Lights up. Jimmy steps up to Giovanni. He puts his hands on Giovanni’s shoulders and looks him dead in the eye.
JIMMY: I’m ready. You ready?
GIOVANNI: Loaded question that...
JIMMY: Just say yes.
GIOVANNI: Okay.
JIMMY: Someone is coming here today.
Jimmy looks down to his wrist. He’s not wearing a watch.
JIMMY: (Cont’d) At six p.m. sharp to discuss the future. My future. It is, without question, what’s bothering me the most, but also, without question, strongly connected to the least...it’s all connected, is what I’m saying.
GIOVANNI: Okay.
JIMMY: His name is Dean, and he works for the Network.
GIOVANNI: The TV people you write the show for?
JIMMY: Yes.
GIOVANNI: Your boss?
JIMMY: Don’t ever say that again. I’m an artist. I don’t have a boss, or shouldn’t, but for all intents and purposes, yes, that’s him.
GIOVANNI: This is good.
JIMMY: No.
GIOVANNI: Maybe for me.
JIMMY: You won’t be here, unfortunately. Sorry.
GIOVANNI: That’s fine. I got connections, too.
JIMMY: I’m gonna quit my job.
GIOVANNI: I heard you the first time.
JIMMY: I was pretty sure of that, but you did just ask me to repeat it.
GIOVANNI: What the hell are you talking about?
Jimmy takes his hands off of Giovanni and backs away.
JIMMY: Well, I guess I’m talking about a lot of things. I’m talking about losing my mind. I’m talking about quality of life. I’m talking about babies. I’m talking about trips to Paris. I’m talking about making a decision that could potentially undo un-do-able damage.
Giovanni ponders.
GIOVANNI: Nope. That’s a double...something or other. That doesn’t work, I don’t think.
JIMMY: I can’t take it anymore.
GIOVANNI: Hold on.
JIMMY: For what?
GIOVANNI: Well, take it anymore, as in can’t, would imply that there is, in fact, something you have been taking.
JIMMY: Oh, I’ve been taking.
GIOVANNI: Taking what, though?
JIMMY: I don’t even know where to start.
GIOVANNI: Well, figure it out because, as far I know, you got a job that most law-abiding citizens would kill for.
JIMMY: As far as you know? How far is that?
GIOVANNI: I don’t know, but two years ago you were broke. You got a roof now. Clothing. A toaster. I remember, not too deep back in the past, you trying to spread stale peanut butter on a slice of wheat with a plastic spork. It didn’t work. You know how much bread we destroyed?
JIMMY: I wasn’t this miserable.
GIOVANNI: We fucked up a lot of bread.
JIMMY: What? You gotta be hungry to be miserable?
GIOVANNI: Where’s this coming from? Since when are you miserable? And to say you weren’t something when it’s two years behind is one thing.
JIMMY: Look at me.
GIOVANNI: Okay.
JIMMY: Well?
GIOVANNI: You’re handsome. What the fuck?
JIMMY: I have dreams. All of a sudden. Very nasty and scary dreams. Dreams where I kill people. Dreams where people are trying to kill me. I have dreams that I’m having sex with lots of women.
GIOVANNI: You can’t throw that in there with the other stuff. It doesn’t go.
JIMMY: Sure, it does. All my ex-girlfriends lined up in a row. And I’m crying, and I’m forced to have sex with them in front of my current girlfriend, and she’s crying, too.
GIOVANNI: Obviously.
JIMMY: Then there’s this one I keep having with my mother…
GIOVANNI: Okay, that’s it. I draw the line there. Not only is she your mother, but she’s dead. Killing, sex, whatever it is, it’s no good, I’m sure, and I get the point.
JIMMY: I’m miserable. I’ve never been so unhappy. Not when I was broke, not when I was lonely, not ever. One thing, and one thing only, my entire life has made sense to me, and that’s been my work.
GIOVANNI: Respectfully, and I love ya, but do you have any idea how pretentious that just sounded?
JIMMY: Shit. Yes, I do. As a rule, usually before I say something pretentious I like to preface with what I’m about to say is going to sound really pretentious, because it generally exonerates the comment from sounding really pretentious, but I skipped that because I’m really out of sorts.
Jimmy pauses.
GIOVANNI: Still is what it is.
JIMMY: Fine, but it’s the truth. And right now, at this point, it’s beyond not making sense.
GIOVANNI: The comment or the work?
JIMMY: Life. Any of it. The work? I hate it. Everything about it. I hate what I’m doing, I hate the people I’m doing it for—and, most important, as a result, I’m starting to hate myself. Not to mention I’m destroying other things that have no business being destroyed. She wants babies? No shit. That’s a woman’s right. Paris is obviously something else, and I hate the French, but I suppose she deserves that, too. It’s just a trip. Big fuckin’ deal.
Giovanni is perplexed. Jimmy begins to pace.
JIMMY: (Cont’d) It’s just not worth it. It can’t be. Not for all the money in the world… Well, maybe for all the money in the world. An arbitrary number obviously, and a fantasy to top it off, so no. I don’t know. I’m very confused is ultimately what I’m saying.
Giovanni takes a moment to process.
JIMMY: (Cont’d) Look. I mean, look. You. What? You’ve come in with this newfound ambition for the arts. And I don’t want to piss on that. I think that’s great. I think you’d make a fantastic actor. Hey. These people on television? You want to know something? They suck. A lot. All of ’em. Even the ones that bitch. Especially the ones that bitch. Fuck the training. You don’t need it. Just be you. But whatever you do, and this is a warning, don’t, under any circumstances, and I know this is going to sound pretentious, but never sign something that has the potential to fuck with your artistic integrity. It’s no good. Trust me.
GIOVANNI: Are you done?
JIMMY: Life.
GIOVANNI: What about it?
JIMMY: I don’t want to make the wrong move here. I mean, that’s it, right?
GIOVANNI: That’s what, right?
JIMMY: Life. Everything. It’s all there in the moment. Whatever that specific moment is. Here’s this space. This box. What you do next will affect everything. I don’t know. Maybe I ask for more money, get rich, travel to France, and make babies. Maybe I tell them to get fucked and they sue me. Maybe they just let me go, I doubt it, but maybe. I’m rolling the dice here, either way, and let me tell you, it’s a very scary roll. What do I want? Unfortunately, this is not an A-to-B situation. The line’s a mess. What I say could potentially inform everything else to come. Maybe the troubles of my relationship go away if I’m happy. Maybe things get worse if I’m broke. Maybe it’s just nice to have a paying job. I really don’t know. It’s really up to me.
Giovanni checks his watch.
GIOVANNI: I gotta go.
JIMMY: Wait.
GIOVANNI: Hey. I gotta go get this bag, come back, we gotta get high, come to a conclusion, and then sober up all before six. You gotta let me go.
JIMMY: Hurry up.
LIGHTS OUT