Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

an extraordinary appetite lately and must for the first time inmy life worry about becoming heavy). We talked ofeverything, and found many areas of agreement. Shebelieves I would make a formidable agent and I have nodoubt that she is right but I prefer to go my own solitary wayas critic and mythmaker, and of course as explicator of themind of Parker Tyler. Like Myron, I am in the tradition ofMortimer Brewster, the drama critic in Arsenic and OldLace, a man for whom, as Tyler puts it so superbly, "thefacts of lunacy, virginity, and death, the last a mask forimpotence, are inseparable." Over a dry martini after lunch(Letitia, I suspect, has a drinking problem), we listened to arecord of Mary-Ann singing a number of songs of theForties, selected by me and arranged by Miss Cluff. Letitialistened with eyes narrowed. When the record was finished,she again asked for photographs. I gave them to her. Shestudied them for a long time. "O.K.," she said, "I'll meet her.Make an appointment with my secretary, any free time nextweek." Then Letitia put her feet up on a Regency bench."Why're you pushing this kid?" "She has talent. So fewpeople do." "But according to your theory, that will probablycount against her. Now if you don't mind my asking apersonal question, you aren't perhaps involved with her ona more personal level?" I blushed for the first time in someyears. "If you mean am I a dike, no. Not at all. Quite thecontrary. Actually I'm interested in her because of herboyfriend who happens to have skipped town and I feelsorry for her.... "There's nothing wrong with being a dike,you know." Letitia blew smoke rings thoughtfully. For an