divendres, 28 de desembre del 2012

Annie Hall


Abrupt medium close-up of Alvy Singer doing a comedy monologue.  He
wearing a crumbled sports jacket and tieless shirt; the background is stark.

  There's an old joke.  Uh, two elderly 
  women are at a Catskills mountain 
  resort, and one of 'em says: "Boy, the 
  food at this place is really terrible." 
  The other one says, "Yeah, I know, and 
  such ... small portions." Well, that's 
  essentially how I feel about life.  Full 
  of loneliness and misery and suffering 
  and unhappiness, and it's all over much 
  too quickly.  The-the other important 
  joke for me is one that's, uh, usually 
  attributed to Groucho Marx, but I think 
  it appears originally in Freud's wit and 
  its relation to the unconscious.  And it 
  goes like this-I'm paraphrasing: Uh ... 
  "I would never wanna belong to any club 
  that would have someone like me for a 
  member." That's the key joke of my adult 
  life in terms of my relationships with 
  women.  Tsch, you know, lately the 
  strangest things have been going 
  through my mind, 'cause I turned forty, 
  tsch, and I guess I'm going through a 
  life crisis or something, I don't know. 
  I, uh ... and I'm not worried about aging.  
  I'm not one o' those characters, you know. 
  Although I'm balding slightly on top, that's 
  about the worst you can say about me.  I, 
  uh, I think I'm gonna get better as I get 
  older, you know?  I think I'm gonna be the-
  the balding virile type, you know, as 
  opposed to say the, uh, distinguished 
  gray, for instance, you know?  'Less I'm 
  neither o' those two. Unless I'm one o' 
  those guys with saliva dribbling out of 
  his mouth who wanders into a cafeteria 
  with a shopping bag screaming about 

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