David+Kang.++Leave+comments+or+DIE.

Project Proposal with Rubric out of 100 points: I will periodically post 3 "Chapter One's" for student review/commentary. I will also read and comment on at least TEN BAZILLION students' work each day. (50 pts.) I will grade myself on diction, writing style, plot, character development, and reader interest. (30 pts.) I will grade myself on making relevant, insightful comments each day. (20 pts.)
 * Scroll down to atcually look at my first chapter.**

fyi I know you can't access it from school, too bad go home and try again XP
 * AUDIO COMPONENT** a completely random song that i thought was fitting to something, be prepared, its made with MusicSoft and is not a human voice, it is very melancholy but I like it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPwDfCUSBhw&feature=related
 * VISUAL COMPONENT** pirated and completely unrelated, but I need the points XP.

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Due at the End of Class on 4/22: Successfully complete Rough Draft (COMPLETE) Begin Chapter One (COMPLETE) __Piscataway__ (KILLED) Due at the End of Class on 4/23: Chapter One (INCOMPLETE) <-- not beautiful enough of a picture in my head to write coherently. (KILLED) 2 comments or more (COMPLETE) Due at the End of Class on 4/24: Chapter One (COMPLETE) __Disability__ 2 comments or more (COMPLETE) Due at the End of Class on 4/27: Chapter One (COMPLETE) __Extrovert: Memoirs of Romantic Devil__ 2 comments or more (COMPLETE) Due at the End of Class on 4/28: Chapter One 2 comments or more Presentations/Celebration will occur on Friday, May 1.

Final Comments/Self-Evaluation:

- COMMENT SPACE OKAY? Pretty good! Pretty good! Not as mushy as you said it would be though. haha Nice try though! Almost got it. :p Hey David! I like the things you do! Hey DAVID! If I could I would be you! You're the one and only panda with the one and only taste! No one can make a story and make it greeeeeeeeeat! _-good job daviddddd you arsennnn. you should of talked about fire :)...you know who i am!

- Honestly, David, we need to start planning the wedding. I'm thinking a June wedding. After I graduate, of course. It'll be lovely. -Hannah

- David you have a way with words. I'm curious to read what will happen next -Jocelyn

David Kang Chapter One __Piscataway__

Licea Redown hated the cold Piscataway rain. Hated it as much as she hated the jack hammering construction outside her window. Jack hammer, was it one word or was it two, was jack hammering a verb? Today it made no difference, today even the rain was nothing but meaningless background noise. Noise that was out flanked and out ranked and surrounded on all sides by the beating of her heart. Today the rain kept her hot heart cool, Licea was thankful for the rain today. Licea was waiting at Hordenson station, waiting for Neal, waiting for //her Neal//. At the moment she cared nothing for her looks, nothing for her smearing make-up, for her dripping mascara. Okay, maybe she did care about her dripping mascara, but she didn't care about it enough to wipe it away. Neal had never loved her for her looks anyway, nor for her personality. Andrea never actually knew //why// Neal loved her, and she hated it. Every time she asked he'd put his hands on her shoulders, look deep into her eyes, so deep that she was never sure it was even her eyes he was looking at, and tell her "Who ever said I loved you?". Though each time she could feel her hand rear back for a slap of herculean proportions, and her tongue curl up in anticipation for salty tears, and her breathing shift from excitement to the raking, wheezing, rapidly exhaling bonanza that was the brink of self control, Neal'd turn his back to her and silently whisper, do I need a reason? Then she'd love him even more, and she'd even forgive him for the inexcusable act of

- COMMENT SPACE OKAY?

