Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

Myra Breckinridge knows and personifies but soon means,in the most extraordinary way, entirely to transcend. Yet thepresence of the anthropologist (me) at the wooden table inthe Cock and Bull did, eventually, alter significantly thebehavior of the two natives as they lost their selfconsciousnessto the degree that the conversation ceasedto be particular and became general, something thatalmost never happens among the lower orders who are, toa man, walking autobiographers, reciting their dull memoirsat extraordinary length, oblivious to the extent they boreeven others of their kind who, of course, wait impatiently totell their stories. Somehow the subject reverted to Rusty'sproud rejection of the Mexican's advances, and Mary-Annmade it plain that for her part she could never considermaking love to another woman. "It just... well, disgusts me,"she said. "I mean I just couldn't. I think, well, a womanshould act like a woman and a man should act like a man,and that's that." "But how should a man act?" I was mild.Rusty knew. "He should ball chicks, that's how he shouldact." "But only if he really loves them." Mary-Ann was droll;both laughed at what was obviously a private joke. "Andwhy should he ball chicks?" I continued my gentlecatechism. "Well, because that's... well, Christ, it's natural!""And that's how you get babies," said Mary-Ann sagely. "Imean that's how nature intended it." "Do you think natureintended you to have a baby each time you make love?"Mary-Ann looked like a lapsed Catholic, trying to recallwhat she had been taught. But Rusty was a good CatholicPole and knew right from wrong. "That's what you're