Commandments to Keep in Mind

Morgan and I had been at the tavern over on MacDougal for awhile, talking and listening to the Irish pick-up band which had arranged itself around the front of the small room. There were 10 or 12 musicians all told, and since there was no stage, they sat down on tabletops and chairs and on the floor-wherever there was room. They were everywhere, so when it was time for us to go, we had to pick our way through them carefully to reach the door.

Well, to be honest, it was Morgan who did the navigating, while I blindly hung onto her.

I knew we were getting close to the front door, and knew there were four stairs between here and there, so while I hung onto her with my left hand, I reached out with my right to grab the railing. All around us, people were playing guitars and fiddles and fifes and what-have-you, so it took me a second to realize that what my hand had closed on wasn't a railing at all, but the head of the woman who was playing the harp.

The harpist kept playing despite the drunken paw on her head, though I imagine she must've been a bit addled by this. Once I remembered that the railings at this particular establishment were neither that hairy nor that wide, I released my grip, and Morgan successfully guided me onto the sidewalk without further incident.

It wasn't the first time I'd grabbed someone's head by accident. It still happens on the subway sometimes. But as Morgan and I talked about it as we walked down the street, it struck us as one of those basic bits of advice everyone should keep in mind, especially in New York: Don't grab strangers' heads. At least not while they're playing the harp.

I don't remember exactly when William Burroughs wrote his "Words of Advice" routine-fairly late in his career, I think-but it immediately became one of my favorites. (Rule no. 1 was, "Never interfere in a boy-and-girl fight.")

I get my share of letters-though certainly not as many as he did-and I'd guess that more than half of them these days come from teenagers, a fact which absolutely confounds the shit out of me. (Why aren't they writing to Little Ned Vizzini or someone like that?) And the curious, messed-up lot that they are, they all seem to want some kind of question answered. I never much liked the young, even when I was one of them, but lord knows they need a little guidance.

"I'm depressed. Can you tell me what I need to do to be happy?" "I want to be a writer. What should I do?"

"I'm angry all the time." "I don't have any friends and my parents hate me."

Why these youngsters would think I'd have access to any sort of key to happiness or understanding is as confounding as why they'd ever want to write me a letter in the first place. Far be it from me to claim that I know anything at all. Anything of much use to anyone else, that is. And even if I did, I've learned that doling out free advice to impressionable kids is a bad idea. I've tried doing that in public once or twice, only to have some responsible adult grab the kids and run off with them. Nevertheless, the letters show up, and I almost feel bad leaving these kids just dangling there, as depressed, angry and confused as every other teenager in the world.

But I was that way at their age, and I was that way at 29, too, so screw 'em.

Then I start thinking that not giving them some sort of response would only make things worse. So in order to save myself a lot of work, here are a few collective notions Morgan and I have been discussing for the past several years-and after all these years, they seem to hold up pretty well. Consider them bits of advice-or, better, commandments-for those poor fuckers whose chemicals are all in a tizzy.

If you feel the urge to become a writer, do what you can to fight it off. Take a nap or something. The pay is lousy, "respect" and "dignity" quickly become alien concepts and there are way too many writers in the world as it is. You ever look at the "New Release" table at the local B&N? That's just a smidgen of the books that came out last week! And what good does any of it do? What's more, most writers are right bastards, and boring as hell to boot. Better to avoid the whole mess. I'd suggest industrial landscaping or voiceover work instead.

When in public, pay attention. Don't get in everyone's way by being an oblivious little numbnuts.

If you're one of those kids who's mopey and angry all the time, just relax. Nothing's worth all that fuss. On the flipside, if you're depressed and think you'd prefer to be happy all the time, take a look at the supposedly "happy" people around you. Would you really like to be like them? Empty-eyed and bubbleheaded, full of useless good cheer-ain't it enough to make you puke?

(Here's a little secret that might help, too. Those "happy" people you see? They're liars. No matter what they say, they're as messed up as you are. They just won't admit it.)

Don't bother looking for happiness (or anything of an ephemeral, spiritual nature), because you'll never, ever find it that way. It's pointless, and you'll be doomed to more frustration. Again, just relax. More often than not, it'll show up when it's damn good and ready.

No matter what your parents, your teachers, your mayor or endless television commercials tell you, smoking is cool. It's cellphones that aren't.

Don't worry if you don't have any friends. Sometimes they just complicate things.

Cover your damn mouth when you cough.

Don't get along with your parents? Hey, guess what? Nobody does! And nobody ever has. In fact, it's part of your job not to get along with your parents.

There's nothing wrong with the occasional beer.

Being "crazy" isn't cute or dangerous or radical. It's annoying and exhausting and a huge pain in the ass to everyone around you. If you were really crazy, you wouldn't like it one bit, so just cut it out.

Put down the damn gadgets and read something for once. Try Henry Miller. Not only is he a revered literary icon-his books are chock-full of dirty parts.

Don't worry about being "unique" or "original." There's nothing original left in the world anymore. Everything comes from something, is a variation on something, is inspired by something, is a sequel to something. Just lose the whole idea and do what you want to do. Fact is, you'll probably be much more successful at whatever you do if you're bland and derivative.

For godsakes, keep it down.

Don't believe anyone who tells you that these are "the best years of your life," because they're lying. It's bullshit, and they know it as much as you do.

Get the hell outta my yard.

And most important of all-if you're miserable and restless, be patient. Wait. Waiting is one of the most important skills in the world, and most people seem to have lost it, if they ever developed it in the first place. I know we're living in a world full of instant gratification on every level, but sometimes it's best to just wait. Things change. In fact, everything changes. Not always for the best, but hey-it's still better than nothing.

Oh-one last thing-try not to grab the heads of strangers playing the harp. It's just not a good idea.

There. Got it? Good. Now leave me alone.