On me, myself and authenticity

[Monica Belevan]

Dear Sy,

I assure you, beyond both reasonable unreasonably noir doubt, that I am not 
Doug.

I could never, not possibly, not under the most trying and haphazard 
circumstances, ever, even very narrowly, very secretly, should my life 
depend on it, warm up to anything like him, or much less be it.

The mere thought of it excites my most abridging reticence.

And in that axiomatic adage of Joyce´s, in paraphrasis, I could never grow 
into a Doug, nor could a Doug invent me.

Thanks for the support. It is repellent to be presumed his dendrite.

Love, Monica

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