David, I like the repetition. I wouldn't change it. It gives your prose a hypnotic rhythm, a hypnotic rhythm, a... Okay, moving on, my favorite aspect of your writing is your keen eye for human behavior and the often contradictory quirks of our intricate personalities. You are an astute people watcher! The prose just flows. I am jealous of your diction. My favorite passage is the description of Jessie's //idea// face. I can picture it perfectly. If I have time (and am suddenly not exceedingly lazy), I will post more extensive edits. Honestly, I just enjoy sitting back and reading your work. Tell Hannah that I would be happy to officiate at your wedding. --Mrs. Rachwal

Okay this is all pretty awesome, and I like it a lot! I don't think it's supposed to be relevant between chapters, at least I hope not, because I am not seeing it. Unless they all weave together in the end....tricky... Maybe I'll try to weave in a letter to Chinggis Khan or something. You know, just for good measure, because the Mongols have made it into my last several projects. Also, if you picture a cat talking back, methinks you have been watching a bit too much Alice in Wonderland. Briana

- David Kang Chapter One __Disability__

Monday 5:12 p.m.

My name is Frances DuRoi and I hate being late. I really do, not because of the annoyance of detentions, or even because of the tepid anger of my teachers who see my tardies as an offense to their honor, but because it breaks the timing of what I am to do.

My best friend Jessie always tells me that I click my tongue when I am anticipating something. Jessie also tells me that I click three times per minute, on the dot. Once at the thirty-third second, once at the forty-sixth second, and once at the sixtieth, without fail. Jessie usually uses me as a stop watch, it takes Jessie exactly a minute and four seconds to run around the track circle and look up at the bleachers to see my face, and get to me. Jessie is always four seconds shy of a minute, or so she tells me.

It is after school and I am watching Jessie sprint after track practice is already over, as Jessie always does. Today Jessie tells me the personal record a minute and four seconds is broken, Jessie's made it in a minute and three. My lips purse, my eyes strain and my stomach grows an ulcer.

"Jessie, I'm moving to Canada Wednesday morning."

Jessie's eyes quiver, and Jessie's smile wavers and twists, twists into a congratulatory grimace. Jessie is trying to be happy for me. I know Jessie is not happy, not in the slightest, and Jessie knows that the smile Jessie is showing doesn't fool me, but such formalities are required of a best friend, or so Jessie thinks. Jessie sits down next to me and tells me stories about Canada. Jessie like stories.

Jessie's hand is placed, shivering, on my shoulder and Jessie looks away while telling me how in Canada no substitute teacher will pronounce my name wrong anymore. Jessie looks away while telling me how in Canada everything is really cheap and that I won't have any money trouble anymore. Jessie looks away while telling me how in Canada- Jessie is crying.

Jessie is crying.

I, Frances DuRoi, cannot see Jessie's face. I, Frances DuRoi, know, without any doubt that my best friend is looking away from me, crying, bawling, into the setting sun. I, Frances DuRoi, hate my own powerlessness more than anything in the world.

Jessie brings up a sleeveless, sweaty arm and wipes away the collection of tears, snot, and other weeping juices off Jessie's face, and turns around smiling. Jessie looks at me, never meeting eyes, while bringing in shallow inhalations and letting go rapid exhalations. Suddenly Jessie's face becomes surprised, shocked but not appalled. Jessie has an //idea//. I know this because I know Jessie's //idea face//.

Jessie's //idea face// consists of an open mouth in the shape of a D, not the normal lowercase o that is standard of a surprised face, or even the 0 of a shocked face. Jessie's //idea face// also consists of Jessie's left eyebrow raising slightly higher than Jessie's right eyebrow and most importantly Jessie's eyes brightening, then smouldering. Jessie's //idea face// is the most funny face the world has ever seen. Jessie's queer facial expressions always make me laugh, even now, at the brink of separation.

Jessie asks me to come back to the track tomorrow, at night, after the Annual Midnight Track Meet, a gathering for juniors and annoyed senior track and field member to try and break personal records and drink beer, contrary to its name, it starts at eight and usually ends by eleven. I look at Jessie, puzzled and agree not knowing what to expect. Jessie then tells me to go home. I do.

I spend the next whole day with Jessie avoiding me. I am happy for the distance, I believe it will help me gather myself for the last time I will likely see Jessie. I believe it will help me separate with Jessie with a clean wound, not a jagged one.

