No Salinger (Photo credit: Hugger Industries)
Professor Busso held stained yellow fingertips from smoking two cigarettes at a time. He also had a bottle of cheap Scotch and a bottle of very expensive Scotch in his tiny little corner office. All four walls were held up by such delights as; Catcher in the Rye, Still Life with Woodpeckers, Rabbit Run and Breakfast of Champions.
A broken down by life and too much drink office chair had been made level by the Bell Jar.
Dear old Professor had several run ins with love yet never managed to find someone to understand him. He was also considered a drunken albatross around the neck of Colby-Sawyer’s elitist image.
A budding over achiever in the alcohol department, myself, immediately the bond began between the Irishman and the misguided lesbian.
What had entrapped me? The guise of life beyond the meaning. That books and words had been an untapped reservoir of filthy fun.
Many long afternoons did my band of misfit nonconformist and I spend walking the streets of Cornish, New Hampshire.
We had been given the task of finding and decoding J.D. Salinger, the recluse. The Busso knew damn well we would not find Mr. Salinger for we were all acid dropouts. His lesson that was planned worked.
We never unearthed Mr. Perfect Day for Bananafish! Yet, the art of it all remains with me.
Rye (Photo credit: Catfunt)
Seymour Glass had been my character I just didn’t know it at the time. See More Glass had been vacant and shallow. And, those specific words had been used to describe my exploits. Twenty some odd years later I am still hunting for the perfect word to complete me.
Once rusting starts, some level of of iron is lost.
This kind of pan has many uses for all kinds of
festivity and party kitchenware.
I pieced together the above message with wisdom I do not possess. Is the pan human? Metaphorically, could the many surface uses of the pan be the plight of the world today? Is rust a blanket term for the conformity that rots the human soul?
Nonetheless it is the search for deeper meaning than surface words a good writer aims his or her arrow at.
I continue to search the world for understanding as I did years ago.
J.D. Salinger’s toilet sold an auction for close to a million dollars after his death. I wonder what that means?
Three Tributes: Rabbit Run (Photo credit: Sapphireblue)
Filed under: college drinking, conformity, dumbing down generation, randomwordbyruth, substance abuse, Uncategorized Tagged: Busso, Catcher In The Rye, Cornish New Hampshire, Glass family, j d salinger, JD Salinger, Rye, Salinger
