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2003-03-14
Holden goes to NYU
My personal response for admittance into Northwestern and NYU:
IF YOU REALLY want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is what kind of grades I've had in English, or what kind of person I want to become, or even why I want to go to college in the first place. There isn't anything halfway interesting about all that crazy stuff when you get right down to it. It kills me to see most people sitting there writing about how when their cat Sissy died inspired them to become a veterinarian, or even about why the summer they spent at Camp Chipikewa inspired them to be some child psychologist. Out in California they made be answer lousy questions like that, and I'm just plain sick of it.
My brother D.B. used to write stories that'd just make you wild, but now he writes crumby stuff for pictures out there in ring-a-ding Hollywood, so I can't count anything he's written lately. But when I sat there and thought hard abotu it, I came up with this really screwball book I read sophomore year, Brave New World, by this guy named Aldous Huxley. My English teacher made us read it, and it really knocked me out. It's about this guy named Bernard Marx who lives in the future and dates this sexy girl named Lenina with purple eyes. That's what kept me reading it, because I've never heard of anyone with purple eyes, you know? Anyway, this Bernard guy is just a madman, but he's got a good head on his shoulders for somebody in the future. For insance, they've got these things called "feelies," movies that you can actually feel. Why would anyone wanna go to a crumby picture just so they could feel what was going on the movie? But like I said, Bernard is really smart, practically the only one who can actually see how phony the whole mess of "feelies" is. I've never met anyone who thinks movies are just as phony and crumby as I do, so maybe meeting somebody like Bernard would be interesting. It makes the idea of living for the future worth something, knowing that not everybody is going to be as phony as they are now.
I wish I could call old Bernie up on the telephone tonight and thank him for being such a prince. "Bernie," I'd say, "this is your old pal Holden. You remember me, don't ya?" And Bernard'd say, "Yeah," and then I'd say, "I just wanted to say you're one helluva guy. A real prince. Not phone like most of the bastards I know." Bernie'd smile on his end of the phone and tell me how he was doing out there in the future, and we'd just keep talking. Real-buddy like. After a while, he'd probably invite me over to his place for a couple of futuristic martinis, or something like that. So I'd say, "Sure, why not?" After all, how many of your favorite characters would invite you over for drinks?
posted at 11:17 p.m.
