HH to Ginsberg - 1946-47 - (Included in these pages is the redeemer's ticket)

(from the little notebook—A Letter to Allen Ginsberg)

Original pages from notebook and transcription on onion skin—probably Eila in 1960s.

Dated 1946 in pencil—retyped from transcription

Dear Allen:

I am of course assured of your anger, concern, hurt, of perhaps disgust.  I am really perturbed thusly—and hope thru this bit of jotted working to at least ease myself back into your presence without risking the wrath of Jerusalem.  Nor am I being coy—cunning, clever or cute, or attempting any routine of similar nature.

First—I am confident you will feel less tension realizing the phonograph is in pawn and not sold and that included with these pages is the redeemer’s ticket.

Next—why I overstepped the bounds of good fellowship and removed it from your abode—literally becoming a mere sneak–thief by so doing—is really rather simple because I was hungry and needed money therefore.  Perhaps you can understand I offer this information not as an excuse but strictly as explanation.  It may amuse you to know—I used the biggest percentage of the money thusly obtained gluttonously eating.  Truly—Allen—it was wonderful.  I had rather forgotten the satisfaction of ordering a full course meal without too great concern for price, or how much it might be absorbing of the other fellow’s purchasing ability.  I went directly from the pawnshop to an excellent spot I discovered in your neighborhood on Ninth Avenue, etc.

The rest of the money was spent on incidentals and several bits of culinary tid–bits—sliced fresh banana and ice–cream—a wondrous cut of strawberry shortcake and several candy bars.  (No lie—or exaggeration.)

I did fall up to the square by 5:45 and remained much in the vicinity of “Horn & Hardart’s”, half expecting to see you and rather hoping if I did, you would be broke and I could force at least a dollar of my loot and a meal on you.

So it went.  I called you last evening but you were still—apparently on your way home—the first call—and you had just departed—the second call—at which time I left a message.

I half expected you might look for me, either to give vent to your ire or to assure me you are not too greatly annoyed and you could make the effort to understand.

(How my conscience—really bothers me.)

Please fall around looking for me.  Or perhaps you have had no intention of not doing so?

I remade an appointment with the Cities Service—for ten o’clock Monday morning.

I presume you have spoken of my pilfering to others—Although—it fails to bother me—it will place you in the role of being the proverbial sucker—if you forgive and continue allowing me parasitical advantages from my contact with you.

I rather hope you read this previous a trip to Jersey shores (if such be your schedule this week–end)?

I hope to see you.