The Lose Pin (Breakfast with David Lynch)
This is Fiction (RIP DL)
"I don't usually interview filmmakers," Roger Dayton said as he sat opposite David Lynch in a coffee house in Downtown Los Angeles.
"That's okay, I don't usually talk to people in general," Lynch replied.
He ordered a Coke with no ice as Dayton summoned the waiter. Dayton opted for three glasses of water and a shot of espresso - attempting to ride off the hangover caused by the excess of the night before.
"You might as well run a drill through your head," Lynch said in response to the query regarding the water order. "Drinking alcohol is one of the worst things you can do to yourself. It's a lethargic suicide."
Dayton thanked him for his advice as he adjusted the microphone and tape recorder on the coffee shop table and positioned it to face Lynch who immediately lit a smoke.
"What about cigarettes?" Dayton asked.
"Smoking is different," Lynch began. "I know they will kill me, I do them anyway... Wanna know why?"
"Why?"
"Because smoking gives me a jolt when my mind needs one. Smoking cigarettes awakens my inner demons and lets me exercise them in quiet contemplation. Long have I forgone a meaningful conversation in exchange for a moment of peace and a long drag. I get more from these cancer sticks than I do from any human interaction. That's why I do it. It triggers something in me that no one has been able to. So I'll never stop. That beats the hell out of drinking if you ask me. Drinking is for people who want to sleep but can't quite achieve it. Ever had a meaningful conversation with a drunk? Ever had it sober? You quickly realize that it wasn't meaningful at all."
Lynch took a long drag and immediately lit another off the end of the last.
"Sorry, I tend to do that when I feel that one didn't quite hit the spot I was looking for it to hit. It's nothing personal and I hope it doesn't offend you," he said. "Although if my smoking does cause you offense, perhaps you should have chosen a different subject."
The waiter brought the order over and Roger quickly downed two glasses of the water while Lynch chuckled and sipped the top of his coke.
"We're recording by the way, I hope you don't mind?" Roger said, placing Lynch on notice.
"I don't mind at all, I'd have been disappointed if you hadn't been. I'm always recording on set, even when we aren't going for a take. I don't want to miss a thing... Especially if people aren't concentrating on a scene. I believe that's where the magic is... it's in those impromptu moments where anything can happen. Usually, something does and it's interesting. It steers the film in an entirely different direction. I love that. I love that real-time approach that spontaneity can deliver - to drag me out of the stifling script that the studio insists I adhere to. I love being free, like the wind, and watching where the story takes you and just making sure the camera has enough battery power to capture it all... as well as making sure the dolly grip and lighting technician and the boom operator aren't out taking a shit."
He puffs a final drag on the second cigarette as he turns the packet open and glances at his inventory.
"Aren't films expensive?" Roger asked.
"What's your point?"
"Well... Don't the financiers or the studios keep an iron grip on your progress to make sure you are under budget and on schedule?"
Lynch chose another smoke and took his time to light it.
"You have parents?" he asked, matter of fact.
"Ah... Yes..." Roger replied.
"You ever get a spanking from them for doing something wrong?"
"Well... Not anymore,"
"But you did!" Lynch pointed at him.
"Yes, I did get spanked... Yes,"
"But you did the wrong thing again, anyway. You knew what the punishments were in life but you proceeded to do the wrong thing anyway, despite knowing the punishment you faced."
"Yeah, I guess so... But filmmaking is different." Roger surmised.
"You ever make a film?" Lynch asked.
"No,"
"Then how the hell do you know?"
The waiter came over to take their food orders. Before he could ask the question, Lynch answered preemptively, not taking his eyes off Roger.
"I'll have the eggs benedict on a brioche bun, hold the hollandaise," he said as he puffed out a wave of smoke toward the ceiling.
"Yes sir Mister Lynch," said the waiter before turning to Roger. "And for you, sir?"
"I haven't seen the menu, but that sounds nice... I'll have the same," The waiter nodded and turned to leave.
"What will you do if California ever bans smoking in coffee shops?" Roger asked.
"Probably this," began Lynch.
He put out the but of his smoke on his tongue and then spat the remaining filter out onto the floor. He stood from the table and took off his shoes as he stood adjacent to Roger. He then took off his socks and began to attach them to his ears by wrapping the elastic layers encroaching the surroundings of his ear lobes. Roger began to wade through his bag to retrieve his Pentax camera.
"Do you mind if I take a picture of this?" he asked. Lynch replied in a foreign, made-up tongue.
"Nee noo, nee noo, nee noo," he said before he removed his socks from his ears, placing them back on his feet, re-tying his shoelaces, and quietly taking his seat once more for another sip of coke.
"What was the point of that?" Roger asked.
"What is the point of anything?" Lynch replied. "Does everything have to make sense?" he asked.
Roger leaned in.
"No, but that was very strange,"
"Okay so you just answered your own question," said Lynch.
"Which was?"
"What. Was. that?"
"And... What was it?" Roger was confused.
"It was strange, you knew it was strange, you said it was strange and yet you still felt the need to ask me what it was when all along you could have answered exactly what it was yourself." Lynch lit his fourth cigarette.
"Let's talk about your new project Mulholland Drive," Roger said, changing the subject.
"I can do that, but I would like you to ask questions because I'm not one to voluntarily sing out information. I'm not built like that," Lynch requested.
"I can assure you I will be asking the questions," Roger said. Their food arrived. "That was quick," he said.
"Chef knows me. Listen, I've just changed my mind," David stubbed out his smoke prematurely as he rose from the table a second time. "In our brief time together, I realized that you are someone who is in search of answers that define meanings and you will be prompting me to give you meanings in life and in my work and I'm just not someone who can do that, I'm sorry. I'm a person who is purposefully ambiguous. Life is ambiguous, sometimes it doesn't make sense and there is no meaning and people just have to accept that and move on yet when it comes to film or art - people demand meaning and wisdom and definition. I cannot give you that," he said. "But it was very nice meeting you." Lynch leaned in and shook Roger's hand vigorously before leaving the coffee shop at a pace.
The interview was over.
Roger took a bite of his eggs.