yourself to the place where you can be nowhere else.
deleted name: No, if, think about it, and it’s not, this is a, one of the unacknowledged, and I’m guessing unconsciously accepted foundations... cornerstones even, of any book or film, and this includes non-fiction and documentaries, is that any given character spends more time off the page or screen than on it.
Skunk (looking puzzled, his voice still textured with the exhaustion of its grief): In the sense of...
deleted name (interrupting, in part the very purpose of his monologue is to save the younger man from speaking): In in in, well think, think about the timeline of any film, or any book; you mentioned “Blade Runner” earlier, right? There are sizable ellipses in that film, what is everybody actually doing during those periods? What are any of the characters actually
then interrupting himself
deleted name: and then, not to mention of course there’s the fact that there, scenes were written and then they were cut, and others that were even filmed and then cut, but without any sort of due regard to their impact upon the subsequent script, so that the fall-out of a scene that was cut would be left in because no-one remembered to change things further down the line, which of course leads to all manner of eh... speculation.
some of which he momentarily seems to visibly consider, before
deleted name: And of course the eh, the combi-, the consolidated time of each of these interstices constitutes hours and hours, sometimes days, weeks, months even of detail, right, the absence of which we, as viewers, simply accept. But why? How did we ever, didn’t you, I mean, didn’t you ever wonder what might be happening in the meantime?
Brother Skunk’s sole response, revisiting the once-cold bottle of Coca-Cola slowly warming between his hands to offer salve the raw column of his throat.
deleted name: What eh, I mean I, I, the replicants who are only supposed to “live"
taking his hands from off the steering wheel to claw quote commas into the air before his face
deleted name: for four years in some ways remind me of, well, I think this is more usually the case with comic or cartoon characters, Charlie Brown’s a good example, where they’re uh... frozen at a certain age, and whatever they experience doesn’t seem to count for anything, even if, Charlie Brown will never kick that football or or um,
pursuing his thoughts
deleted name: fly his kite or whatever, Linus will never see the Great Pumpkin, Lucy and Schroeder won’t, you know, and in that stasis they’re almost doomed to live out the same... disappointments, I suppose, over and over,
curtailing his tangent, and returning
deleted name: and just, you remember the scene where Roy Batty asks Tyrell for more life,
biting off each of the words
deleted name: “I want more life, fucker”
laughing, and back
deleted name: I mean, it’s easy enough to imagine Charlie Brown asking Charles Schulz something similar, maybe not “I want more life”, but “I want some life”.
Pause.
Skunk (each word sounding the effort of its being spoken) : “I want a life”...
looking out through the side window,
Skunk: ..Father.
Skunk (looking puzzled, his voice still textured with the exhaustion of its grief): In the sense of...
deleted name (interrupting, in part the very purpose of his monologue is to save the younger man from speaking): In in in, well think, think about the timeline of any film, or any book; you mentioned “Blade Runner” earlier, right? There are sizable ellipses in that film, what is everybody actually doing during those periods? What are any of the characters actually
then interrupting himself
deleted name: and then, not to mention of course there’s the fact that there, scenes were written and then they were cut, and others that were even filmed and then cut, but without any sort of due regard to their impact upon the subsequent script, so that the fall-out of a scene that was cut would be left in because no-one remembered to change things further down the line, which of course leads to all manner of eh... speculation.
some of which he momentarily seems to visibly consider, before
deleted name: And of course the eh, the combi-, the consolidated time of each of these interstices constitutes hours and hours, sometimes days, weeks, months even of detail, right, the absence of which we, as viewers, simply accept. But why? How did we ever, didn’t you, I mean, didn’t you ever wonder what might be happening in the meantime?
Brother Skunk’s sole response, revisiting the once-cold bottle of Coca-Cola slowly warming between his hands to offer salve the raw column of his throat.
deleted name: What eh, I mean I, I, the replicants who are only supposed to “live"
taking his hands from off the steering wheel to claw quote commas into the air before his face
deleted name: for four years in some ways remind me of, well, I think this is more usually the case with comic or cartoon characters, Charlie Brown’s a good example, where they’re uh... frozen at a certain age, and whatever they experience doesn’t seem to count for anything, even if, Charlie Brown will never kick that football or or um,
pursuing his thoughts
deleted name: fly his kite or whatever, Linus will never see the Great Pumpkin, Lucy and Schroeder won’t, you know, and in that stasis they’re almost doomed to live out the same... disappointments, I suppose, over and over,
curtailing his tangent, and returning
deleted name: and just, you remember the scene where Roy Batty asks Tyrell for more life,
biting off each of the words
deleted name: “I want more life, fucker”
laughing, and back
deleted name: I mean, it’s easy enough to imagine Charlie Brown asking Charles Schulz something similar, maybe not “I want more life”, but “I want some life”.
Pause.
Skunk (each word sounding the effort of its being spoken) : “I want a life”...
looking out through the side window,
Skunk: ..Father.
deleted name: Something I really
