All I’d do all day is be the Catcher in the Rye.

The world is so full of phonies.

Everyone. Each and every one of these people I’m sitting in class with.

Talking about Art. That’s what this class is about. It’s called Vocal Communications, but the professor just told us it’s about “Talking about and understanding art.”

But isn’t art subjective?

There’s a toilet seat, sitting in the Philadelphia Art Museum.

And it’s pretty much a big fuck You to modern art. The artist who came up with the idea is sheer genius.

Such phonies. Making comments on the damn picture.

The artist who drew this isn’t in the fucking room with us. How the fuck do we know what he was trying to portray?

Martyrdom, says the professor. But isn’t the only difference between suicide and martyrdom the press coverage?

All I want to do right now is walk out of this room and walk away.

From all of these phonies, from all these stupid interpretations.

All of this that doesn’t matter. Such a miniscule detail in this world so fucked.

Aeden doesn’t like it.

Aeden is trying, but Aeden can’t be a fake.

Can’t be phony.

All I want to do is be the Catcher in The Rye.

La seule chose que je veux etre, c’est L’attrape Coeur.

That’s all I’d do all day, be the Catcher in The Rye.

To every Holden Caulfield around the world.

And to never being phony.

(RIP J.D. Salinger. January 1, 1919 – January 27, 2010)