I meet Jessie at the field, but all Jessie gives me as salutation is a nod. The heats begin and I see Jessie lag behind in every heat Jessie participates in. Jessie is the fastest runner on the team, whether it be in sprints, cross country, or even hurdles. Jessie seems to be contemplating something.

During every heat, for a moment at least, Jessie runs faster than I've ever seen Jessie run before. At those moments it seems as though Jessie has gained an iron hard resolve to do //something//, but in a beat of a butterfly's wing, the speed, the resolve, vanishes. Jessie loses every heat Jessie runs, but all the seniors are impressed, and the juniors pant and hold back tears of amazement and mirth.

The heats end. The beer drinking ensues. A single bottle of cheap vodka is pulled out during the dying minutes of the after party, and each of the winners is offered a glass. Jessie is offered a glass too. Jessie holds the Vodka filled glass to Jessie's chest and eventually everyone leaves.

Everyone but Jessie and I.

I stand up, but Jessie is before me in a flash, and pushes me back down to my usual bleacher seat.

"Frances, as corny and as bad timing as I might have, I love the crap out of you. I want you to kiss me if I can do my usual lap in a minute or less."

I blanch, and then nod. Jessie's back is to me. Jessie downs the whole glass of vodka in a single swig. The remnants slide down Jessie's cheeks.

Jessie takes the usual position on the field and I, as usual, snap.

Jessie takes off like a cosmonautical rocket, and is slower than usual, Jessie has not hit the half way mark by my first click. Thirty two seconds have passed.

Jessie perseveres but I can see Jessie crying, and faltering from my seat, Jessie is half way by my second click. Forty-six seconds have passed.

Jessie's hands ball into fists and Jessie's feet beat into the track, leaving an angry trail of staccato smacks.

Jessie's eyes close, and Jessie's speed doubles, and redoubles.

I can tell I am about to click, I want to stall it, but it is involuntary. I have never anticipated anything more in my life. I know not a half-second remains, and Jessie is still two bleacher rows away.

Jessie jumps, and collides with me, knocking me backwards and into my seat.

I click.

- David Kang Chapter One Extrovert: Memoirs of Romantic Devil
 * END OF 2nd CHAPTER ONE**

Extrovert, an outgoing, companionable, sociable person. Extrovert, (//psychology//) a person more concerned about practical realities then inner thoughts and feelings.

I don't know why I'm up at five-thirty in the morn, sittin' in a bench readin' a dictionary.

Hell, I've never thought of myself as outgoing, or companionable and most people say I'm more likely a sociopath than a sociable guy, but let's face it, I'm the goddamn picture example next to the Extrovert, (//psychology//) definition in the dictionary. Since third grade, I've hated religion, hated the religious people in general, and even had a queer sadistic pleasure in devouring that dumbshit Easter Bunny, bottom first of course, can't let the rabbit off //that// easy.

But, as most stupid, last second, dropped out on your face, former-seniors in highschool, I'm having a breakdown. Fine, I'm in red neck country, where I could probably get a job at a Hardy Boys and get to manager in a week, seein' as I'm not as dumbshit crazy as all them folks that work there, and get by, more'n comfortably, but I'se always pictured I'd have some kin'a epic romance in my life.

Now, don't go writin' me off as a some modern-decade romantical lunatic who thinks writin'll gettim laid, though my Uncle Bart always said his Cajun cook book got him tons of dates, I mean romantic as in, for instance Robinson Crusoe, or Wolfgang Puck're.. that guy that hollered at his volleyball for a half hour, can' rmember his name. You get what I mean? Good Lord, I sound like I wanna get shot in the leg and sent to a deserted island and live there for a decade. Sometimes I sound like such a dumbshit.

