November 29,1927, Amherst to El Paso

Nov 28 Dear Helen : Nearly a month has passed since I heard from you and I really must write. Your last letter tended merely to lift another misty veil which somehow encircled my brow – only to plunge me into denser obscurities. It is a pity that I could not have struck a more vibrant chord within you but I fear I did not have the mettle required – the differences which won't consiliate are to my mind unimportant; and to yours, omnipotent. However, I am ceasing to be a philosopher in general and I don't see why I should continue to be one with regards to you. Clue more pang more or less for the heart won't waeter in eternity if you don't love me and I am making a pretty sorry pretense of enjoying myself. In fact college has meant very little to me the last 5 weeks outside of getting bye. There is a certain satisfaction, but contemplation of life and timorous wonderings sort of make it all look wan. But even the pallid may make life more livable. But in the blob of women there really were some many characteristics in you that coincided with my dream girl that I couldn't hope to govern myself or my thoughts. And whatever else I say remember that I do remember and there are no “if”s. I do feel tho that, flattering myself, I have become too much of a mental automaton. Still if its the last word I even say to you in my council I do think that right now you love me in a way and under no condition that you could not. That however doesn't make your preference. I know you are quite able of under standing the Russian mind and for that reason I should think you could understand my self better. Forgetting is hard and an awful task-master. It knocks the Hell out of your body and your faculties and then burns a hole in your pocket book. Still I can but be sensible and friendly rather than obdurate. And I don't want my personality completely submerged by any one I know so we may as well travel along on a smooth water, while I'll be seeing you again. I've been to Boston three times since school opened but the nearest I got to Ruth Champlin was when that big stiff I brought over to Hamp that night paid us all a visit one fine day in Amherst. He's lost still further in his own exalted opinion of himself and I guess he thinks he doing Ruth a favor in saying “hello.” God! I can't see him for a damn. Perhaps thats the type of equanimity you like. (This is more humor than rancor.) As far as doings are I have been about every where this fall in the Far East. I saw all sorts of football games Amherst – Williams, Yale Harvard and all degrees between and below. Of all the women I've seen, Ive met one that I would just as soon know well. She rest either expect to be drowned and submerged in wine or else like log fire in a room in which the radiators are sizzling. What makes me wonder about all, more than anything but you is my brother. He's got all sorts of brains and genius which I lack and he's drinking away his every free minute. This sounds daft but it might just as well be the story. If thats what happens when you get the woman you want I'm glad I'm not so fortunate. Every time I've been around its been so anyway. I am just as undecided as ever about next year, probably this time then I'll be in Heyapoli or some place like that. Some times I'm all for helpin Carol and the Roumanians to another tete-a-tete with bombs and what not. I'll stop now before the pen gives out of ink again and I want and need to hear from you even if it is the story of stove structures and cement streets. Ted.