Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

me at every level, there's no doubt about that. I am touchedin every department from lower id, as your husband used tosay, to upper superego, but there is the problem of myother patients. They need me...." "Randolph." I wasperemptory. "I'll cut you in for ten per cent of the take."There was an alarming series of wheezes and coughs atthe other end of the line. Then Dr. Montag said whatsounded like "Between, Myra." "Between what?" "Fifteen!"he shouted from the Island of Manhattan. "Fifteen per centand I'm in L. A. tomorrow." "Answered like a true Adlerian!Fifteen it is' I knew my man. Many was the night that thethree of us used to sit until the Blue Owl closed discussingRandolph's inordinate greed for pastry and money. It was---is--the most likable thing about him. With that taken care of,I can now..."31Life continues to support Myra Breckinridge in all herschemes to obtain uniqueness. As I write this, Mary-Ann isasleep in my bed (I have fixed up the daybed in here formyself). It is three in the morning. We have talked and wepttogether for five hours. I have never known such delight.Last night with Rusty was religious ecstasy; tonight arebirth. While I was writing in this notebook, there was a rapat the door. I opened it. Mary-Ann stood in the doorway,pale and bedraggled and carrying a Pan Am overnightzipper bag. "Miss Myra, I've got to talk to you. You're theonly person I can." With that she burst into tears and I took