Sinister: No, silly! Nothing on the page really *happens*.

[Youn J. Noh]

Hi Sinister,

> If you like someone, go out with them and do things people who
> like each other do. If you dont, then don't.

How can this be until the things we like about people in this way attain
the status of things we like about people?  Until the things we do to show
that we like people in this way attain the status of things we do to show
we like people?  

Last last October when M visited N, P, and I while we were living in
R's house (that's when he went into the back garden and pointed out the
lavender and dill), he was eager enough to examine N's books but either
from an excess of decorum or a lack of interest didn't bother to look at
mine.  Decorum must have at least had some part of it because upon gaining
the upper part of the house he looked away from the door left open to my
room.  And even though he is good friends with P, he didn't look at her
books either, though at that point I'm not certain she had them unpacked.
Yet in the office, he and his best friend S make stiff unnatural jokes
full of innuendo.  (In every other way, he seems faultless.  It's true
that he's proud, but justifiably so, like Darcy.  But it doesn't matter
because I'm leaving.  In memory, it will be as real as something read
in a book.)

In the interview for the rectorial campaign, it was nice to read about
Stuart's experiences at Glasgow University and how he thought it might
help him help others.  He could have helped Franny.  Zooey's mannerisms
annoy me.  He is not spiritual.

I like this expression "I don't rate so-and-so".  Indifference, for
example, is worse than another lover.  But when (s)he's feeling holy it
could mean something else - no presuppositions - a blank slate - no, (s)he
doesn't rate anything!

Let Franny preserve the illusion of herself as the "languid sophisticated
type" if it keeps her fear that she will compete from turning into a fear
that she cannot compete.  I have the feeling that Salinger means for us to
think that the illusion will only be necessary until Franny turns into a
younger version of Boo Boo, full of grace but with no place, really, in a
story, just one of those standing in the wings.  He let us know in so many
words that she isn't brilliant, impressionable and tenderhearted is all.
(How much does that count for in your book?)

Back in September of '97, the duke wrote, "new Sea and Cake record is
astonishingly good," which would be relevant today, and would have been in
'93 and '95 as well.  From the programming of the drums on "the argument"
to the "oohs" and "aws" on "Showboat Angel" to the arc of the cello
overlaid with the swoon of the violin on "Parasol" - the Sea and Cake
manage to sound nonchalant and soulful and oh, so pretty by turn, and
sometimes all at once.  And with titles like "Bring My Car I Feel to Smash
It" and "A Man Who Never Sees A Pretty Girl That He Doesn't Love Her A
Little", they have the wit and archness to fend off session musicians and
academics alike.  (Sorry for sounding like a third-rate reviewer for AMG;
it's just that trying to sound convincing and get in important details
made it turn out that way.)

Yours truly,
Youn




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