I Love Dick

Take off your clothes.

Leave the boots on.

I feel like I'm drowning in fakeness.

Ah.

Uhh!

Dear Dick, I'm totally obsessed with you.

Turn over. I'm going to try to...

Dear Dick, you've turned our house into a brothel.

I'm going to squeeze your nipples really fucking hard.

Ah, it's too hard!

Jizz all over me. Wait, wait, wait.

Fuck.

Dick, tell me that I'm naughty.

Tell me I'm bad.

Tell me I'm a bad girl, Dick.

Tell me that I'm a bad girl, Dick.

Oh, Dick.

Dick. Ohh.

Oh, Dick.

Oh, my God, you're so wet.

Ohh.

Tell me to come. Don't come.

Ohh. Not yet.

Let me come.

Dick. Dick. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

Come now.

Dick. Dick. Ahh.

I'm going to come.

Come... now.

Oh, God. Get... Get...

Go. Go. Now.

Dick. Dick. Ohh!

Oh! Fuck! Fuck you, Dick!

Fuck! Fuck you, Dick!

Ohh! Ohh! Ohh!

Oh! Oh!

You couldn't wait, could you?

I don't know why we didn't do this years ago.

I changed my mind.

You can't go to his class.

It's not... What happened in there

has nothing to do with him.

That is ours. That is our game.

It... Hey.

That... Hey.

Nothing to do with him? You...

We are grownups... He fucked you for the past...

...with a healthy, healthy adult fantasy life.

Fantasy? Yes.

Going to sit in on his class.

Not my fantasy.

It's not. That's ours.

That has nothing to do with him.

Okay, I want you to consider the problem of time...

what's your relationship to it.

Right? A piece of art is always a relic

of the artist's past...

an idea, a thought,

an impulse that by the very nature...

Oh, I'm sorry.

...of time itself

is fleeting.

So just silently right now,

I want you to just take in this place.

Fuck. Sorry.

And if I see a cell phone, I will smash it.

Sorry. It was me. I'm sorry.

Okay.

Your first assignment,

I want you to look around the space

and allow yourself to naturally gravitate

to a piece of art.

Let's do it.

You said to gravitate...

You're not enrolled in my seminar.

Yeah, I know. I'm auditing it.

Mm-hmm. There's a wait list...

very long wait list.

I'll be really quiet. You won't even know...

I... I'm sorry about my phone before,

that I turned it on... I...

All of these students...

have an art project. They are artists.

I actually brought you just a little something,

if you want to take a quick peek.

Now? Yeah. Why not?

There's... They're all... Everyone's milling.

Just here... I have to teach.

Uh...

Okay, well, I w... uh...

I'll wait, then. I'll wait.

All right. That's it for today.

Go home and just...

write down a few things about...

what we were feeling and why we were feeling it.

Thank you. See you next week.

Uh, okay.

So I've got it semi-cued up.

Let me see. Shall we wait until they...

Uh, wait. Oh, shit.

Glad I didn't break my...

Uh, I did a short film called Sylvie and Jerome.

Oh. the film with the song I was telling you about.

And it's not cut. It was, uh, based, on, uh,

well, a period in my life when I was really interested

in, um... Artaud's Theatre of Cruelty...

Could you please stop talking and I'll just take a look?

Okay.

So want to... Yeah.

All right, just press "play."

Then tell me...

Okay.

I feel like I'm drowning in fakeness.

Here. Let me make sure it's bright enough. Sorry.

I feel like I'm drowning in fakeness.

Things would have been so much better

if I was born next door to you.

You would have been, uh... little Dorothy,

and I'd have been the man behind the curtain.

Why are you doing this to me?

I feel like you don't see me.

Why is it so hard for you to see?

Sorry.

Now smocks are... Okay.

What... You saw, like...

That was maybe seven seconds of it.

You want my opinion?

Do you have one?

Because you watched... It was literally...

It's not my thing.

What do... What do you mean, it's not your...

Not my thing. No, I got... I got that.

I don't know what you mean when you say "Not...

Not my thing."

Uh...

That's your answer for me is you're just going to shrug?

Look, I'm sure there's an audience

for this kind of stuff.

I'm just not it.

Mm-hmm.

This kind of stuff?

What... Can you please...

What do you mean by "This... this...

this kind of stuff"?

This is y... This is yours?

This is... This is yours?

Yeah. That... It looks like a brick to me.

I love a straight line.

A straight line is perfection.

Ohh. Okay.

Well, then I get it.

There's no arguing with perfection.

I mean, if you have achieved perfection, Dick,

w-what else is there to work on?

Is that why you haven't done anything

in seven years?

Because you've already achieved perfection?

Sorry. I don't think a straight line equals art.

They don't call it

the Philadelphia Museum of Lines.

Sorry if I offended you.

Oh, it's a hand. Okay.

Uh, let's just...