“Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.”

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“I’m sick of just liking people. I wish to God I could meet somebody I could respect.”

Take the austere little paperbacks down from the shelf and you can hold the collected works of J.D. Salinger — one novel, three volumes of stories — in the palm of one hand. Like some of his favorite writers — like Sappho, whom we know only from ancient fragments, or the Japanese poets who crafted 17-syllable haikus — Salinger was an author whose large reputation pivots on very little. The first of his published stories that he thought were good enough to preserve between covers appeared in the New Yorker in 1948. Sixteen years later he placed one last story there and drew down the shades.

From that day until his death on Jan. 27 at age 91, at his home in Cornish, N.H., Salinger was the hermit crab of American letters. When he emerged, it was usually to complain that somebody was poking at his shell. Over time Salinger’s exemplary refusal of his own fame may turn out to be as important as his fiction. In the 1960s he retreated to the small house in Cornish, and rejected the idea of being a public figure. Thomas Pynchon is his obvious successor in that department. But Pynchon figured out how to turn his back on the world with a wink and a Cheshire Cat smile. Salinger did it with a scowl. Then again, he was inventing the idea, and he bent over it with an inventor’s sweaty intensity.{Read on} {Also}

“Grand. There’s a word I really hate. It’s a phoney. I could puke every time I hear it”

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When I Was A Kid I Wanted To Be A Rock Star. I Am A Paleontologist Now, All Set In Stone. What I Was Asking For, I wish, I had Known.

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I wanted to be a Naval Aviator and fly the F-14 Tomcat. And that was BEFORE the movie Top Gun came out. I’m now a polysomnographer (sleep tech). Oh well, there’s always booze. On a more humorous note, my pet sister wanted to be an elephant when she grew up. She’s just a couple of cheezeburgers away from realizing that dream.

I wanted to be astronaut or star pilot like Han Solo. As I grew up I realized going to space in real life isn’t as cool as it is in star wars, then I found out I could get to space by consuming magical mushrooms.

• Age 5 : Indiana Jones
• Age 10 – 17: Author
• Age 18 : Journalist
• Age 19 : French Psychologist
• Age 20 – now : Programmer
• Future, hopefully : Indiana Jones

I wanted to be a masseur. Then I decided to actually make some money and got into computers and networking. Then I changed my mind about making money and joined the military to work on computers and networks. Now my wife forces me to give her back/feet/hand massages. So I guess in the end I did become what I wanted at the beginning.

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The **** calls them fallen angels. A Sumerian chronicles tell us about the planet Nibiru and inhabited by conscious beings – Nephilim (still referred to as anunaki). According to legend, the Nephilim descended to earth for gold – the atmosphere of Nibiru was relieved and mythical scientists came up with a golden shield to reflect light and heat back to the planet. Every 3600 years, when the mysterious twelfth planet approaches the Earth (promised in 2012-m) giants “merge” there’s gold reserves. For the same legend of a man – a product of genetic engineering, a mix between the Nephilim and terrestrial monkeys, specifically designed to work in the mines.

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