Y’see, Mr. Antolini and I were talking and I got sleepy all of a sudden. Mr. Antolini got the couch fixed up for me and I slept like a goddamn rock. Late at night, I felt somebody patting me or petting me on my head. Guess who it was? Antolini, for chrissake! He tried to act all cool and suave, but he wasn’t. That proves that all adults are phonies!

So I hurried out of the house, creeped out as hell, and decided to sleep in Grand Central Station for the night.

Yeah, I slept on a friggin’ bench.

The next day I thought about running away; Leaving New York forever and never coming back. I’d leave incognito and start a new life far away, where I could be calm. It was my sister who convinced me of staying, but that’s a story for another time.

…Aw, what the heck! I’ll just come clean right now. I wrote a note to old Phoebe telling her I’d leave that same day and to meet me in front of the Museum of Natural History, and she asked me if she could come. We had a little discussion, but in the end I decided to stay so she could be happy.

I don’t have anything else to write about for now, so don’t expect any posts from me for a long while.

You see, back when I was on Elkton Hills, I knew a boy named James Castle. He was quiet and almost never talked, nor participated in class, but he was stubborn as hell. I admired him for that. I really did. Anyway, he once called this boy, Phil Stabile, a conceited guy. One of Stabiles friends squealed on him and what he did, he took his whole gang into Castle’s room, locked the door, and tried to force him to take back what he said. I won’t tell you what they did to him; it’s too crude of a scene. Old Castle didn’t take back what he said. Instead, he dropped himself out the window – his room was pretty high – and landed on his head. Nobody wanted to get near to his corpse, but Mr. Antolini picked him up. He seemed to be a non-phony adult.

Anyway, I went to Mr. and Mrs. Antolini’s house.

Pretty swanky, huh?

Anyway, Mr. Antolini and I talked about school and everything. He gave me a piece of advice I haven’t forgotten yet, “find out where you want to go, and start going there immediately”.

Anyway, I walked all the way home from Central Park. While it was a crazy thing to do with the freezing weather, my home wasn’t too far.

Yeah, my family lives in a hotel. I used a day picture so you could see it better.

Anyway, when I got there, the regular elevator boy wasn’t there. That gave me the perfect chance to get to my family’s apartment unnoticed. I told the new elevator boy I was going with another family, the Dicksteins, in the same floor where my family lived, and when we got to the floor I left for their apartment. Only, when he returned to the lobby, I left for my family’s apartment. Mom and Dad were out on a party and they left my sister with the maid, who was half deaf, so I wasn’t noticed. Remember how fond I am of my sis? Well, she’s just as fond of scrawny old me. She wasn’t bothered when I woke her up, and we talked about many things. She always listens when you talk. She really does.

Anyway, I didn’t have anyplace to go, and I couldn’t sleep home (even old Phoebe thought they’d kill me for getting the ax again), so I called an old teacher of mine, Mr. Antolini (the best teacher I ever had), and asked him if I could go to his place. He said I could go right away, but I didn’t go until Mom and Dad arrived. Man, they almost caught me! If it wasn’t for Phoebe noticing them, I couldn’t have hid and I’d have been in some deep trouble! Anyway, I left for Mr. Antolini’s house when my mom entered her room. I didn’t care about being caught anymore.

After Luce left, I kept getting more and more drunk and waited for the bar’s singers, Tina and Janine, to come out. Instead, a flitty-looking guy came with a new singer – Valencia. She wasn’t good, but at least she was better than Tina and Janine. I tried to ask her to have a drink with me, but she pretended not to see me. Besides, I was getting drunk as hell, so I didn’t think straight. Anyway, when I got really drunk, I started pretending that I was wounded and put my hand on my stomach (Maurice, the crook from 3 posts ago, had hit me there). I also felt like calling Sally, so I paid my check, went to the phone room, and called her. That’s when I started acting like a screwball, but that’s something I don’t like to talk about.

Anyway, after I called Sally, I felt like I was going to faint, so I stayed in the Phone booth a little while longer. Then I went to the men’s room and dunked my head on a bowl of cold water, got my hat, and left towards Central Park.

Then things started to get bad. I accidentally broke a record I had bought for my sister. And if that wasn’t enough, the park was so dark when I got there that I couldn’t see a thing! I almost fell in the lake for chrissake! And to make things worse, I hadn’t dried my head, and there were hunks of ice forming on it goddammit! I started to get afraid of dying of pneumonia, so I decided to visit my sister one “last” time. I’ll talk about that in a later post.

Back when I was studying at Whooton School I knew this guy called Carl Luce. He had the highest I.Q. in the whole school! Old Luce was supposed to be my student advisor, but the only thing he ever did was give sex talks. He was very knowledgeable about the subject too, and he pretty much knew every flit in the world. He really did. Anyway, I called Carl after my date with Sally to see if he could meet me for dinner together. He said he couldn’t, but that he’d meet me at the Wicker bar at ten o’ clock for a few cocktails. I’d bet he didn’t expect a call from me. After all, I think I called him a “phony slob” or something like that once.

Anyway, I had nothing to do until ten o’clock, so I watched a movie – a putrid one at that – in the meantime. Finally, I went to the Wicker bar early.

Sometime later, Old Luce arrived. He had a couple of dry martinis, and I had a couple of Scotch and Sodas. We talked about his current girlfriend, sex in general, and a little bit about psychology. It took us a while to start the conversation, though. That’s the problem with intellectual guys; they never want to have an intelligent conversation unless they start it.

