{"id":"01KG6FVFXAXY8SX8XRM5DP0X3C","cid":"bafkreighm3pwv57pcb7worbkfgadiri2xo3opnyy2fo4pqg22h5w2byiym","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":963,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T03:41:20.744Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG6FT59BXAZ3C5HRJ6SW8F58","start_line":917,"text":"movies with Brossard and Ackley before. They both laughed like hyenas at stuff that\nwasn't even funny. I didn't even enjoy sitting next to them in the movies.\nIt was only about a quarter to nine when we got back to the dorm. Old Brossard\nwas a bridge fiend, and he started looking around the dorm for a game. Old Ackley\nparked himself in my room, just for a change. Only, instead of sitting on the arm of\nStradlater's chair, he laid down on my bed, with his face right on my pillow and all. He\nstarted talking in this very monotonous voice, and picking at all his pimples. I dropped\nabout a thousand hints, but I couldn't get rid of him. All he did was keep talking in this\nvery monotonous voice about some babe he was supposed to have had sexual intercourse\nwith the summer before. He'd already told me about it about a hundred times. Every time\nhe told it, it was different. One minute he'd be giving it to her in his cousin's Buick, the\nnext minute he'd be giving it to her under some boardwalk. It was all a lot of crap,\n\n\nnaturally. He was a virgin if ever I saw one. I doubt if he ever even gave anybody a feel.\nAnyway, finally I had to come right out and tell him that I had to write a composition for\nStradlater, and that he had to clear the hell out, so I could concentrate. He finally did, but\nhe took his time about it, as usual. After he left, I put on my pajamas and bathrobe and\nmy old hunting hat, and started writing the composition.\nThe thing was, I couldn't think of a room or a house or anything to describe the\nway Stradlater said he had to have. I'm not too crazy about describing rooms and houses\nanyway. So what I did, I wrote about my brother Allie's baseball mitt. It was a very\ndescriptive subject. It really was. My brother Allie had this left-handed fielder's mitt. He\nwas left-handed. The thing that was descriptive about it, though, was that he had poems\nwritten all over the fingers and the pocket and everywhere. In green ink. He wrote them\non it so that he'd have something to read when he was in the field and nobody was up at\nbat. He's dead now. He got leukemia and died when we were up in Maine, on July 18,\n1946. You'd have liked him. He was two years younger than I was, but he was about fifty\ntimes as intelligent. He was terrifically intelligent. His teachers were always writing\nletters to my mother, telling her what a pleasure it was having a boy like Allie in their\nclass. And they weren't just shooting the crap. They really meant it. But it wasn't just that\nhe was the most intelligent member in the family. He was also the nicest, in lots of ways.\nHe never got mad at anybody. People with red hair are supposed to get mad very easily,\nbut Allie never did, and he had very red hair. I'll tell you what kind of red hair he had. I\nstarted playing golf when I was only ten years old. I remember once, the summer I was\naround twelve, teeing off and all, and having a hunch that if I turned around all of a\nsudden, I'd see Allie. So I did, and sure enough, he was sitting on his bike outside the\nfence--there was this fence that went all around the course--and he was sitting there,\nabout a hundred and fifty yards behind me, watching me tee off. That's the kind of red\nhair he had. God, he was a nice kid, though. He used to laugh so hard at something he\nthought of at the dinner table that he just about fell off his chair. I was only thirteen, and\nthey were going to have me psychoanalyzed and all, because I broke all the windows in\nthe garage. I don't blame them. I really don't. I slept in the garage the night he died, and I\nbroke all the goddam windows with my fist, just for the hell of it. I even tried to break all\nthe windows on the station wagon we had that summer, but my hand was already broken\nand everything by that time, and I couldn't do it. It was a very stupid thing to do, I'll\nadmit, but I hardly didn't even know I was doing it, and you didn't know Allie. My hand","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG6FV136KQWB642D8P7W5SP1","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG6FT59BXAZ3C5HRJ6SW8F58","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KFF1K6A8V452X8SQKY55DD16","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG6FVFXD69RZHYATWWDQ831G","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG6FVFXDSK5BFNYNJZ10FEXK","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T03:41:22.218Z","ts":"2026-01-30T03:41:28.313Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}