Sublime

Friday night I met Lily on Jane Street and we carried the ladder back to Hugh’s place on Canal. I was excited to be there and decided to have a crush on him. We sat for a while and drank a beer. Scott and Leslie had put up a bird feeder, which was fine until the

grok

That winter Fitzgerald expressed his anguish in a long article entitled “The Crack-Up.” It appeared in three monthly installments in Esquire.

He is the man whose life seems so under control, until BOOM, one day he does something to destroy it

Un soir, après une répétition d’Island à mourir d’ennui, je suis tombée sur Jim qui mangeait une glace à l’eau devant le Chelsea, l’air désœuvré. Je lui ai proposé de venir prendre un café infect à la pâtisserie du coin. Il a accepté sans façon. Je lui ai raconté que j’aimais bien écrire dans cet endroit. Le lendemain soir, à son tour, il m’a

Je n'avais jamais vu, dans la vie civile, un homme aussi nerveux et aussi impatient que Robert Cohn. Cela m'amusait. C'était dégoûtant de m'en réjouir, mais je me sentais dégoûtant. Cohn avait un talent remarquable pour éveiller dans chacun les pires défauts.

“‘Turning me into a vulgar Jew,’ Harold said, ‘what have I done to make me so malicious? I’ve boxed with you, played tennis with you, brought you oysters from Prunier, bottles of Pouilly-Fuissé, introduced you to influential people, helped you meet Paris publishers, only to have people everywhere pointing—There goes Harold Loeb, the repulsive Jew

anthropomorphically.”

By summer Scott and Ernest were seeing more and more of each other, occasionally at the home of Gertrude Stein.