Saturday 27 July 1968
Dear [Ensign +] Mrs. Ozawa—you can show it to him if you want
I understand you’re making a splash amongst the social set of gay exotic greater Needham. Fine stuff but isn’t it a bit heady? Don’t parades really grab you? I’m in off the site this afternoon, having strategically blown lunch + been grepsing (belch if you don’t speak Yiddish) all aft. PEW. All the khan’s wives, sisters + aunts are staring in the door of our chic thatch hut because Mrs. H. Arthur Bankoff just fainted. They all think she’s pregnant, ha-ha-ha. (She ain’t.) Did you get my first letter, E? The one with the NEWS—or maybe my parents told you. Essentially, I will repeat; you remember the large Canadian?
HE LOVES ME
Fancy that. That + the night sky are about the only two saving graces about this place. September-December are going to be hell (Jim’s going off to Baluchistan) and I’d stay drunk the entire time if I didn’t have to study for generals. I am getting very skinny since meals around here are a real ratfuck. Also malnourishing. When I think that a month and a half ago I was having tournedos at the Savoy my tum rebels even further. […] Known him well 5 months + he does stuff like, walks to Covent Garden 530AM + wakes me at 7 with an armload of flowers. […] There’s only one fly in the ointment:
James is 26
James’ father is 80
James’ father’s father was 62 when James’ father was born.
Bodes ill—like I told parents, I’ll probably waste my youth on this chap only to have him run off with some sweet young thing because I’ll be too old to have kids. SIGH. Maybe he’ll break precedent, though (hope, hope.) NB—do not ever buy a small camp bed. They are DANGEROUS and bend at a weight of precisely 320 pounds. UGH. I smell onions frying BLEUGHH, 3 others sick, in here + farting up a storm. Pleasant, no.
Nothing else to say except hang loose + have a pastrami sandwich, gingerbread with whipped cream, a Hershey bar, chocolate malt, cheeseburger, steak + baked potato with sour cream, Brigham’s sundae, quart of milk, + a cup of real coffee for me.
Best + cheers,
J
P.S. I should be home about 20 Sept—you be around?