drunken, eeek, no second read allowed

you read like salinger scripted your moves, every word directly from franny and zooey. i hear your intention burst through the eye skirting and the nostalgic moments of remembering - it's all clouded through cigarette smoke and tub water and late night catharsis. can I hear anything beyond the godamns and the decoratively painted commentary though i was never truly there? I hold most everyone up to your narrative you know, which is a hard standard even for salinger to handle. so they let me down; how could they not? just wanted to let you know, you always spoke like someone outside of you scripted it before you exhaled and entered. and i jumped suit. thank god we never spoke without scripting on our own. i wish, more than ever, that you'd do that thing that you always seemed to do, and contact me now. but salinger never would allow it. it simply wouldnt be literary, because it's been my move for a while now, i guess. i just can't seem to move.