Tonight I attend the weekly “salon” that Lescaze gives to his friends. There will be banter and chatter enough to be tiresome. Somehow, when there are women present (the kind one has around here) no conversation can be had uninterrupted by little compliments, concessions to them, etc. They insist upon being the center of attention irrespective of their ability to take part in any argument. Consequently there are interminable innuendoes and clucking and puffings that never terminate anywhere. One of the few women who would carefully avoid this kind of thing is Margaret Anderson. Hommage to Margaret!! The Dada dramas are tres amusant,--but--well--alright56789--*!! 81: TO GORHAM MUNSON _Cleveland_, _Nov. 21st._ Your letter about the _Gargoyle_ plan has just come and as I haven’t written you for some time, I’m giving some kind of answer, however unworthy. These enclosed poems you are welcome to use if you care to. -- -- -- -- _The L. R._ has it [“Chaplinesque”] in hand now, but I shall probably not hear from them about it for months and should they decide to take it,--I cannot see that its publication in France should complicate matters any. The same applies to “Black Tambourine” which came out misprinted in _The D.D._ last July. I would like to see it printed right sometime and it occurs to me that this may be an opportunity. I am doing nothing new worth while, so I can’t send you anything else. If you get the names your letter mentions together as contributors you will have something worth while. Burke’s contribution to the new _L.R._ quarterly just out is about the only good thing in it. I don’t need to go on about it, as you have probably seen it in Paris by this time. About the only thing to be gathered from Pound’s article on Brancusi is that Pound wishes to avoid being obvious at the cost of no matter what else. For myself--I [have] just finished a week’s trial at selling real estate--of which, of course, I didn’t sell any. Trying now to get into a bookstore to help out during the Christmas rush. There is nothing but gall and disgust in me,--and there is nothing more for me to tell you but familiar, all-too-familiar complaints. I wish I could cultivate a more graceful mask against all this. --/--/ 82: TO GORHAM MUNSON _Cleveland_ _Nov. 26th, ’21_