On the last post I told you that I would write that composition for Stradlater, so as I came back from the city I started writing it. I didn’t know what to write about. I was supposed to describe something, but I couldn’t think of any place that I could describe, so I wrote about first thing that came to my mind. It was my dead brother’s Allie baseball mitt. I had to describe it in Stradlater’s lousy style so that nobody would be able to know that it was me who wrote it. Anyway, when Stradlater came back from his date with Jane I finished writing and I was lying on my bed and smoking. He took his composition and as I looked at him I knew that he didn’t like it. He told me that it was supposed to be a house or a room so why I wrote about a glove. He was sore as hell. I took this composition from him and I threw it into the wastebasket. I cut this discussion off and I asked him about the date with Jane. I was pretty interested in it. He told me that they stayed in a car the whole evening. I was getting nervous about what he said to me. I just had a feeling something had gone funny.
Then I did something stupid. I knew Stradlater’s methods for picking girls up. I knew what he might have been doing with Jane on the back seat of the car. He was standing next to me and while we were talking, he kept taking these shadow punches down at my shoulder. I was shaking from nerves and at last I got up and I hit Stradlater on the side of his head. It probably hurt him, but not as much as I wanted. Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was on the floor and he was sitting on my chest, with his face all red.I started to hurl insults at him all the way. He told me to shut up and he would let me up, so I did. I kept lying on the floor, and he got up. But I couldn’t cut it off. I continued to insult him, and then he shot me on the nose and left the room.