Previously...
I would have been less Moody if you made me into a Moody.
Get on with your life.
Forget about the woman you did not want to marry.
Back to work.
- Care to tell me about that? - I'm a married man.
Hey, baby.
- My name is Hank. - I know.
This is Mia, Bill's daughter. This is Hank.
- You know each other? - No.
- I am 16. - So I've been told.
- My daughter is an angel. - You poor bastard.
I have a creative writing course. I need to submit something today.
You must have a short story you never published.
- Remember me? - How could I forget ?
We took things to a whole other level.
Can I talk to you?
- That's married guy. - Didn't know he was gonna be here.
- Let her go. - What are you talking about?
I'm glad we came.
I'm back, and you're black, which is cool.
I'm a big fan of black Jesus. High five. Don't leave me hanging.
Can I help you, my son?
Hi, padre. No, I was trying to check in with J.Z. up there.
Anything I can help you with?
You don't have a grab-ass appointment with an altar boy?
There's plenty of time for that.
You checking out my package?
You don't want to suck my cock, do you?
Do you want me to?
Do you want me to want you to suck my cock?
Why are you here?
It's about a girl. She's beautiful. She's smart and funny,
up for all kinds of intercourse.
- But she's not Karen. - I didn't say that.
Karen doesn't love you, Hank. She loves me.
With a gay priest! Oh, fuck me.
Has anyone ever told you you have a lot of bad dreams?
What's wrong with black Jesus and a gay priest just looking
for a little oral to get him through his night?
L.O.L.
What was that? What'd you just say?
L.O.L. "Laugh out loud"?
That's a part of your lexicon? Really? L.O.L.?
Shouldn't it be part of yours, too? You are writing for cyberspace.
And there goes my boner. Wave bye-bye.
What is your issue with L.O.L.?
I don't have an issue, unless you count that every time you say it,
you're contributing to the death of the English language.
You're gonna let the fact that I just said L.O.L.
get in the way of me giving you the best B.J. of your life?
Not when you put it that way.
I'm not the biggest fan of the term B.J. either.
CALIFORNICATION
Series I Episode 5
Baby, don't make me beg. We haven't had sex since my last period.
You know how horny I get. You can have the ass if you want.
Keep it. Last time we tried anal during the light of day, not pretty.
You used to be all about the morning sex. What's going on with you?
I'm sorry, baby. I'm really stressed out right now.
- It's work stuff, really. - I know. Pretend I'm paralyzed.
What? God.
This will be fun. You need to shoot some glue. I'll just lay here.
Do what you got to do. I'll be your vessel.
What the fuck are you doing back there?
You don't like that?
You can't just send probes into unexplored territory
without any advance warning.
I was trying to spice things up a little bit.
You don't think things have been hot enough?
It was just a finger up the ass. I could use the littler one.
I've got to get to work. I'm gonna be late.
Love you.
Fuck off!
B to the I to the double L. What's up, my nig nog?
- I need to talk to you. - You should have called.
I wouldn't have answered, but you could've left a message,
which I would have erased.
This isn't something I would choose to discuss over the phone.
This is about Mia.
You're aware she's in high school.
Really? No. I was thinking she was older than that...
college, grad school maybe.
Quit fucking around, Hank. This is serious.
Shit, Bill. I'm sorry, man.
This is just a fucked-up situation. And it should have never happened,
but nobody's to blame. I'm glad, in a way, that you're here,
so we can get on the same page. Your turn.
What are you talking about?
I don't know. Depends. What are you talking about?
- Are you stoned or drunk? - What am I talking about?
I don't now half the time.
- I got to ask you a favor, Hank. - Fuck.
This should be entertaining.
I was supposed to be the guest speaker at Mia's school today,
but I have to go out of town.
And this concerns me how, Willamina?
I was hoping that you might consider stepping in for me.
It's a creative-writing class, I was gonna talk about publishing.
You can talk about writing or not writing or whatever.
- And what's in it for me? - What do you want?
- Call off the wedding. - Anything else?
That's a nice jacket.
You a smoker? There you go.
So, at the end of day, if you can do anything else,
telemarketing, pharmaceutical sales, ditch digging, major league umpire...
I would suggest you do that, because being a writer blows.
It's like having homework every day for the rest of your life.
Any more questions?
- Are you single? - Of course. Who would have me?
Okay, let's thank Hank for coming in on such short notice.
Cigarette break, everybody.
- Dude, you're a fucking rock star. - Please. It's an all-girls school.
Anything with a half a cock and one ball gets a rise out of these kids.
Tell me about it. Best job I've ever had.
They're very young.
Say that again, slower this time. My fleshy T.A. didn't hear you.
Laugh it up, funny man, but you could go to jail for that shit.
You're acting like it's abr/fucking Mommy & Me class.
These girls are right on the cusp of their womaninity.
What else is out there for guys like us?
I wrote a novel... three of them, actually.
