Salinger is my one of my favorite sci-fi writers.
In the universe next door I’m reading through all his new material, some that is sent to me personally, for advice, like he needs it.
Fairly certain he is humoring me and pretending that he cares what I think. Next door exists a similar social feed, and J.D., forever the resident recluse, many years ago as he was writing Teddy, one of his Nine Stories, has confided:
“Soon we will be writing to each other not by hand or typewriters, but will be sitting, as it were, in front of these glowing ovens, and there will be some sort of system that will connect us and divide us (a bully-option, subscription free). I urge you to keep free-willed of this affair, although, myself, I may indulge and solicit your attention, all of which will be, anyway, false figments of your imagination, of a fanboy. I’m writing to you now, after all, blitzed.”
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