miles Raymond: Did you read the latest draft, by the way?
Jack: Oh, yeah. Yeah.
Miles Raymond: And?
Jack: It's great. I mean there are so many improvements. It's much tighter, just seems... I don't know, more congealed or something.
Miles Raymond: Mm-hmm. What about the new ending? Did you like that?
Jack: Oh, yeah. New ending vastly superior to the old ending.
Miles Raymond: There is no new ending. Page 750 on is exactly the same.
Jack: [pause] Well... maybe it just seemed new because everything leading up to it was so different?
Miles Raymond: [sarcastically] Yeah, that must be it!
Jack: Bet ya that chick's two tons of fun. You know, the grateful type?
Jack: Fucking chick's married, man.
Miles Raymond: What?
Jack: Her husband works a night shift or something, and he comes home and catches me on the floor with my cock in his wife's ass.
Miles Raymond: Oh, Jesus Christ.
Miles Raymond: She tell you she was married?
Miles Raymond: So what the fuck were you thinking?
Jack: Wasn't supposed to be back 'til six. Fucker rolls in at five.
Miles Raymond: Okay, so what's the plan?
Jack: Uh... the plan is... you go.
Miles Raymond: ME?
Jack: 'Cause of my ankle. Still hurts. Just go explain the situation, Miles.
Miles Raymond: [laughs uproariously]
Miles Raymond: Explain the situation? Yes. 'Excuse me, sir, my friend was the one balling your wife couple of hours ago. Really sorry. He seems to have left his wallet behind. I was wondering if I come in, just poke around, I don't know'
Jack: Yeah, yeah, just like that. That's good.
[talking about Maya and walking by a golfer and his son]
Jack: Don't you just want to feel that cozy little box grip down on your johnson?
Vacationing Dr. Walt Hendricks: Hey, you mind keeping it down, buddy?
Miles Raymond: Yeah, right. Yup, I'm a homo. Yeah. Yeah. Just make up whatever you want and that's what happened. Okay? Write out my gay confession and I'll sign it. Okay? Just stop pushing me all the time. You're an infant, Jack. This is all a big party for you... but not for me.
Maya: You know, the day you open a '61 Cheval Blanc... that's the special occasion.
Jack: [talking about his future] Christine's dad has really been talking to me about getting into the family business, showing me the ropes. Which is something, considering how long it took for him to get over my not being Armenian.
Jack: I have to have an operation. Maybe a couple. They have to wait for my nose to heal first, and then they're going to break it again.
Miles Raymond: At least you'll still have a voice-over career.
Jack: It's going to fuck that up too. I ought to sue her ass. The only reason I won't is to protect Christine.
Miles Raymond: That's thoughtful.
Miles Raymond: [runs into his apartment, noticing his clock] Oh, fuck me!
[cut to Miles on the phone]
Miles Raymond: I know I said I would be there at noon, but traffic has been a beast, but I'm out the door and on my way right now!
[the next shot reveals Miles sitting on the toilet]
Jack: [crying] I can't lose Christine, Miles. I can't. I know I fucked up, I know I did a bad thing, and I'm a bad person! But you gotta help me, Miles! You gotta help me! If I lose Christine, I... I am nothing! I'm nothing!
Mike Erganian: What is the subject of your book? Non fiction?
Miles Raymond: Uh, no. It's... it's a novel. Fiction. Yes. Although there is quite a bit from my own life... so I suppose that, technically some of it is nonfiction.
Mike Erganian: Good I like non fiction. There is so much to know about this world. I think you read something somebody just invented, waste of time.
Miles Raymond: That's an interesting perspective.
Jack: Man! That's tasty!
Miles Raymond: That's 100% pinot noir. Single vineyard. They don't even make it any more.
Jack: Pinot noir?
Miles Raymond: Mmm-hmm.
Jack: Then how come it's white?
Miles Raymond: [laughs] Oh, Jesus. Don't ask questions like that up in wine country. They'll think you're some kind of dumbshit, OK?
Jack: This chick Stephanie, she's got it all goin' on.
Miles Raymond: Well, she is cute, yeah.
