Dear Bobo,
I'm using a typewriter, figuring I'll make it easier for our publisher, whoever he may be. Really though, I'm trying to save my writing hand for finals.
Again I must apologize for losing your letter, but I reiterate that I suspect foul play.
You did ask about S's reports about Stonewall. I'm expecting another letter from her tomorrow, but I will give you pertinent excerpts from her last letter. "I sure hope M and Bob straighten things out.....I really don't see why Bob doesn't write to M once in a while. It wouldn't kill him you know, and then she'd be aware that he was at least halfway interested." I also understand that M went to the Follies Ball with Caffine or whatever his name is. According to H, "this amazed quite a few people, but such is life." I'll refrain from making any comments.
Thanks for the suggestion of the questions I should send her through my psychoanalyst, but they lack too much subtlety to please me. And I am trying to be subtle with S.
I'm sending along some literature. Please keep the magazine and return it to me this summer. My article raised quite a storm as you might imagine. The business manager of the Jacko was even going around telling everyone that he had punched me in the mouth. As I told McMahon, I feel like a writer on some reactionary Paris tabloid. I'd suggest that you read the magazine first so that you can really appreciate my review.
I don't think the Ivy League school referred to in your article was Dartmouth. The chaplain has often said that those who do come here and lose their faith really didn't have it before they came. I know many devout Catholics, and I think the atmosphere here can't help but strengthen the faith of a good Catholic.
See you about the fifth, if you're home.
Tom
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Monday, July 15, 2013
May 13, 1958
Dear Thom,
You lost one of my letters! I did not wish to start my letter with that sentence but sometimes I get very emotional. I thought by delaying my reply to your last.......your last.....(sob! slobber!, sniff, sniff.) You must excuse me, sometimes I go all to pieces just thinking about it. I think I'll go to dinner now and finish this when I come back in what I hope will be a calmer state of mind. Excuse me.
Interlude.......soft music......
You lost one of my letters! Fiend! Sadist! Irresponsible Cod! What other insufficient phrases can I heap upon your ungrateful countenance? What can I say? Can your grief, though it undoubtedly exceeds all similar emotions in recorded history in sheer brute intensity, in any way begin to make recompense for the fact that you have lost a document on the par with the Magna Charta, the Ems Dispatch, and Mein Kampf. thou literary B.A. (Benedict Arnold). dost
thou not know that thou hast unleashed a document upon a world completely unprepared for the omnipotent message it contains. Even now some wandering itinerant may be reading it. He will, of course, immediately fall into a state of deep shock brought on by sheer inspiration. I estimate that this condition will last from 3 to 15 years depending on his I.Q., but when he arises on the last day of his coma he will rule the world. The only chance you have for even partial redemption is to scour the countryside indiscriminatelyy slaying all those who appear to be lost in a stupor, drunken or otherwise. I'm sure your frat brothers will assist you in this noble endeavor, although undoubtedly many of them will be the first to lose their lives in your bloody purge.
Since you do have the rest of my letters, I hope, I suppose I have no choice but to overlook your indiscretion, if that is possible. With this thought half-heartedly in mind, I will shift my topic to one of a light nature though no less in immediate importance.
Tough bananas about G, but then they say summer in Okinawa can't be beat, just like city hall.
So you were playing celibate again over Keen Green weekend, and at a party school too, tsk, tsk.
So you're being bothered by thoughts of S, eh, and yet your psychoanalyst tells you that you are enamored with O'Meara. Why don't you get him to send S a word association test - - she'll never catch on. You could make it multiple choice.
Sample Questions:
Pick one letter:
1) Boy
a) Modus........because
b) Busy
c) Tom
d) Mann Act
2) Dartmouth
a) Whoo-Wa_Whoo
b) Tom
c) Mot
d) Loras
3) Date
a) Tom
b) Thomas
c) Thomachura
d) Machu
e) Charles Brown
f) All of the above
4) Sex
a) Boys
b) Girls
c) Tom
d) Pepsi-Cola
e) None of the Above
I hope this helps you in some way.
I've been busy lately what with both the sandwiches and summer storage to sell. On the night of the 13th I sold my 10,000th sandwich and naturally had my picture taken in the process for publicity purposes.
I will send your precious letter back, fear not, although it is still stained slightly with the results of my nausea which I suffered upon reading it.
That's it for now. Write unto me all salient news.
Now, it''s hotter than Sam down here, haven't worn a jacket in days.
Bob - o
You lost one of my letters! I did not wish to start my letter with that sentence but sometimes I get very emotional. I thought by delaying my reply to your last.......your last.....(sob! slobber!, sniff, sniff.) You must excuse me, sometimes I go all to pieces just thinking about it. I think I'll go to dinner now and finish this when I come back in what I hope will be a calmer state of mind. Excuse me.
Interlude.......soft music......
