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By Jack Joseph Smith

director was a Mount Lebanon women, but very free in relation to her enviornment. She drank beer, and always offered me one, when I entered her home. I loved to watch her, as she reminded me of a little pixie. But she was sad in her light laughter. Always there was the feeling of attempt within her spirit. Nothing was ever completed, and each show would be followed by another. I didn't know how to act around her and her artist friends at first, but soon discovered, that they were as wild as some of my past friends, except that they were going in another direction. They seemed very deeply torn, but covered it all with fine speech and controled movements. They were dancing on the voice vibrations of pretense; catch ing their sighs on the whisp of a moment, and singing with laughter after Short Lived sounds of recognition. The mind was a flowing dream of desire, but it would never be the implement of fullfillment. Life was a rehearsal. Always an illusion, suspended in its waiting to be finished. Because of the accident with O'Dandy, frequent opperations of plastic surgery had become a part of my life. During this time I decided not to shave, as I was holding on to the last feeling of being a wealthy derelict. Also, I had sued O'Dandy's insurance company, and I was going to receive five thousand dollars, when I reached the age of twenty one. It was nice to know that a good little gift would be coming, that had no attachment with my parents. My drinking had cut down considerably, and I was staying away from O'Dandy and his crowd of rummys. However, when I first quit working for my father and began to study acting; I had started running an open air beer bar on Sundays. I called it a picnic, and college kids from all over would come to my place in the park, and drink and take the more questionable girls from Mount Lebanon into the high grass below my pavillion. On several occasions O'Dandy and crew showed up for beer and song, and on each such visit the day ended in battle

Original Scan

Page 143

AI Interpretation

GPT

Working under a free, sad little-pixie director among artists who are as wild as his old friends in another direction, the narrator moves through theater, plastic surgery, an insurance payout, reduced drinking, and the start of a Sunday open-air beer bar in the park.

Art does not purify anything here; it simply relocates the old turmoil into fine speech, controlled movements, and endless rehearsal. The page is strongest where theater life and hustling life sit side by side, showing that the old appetite for spectacle and conflict has not gone anywhere.

Claude

The narrator describes the theatre's director, 'a Mount Lebanon women' who 'reminded me of a little pixie' but was 'sad in her light laughter', and her artist friends who 'covered it all with fine speech and controled movements', then turns to plastic surgery after 'the accident with O'Dandy', a coming insurance settlement of 'five thousand dollars', and the Sunday 'open air beer bar' he ran in the park that ended in battle when O'Dandy's crew showed up.

The theatre people are seen as the old wildness 'going in another direction', where 'Life was a rehearsal. Always an illusion'. Setting that line beside the beer bar and brawls suggests the narrator has changed stages rather than selves.