Whom I love and shall love all my life. To be shown to our children when they begin to wonder what things are most important in this world that some fools call hell.
- Presented when we were too young to even be engaged.
Tonight I am a stooge, something I will never tolerate in later life---I've got to many chromosomes. About us you see the rather nifty offices of the Cornell Daily Sun. I'll kiss you in them on November first, an event without precedent, I'm sure. I'm writing headlines; being told by another person just how long they must be, and what they must say. Oh dammit: Abraham Lincoln, J. Christ, Mickey Mouse, or Freud never took orders from anybody in later life--later life again, these are though chains, darling, not classic literature.
I've designed a house, plans for which will be neatly drawn up and mailed in due time. There's that word, our little chum that stuffs sand through hour glasses. My cold is gone and I'm raising hell in all my courses and after rushing is over I'll knock the wind out of the goddam sun. I haven't done a decent job on anything since Christ was a corporal, but with two mouths to feed a real machine hits the road next Monday.
You've given me a million ideas and drive I've never had before, but my God I've got to see you, simply got to. I want a boost from you that'll set this foolish world of inferior mating's and chromosome atrocities on its bruised fanny.
I'll be there the fifteenth or sixteenth, wearing a beat up sports coat, saddle shoes with paint from the bar all over them, torn flannel slacks with acid holes in them, not a ____ in my pockets, clean underwear, sox, shirt and tie. Hide me from the boys, sugar foot, but be nice to me, for God's sake love me; I'll have enough for an evening of brews and one for bruises.
I'll show you my text book----sexy, eh?---when you get up here. Damned if I wont know plenty about plenty that people will pay me for. How much are babies? I love you.
Sorry, can't afford lingerie. you'll just have to go naked for the first few years. That's the way it'll have to be darling. I don't like the idea any more than you do, but we'll have a few lean years, and we won't always be lean.
Source
Vonnegut, K., & Vonnegut, E. (2020). Love, Kurt: The vonnegut love letters, 1941-1945. p17-p19 Random House.
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