Why Aren't I Famous? with Jed Wolf
Sep 27, 2026 · 29 min · 9 segments
Barlow School, 1970. A boy arrives at a hippie boarding school in Dutchess County, New York and would rather starve than choose a seat in the dining hall. Instead he walks. He walks with faculty dogs…
Chapter 2 Unlocked Andante Misterioso e Naivo Barlow School 1970 At 6.15 I stood outside the dining hall.
"'Evening, Jed,' Billings said.
I'd rather starve than go inside, choose a table and potentially speak.
Beneath a sky specked with more stars than I'd ever seen, I returned to the new dorm.
"'Your servant will appear tomorrow,' Jonathan Bird said as I passed him in the hall.
"'Were you at dinner?' Yes.
In my room, amid the empty shadows, I found the bag of Snickers my mother left, and tore into their packaging with my teeth.
My nerves were electric.
Did I like Jonathan Bird? I ate one Snickers after another, with Hendrix and Dylan coming from different directions.
I cranked open the window.
Crickets joined the collage of sounds as distant bellowing pulled me back outside.
I passed Bird again.
9.45 curfew, and tomorrow's orientation is mandatory, he chuckled, widening his eyes.
I flung open the springless door.
It cracked loudly, scattering insects in the floodlight.
Except for one.
A six-inch lunamoth, pale green and luminous, pressed against the peeling new dorm paint like a resting angel.
I held the door open.
Look at this, Mr. Bird, I said softly.
Ah yes, Bird wheezed as if I'd conjured the otherworldly presence.
He reached for his inhaler and took a poll.
Our eyes met a beat too long.
You can call me Jonathan.
Chapter 2 Unlocked Andante Misterioso e Naivo Barlow School 1970 At 6.15 I stood outside the dining hall.
"'Evening, Jed,' Billings said.
I'd rather starve than go inside, choose a table and potentially speak.
Beneath a sky specked with more stars than I'd ever seen, I returned to the new dorm.
"'Your servant will appear tomorrow,' Jonathan Bird said as I passed him in the hall.
"'Were you at dinner?' Yes.
In my room, amid the empty shadows, I found the bag of Snickers my mother left, and tore into their packaging with my teeth.
My nerves were electric.
Did I like Jonathan Bird? I ate one Snickers after another, with Hendrix and Dylan coming from different directions.
I cranked open the window.
Crickets joined the collage of sounds as distant bellowing pulled me back outside.
I passed Bird again.
9.45 curfew, and tomorrow's orientation is mandatory, he chuckled, widening his eyes.
I flung open the springless door.
It cracked loudly, scattering insects in the floodlight.
Except for one.
A six-inch lunamoth, pale green and luminous, pressed against the peeling new dorm paint like a resting angel.
I held the door open.
Look at this, Mr. Bird, I said softly.
Ah yes, Bird wheezed as if I'd conjured the otherworldly presence.
He reached for his inhaler and took a poll.
Our eyes met a beat too long.
You can call me Jonathan.
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