...Besides, im not going to tell you my whole goddam autobiography or anything. i'll just tell you about this madman sutff that happened to me around last Christmas just before I got pretty run-down and had to come out here and take it easy. I mean that's all I told D.B. about, and he's my Brother and all. He's in Hollywood. That isn't too far from this crumby place, and he comes over and visits me practically every week end. He's going to drive me home when I go home next month maybe. He just got a Jaguar. One of those litle english jobs that can do around two hundred miles an hour. It cost him damn near four thousand bucks. He's got a lot of dough, now. He didnt use to. He used to be just a regular writer, when he was at home. He wrote this terrific book of short stories, The secret Goldfish, in case you never heard of him. The best one in it was "the secret Goldfish". it was about this litle kid that wouldnt let anybody look at his goldfish because he'd bought it with is own money. It killed me. Now he's out in Hollywood, D.B., being a prostitute. If there's one thing I hate, it's the movies. Don't even mention them to me"
"the catcher in the Rye" j.d. salinger