Even so, I never thought that compuls'ry education was ever gonna last, and mosta my friend's had already done left the hellhole in junior year. Problem is, I've got a choice to make, and I don't know whether to go with the devil, as I always have, God bless 'is carrion comfort soul, or go the //holy way.//

Now I done gotcha intrested don' I? Yes, well in my highschoolin' years I did some tinkerin' with my grades and some tinkerin' with my guidance counsellor's daughter and I done gotten myself a full scholarship without thinkin' too much. To a North Pennsylvanian semminary no less. Seein' as the offers open, I can leave whenever the hell I want, get about a hundred and fourty four thousand dollars worth of college teachin' out of it, I'm bout to shoot the goddamn offer out the sky with my .357 Ruger Redhawk. Magnum.

Thing is, I kinda like the the girl. The guidance counsellor's girl, Sherry. Though I said tinkerin' what I really mean't was I got hit by a car and flew about fifty-some feet forward into the window of my guidance counsellor's house. More 'sicifally the bedroom of his half undressed daughter. Well, me being jettisoned by the car, my shirt ripped clean off, my pants half on fire, and me halfway upside down on his daughter, well, I think you can imagine.

The man beat me a quarter to the grave. I was already halfway there by the time that punk hit me with his JEEP. Either way, after about ten seconds after beatin' me three quarters senseless, the man, Stephen Christian McConnolsworth the Third, told me, quite tearfully, that he couldn't let a man who never knew the Lord marry his daughter. I of course never said anything about marriage, and to be truthful I didn't even know how he knew that I wasn't a believer like 999/1000 of the rest of our Christ lovin' city. So, he gave me a scholarship, some luck, some advice, some painkillers, and a fiance. I doubt I'll ever forget that first right cross of his, seein' as thats the only punch I remeber gettin' hit by.

So at the queer little bus stop at the edge of town, I remeber what Mr. McConnolsworth told me.

Luck: He didn't kill me kuz he knew that I wasn't a Christ lovin' boy who'd rise up at judgment day, even if he killed me right then.

Advice: I'd better become the world's best Christ lovin' boy the world'd ever seen by the time I was done with College

Painkillers: oxycotin

Fiance: If I cheated on his daughter, the wrath of God would not stop him, and the mercy of God would not save me from Stephen Christian McConnolsworth the Third's retribution.

So, I sit here on a bench thinking, riflin' through my pocket dictionary, and lookin' up at the Grey Hound bus driver's watery bullfrog eyes, and wonder what choice I should make. Should I get on the bus to that wasteland called Pennsylvania, or go to the Hardy Boys and turn in my dossy-ay. In short

Romance or the Devil?


