Majestical Print

'Sometimes during the night I'd look at my poor sleeping mother cruelly crucified there in the American night because of no-money, no-hope-of-money, no family, no nothing, just myself the stupid son of plans all of them compacted of eventual darkness. God how right Hemingway was when he said there was no remedy for life - and to think that negative little paper-shuffling prissies should write condescending obituaries about a man who told the truth, nay who drew breath in pain to tell a tale like that! ... No remedy but in my mind I raise a fist to High Heaven promising that I shall bull whip the first bastard who makes fun of human hopelessness anyway - I know it's ridiculous to pray to my father that hunk of dung in a grave yet I pray to him anyway, what else shall I do? sneer? shuffle paper on a desk and burp rationality? Ah thank God for all the Rationalists the worms and vermin got. Thank God for all the hate mongering political pamphleteers with no left or right to yell about in the Grave of Space. I say that we shall all be reborn with the Only One, and that's what makes me go on, and my mother too. She has her rosary in the bus, don't deny her that, that's her way of stating the fact. If there can't be love among men let there be love at least between men and God. Human courage is an opiate but opiates are human too. If God is an opiate so am I. Thefore eat me. Eat the night, the long desolate American between Sanford and Shlamford and Blamford and Crapford, eat the hematodes that hang parasitically from dreary southern trees, eat the blood in the ground, the dead Indians, the dead pioneers, the dead Fords and Pontiacs, the dead Mississippis, the dead arms of forlorn hopelessness washing underneath - Who are men, that they can insult men? Who are these people who wear pants and dresses and sneer? What am I talking about? I'm talking about human helplessness and unbelievable loneliness in the darkness of birth and death and asking 'What is there to laugh about in that?' 'How can you be clever in a meatgrinder?' 'Who makes fun of misery?' There's my mother a hunk of flesh that didn't ask to be born, sleeping restlessly, dreaming hopefully, beside her son who also didn't ask to be born, thinking desperately, praying hopelessly, in a bouncing earthly vehicle going from nowhere to nowhere, all in the night, worst of all for that matter all in noonday glare of bestial Gulf Coast roads - Where is the rock that will sustain us? Why are we here? What kind of crazy college would feature a seminar where people talk about hopelessness, forever?" -Jack Kerouac from 'Desolation Angels' (1965) "The faces! There's no face to compare with Jack Minger's who's up on the bandstand now with a colored trumpeter who outblows him wild and Dizzy but Jack's face overlooking all the heads and smoke - He has a face that looks like everybody you've ever known and seen on the street in your generation, a sweet face - Hard to describe - sad eyes, cruel lips, expectant gleam, swaying to the beat, tall, MAJESTICAL." -Jack Kerouac from 'Desolation Angels' (1965) Bella: [after Ricky gets a dog] What are you gonna call him? Ricky Baker: I'm still thinking. Something fierce to reflect its true nature. Either Psycho, Megatron or Tupac. Bella: What's a Tupac? Ricky Baker: We didn't choose the skux life. [last lines] Hec: The skux life chose us. Ricky Baker: We'll just tell them you were looking after me. Hec: Doesn't matter what you tell them, they won't believe you. They'll think I made you do it. I'm not going back to jail, I'm better off up here. This is no place for a kid. You're gonna have to go back, Ricky. Ricky Baker: To what? Hec: To the welfare people. Ricky Baker: No! Hec: They'll look after you. Ricky Baker: No, they won't! Hec: They'll find you another home, you'll be fine. Ricky Baker: You're not listening! Nobody listens! There's no more homes, just juvy! Hec: What's juvy? Ricky Baker: Juvenile prison. They don't care about kids like me, they just keep moving us around until something happens like... Amber. Hec: Oh no, bugger then. Okay, okay. We're in about a million hectares of bush, that's big, it's big enough to hide in for a while, anyway. Ricky Baker: Good enough for me. Hec: But we're heading into winter. It's gonna be rough, no huts, no tents, real bush life. Can you handle that? Ricky Baker: I can handle it. Hec: Yeah. And if you play up, I dump you. Ricky Baker: Okay, Uncle. Hec: I'd still prefer if you don't call me Uncle. Ricky Baker: Okay, Hec. So what do we do now? Hec: We run. [They run for a few seconds, then stop out of breathe] Hec: Wait, wait wait. Maybe we don't need to run. Hec: You can take him, but I'm staying here. Hugh: Like hell. People want answers. Ron: Yeah, answers. Hec: Look, we got lost, I got injured, he's fine, it was basically a holiday. Ricky Baker: Not a real holiday because he made me do stuff. Hugh: Like what? Ricky Baker: Just stuff. He had a sore leg so he made me do things for him. It was hard at first because my hands are so soft, but I got used to it. I didn't really wanna do it, but it was the only way to survive. It wasn't always hard, sometimes I got to do my own thing. He pretty much never joined in with me though. I asked if he wanted to play with me, but he would just make me play with myself. Ron: I feel sick. Officer Andy: We're offering ten thousand dollars to anyone who can capture them, dead or alive. Officer Andy: Oh. Alive. They should be alive. Hec: Pretty majestical, aye? Ricky Baker: I don't think that's a word. Hec: Majestical? Sure it is. Ricky Baker: Nah, it's not real. Hec: What would you know? Ricky Baker: It's majestic. Hec: That doesn't sound very special, majestical's way better. from 'Hunt for the Wilderpeople' (2016) Starring Sam Neill (Memoirs of an Invisible Man), Ricky Baker (Deadpool 2), and Rhys Darby (Hopefully 'We're Wolves', but definitely 'Guns Akimbo') Screenplay by Taika Waititi (What We Do In The Shadows) Directed by Taika Waititi (The Best MCU Movie - In my unhumble opinion) Based on the book 'Wild Pork and Watercress' written by Barry Crump.