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ART YOUNG BETHEL, CONNECTICUT

2

eat. I see thru it. He says: "Maybe, Gilbert, you wont go until Monday, or Tuesday–or Wednesday." I had figured on Sunday. But what is one to do? I can give in so easily to a companionship like this-hungry as I am for affection. Too little has really ever come my way. So sure hit it right when you speak of 'The American Loneliness.' Arn't we all? God damn it. He lies asleep-his afternoon nap-and I sit here going over manuscript. It would make you smile to see how he lies there on the bed. Art Young is funny in the same way that a puppy is funny-quits without meaning to be. He is a strange blend of