 * END OF 3nd CHAPTER ONE**

- David Kang Chapter One

David Kang Ms. McGlaughlin

English 10 6 May 2009

Sincerity found in Deceit

Phony is someone who is not genuine, in more simple words a fake. J.D. Salinger’s __The Catcher in the Rye__, is a tale of Holden Caulfield’s journey through depression. Though it is told by Holden himself, one may never trust any of the generalizations told by Holden in the narration of his “mad house” (Salinger P.1) experience. Holden often calls many characters phony, while he himself is the real phony. Holden finds many characters to be phonies, one such group of phonies stands out from the rest: the phonies who are meant to inspire, the educational phonies. The first of the educational phonies in __The Catcher in the Rye__ is Mr. Haas, the principal of Holden’s old boarding school, who, above all things prioritizes outward appearance over inner. One example of this is when Mr. Haas “quickly shakes hands with” parents who are unkempt, or “funny looking”, but has “half-hour long talks” with parents who seem to be well off or fashionably attired. I believe Holden finds Mr. Haas to be such a phony not because of his actions, but that from the position of power from where Mr. Haas stands. From the power seat of a principal Holden may see not only Mr. Haas’ mistreatment of others phony, but also his putting down of students who looked up to him, perhaps Holden himself. The remaining educational phony is Ossenburger, the gracious alumni who spouts his phoniness, according to Holden, through his acceptance speech of the new wing of Pencey. Ossenburger too, emphasizes the outer appearance rather than inner, but in a different fashion than Mr. Haas, who focuses more on the appearance of others. Ossenburger seems to prioritizes appear better than anything anyone else as seen when he says “he talked to Jesus all the time, even when he was driving his car.” (Salinger 16). Ossenburger’s speech shows his love of prayer which seems to counter wit his business as a funeral director who gives his customers the option of “having your members of your family buried for about five bucks apiece” (16). Ossenburger’s phoniness to Holden is, again, one of perspective, Holden sees how Pencey wants him, and all students, to view Ossenburger, as a generous, successful “you can be just like him” type of Pencey Graduate, giving only slight hints at future donations of course. Holden’s view of Ossenburger is that of a role model not worth following, all of whom, to Holden, are phony. Though, don’t just take my word for it, Arnold Swanson handily agrees in this own critical essay, The Caught, where he writes “The role models of the early chapters of __The Catcher in the Rye__ are foreshadowing the worldview, how Holden looks at the people and institutions of society, Holden has of others, a dark and bleak worldview at that.” (Swanson 5). Holden believes that he has nothing to look up to in those in authority, but also nothing to emulate in his own peer group. The first example of this would be Ward Stradlater, Holden’s roommate. Ward Stradlater is notorious at Pencey for his striking features, “[generosity]” and charm when it comes to women, though, most, if not all, of this is a window into his phoniness (Salinger 20). Holden soon finds that Stradlater’s politeness is only a front for later extortion, as we see when Stradlater asks Holden to “write something descriptive” for him, even whilst knowing that it is the eve of Holden’s expulsion (28). To Holden’s chagrin, it stops not at mere school yard bullying, but also at women, Stradlater implies his own proper manners and etiquette, while expecting others to not only reciprocate, but invest, in a compound fashion. Holden sees this in Stradlater’s utter lack of decency when on double dates with Holden, via Stradlater’s car ride antics. Holden wishes to befriend Stradlater but is blinded and deterred by Stradlater’s phoniness, which manifests itself to Holden as conceit and lack