Yeah, right. Yup, I'm a homo. Yeah. Yeah. Just make up whatever you want and that's what happened. Okay? Write out my gay confession and I'll sign it. Okay? Just stop pushing me all the time. You're an infant, Jack. This is all a big party for you... but not for me.Miles Raymond
Miles Raymond: Hey, what should I wear?
Jack: I don't know, something casual but nice. They think you're a writer.
[after teaching Jack how to evaluating a glass of wine prior to tasting] ... Are you chewing gum?Miles Raymond
Miles Raymond: Okay, so what's the plan?
Jack: Uh... the plan is... you go.
Miles Raymond: ME?
Jack: 'Cause of my ankle. Still hurts. Just go explain the situation, Miles.
Miles Raymond: [laughs uproariously]
Miles Raymond: Explain the situation? Yes. 'Excuse me, sir, my friend was the one balling your wife couple of hours ago. Really sorry. He seems to have left his wallet behind. I was wondering if I come in, just poke around, I don't know'
Jack: Yeah, yeah, just like that. That's good.
Jack: Fucking chick's married, man.
Miles Raymond: What?
Jack: Her husband works a night shift or something, and he comes home and catches me on the floor with my cock in his wife's ass.
Miles Raymond: Oh, Jesus Christ.
Uh, I don't know, I don't know. Um, it's a hard grape to grow, as you know. Right? It's uh, it's thin-skinned, temperamental, ripens early. It's, you know, it's not a survivor like Cabernet, which can just grow anywhere and uh, thrive even when it's neglected. No, Pinot needs constant care and attention. You know? And in fact it can only grow in these really specific, little, tucked away corners of the world. And, and only the most patient and nurturing of growers can do it, really. Only somebody who really takes the time to understand Pinot's potential can then coax it into its fullest expression. Then, I mean, oh its flavors, they're just the most haunting and brilliant and thrilling and subtle and... ancient on the planet.Miles Raymond
Jack: Speak for yourself. I get chicks lookin' at me all the time. All ages. Dudes too.
Miles Raymond: Well, it's not worth it. You pay too big a price. It's never free.
Jack: You need to get laid, Miles. You know what? That's going to be my best man gift to you this week. I'm gonna get you laid.
Miles Raymond: Wonderful.
Jack: I'm not gonna get you a gift certificate or a pen knife or any of that other horse shit.
Miles Raymond: I'd rather have a knife.
Jack: Are you still seeing that shrink?
Miles Raymond: I saw him on Monday. I spent most of the time helping him with his computer.
Jack: Well, I say, fuck therapy. And what is that stuff you take... Xanax?
Miles Raymond: And Lexapro, yes.
Jack: Well, I say, fuck that too. You need to get your joint worked on, Miles.
Miles Raymond: This weekend is not about me. It is about you. I'm gonna show you a good time. We're gonna drink a lot of good wine. We're gonna play some golf. We're gonna eat some great food and enjoy the scenery and we are going to send you off in style, mon frere.
Jack: And get your bone smooched.
Quaffable, but uh... far from transcendent.Miles Raymond
Miles Raymond: Did you read the latest draft, by the way?
Jack: Oh, yeah. Yeah.
Miles Raymond: And?
Jack: It's great. I mean there are so many improvements. It's much tighter, just seems... I don't know, more congealed or something.
Miles Raymond: Mm-hmm. What about the new ending? Did you like that?
Jack: Oh, yeah. New ending vastly superior to the old ending.
Miles Raymond: There is no new ending. Page 750 on is exactly the same.
Jack: [pause] Well... maybe it just seemed new because everything leading up to it was so different?
Miles Raymond: [sarcastically] Yeah, that must be it!
Miles Raymond: [while tasting wine] It tastes like the back of a fucking L.A. school bus. Now they probably didn't de-stem, hoping for some semblance of concentration, crushed it up with leaves and mice, and then wound up with this rancid tar and turpentine bullshit. Fuckin' Raid.
Jack: Tastes pretty good to me.