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Money again rears its ugly head.
I am getting accustomed to poverty
and bankruptcy. (In fact, for myself
I enjoy washing my own clothes +
eating 20 cent meals twice a day,
after so many years in the flesh pots
—don't worry, this is only half true
though I did it for the 1st week here
to penalize myself for the expense
of the journey) but I do object
to the jails and I have almost
$300 due on income tax the 15th
(what a typically modern joke
this is—me, with $11
in the bank at the moment)
(what a typically modern joke
this is—me, with $11
in the bank at the moment)
December 12, 1935 letter
to his agent, Harold Ober
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| The letter has his syntax but my format The next Fitzgerald page is here |
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