You see, I had this girlfriend – Sally Hayes – That was the prettiest girl in the world, but also the queen of all phonies and a royal pain in the ass. Anyway, I called her some time after Maurice and Sunny left my apartment and asked her to go out with me on a date. It was Sunday, sure, but there’s always a matinee or something on Sundays. I told her to be there at Two o’clock because she is always late, and told her to meet me under the clock at the Biltmore.

Man, I sure am crazy! I mean, I don’t like Sally that much, but I felt like marrying her when I saw her that day! She looked so damn gorgeous! Anyway, she arrived ten minutes late – as always – but I didn’t give a damn about it. Anyway, we went to see this play called I Know my Love, with the Lunts – Sally went crazy when she heart they were there – and she met an old friend of hers after the first act. His name was George or something like that. Then they began talking after every act about the play and its actors. The phoniest conversation ever! That sure gave me a bang.

Anyway, Sally and I went ice skating at Radio City after the play was over, and then we had a few drinks – no alcohol, though I wanted some – in this bar from where you could see the skaters. Anyway, she asked me if I was going to help her trim the Christmas tree, and I said yes. Then I somehow started ranting about my goddamn life and asked her to escape life with me, starting a discussion that ended with me telling her she was a pain in the ass. I swear that has got to be the greatest mistake of my whole friggin’ life!

You see, I didn’t really feel like taking another cab to go back. After getting on too many cabs, you just get tired of them and have to walk, so that’s what I did. I walked twelve blocks to go back to the goddamn hotel. Boy was it cold! Freezing cold! I even had to put my hunting hat on, and wished that some goddamn crook hadn’t stolen my gloves back at Pencey. Not that I’d get them back, being Yellow and all for chrissake.

Anyway, I entered the hotel and got on the elevator…

…And that is when the mess started. This elevator guy, Maurice, asked me if I wanted to hire a prostitute, and I said yes. Goddammit! What the hell was I thinking!? Nothing, that’s what! I never think when I’m depressed! Anyway, I got to my room, put on a clean shirt, brushed my teeth in case my breath was putrid, and waited for the prostitute. Her name was Sunny, and she was around my age. In the end, I was too nervous to actually do anything, so we just talked a bit, I paid her, and then she left.

However, It was all a trap. Maurice said it was only five bucks, but he wanted ten! I’d tell you what he did to get the other five, but it’s a painful memory – Literally.

You see, I had already arrived at the hotel, checked in, and gotten ready to sleep. However, I wasn’t tired at all. If there is something I hate, it is sleeping when I’m not tired. Anyway, I decided to check out this night club in the hotel, the Lavender Room, but didn’t have a very good time there. I met the three most idiotic women in the world there for chrissake! Anyway, I left the Lavender Room and took a cab to Ernie’s. In case you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, Ernie’s is a nightclub in New York.

I know what you’re thinking. “Why do you take pictures of everything?” Well, why the hell do you care!?

Anyway, I always get crappy cabs late at night. Either they smell like somebody used them like a toilet or the driver isn’t very nice. That time, I was lucky enough to get a smelly cab AND a lousy driver.

The driver’s name was Horwitz. While he wasn’t all that bad, you could talk to him and all, he got irritated very easily. Boy, did he get sore! That night I tried to ask him if he knew about the ducks in Central Park, and he answered me with a “How the hell should I know a stupid thing like that?” And when I told him not to get sore, he said “Who’s sore? Nobody’s sore!” Man, I always get the goddamn worst cabs at night.

You see, it was Saturday, and I wasn’t supposed to be home ‘till Wednesday, and like hell I wanted to be yelled at any sooner. When I was going to leave my room, I decided what I’d do. I’d take a train to New York and rest in a very inexpensive hotel until Wednesday, and I’d return home all fresh and relaxed. Boy, did I need that! I mean, I got in a fight with my roommate Stradlater and all. My nerves were pretty shot. Anyway, I packed my things and left Pencey Prep for good

Anyway, I got on this train at the station. I even took a picture of it to remember the moment.

Funny thing is, I can usually read one of those phony novels people love so much while I’m on a train, but I didn’t feel like it that night.

Anyway, I got to talk with the mother of one of the most annoying bastards at school, and my classmate for chrissake: Ernest Morrow. She was a pretty nice woman, actually. I even felt sorry about giving her a false name (the name of my dorm’s janitor) instead of my real name. My nose started bleeding during the conversation (a wound from my fight with Stradlater) and she was worried about it, so I told her that someone had chucked a very icy snowball at me. She even invited me to visit Ernest on summer, but I didn’t go. I would never visit a sonuvabitch like Ernest, not even for all the money in the world.

It was the very same, goddamn Saturday that I got the axe. My old school, Pencey Prep., had an important football game with Saxon Hall, and you were supposed to suicide or something if we didn’t win, being the last game of the season and all.

However, I didn’t really watch the game. Not even on TV. You see, I was the goddamn manager of the Fencing Team. Why the hell did it have to be me? I mean, I was flunking every subject but English! Wouldn’t that make the teachers think that I am stupid or irresponsible or something?! Anyway, we were supposed to have a friendly meeting with McBurney School in New York that morning, but I had to keep standing up in the subway to see a goddamn map so we could know where to leave! The thing is, some time after arriving at New York, I realized I had left the foils in the subway! Boy, did I screw up! The whole team ostracized me on the way back.

Anyway, shortly after realizing I had forgotten the foils, I found this hunting hat in a sports store. It only cost one buck, so anyone who has some dough could have bought it.

I like to wear it with the peak backwards. I look god that way, I really do.

I could tell you about what happened after I returned or how I spent that day after leaving school, but I won’t. I don’t feel like it.