Credits

Here's this. Because I'm not a goddam phony, I give credit where credit is due.

Red Hunting Cap

http://cadet.deviantart.com/art/Red-Hunting-Hat-2-12955779

Boarding School

http://tigerhawk.blogspot.com/2008_12_01_archive.html

Hotel

http://wirednewyork.com/forum/showthread.php?p=173697#post173697

Obama

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Barack_Obama_Hope_poster.svg

Grand Central Station

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Grand_Central_test.jpg

Gladstone Bag

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Gladstone_Bag.jpg

American Museum of Natural History

http://www.amnh.org/visitors/

Seton Hotel

http://www.setonhotelny.com/location.php

Frozen lagoon in Central Park

http://theboweryboys.blogspot.com/2010/01/jd-salinger-and-frozen-ducks-of-central.html

Casualties from Iraq, Dover Air Force Base

http://www.honorthefallen.com/gallery/

3 E. 71st St. NY, NY

http://www.cityrealty.com/nyc/manhattan/3-east-71st-street/4671

West Side Tennis Club

http://www.foresthillstennis.com/

Sutton Place Apartment

http://realestate.nytimes.com/sales/detail/80-1071519/15-Sutton-Place-New-York-NY-10022

Hospital

http://www.lasencinashospital.com/

End

This is, I guess, the final post of my blog. My psychoanalyst guy says I shouldn't post on blogs anymore, that I should have real human contact. I completely disagree, but whatever, I guess.

You see, I got sick. So now I'm here.

See how absolutely horrible living here is? It's not like I'm going on some rehab show with Dr. Drew and all. I just hate it. I really do. But don't tell anybody I goddam said that.

I really hope Phoebe isn't too upset with me. Basically my last day outside of living here was spent with her. It was actually pretty good, too. I watched her spin round and round on the carousel and all.

Well, at least people can read this blog and get some idea what my life was like, no matter how insignificant it was. I guess someone somewhere can somehow learn from it all. At least I hope so. I really do.

Flitty Antolini

So I just saw my teacher Mr. Antolini and I never thought that he'd be this perverted. Wow. So first he gave me this stupid advice and then he decides to goddam rub my head while I'm asleep. As if he thinks I wouldn't notice that and wake up and be goddam angry! I mean, he's really a strange guy... and he was calling me strange?! I really never thought this would happen–I hope he doesn't think I want to be in the news for fooling around with my goddam teacher, because I don't. It seems like every time I open a newspaper or go online all I see are these kinds of stories. What's wrong with these students, and the goddam teachers?

His apartment is rather swanky, and his wife seemed sort of nice and all. She was about two hundred years older than he is, though.

Anyway, maybe he wasn't trying to be all flitty. Maybe he was just rubbing my head. But why he would do that, I don't know.

We used to hang out all the time at the West Side Tennis Club, and I never thought I'd end up disliking him so goddam strongly.

Back to Phoebe

Well, I just went to talk to Phoebe, and she basically berated me about my goddam life.

If you're wondering how I was able to get into my house—I know that I would—here's the rundown: my parents were gone out late that night. Luckily, our maid is half-deaf, so I was able to sneak in and out of the house easily, even though I only knew that my parents were gone after I already snuck in; Phoebe told me.

The is my parents' apartment on 71st. I was able to trick the elevator guy. I'm pretty goddam clever, or he was just an idiot. Probably a bit of both.

So anyway, my kid sister Phoebe realized that I was kicked out of yet another school and she acted like it was the end of the world. She asked me what I was going to do with my life and I said that I wanted to be the catcher in the rye and all, saving kids from falling off this horrific cliff; then she told me that I misheard a poem by some dead guy and it was actually "If a body meet a body" not "If a body catch a body". Oh well.

Phoebe acted like my life was going to end or something. I mean, maybe it is, metaphorically at least, but I can always run away and all. At least I'm not one of those soldiers who are barely older than me and fighting for our country and dying in goddam Iraq or Afghanistan. Obama promised to stop the war—isn't that one of the reasons he got voted in? Goddam politicians.

See? That's not goddam me. People make things into bigger things than they should be. God.

Ducks and Death

So I went by the lake to see where the hell the ducks go when it's all cold and icy. Well, it was so goddam cold I thought I was going to die and get pneumonia. Another bad thing that happened was I dropped a record I had bought for Phoebe earlier and the goddam thing just broke to pieces. I should have just given her an iTunes gift card or something. But the thing is, a record is something you can hold in your hand. It's not like an iPod that's full of every song in the world.

Well, it was really cold and I was going to die and all, and then I started to think about Allie. You know who Allie is, he's my brother, or really he was my brother before he died of leukemia and all. I was so angry after that, that I started to punch the garage windows, and I goddam missed his funeral because I was in the hospital for doing that. Why do people even have gravestones anyway? If I died now, I would want my body to just be thrown in the river or some goddam place. Who wants to put flowers on some dead person's stomach? I mean really, when someone is dead, they're gone. Well, yeah, I know they go to Heaven and all that crap, but really, he's gone for now at least. I mean really, he had a 50/50 chance of surviving with science today. With all the money my parents have, and all of the celebrities doing fundraisers, and all the people doing walkathons, you'd think they'd have the goddam thing cured by now. Why couldn't he at least have been less sick? Then he would have had an even higher goddam chance.

Carl Luce

I just met up with old Carl Luce, and we had an interesting conversation, to say the least. We met up at the Wicker Bar in this swanky Seton Hotel.

Well, first off, he wasn't that interested in having an intellectual discussion, or even talking about goddam sex, for that matter. He talked about how he has a new Chinese girlfriend and how Eastern philosophy regards sex as both a physical and spiritual experience, and I sort of agree. I mean, I really have to care about the person to actually... you know.

We then talked about how his dad's a psychoanalyst and I asked him some questions about what psychoanalysis is like. Probably nothing like those goddam personality tests you see online. I mean, really, if people really want any insight into what they're like, shouldn't they take the time to talk to someone who's trained in that stuff? The next step after that is self-medicating yourself with drugs. At least see a doctor so you can be healthy and stuff! But the thing is, I don't really mind drinking or smoking once in a while. I mean, it is good stress relief, and I'm not gonna goddam die or anything. I'm not one of those people who's constantly drunk or high or whatever. I'm not like that at all. Really, I'm not.

Girls: Then vs. Now

You know, maybe I would have been better off living back in the old days... like, the really old days, where girls had to be nice to find a husband. Maybe things would be better that way.

One problem that I have with today's girls is that they always are too nice to the goddam phony guys who only care about cars and sports and crap. They always think that the conceited bastards have a goddam inferiority complex. Well I don't think that gives them any excuse to be mean or rude or phony. The thing with girls is, no matter how nice a guy is, if the girls don't like him, they'll say he's conceited. And if the girls like the guy, he has an inferiority complex.

Anyway, girls nowadays are just weird like that. I mean, back when the man ruled the house and stuff, and women didn't have to work, it seems like the girls were usually nicer to guys back then because they needed to get a husband to support them. I'm not saying I don't think women should work—it's not that at all. And I'm not being sexist, either. I'm just saying that if girls were nicer to boys—and if boys were nicer to girls, for that matter—it would make a lot of things easier.