Annie Savoy: What do you believe in, then?
Crash Davis: Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.
Bull Durham. 1988.
It's a good question, Annie's question. One of those great seemingly simple questions that carry the weight of the world on their backs. One of those questions you can spend a whole week thinking about, I mean really thinking about, and never fully answer.
Crash's response is even better -- direct and completely honest. With the exception of the mention of the soul, there's no talk of theology, but rather a pastiche of the very essence of Crash.
That's what matters -- not the stuff you've been taught to believe. Not the things you've been indoctrinated with, but whatever you discovered of your own volition.
So, what do I believe?
Well, I too believe in the soul, but I also believe that music is truly greater than or equal to love. I believe in the guitar solo, real cherry Cokes made with grenadine and ridiculously impractical shoes. I believe in reciting every single line from your favorite movies, holding hands and that if you drive long enough with the windows down and the music loud -- it'll all make sense again. I believe in adding pepper to everything, in throwing your head back and laughing, that food tastes better when you share it and that flowers are a completely stupid gift. I believe there was a conspiracy to assassinate both JFK and RFK, that there is no greater pleasure than a pair of jeans straight out of the dryer on a cold day and that most writers are pretentious assholes. I believe in black and white photography, getting lost and finding yourself in big cities and a hero doesn't always have to wear a cape or stem from the imagination of Stan Lee.
And again, like Crash -- I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.
Enough about me, though -- what do you believe in?
Crash Davis: Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.
Bull Durham. 1988.
It's a good question, Annie's question. One of those great seemingly simple questions that carry the weight of the world on their backs. One of those questions you can spend a whole week thinking about, I mean really thinking about, and never fully answer.
Crash's response is even better -- direct and completely honest. With the exception of the mention of the soul, there's no talk of theology, but rather a pastiche of the very essence of Crash.
That's what matters -- not the stuff you've been taught to believe. Not the things you've been indoctrinated with, but whatever you discovered of your own volition.
So, what do I believe?
Well, I too believe in the soul, but I also believe that music is truly greater than or equal to love. I believe in the guitar solo, real cherry Cokes made with grenadine and ridiculously impractical shoes. I believe in reciting every single line from your favorite movies, holding hands and that if you drive long enough with the windows down and the music loud -- it'll all make sense again. I believe in adding pepper to everything, in throwing your head back and laughing, that food tastes better when you share it and that flowers are a completely stupid gift. I believe there was a conspiracy to assassinate both JFK and RFK, that there is no greater pleasure than a pair of jeans straight out of the dryer on a cold day and that most writers are pretentious assholes. I believe in black and white photography, getting lost and finding yourself in big cities and a hero doesn't always have to wear a cape or stem from the imagination of Stan Lee.
And again, like Crash -- I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.
Enough about me, though -- what do you believe in?
2 comments on "I believe with every breath I breathe"
I believe that this entry was interesting to read. I believe I have lunch waiting for me right now and so must go, for I believe in the delicious taste of udon noodles.
I loved your response! It made me smile :)
Enjoy your lunch!
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