By the end of the decade friends were showing him pictures they had purchased with queries about provenance and authentification. But Beckett could no more become an art dealer than he could become a lecturer in French, a commercial pilot, a student of Eisenstein or any of the other careers he briefly toyed with but either resigned from when they became a reality, or simply left to drift in the realm of possibility. For there was really only one thing Beckett wanted to do, and that was to write.
That passage reminded me of an old New Yorker piece by Ian Frazier, who seized upon this comment from Beckett, included in the new collection:
I hope I am not too old to take it up seriously, nor too stupid about machines to qualify as a commercial pilot.
Frazier took up this idea and offered up a sample flight with your pilot Samuel Beckett. You can find Frazierís piece in his collection, Dating Your Mom. Hereís a quote:
Extinguish the light extinguish the light I have extinguished the No Smoking light so you are free to move about the cabin have a good cry hang yourselves get an erection who knows however we do ask that while you're in your seats you keep your belts lightly fastened in case we encounter any choppy air or the end we've prayed for past time remembering our flying time from New York to Chicago is two hours and fifteen minutes the time of the dark journey of our existence is not revealed, you cry no you pray for a flight attendant you pray for a flight attendant a flight attendant comes now cry with reading material if you care to purchase a cocktail.....
.......When we deplane Iíll weep for happiness.