my analyst says i exaggerate my childhood memories, but i swear i was brought up underneath the roller-
-coaster in the coney island section of brooklyn. maybe that accounts for my personality, which is a little nervous, i think.
you know, i have a hyperactive imagination. my mind tends to jump around a little, and have some trouble between fantasy and reality.
my father ran the bumper-car concession. there-there he is and there i am. but i-i-i-i used to get my aggression out through those cars all the time.
i remember the staff at our public school. you know, we had a saying, uh, that "those who can't do, teach, and those who can't teach, teach gym." and . uh, h'h, of course, those who couldn't do anything, i think, were assigned to our school. i must say-
i always felt my schoolmates were idiots. melvyn greenglass, you know, fat little face, and henrietta farrell, just miss perfect all the time. and-and ivan ackerman, always the wrong answer. always.
even then i knew they were just jerks. in nineteen forty-two i had already dis-
right. sometimes i wonder where my classmates are today.
dennis-right, uh, uh .  local kid probably, would meetcha in front of the movie house on saturday night.
oh, i can imagine. p-p-probably the wife of an astronaut.
look at you, you-you,-re such a clown.
well, yeah, you always look pretty, but that guy with you .
heavy! eaten by some squirrels.
i-i may throw up!
jesus, this guy's pathetic.
look at him mincing around, like he thinks he's real cute. you wanna throw up. if only i had the nerve to do my own jokes. i don't know how much longer i can keep this smile frozen on my face. i'm in the wrong business, i know it.
she had moved back to new york. she was living in soho with some guy. and when i met her she was, of all things, dragging him in to see "the sorrow and the pity." which i counted as a personal triumph. annie and i .  .  we had lunch sometime after that, and, uh, just, uh, kicked around old times.