They never came out of the drawer, but I fucking wrote them.
I wrote the shit out of them. What do I do?
Write screenplays like the rest of the fucking herd?
Or do I fight the good fight and promote an appreciation
of great writing?
And fuck the ones who are bored and stupid enough
to spread 'em for you?
Mia is a seriously good writer.
She's written a couple good short stories, but nothing since.
But they're good.
Maybe I'm grading on a curve 'cause she gives me wood.
Not so much with the character development. The prose was stiff.
She was trying too hard. Van fuckin' Halen.
Is there another mode of egress?
Busted.
- I could've been there for hours. - Poor Hank Moody.
What's the deal with you and mr. Chipwich?
- Meaning what exactly? - You know what I mean.
- Does he have carnal knowledge? - Yeah.
- Not yet. - Be careful.
Says the much-older man who did sleep with me.
That was an accident.
You were minding your own business, walking down Abbot Kinney,
when your dick fell in me.
Is this open-mike night? Be careful with him and those of his ilk.
As I live and breathe, are you looking out for me?
Why wouldn't I? Aside from the fact you're mad you're a good kid.
Seeing as I can't seem to get you back in the sack,
I'll just have to settle for him. He won't play as hard to get.
Out of the car.
- Have a nice day at school, dear. - Bye, Hankarella.
- How do I look? - Sweetie, you look great.
But it's a guitar lesson, not a fashion show.
Mother, rock, fashion, it's all one world.
- Okay, Avril. - He is cute.
- I hadn't noticed. - I look like a geek.
It's okay. I'll get it.
- Hello, Dave. - Ladies.
Your shirt.
You're not a fan, are you? That would make me so sad.
- I think it's cool. - It's just, you know...
Becca.
- Sorry about that. I wasn't thinking. - That's okay.
She's my youngest student and my most promising.
That's great.
I probably have some smelly, old thing in my car.
Or you could just turn it inside out.
You could use the bathroom... or not.
Hey, sweetie.
- Better? - Much.
I liked it better off, but that's just me.
- How you doing? - Good.
You been practicing?
I'm here with Hank Moody, author of celebrated underground novels
like "South of Heaven," "Seasons in the Abyss,"
and most famously, "God Hates Us All". How are you, Hank?
A little under the weather, but it's good to be here.
Some folks have compared the wait for your next novel to the decade-plus
wait for the new Guns'n'roses album.
Which one do you think will see the light of day first?
I hope I beat Guns'n'roses to the punch,
because I want to get on Oprah's book club.
I want that sticker, I want to get on that show,
and I want to ask her...
about that scene in "Beloved" where she squats and pees.
How many takes did she do? Was she method?
In all seriousness, your blog for Hell-A magazine
is prompting a lot of underground water-cooler talk. It's great.
Thank you, but it's more like pissing out of my ass than anything else.
Things bother me, and I vent. I write it down.
What's your latest obsession?
Just the fact that people seem to be getting dumber and dumber.
We have all this amazing technology, and yet computers have turned
into four-figure wank machines. The internet was supposed to free us,
democratize us, but it's only given us Howard Dean's aborted candidacy
and 24-hour-a-day access to kiddy porn.
People don't write anymore. They blog. They text.
No punctuation, no grammar, L.O.L. this and L.M.F.A.O. that.
It's just a bunch of stupid people pseudo-communicating with a bunch
of other stupid people in a language that resembles more
what cavemen used to speak than the king's English.
Yet, you're part of the problem. You're blogging with the best of them.
Hence my self-loathing.
Bar chords are tough. I know. But once you master them,
all the secrets of the rock'n'roll universe will be revealed.
Hold on a second. I have something for you.
How'd it go?
You already know this, but you have a really sweet kid.
You're preaching to the choir. But thanks. It never gets old.
She's really into it, too, which is cool to see.
- Makes my job a pleasure. - She comes by it honestly.
Her dad is into music, and I was in a band once.
I'd love to hear the stories sometime.
Excuse me.
Hey, sweetie. How are you? How was the flight?
And the hotel, is it okay? Yeah, hold on one second.
- Where'd he go? - Breathe, honey. He's just outside.
I got to go. Becca's just finishing her guitar lesson.
I am a sucker for Radiohead.
- What are your weekend plans? - Got to rehearse with the band.
- What do you guys sound like? - Like Radiohead.
We got a killer bassist.
All those things.
What's this?
I made it for you, some songs I like. I thought you might like them, too.
A mix tape... CD.
No one's made me one of these in a long time. Thank you, sweetie.
I will treasure it always. Same time next week?
Adios.
I don't want to take sides, but for the record, categorically,
never, stick a finger up a grown man's ass without warning.
Write that down. I've been with other guys.
Sometimes a little ass play is not only welcome, but appreciated.
You got to be gentle with the brown eye. Mr. Brown Eye's a sensitive man.
Sorry I'm late. Found a redhead wandering the parking lot.