You lost one of my letters! Fiend! Sadist! Irresponsible Cod! What other insufficient phrases can I heap upon your ungrateful countenance? What can I say? Can your grief, though it undoubtedly exceeds all similar emotions in recorded history in sheer brute intensity, in any way begin to make recompense for the fact that you have lost a document on the par with the Magna Charta, the Ems Dispatch, and Mein Kampf. thou literary B.A. (Benedict Arnold). dost
thou not know that thou hast unleashed a document upon a world completely unprepared for the omnipotent message it contains. Even now some wandering itinerant may be reading it. He will, of course, immediately fall into a state of deep shock brought on by sheer inspiration. I estimate that this condition will last from 3 to 15 years depending on his I.Q., but when he arises on the last day of his coma he will rule the world. The only chance you have for even partial redemption is to scour the countryside indiscriminatelyy slaying all those who appear to be lost in a stupor, drunken or otherwise. I'm sure your frat brothers will assist you in this noble endeavor, although undoubtedly many of them will be the first to lose their lives in your bloody purge.
Since you do have the rest of my letters, I hope, I suppose I have no choice but to overlook your indiscretion, if that is possible. With this thought half-heartedly in mind, I will shift my topic to one of a light nature though no less in immediate importance.
Tough bananas about G, but then they say summer in Okinawa can't be beat, just like city hall.
So you were playing celibate again over Keen Green weekend, and at a party school too, tsk, tsk.
So you're being bothered by thoughts of S, eh, and yet your psychoanalyst tells you that you are enamored with O'Meara. Why don't you get him to send S a word association test - - she'll never catch on. You could make it multiple choice.
Sample Questions:
Pick one letter:
1) Boy
a) Modus........because
b) Busy
c) Tom
d) Mann Act
2) Dartmouth
a) Whoo-Wa_Whoo
b) Tom
c) Mot
d) Loras
3) Date
a) Tom
b) Thomas
c) Thomachura
d) Machu
e) Charles Brown
f) All of the above
4) Sex
a) Boys
b) Girls
c) Tom
d) Pepsi-Cola
e) None of the Above
I hope this helps you in some way.
I've been busy lately what with both the sandwiches and summer storage to sell. On the night of the 13th I sold my 10,000th sandwich and naturally had my picture taken in the process for publicity purposes.
I will send your precious letter back, fear not, although it is still stained slightly with the results of my nausea which I suffered upon reading it.
That's it for now. Write unto me all salient news.
Now, it''s hotter than Sam down here, haven't worn a jacket in days.
Bob - o
Saturday, June 15, 2013
May 6, 1958
Dear Bob,
I fear some evil spirit is at work to thwart us in our plans to publish our letters. First he visited you and made you forget to date a letter, completely destroying the chronological significance of that letter.
He then visited both of us in turn and compelled us to set down in writing things which could only be sold with a paper back and a picture of a maiden with a torn bra on the cover.
Still not satisfied, he visited me this weekend and made off with your most recent letter, And to think such penetrating literature is to be lost forever to the outside world!
I'm very ashamed of my carelessness, and in the future I shall make it a point to put your letters under lock and key, I'd advise you to lock your door at night too.
And I have been exchanging very passionate letters - - concerned mainly with you and MM. I almost came home last weekend, but no rides were available. G will be home and he's leaving a few days before I get home for summer vacation. He's going to Okinawa, and I probably won't get another opportunity to see him for a year or two.
Another reason for my going home was, of course, to see S. This will be our big spring weekend here, and I still don't know what I'm going to do. I may go to Boston, New York, the mountains, or just sit here and get "shitfased".
I've been very lazy lately and have been muchly bothered by thoughts of S. I need some sort of break in the monotony before finals.
I still haven't applied to the U. of Vienna and personally I think I'm "nutz", for even thinking of it. But I can dream, can't I? And I've been dreaming quite a bit lately .
The letter I wrote S last Sunday was quite a novel thing in that before I wrote it I consulted with a psychology major and was given his opinion on how to handle her. Her answer should prove very interesting. At the same time the junior psychiastrist gave me a word-association test and proved that subconsciously I am in love with O'Meara. At least my conscious was glad to find out!
Tom
I fear some evil spirit is at work to thwart us in our plans to publish our letters. First he visited you and made you forget to date a letter, completely destroying the chronological significance of that letter.
He then visited both of us in turn and compelled us to set down in writing things which could only be sold with a paper back and a picture of a maiden with a torn bra on the cover.
Still not satisfied, he visited me this weekend and made off with your most recent letter, And to think such penetrating literature is to be lost forever to the outside world!
I'm very ashamed of my carelessness, and in the future I shall make it a point to put your letters under lock and key, I'd advise you to lock your door at night too.
And I have been exchanging very passionate letters - - concerned mainly with you and MM. I almost came home last weekend, but no rides were available. G will be home and he's leaving a few days before I get home for summer vacation. He's going to Okinawa, and I probably won't get another opportunity to see him for a year or two.
Another reason for my going home was, of course, to see S. This will be our big spring weekend here, and I still don't know what I'm going to do. I may go to Boston, New York, the mountains, or just sit here and get "shitfased".
I've been very lazy lately and have been muchly bothered by thoughts of S. I need some sort of break in the monotony before finals.
I still haven't applied to the U. of Vienna and personally I think I'm "nutz", for even thinking of it. But I can dream, can't I? And I've been dreaming quite a bit lately .
The letter I wrote S last Sunday was quite a novel thing in that before I wrote it I consulted with a psychology major and was given his opinion on how to handle her. Her answer should prove very interesting. At the same time the junior psychiastrist gave me a word-association test and proved that subconsciously I am in love with O'Meara. At least my conscious was glad to find out!
Tom
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