Remembering J.D. Salinger

J.D. Salinger passed away last Friday. I was so busy being a phony, going out, working, buying paint, being your typical grownup, that I didn't find out until today.

I don't usually get upset when it comes to death, especially with celebrites. It's not that I don't care, it's just that I guess I know better. But Mr. Salinger's death has come at a time in my life where I feel as if I am about to choose the path I must walk down the rest of my life, which has left me with a feeling of uneasiness.

I feel in the midst of phonies everywhere. It's as if I cannot escape it, and I try to fight it, but that never brings me satisfaction. My fear is to become one of them, but my bigger fear is to not.

Salinger only published one novel, but I believe that is because he could not beat perfection.

When I was 16 I told my mom I wanted to find Salinger. I knew that if I did he wouldn't mind talking to me. How could he? I know Holden Caulfield. I could have been him at times I felt. I envied him, but mostly I loved him.

I never did find Salinger. I never even tried, but I always like thinking about it. I think I'm glad I never did, because now I can always imagine what might have happened if I had, and most of the time what you imagine happening is much better than reality itself.

I think The Onion did the best eulogy...

In this big dramatic production that didn't do anyone any good (and was pretty embarrassing, really, if you think about it), thousands upon thousands of phonies across the country mourned the death of author J.D. Salinger, who was 91 years old for crying out loud. "He had a real impact on the literary world and on millions of readers," said hot-shot English professor David Clarke, who is just like the rest of them, and even works at one of those crumby schools that rich people send their kids to so they don't have to look at them for four years. "There will never be another voice like his." Which is exactly the lousy kind of goddamn thing that people say, because really it could mean lots of things, or nothing at all even, and it's just a perfect example of why you should never tell anybody anything.