- Brought her in for you. - Sorry I'm late. Stuck in traffic.
Listening to the radio, very entertaining. L.O.L.
Have you been telling her what an airhead your new girlfriend is?
- I was just about to. - I heard the interview, Hank.
Nothing like being the object of scorn and derision on public radio.
That's the point. Because it's public radio. Who's listening?
Is this why his relationships don't last?
Because the girls can't live up to a ridiculous fucking gold standard?
Did you get your hair done?
If you spent less time focusing on other people's flaws,
you might notice that you've got a couple of your own.
- Dodger game, Friday night? - I didn't say I didn't.
- Great. You want to hear some? - It seems like you want to tell me.
You drink too much, write too little, and the only exercise you get
is in the bedroom. You love women, but you hate yourself,
so any woman who does like you is ultimately deemed a fool.
And seeing as that woman could pretty much be anyone,
this one is saying goodbye.
Hold on. I seem to have hurt you, and I apologize for that.
But this is about something else. You want to tell me what?
B.R.B., Hank.
I will make sure she doesn't kill herself this time.
And getting all aggro about a little stinky pinky
is a symptom of a much bigger problem.
Oh, jeez.
I don't know what she's talking about.
Bitches.
Intruder.
- What are you doing here? - I just pooped myself.
That was very cool, what you did today, talking at Mia's school.
Can we agree now to never send Becca there?
- How's my girl? - I'm good. I've got a lot of work...
I was talking about Becca, but I like where your head's at.
That's embarrassing. I just slipped into a past life for a second.
I still get my mail there. I love your feet.
She's got a crush on her guitar teacher.
At least it's not the captain of the football team.
Does he bring out your inner rocker slut?
He is pretty fuckin' hot.
- Should I be worried? - Isn't that Bill's problem?
I don't know if Bill worries enough.
Whatever.
You think I might take Becca out for some ice cream?
You could, but you just missed her. She's snoozing.
- Can I ask you something? - If you must.
In this past life of ours, was I mean to you?
Did I ever make you feel stupid?
You weren't mean, no. But you can be pretty hard on people.
- I wish it was different. - And so do I. But it's not.
How is that girl from the fund-raiser?
- She is pissed at me. - She's not.
She'll get over it.
Is that Bill's jacket?
That's a long story. I got to go. Good night, foot.
It's not fair to say B.R.B. and then never actually B.R.B.
But apology accepted. Come here. Good morning.
- I needed my black skirt. - That's understandable.
It's hard to be taken seriously in a courtroom when you're bottomless.
I would take you seriously.
- I also wanted to give you this. - Oh, shit.
You're gonna blow this thing over my issue with the language of cyberspace?
What's this whole thing you're talking about?
We drink, we fuck, we watch old movies in your apartment.
Sounds fuckin' awesome.
You're just pissed 'cause I beat you to the punch.
You were looking for any excuse to bail.
So says you. I guess we'll never find out.
I guess not.
He left his wife.
That's what this was about.
In a way, I have you to thank. You really did rattle his cage.
Glad to be of service, milady.
I just feel so used.
Shut up. We were using each other, Hank.
I love how you're taking the moral high ground.
I'm sure that if I canvassed the west side,
I would find more than a few girls who feel used and abused by you.
You think that I have this narrow perception of you?
But it's you with the narrow perception of me.
I love women. I have all their albums. Shit!
I'd feel better about this if I didn't think you were re-entering
this dysfunctional relationship with an aggressively mediocre white guy.
I've spent time with the man. Time stood still.
This from someone who's still hopelessly in love with his ex...
At least she's cool.
What are you, 4?
Perhaps. I don't know.
We just missed it, Hank.
In another lifetime, we would have been a scorching couple.
- But in this one... - We missed it.
Congratulations. Best of luck in all your future endeavors.
Try not to forget all the times I brought you to fruition,
33, to be exact.
When married guy goes back to his wife, which he will,
I hope you come try to find me. I hope that you know where to look.
Face down in a puddle of your own sick? Still not writing?
L.O.L. L.O. fuckin' L.
You're quiet.
- I like quiet. - Yeah, me too.
As long as you're okay.
- My heart hurts. - Oh, God, baby. Mine, too.
Is it boy trouble? Me too. Well, girl trouble.
- You want to talk about it? - No.
I just want to know when it stops hurting.
Here's the deal, and you're not gonna want to hear this,
it's gonna sound like piss-poor parenting but if you're lucky, never.
What could ail thee, knight at arms, alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake, and no birds sing.
Keats, "La belle dame sans merci"? Is that the best you can do, dad?
How about something from this century?
How about... You got Dylan's "Blood on the Tracks"?
Classic heartbreak album. I can gift it to you on your Ipod.
If you see her, say hello She might be in Tangier.
She left here last early spring is living there, I hear...
Subtitling MONICA REU
CALIFORNICATION I, episode 5