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[[strikethrough]] SUNDAY, AUGUST 23, 1936 [[/strikethrough]]
236th Day  11th Sunday after Trinity   130 Days to come
June 1st

Just a tickle of my pen at 3 a.m. to say that my dinner party of Alice & D & Edith & Chas. Lindley & Monty went quickly & smoothly, & the play "First Lady" was a masterpiece of [[strikethrough]] Wash [[/strikethrough]] women butting in on political life all rolled into the neatest & wittiest play I've almost ever seen. We ended drinking at the Plaza, & as Monty & I drove away in the dark - my [[strikethrough]] quick [[/strikethrough]] artists eyes spied that Irishman fighter from Leon Knoll's class last year at the Art League, whom I had feared I would never see again. I made a quick plot - Monty driving me far in front of him so I could get out & walk toward him, & hope he'd recognize me, which he did. He asked where I was going - so we all drank beer in the Gay Nineties - & then in another place, with the happy conclusion that Monty is to surely call him up, & we are going to prize fights with him. He was so Irish, & charmingly worried about his diverse interests - & talked for hours. He likes my unplucked eyebrows, & was "fetched by

[[strikethrough]] MONDAY, AUGUST 24, 1936 [[/strikethrough]]
237th Day   St. Bartholomew  129 Days to come


me" according to Monty, otherwise I would feel they should meet alone because they liked each other so much. What romantic idealists the Irish are - living in their own world of imagination! I told him I was going to be a good artist someday, & he said that was the way one had to feel to get good at anything - & then we graduated to boxing talk. He is a writer, artist, actor, fighter - Irishman - but with such an honest & charming & robust face that I forgive all Irishman for being Irish who look & talk that way. 

I drove down from the Warnekes - with sculptors Barbarossa, Henr, & Warneke - stopping at Henry's en route to see his big statue for Stanford. It is so refreshing to see an architectural big statue done with the personal & sensitive hands of the sculptor himself - instead of seeing dead plaster carved at the end of a tool the way all the others make theirs. His thing is grand, & hypersensitive - so full of feeling sculpturally & spiritually. [[strikethrough]] Good [[/strikethrough]]
[[left margin]] Goodnight hostess! [[/strikethrough]] 

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