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The New Yorker|August 19, 2024
Then, Beckett decided to become a commercial pilot. . . . “I think the next little bit of excitement is flying,” he wrote to McGreevy.
IAN FRAZIER
LGA-ORD

“I hope I am not too old to take it up seriously nor too stupid about machines to qualify as a commercial pilot.”

“Samuel Beckett,” by Deirdre Bair.

Gray bleak final afternoon ladies and gentlemen this is your captain your cap welcoming you aboard the continuation of Flyways flight 185 from nothingness to New York’s Laguardia non non non non non non nonstop to Chicago’s Ohare and on from there in the passing of gray afternoons to empty bleak eternal nothingness again with the Carey bus the credit-card machine the Friskem metal detector the boarding pass the in-flight magazine all returned to tiny bits of grit blowing across the steppe for ever

(Pause)

Cruising along nicely now.

(Pause)

Yes cruising along very nicely indeed if I do say so myself.

(Long pause)

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