Catcher in the Rye

 I’m depressed as hell. I was thinking about the ducks in Central Park. What happens to the ducks when the pond freezes over? Who looks after the ducks? I asked my taxi driver who didn’t particularly care. Well if no one looks after the ducks when their world freezes over, Who’s going to look after me? Mr. Antolini told me I’m in for a big fall, and I’m beginning to agree. I’m rolling through the rye, but no one is here to catch me.

I took my baby sister, Pheobe, to ride on the carousel. Scared the living hell out of me. Who’s there to protect her from falling down? There’s no way I can be there for everyone on the ride. What if the carousel spins faster and faster until who knows what happens? I sometimes feel like I myself am spinning out of control, so how am I supposed to catch a body coming through the rye?

I met with Luce today at this bar. That bastard started saying I needed psychoanalyzation or some bottled crap like that. Well I wouldn’t take any of that so I went off on my own and got punch drunk. Reminded me of this scene from a movie I watched.

I met Sally today at the Biltmore Hotel. For the most part she decided to go to the Radio City Ice Skating rink, I think she just wanted to show off her legs in those short ice skating skirts. But I don’t mind, to tell you the truth I find her very attractive. I feel torn though about that. She think’s I’m crazy anyway, I don’t know what I was thinking asking her to go run off with me. I guess I’m just not ready to follow the rules of the game yet.

I saw this kid singing this song today, a real little kid, couldn’t help but make you happy. I went and looked up the poem later, but I could of sworn he said if a body catch a body comin’ through the rye.