True Detective - - You're a Christian, yeah? - No. | Текст песни

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• True Detective
• - You're a Christian, yeah? - No.

Rust: People out here, it's like they don't even know the outside world exists. Might as well be living on the fucking Moon.

Marty: There's all kinds of ghettos in the world.

R: It's all one ghetto, man, giant gutter in outer space.

M: Today, that scene, that is the most fucked up thing I ever caught. Ask you something? You're a Christian, yeah?

R: No.

M: Well, then what do you got the cross for in your apartment?

R: That's a form of meditation.

M: How's that?

R: I contemplate the moment in the garden, the idea of allowing your own crucifixion.

M: But you're not a Christian. So what do you believe?

R: I believe that people shouldn't talk about this type of shit at work.

M: Hold on, hold on. Uh... 3 months we been together, I get nothing from you. Today, what we're into now, do me a courtesy, okay? I'm not trying to convert you.

R: Look. I consider myself a realist, all right, but in philosophical terms, I'm what's called a pessimist.

M: Um, okay. What's that mean?

R: Means I'm bad at parties.

M: Heh. Let me tell you. You ain't great outside of parties either.

R: I think human consciousness was a tragic misstep in evolution. We became too self-aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself. We are creatures that should not exist by natural law.

M: Huh. That sounds god-fucking-awful, Rust.

R: We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self, this accretion of sensory experience and feeling, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody when, in fact, everybody's nobody.

M: I wouldn't go around spouting that shit, I was you. People around here don't think that way. I don't think that way.

R: I think the honorable thing for species to do is deny our programming, stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction, one last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.

M: So what's the point of getting out bed in the morning?

R: I tell myself I bear witness, but the real answer is that it's obviously my programming, and I lack the constitution for suicide.

M: My luck, I picked today to get to know you. 3 months, I don't hear a word from you, and...

R: You asked.

M: Yeah. And now I'm begging you to shut the fuck up.

R: I get a bad taste in my mouth out here. Aluminum, ash, like you can smell the psychosphere.

M: I got an idea. Let's make the car a place of silent reflection from now on, okay?

R: What should I bring for dinner?

M: A bottle of wine would be nice, I guess.

R: I don't drink.

M: Well, no, of course not, Rust. Listen. When you're at my house, I want you to chill the fuck out. Don't even mention any of that bullshit you just said to me.

R: Of course not, Marty. I'm not some kind of maniac, all right? I mean, for fuck's sake.


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