of.
He didn't say the most painful.
He just said painful.
- We're supposed to expose ourselves.
- Imagine what Ralph Garci will say.
A pie in the face comes with the job.
That's what my mom says. She knows.
I don't get it.
A real artist must never be afraid of
what other people will say about him.
It was a time when I realized
something about myself.
- Maybe you didn't realize it right.
- What do you mean?
Well, I mean, everybody falls in love
with their analyst.
There's a word for that, isn't there?
Homosexual.
That's my music.
That lunatic stole my tape.
Wow, that's me.
That's my son's music!
My son Bruno. Bruno Martelli!
He wrote the music.
Today, 46th Street...
...tomorrow, Madison Square Garden.
- Papa, what are you doing?
- Bruno!
You've lost your mind. You're crazy.
Those tapes aren't ready.
Look at the people.
They don't know it's not ready.
Look at it, they like it!
Bruno, they like it! Bruno!
- Hey, yo!
- Huh?
Move your fucking parade!
What do you think this is, 5th Avenue?
Back it up!
I'll get your ass, buddy!
Who do you think you are?
You're next, you hear me?
Get away from there.
What are you doing?
How do you like that?
Pick that up, you son of a bitch!
I thought I was just
going through a stage.
That's what everyone told me.
And it never
worried me when I was 10.
Except they told me the same thing
at 12 and 14.
So finally, my analyst
leveled with me.
He said it was probably a life choice.
It's funny.
"Gay" used to mean
such a happy kind of word once.
Not that it bothers me.
I'm pretty well- adjusted, really.
I mean...
...never being happy...
...isn't the same as being unhappy.
Is it?
Dr. Golden explains it real well.
He explains everything well.
I've had a lot of help.
Hey, Doris, you wanna go to
The Rocky Horror Show tomorrow night?
That sounds great.
It starts at midnight, so you better
check it out with your mom.
Calling Montgomery MacNeil.
Oh, Montgomery.
I suppose that a fuck
is out of the question?
There he is, Ralph Garci,
right on the button.
- Nice.
- Get off!
- I warned you this would happen.
- It's your case, man. I don't give a fuck.
- It's a joke, that's all. It just came out.
- Like me.
Yeah. Hey, Doris, listen,
I meant to tell you.
There's an open call for a movie
at the Diplomat Hotel.
- Oh, yeah?
- They're looking for your type.
- What's my type?
- You know, your type.
- Irishy, Jewishy, paranoid.
- What's the name of this movie?
- I Was a Teenage Fag Hag.
- You shit!
Stop it!
I never knew it would
be like this, Doris.
Oh, come closer, sweetheart.
Oh, my, such embrace.
The Silvermans know
some very important people.
They really have connections.
They're mishpoche with Soupy Sales.
Oh, listen.
Your nice white blouse is ironed.
Or you could wear your pink dress
with the ribbons.
- You look so pretty in that.
- I hate that pink dress.
- So don't wear your pink dress.
- I'm not going, Mama!
- Then gargle.
- I'm going out to dinner!
- It's a catered affair.
- It's not the food!
This is an opportunity to perform.
- Take advantage of it.
- I promised Montgomery!
Well, I promised the Silvermans!
It's a party, Doris.
They need a singer.
And you, you need exposure.
So you're going.
I'm not!
Very good, Doris.
What did you realize about yourself?
I don't like birthday parties.
Or pink dresses.
Or the Silvermans. Or Brooklyn.
Or even being Jewish.
I mean, it's not bad...
...but it's not all I am.
I don't know who I am,
and I never will if I don't assert myself.
I'm 16 years old.
I've got to assert myself sometime.
Don't I?
Okay, Doris. Ralph?
I was coming home from
school one day.
As usual.
I had a couple of pieces of business
to attend to in the neighborhood.
It was January.
It was snowing like crazy.
Santa Claus just ripped
everybody off.
He split for Toy Town or Igloo City...
...or the North Pole
or wherever the hell he goes.
So anyway...
I was going home,