I read “Herzog” in a hot, stinking fisherman’s shack. Well. . .it was a fake shack. . .on the lot of Six Flags’ Great Adventure, outside the Buccaneer ride. . .my post during the few weeks I dressed as a Sea Captain and said “Ahoy!” to passers-by. I was supposed to work 45 minutes on, 15 minutes off. . .but it only took me a few days to realize no one was checking when those 15 minutes were supposed to be. So I hid in my shack (it was a broom closet really. . .but it had a window and some boxes you could sit on. There was no air in there, but it was much cooler to sit in there, listen to my Zappa tapes and read.) I can still remember what I read during this idiotic job. I read Hemmingway’s “Old Man and the Sea.” This was me actually doing research. After that, “Herzog.” Then I remember trying to crack “The Brothers Karamazov,” which I gave up on. (I gave up on that one a few years ago, too. . .but I made it very far.) I switched gears to Tom Wolfe’s “The Pump House Gang” and after that my memory gets hazy. . . .I think by then I quit/was fired for refusing to wear thick, yellow, rubber pants in 100 degree heat. I put on shorts and a woman, I remember her name was Wilma, told me to put on my uniform. I told her it was ridiculously hot and that a Sea Captain would be just as likely to wear shorts on a day like this. I still had my horizontal-striped shirt, Cap’n’s hat and corn-cob pipe (plus my rod ‘n reel prop.) She said “no!” and pointed to the fluffly Sylvester the Cat that was walking by.

“Sylvester is in uniform!” she argued.
“Yeah, ’cause Sylvester is Sylvester! Who the hell is the Sea Captain? He’s just some guy and today he is wearing shorts.”
“Either put on shorts or go home!”
“I choose to go home.”

I went home and went swimming. It was a Saturday anyway and friends of the family were over. My mother said she was thrilled I was home because she was convinced she would be getting a call from a hospital that I had dropped dead from sunstroke. I got a call later in the afternoon telling me that I was fired because I cursed at Wilma. This was entirely untrue, but I was fine with it. I got decent money for standing there as a Sea Captain (well. . .actually, I was in the blazing hot shack reading 70% of the time . . .20% of the time hitting on the girls who worked at the nearby games concession. . . . .I had fantasies of inviting them back to my fishermans’ shack, you see, but it never happened) decent enough money, but, it was time to move on.

A week later I got a job as the drama counselor at Camp Lake-Vu. This job kinda sucked (I had no idea what I was doing and mostly just had the kids sit around me in a circle as I made up folk songs on the guitar with the 3-chords I knew. D-A-G all day long. . .nothing but D-A-G and songs about how much we liked making lanyards and free swim and pizza day) but there was one thing I loved about it. The camp was in East Brunswick which is about 35 minutes away from my parents’ house. (38 minutes according to Mapquest.) This was one of the only times, if not THE only time in my life where I had a daily responsibility that involved driving. Sure, I had the neverending HS and summer job at the Loews Movie theater on rte 9 (which is now a gym) but that was literally 3 minutes away. Many was the time my father just dropped me off and picked me up because they needed the car (I didn’t then, and don’t now, and don’t see myself ever owning the car unless I move to Los Angeles. . . .and I don’t see myself moving to Los Angeles any time soon.) But for this gig my father HAD to let me have the car.

Oh! Wait! No! No! No! I am remembering now! I DIDN’T get to drive! I got picked up in a short bus with all the kids! Oh, yes, this was a living hell!!!!!!! God — I HATED this!

I remember what I did — I drove my father’s car and then met up with another dorky counselor 5 minutes away and we both rode on the short bus! It was a free ride and my father forced me to take it because he didn’t want to waste money on fuel. I did drive there and back a few times — this was during the week of “the big talent show” when I had to stay late.

Yes — God dang — there was never really a time in my life when I got to drive anywhere for any long period of time. Do you know that I am 30 years old I don’t ever think I’ve been in a car alone for longer than 38 minutes — and that was during that one week when I was working as a Drama counselor at a dumbass camp?!?!?

I really envy people who get to drive. The solitude. Just you — no one else bugging ya. Today I was taking the B/D/F/V from 42nd down to West 4th St and let *two* trains go because they were so frickin’ packed and I wasn’t in a hurry. Sigh and double sigh.

Anyway. . .I never read anything by Saul Bellow than “Herzog” but it was very good. And he was supposed to have lunch with Francois Mitterand and Krusty the Klown at Izzy’s Deli that one time.