Jack: Cute? She's a fuckin' hottie. And you almost tell her that I'm gettin' married? What's the matter with you?
Jack: Do not drink too much. Do you hear me? I don't want you passing out or going to the dark side. No going to the dark side!
Miles Raymond: Okay!
Jack: Are you still seeing that shrink?
Miles Raymond: I saw him on Monday. I spent most of the time helping him with his computer.
Jack: Well, I say, fuck therapy. And what is that stuff you take... Xanax?
Miles Raymond: And Lexapro, yes.
Jack: Well, I say, fuck that too. You need to get your joint worked on, Miles.
Jack: Speak for yourself. I get chicks lookin' at me all the time. All ages. Dudes too.
Miles Raymond: Well, it's not worth it. You pay too big a price. It's never free.
Jack: You need to get laid, Miles. You know what? That's going to be my best man gift to you this week. I'm gonna get you laid.
Miles Raymond: Wonderful.
Jack: I'm not gonna get you a gift certificate or a pen knife or any of that other horse shit.
Miles Raymond: I'd rather have a knife.
Jack: I'm trying to get you a little action, I'd appreciate a little help!
Cammi: And here are your handy wipes.
Jack: Oh, so that's what these are. For a minute there I thought you guys were promoting safe sex.
Jack: Consult your doctor before using this product. Side effects may include oily discharge, hives, loss of appetite, low blood pressure. If you have diabetes or a history of kidney trouble, you're dead, asshole!
Jack: Try to be your normal, humorous self. The guy you were before the tailspin. Do you remember that guy? People love that guy.
Maya: So is it kind of about death and mortality, or...?
Miles Raymond: Mrnmm, yeah... but not really. It shifts around a lot. Like you also start to see everything from the point of view of the father. And some other stuff happens, some parallel narrative, and then it evolves - or devolves - into a kind of a Robbe-Grillet mystery - with no real resolution.
Miles Raymond: Quaffable, but uh... far from transcendent.
Miles Raymond: This week is not about me. It is about you. I'm gonna show you a good time. We're gonna drink a lot of good wine. We're gonna play some golf. We're gonna eat some great food and enjoy the scenery and we are going to send you off in style, mon frere.
Jack: And get your bone smooched.
[after Jack swerves off the road and crashes the car into a tree]
Miles Raymond: What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK?
Stephanie: [to Jack as she is beating him with her motorcycle helmet] I hope you die!
[stops beating Jack and looks at Miles]
Stephanie: You too!
Miles Raymond: Me?
Jack: [Stephanie pours Jack and Miles full glasses of sample wine] Oh, Stephanie, you bad girl.
Stephanie: I know, I need to be spanked.
Miles Raymond: A little citrus. Maybe some strawberry. Mmm. Passion fruit, mmm, and, oh, there's just like the faintest soupçon of like, uh, asparagus, and, there's a, just a flutter of, like a, like a nutty Edam cheese.
Miles Raymond: Hey, what should I wear?
Jack: I don't know, something casual but nice. They think you're a writer.
Jack: Listen, honey. Let me call you right back. Miles and I are in the middle of something. No, it's nothing serious, Miles is just having one of his freak-outs. Yeah. Love you too.
Jack: Somebody had to do the talking. And by the way, I was right. She's not married.
Miles Raymond: How do you know?
Jack: No rock. When she came to the bar, sans rock.
Jack: [to Miles] You dick, why do you have to focus on the negative?
Cammi: [Miles has just made a mad dash through Cammi's bedroom, grabbing Jack's wallet on the way out] The wallet! He's got Derek's wallet!
Miles Raymond: [after teaching Jack how to evaluating a glass of wine prior to tasting] ... Are you chewing gum?
Jack: What? No! No...
Miles Raymond: [after a long drawn out pause] ... Spit it out.
Jack: [Miles walks in on Jack and Stephanie having sex] Not now! Not now!
Jack: There he is. There's my boy. But who's your daddy? Who is yo' daddy?
Jack: Come here.
Miles Raymond: Uh! Huh!
Jack: [tears one condom off the string] One for you.
Miles Raymond: Mmm.
Jack: Three for me.