Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Catcher in the Rye
Life is funny, you know. Like how you can spend your whole life waiting for something you eventually realize you never even wanted in the first place. Then you discover you want things you've never expected yourself to want at all. Then while you're over there, wanting all that new crap, all the things you thought you wanted keep jumping up in your face and telling you what a bad human being you are for abandoning the old Dream. Or how about the time when some guy tells you that you look "classy today" when all the "Well, at least I still look human" you've mustered somehow fell into place in those frazzled ten minutes it took you to get ready this morning (the ten minutes between the time you abruptly woke up and the time you normally leave the house)...and then on the days when you feel the absolute best about yourself, like you're real terrific, no one says a word. It's corny to say it, and especially to say it again, but life is funny. Something about life just kills me. I just finished reading this book, too, you know, this little book that said a lot more about life than I think it even knew it would. But I don't even want to talk about it, it's just too much. Don't even ask me about it.
I've heard about this book for a hundred years at least, people kept going on about what a splendid book this was and what a fabulous piece of English Literature and all that... and I really wasn't going to read it, I swear to you I wasn't. In fact, I had forgotten the book had ever existed at all. I didn't even give two shits that it had been written. But I was in the bookstore last week and it, the book mind you, just got right up off the shelf and put itself in my hands. I swear to you, that's exactly what happened. I was there looking for something else, all innocent-like, and this little orange book just got right up from where it was sitting and snuck quickly into the crook of my right arm. I mean, the bastard, can you even imagine.
So I'm reading this book, and this Holden kid is just so goddamn funny, that I keep laughing out loud. To myself, in public. I'm a madwoman, I tell ya. It only took me like eight minutes to read the book from start to finish, if you want to know the truth. I picked it up, and I read it, and there I was all over the pages. Only I wasn't myself. I was this pessimistic kid from NYC, punchy as hell, named Holden Caulfield. I mean it, I almost took notes and got out my highlighter, for chrissake. I mean, this book just killed me.
(ps. for those that will be offended by my language, go read the damn book and get over it already)