Well, here is my news,
reverend.
I long for the darkness.
I pray for death, real death.
And if I thought that in death I would
meet the people I knew in life,
I don't know what I would do.
That would be the ultimate horror,
the ultimate nightmare.
If I thought I was gonna
meet my mother again and
start all of that all over,
only this time without the prospect
of death to look forward to,
that would be
the final nightmare,
Kafka on wheels.
Damn, professor.
You don't want to see your own mama?
No, I don't.
I want the dead to be dead
forever.
And I want to be
one of them.
Except of course you can't be one of them.
You can't be one of the dead
because that which has no
existence can have no community.
No community.
My heart warms
just thinking about it...
blackness, aloneness,
silence, peace,
and all of it
only a heartbeat away.
I don't regard my state of mind
as some pessimistic
view of the world.
I regard it as the world itself.
Evolution cannot avoid
bringing intelligent life
ultimately to an awareness
of one thing,
and one thing above all else.
And that one thing is futility.
If I'm understanding you
right, you're saying
everybody that just ain't
eat up with the dumbass
ought to be suicidal.
- Yes.
- You ain't shitting me?
No, I am not shitting you.
If people could see the
world for what it truly is,
see their lives
for what they truly are,
without dreams or illusions,
I don't believe they could
offer the first reason
why they should not elect
to die as soon as possible.
I don't believe in God.
Can you understand that?
Look around you, man.
Can't you see?
The clamor and din
of those in torment
has to be the sound
most pleasing to his ear.
And I loathe
these discussions...
The argument
of the village atheist
whose single passion
is to revile endlessly
that which he denies the
existence of in the first place.
Your fellowship
is a fellowship of pain
and nothing more.
And if that pain
were collective
instead of merely reiterative,
the sheer weight of it
would drag the world
from the walls of the universe
and send it crashing
and burning down
through whatever night it might
yet be capable of engendering
until it was not even ash.
And brotherhood,
justice, eternal life?
Good God, man.
Show me a religion
that prepares one
for nothingness, for death.
That's a church I might enter.
Yours prepares one
only for more life,
for dreams and illusions
and lies.
Banish the fear of death
from men's hearts...
They wouldn't live a day.
Who would want this nightmare
but for fear of the next?
The shadow of the axe
hangs over every joy.
Every road ends in death,
every friendship, every love.
Torment, loss,
betrayal,
pain, suffering,
age,
indignity,
hideous lingering illness...
and all of it
with a single conclusion
for you
and every one and every thing
you have ever chosen
to care for.
That is the true brotherhood,
the true fellowship.
And everybody is
a member for life.
You tell me that my
brother is my salvation?
My salvation?
Well, then damn him.
Damn him in every shape
and guise and form.
Do I see myself in him?
Yes, I do.
And what I see sickens me.
Do you understand me?
Can you understand me?
I'm sorry.
How long you felt like this?
All my life.
- Is that true?
- It's worse than that.
I don't see what could be
worse than that.
Rage is really only
for the good days.
The truth is there's
little of that left.
The truth is
that the forms I see
have been slowly emptied out.
They no longer have
any content.
They're shapes only...
a train, a wall,
a world, a man...
a thing dangling
in senseless articulation
in a howling void,
no meaning to its life,
its words.
Why would I seek out
the company of such a thing?
Why?
Damn.
So you see what it is
you've saved?
Tried to save.
Still trying, trying hard.
- Who is your brother?
- Who is my brother, yes.
Is that the reason I'm here
in your apartment?
No, that's why I'm here.
You asked me
what I'm a professor of.
I am a professor of darkness,
the night in day's clothing.
And now I wish you all
the very best,
but I must go.
Just stay
a little while longer.
No, no more time.
Goodbye.
We can talk about
something else, I swear.
I don't want to talk
about something else.
Don't go out there, professor!
You know what's out there!
Oh yes.
Indeed I do.
I know what's out there
and I know who is out there.
I rush to nuzzle
his bony cheek.
No doubt he will be surprised
to find himself so cherished.
And as I cling to his neck
I will whisper in that
dry and ancient ear,
"Here I am.
Here I am."
- Now open the door!
- Don't do this.
You're a kind man.
I've heard you out
and you've heard me.
There's no more to say.
Your God must once have stood
at a dawn of infinite
possibilities,
and that is what
he's made of it.
You tell me that I want
God's love. I don't.
Perhaps I want forgiveness,
but there is no one to ask it of.
And there's no going back.
There's no setting things right.
There's only the hope
of nothingness.
And I cling to that hope.
- Now open the door.
- Don't do this.
Please open the door.
Thank you.
Goodbye.
Professor,
I know you ain't mean
them words.
I'm gonna be there
in the morning.
I'm gonna be there, you hear?
I'm gonna be there!
I'm gonna be there.
You know he didn't mean
them words.
You know he didn't.
You know he didn't.
I don't understand why
you sent me down there.
I don't understand.
If you wanted me to help him, then how
come you didn't give me the words?
You give them to him.
What about me?
That's all right.
That's all right.
If you don't never speak again,
you know I'll keep your word.
You know I will.
You know I'm good for it.
Is that okay?
Is that okay?