of manners. Similarly, Sally Hayes is another of Holden’s peers that Holden himself finds to be phony. At first sight Sally Hayes’ “[gossiping]” of talking behind another girls back seems to be condescending and just a little air headed, but in reality Sally does this only because she envies the attention the other girl garnered from her lack of modesty (106). Sally soon reciprocates by being just as immodest, “flipping up” her skirt in front of Holden as seen in her date with Holden on the ice skating rink (109). Above all things Sally lacks sincerity in Holden’s eyes, wanting to talk with anyone but Holden on their date, even to the point of alienating Holden who she was at some point “mad about” (111). In the end Holden really does wish to be friends with, and have relationships with his peers, but Holden is blinded by their phoniness, and finds it too painful to look straight into their human flaws. Susan Cook states in her critical essay, Psychoanalysis of Holden Caulfield, that “Holden has no choice but to become a recluse, seeing as he shuns both the humanity in the people around him, and the hypocrisy that permeates the outer shells of people’s personalities.” (Cook 3) Though Holden rags on about the phoniness in the personalities of others it is irrevocable that he himself is the true phony. The first piece of evidence leading us to this conclusion is Holden’s condescension. One account of Holden’s condescension is when Holden sees Catholic nuns at the station and poignantly ridicules their “suitcases” for their lack of fashion sense (Salinger 143). Earlier in the novel Holden himself states that he cares little for “material…wealth” (29). Another time we get a view of Holden’s condescension is when Holden belittles Ernie, the bar’s pianist, for his piano playing calling it “flashy” and “phony” while in reality it shows dedication and hard work, two things Holden knows very little about (148). This blatant show of quick judgment and quicker lies show Holden himself to be a real phony, in comparison to all of his peers and “role models” he calls phony himself (22). Another piece of evidence that leads us to believe that Holden is the true phony is Holden’s false maturity, which is, in fact a front to hide his indecisiveness in choosing between adulthood and adolescence. This is first shown when Holden “calls” a prostitute, Sunny to be specific, to lose his “[virginity]”, and therefore become an adult (92). Even as Holden does this as a childish attempt at adulthood, he deflects even that by refusing to have intercourse with Sunny, instead vying to talk to her about her life. It is again shown when Holden aggravates Ackley, calling him silently “a real idiot”, and yet giving up his ground, though tainted ground it may be, to invite him to go out (18). Even while Holden asks Ackley to go out to the city with him, he consciously aggravates himself with Ackley’s “antics” and spends paragraphs complaining about him (32). Arnold’s second essay, Pathetic, says “Holden feels the world through two mediums, how he wants to feel it, and how he actually feels it…The only problem is, Holden is not willing to recognize the difference between the two.” I cannot help but agree; Holden’s condescension gives us a view of what Holden sees when he sees others, not nearly the humble, objective, spontaneity that he tries to show, but a cold, fickle monotone of how he cares little for the faults of others. All in all, though Holden may try to run from his problems, his utter lack of introspection only digs him deeper into the hole he is in. Holden finds it easier to look at the “flaws” of other rather than admit to his own short comings. So even while ridiculing others and calling them “phony”, Holden actually digs himself deeper into his own form of phoniness. Holden’s phoniness is not akin to his own character, as it is with the other characters in the story, but his inability to accept, or even recognize the existence of his own character.

