You can think that, too.
I love this place.
This is great.
Can you believe it, $3 for a beer?
I paid $3.
I love that. It's great.
Be right back, OK?
You'll wait right here?
Enjoying the music?
I'm sorry. The ladies' room was too
crowded. You don't mind, do you?
No, no, not at all.
- Do you come here a lot?
- A lot?
I don't know if you'd say a lot.
Twice tonight.
But, you know, I had coffee earlier,
then a beer.
I meant the place.
The club.
Ciao.
Hi, Lefty.
How's the neighbourhood gigolo?
Well, Lefty boy,
about this Valerie Blake.
Is she, you know...?
Kristy.
Did you hear that?
Kris?
Oh, my God.
Hello, Jake.
Is it all right that I came in?
- How did you find me?
- I've been watching you.
You must know, I don't make a habit
of walking into people's houses.
It's OK.
You're frightened.
I don't know.
I...
I think I'm experiencing an emotion
that hasn't been defined yet.
The more I try to explain to you why
and how I came to be here...
...the less we'd both understand it.
- Probably.
I'll just say that I have a very deep
and certain feeling about you.
- Do you believe in destiny?
- From now on, I will.
We were meant to be.
You've long felt
like something was missing.
You were carrying with you a void.
I was born to fill it.
We can't help it.
Our lives up to now have
been the prelude to this moment.
Now it's happened, and
all that emptiness you felt is gone.
It's not wrong.
No guilt.
It's destiny.
You couldn't prevent it.
No guilt, only pleasure.
You don't need anything else
for the rest of your life.
- We have no choice?
- We have no choice.
We're destiny.
Jake, you're dreaming again,
sweetie.
Babe!
Babe, what happened?
Bad dream.
Why couldn't I accept who I was,
what I was and where I was?
Why couldn't I be
like everyone else on the train?
Were they mindless drones following
the scent of money to a senseless end?
Or bearers of a great secret
that allowed them to rejoice in this life
that I was so unwilling to embrace?
And what was the deal
with that weird dream?
So many questions.
So few answers.
17, 18. What's the big deal?
What do you expect?
You've been here a year.
Five, ten years, you'll be cranking
this crap out in your sleep.
I don't intend to be writing ads
ten years from now.
- Oh, what? This is just temporary?
- Yeah, very.
I had the same feelings at your age.
I actually even quit once.
- Did you?
- To write a book.
- Yeah?
- Yep.
And I built six birdhouses,
put on 20lb,
watched 5,000 hours of TV,
wrote a page and a half,
called Howard, got my old job back.
Everybody tries it
and everybody comes back.
The rare individual breaks out.
But it's too infrequent to warrant
consideration. Forget it.
Well, you're looking
at the rare individual,
because I'm busting out.
Listen. I measure my life
in degrees of happiness.
I'm supporting my family
in a way that makes me happy.
I've got a nice house.
I've got a real nice car.
And, once a year,
I write an ad that I'm proud of.
- And that's what you want?
- No, that's what I take.
You never get what you want.
The guys who jump off the bridge
on their 40th birthdays
are the ones who want
more than they will ever get.
- You depress the shit out of me.
- Yeah?
Consider what I do to myself.
He was my boss.
I secretly believed he was terrified
that I might make something of
myself outside the field.
If I did, he'd be reminded
of his own failures.
The last thing I needed
was a 36-year-old manic depressive
begrudging me my youth.
I was frightened enough
that it was evaporating.
Get used to it, pal.
It only gets worse.
- Have you ever held a baby before?
- No.
- Do you want to?
- Yes.
Sit over here.
Kristy, over here right now.
Now.
No, not