David Kang Ms. McGlaughlin English 10 6 May 2009

Sincerity found in Deceit Phony is someone who is not genuine, in more simple words a fake. J.D. Salinger’s __The Catcher in the Rye__, is a tale of Holden Caulfield’s journey through depression. Though it is told by Holden himself, one may never trust any of the generalizations told by Holden in the narration of his “mad house” (Salinger P.1) experience. Holden often calls many characters phony, while he himself is the real phony. Holden finds many characters to be phonies, one such group of phonies stands out from the rest: the phonies who are meant to inspire, the educational phonies. The first of the educational phonies in __The Catcher in the Rye__ is Mr. Haas, the principal of Holden’s old boarding school, who, above all things prioritizes outward appearance over inner. One example of this is when Mr. Haas “quickly shakes hands with” parents who are unkempt, or “funny looking”, but has “half-hour long talks” with parents who seem to be well off or fashionably attired. I believe Holden finds Mr. Haas to be such a phony not because of his actions, but that from the position of power from where Mr. Haas stands. From the power seat of a principal Holden may see not only Mr. Haas’ mistreatment of others phony, but also his putting down of students who looked up to him, perhaps Holden himself. The remaining educational phony is Ossenburger, the gracious alumni who spouts his phoniness, according to Holden, through his acceptance speech of the new wing of Pencey. Ossenburger too, emphasizes the outer appearance rather than inner, but in a different fashion than Mr. Haas, who focuses more on the appearance of others. Ossenburger seems to prioritizes appear better than anything anyone else as seen when he says “he talked to Jesus all the time, even when he was driving his car.” (Salinger 16). Ossenburger’s speech shows his love of prayer which seems to counter wit his business as a funeral director who gives his customers the option of “having your members of your family buried for about five bucks apiece” (16). Ossenburger’s phoniness to Holden is, again, one of perspective, Holden sees how Pencey wants him, and all students, to view Ossenburger, as a generous, successful “you can be just like him” type of Pencey Graduate, giving only slight hints at future donations of course. Holden’s view of Ossenburger is that of a role model not worth following, all of whom, to Holden, are phony. Though, don’t just take my word for it, Arnold Swanson handily agrees in this own critical essay, The Caught, where he writes “The role models of the early chapters of __The Catcher in the Rye__ are foreshadowing the worldview, how Holden looks at the people and institutions of society, Holden has of others, a dark and bleak worldview at that.” (Swanson 5). Holden believes that he has nothing to look up to in those in authority, but also nothing to emulate in his own peer group. The first example of this would be Ward Stradlater, Holden’s roommate. Ward Stradlater is notorious at Pencey for his striking features, “[generosity]” and charm when it comes to women, though, most, if not all, of this is a window into his phoniness (Salinger 20). Holden soon finds that Stradlater’s politeness is only a front for later extortion, as we see when Stradlater asks Holden to “write something descriptive” for him, even whilst knowing that it is the eve of Holden’s expulsion (28). To Holden’s chagrin, it stops not at mere school yard bullying, but also at women, Stradlater implies his own proper manners and etiquette, while expecting others to not only reciprocate, but invest, in a compound fashion. Holden sees this in Stradlater’s utter lack of decency when on double dates with Holden, via Stradlater’s car ride antics. Holden wishes to befriend Stradlater but is blinded and deterred by Stradlater’s phoniness, which manifests itself to Holden as conceit and lack of manners. Similarly, Sally Hayes is another of Holden’s peers that Holden himself finds to be phony. At first sight Sally Hayes’ “[gossiping]” of talking behind another girls back seems to be condescending and just a little air headed, but in reality Sally does this only because she envies the attention the other girl garnered from her lack of modesty (106). Sally soon reciprocates by being just as immodest, “flipping up” her skirt in front of Holden as seen in her date with Holden on the ice skating rink (109). Above all things Sally lacks sincerity in Holden’s eyes, wanting to talk with anyone but Holden on their date, even to the point of alienating Holden who she was at some point “mad about” (111). In the end Holden really does wish to be friends with, and have relationships with his peers, but Holden is blinded by their phoniness, and finds it too painful to look straight into their human flaws. Susan Cook states in her critical essay, Psychoanalysis of Holden Caulfield, that “Holden has no choice but to become a recluse, seeing as he shuns both the humanity in the people around him, and the hypocrisy that permeates the outer shells of people’s personalities.” (Cook 3) Though Holden rags on about the phoniness in the personalities of others it is irrevocable that he himself is the true phony. The first piece of evidence leading us to this conclusion is Holden’s condescension. One account of Holden’s condescension is when Holden sees Catholic nuns at the station and poignantly ridicules their “suitcases” for their lack of fashion sense (Salinger 143). Earlier in the novel Holden himself states that he cares little for “material…wealth” (29). Another time we get a view of Holden’s condescension is when Holden belittles Ernie, the bar’s pianist, for his piano playing calling it “flashy” and “phony” while in reality it shows dedication and hard work, two things Holden knows very little about (148). This blatant show of quick judgment and quicker lies show Holden himself to be a real phony, in comparison to all of his peers and “role models” he calls phony himself (22). Another piece of evidence that leads us to believe that Holden is the true phony is Holden’s false maturity, which is, in fact a front to hide his indecisiveness in choosing between adulthood and adolescence. This is first shown when Holden “calls” a prostitute, Sunny to be specific, to lose his “[virginity]”, and therefore become an adult (92). Even as Holden does this as a childish attempt at adulthood, he deflects even that by refusing to have intercourse with Sunny, instead vying to talk to her about her life. It is again shown when Holden aggravates Ackley, calling him silently “a real idiot”, and yet giving up his ground, though tainted ground it may be, to invite him to go out (18). Even while Holden asks Ackley to go out to the city with him, he consciously aggravates himself with Ackley’s “antics” and spends paragraphs complaining about him (32). Arnold’s second essay, Pathetic, says “Holden feels the world through two mediums, how he wants to feel it, and how he actually feels it…The only problem is, Holden is not willing to recognize the difference between the two.” I cannot help but agree; Holden’s condescension gives us a view of what Holden sees when he sees others, not nearly the humble, objective, spontaneity that he tries to show, but a cold, fickle monotone of how he cares little for the faults of others. All in all, though Holden may try to run from his problems, his utter lack of introspection only digs him deeper into the hole he is in. Holden finds it easier to look at the “flaws” of other rather than admit to his own short comings. So even while ridiculing others and calling them “phony”, Holden actually digs himself deeper into his own form of phoniness. Holden’s phoniness is not akin to his own character, as it is with the other characters in the story, but his inability to accept, or even recognize the existence of his own character.