The poetess L. is a nice gal. She's nothing special, though. Class D. I have them all in class D right now.
Sonya – the Jewish girl from my months of loneliness – used to be in D, in America however, she's E because she's a Russian. My agent C. is definitely a B, but I haven't fucked her – we have a strictly business relationship.
I very much want to run up this ladder and make a transition into at least class C, but a total absence of money, success and, most important, connections stand in my way. The best place to meet people is at parties, of course, but again I'm invited to D parties only.
The millionaire's housekeeper stands apart – she probably belongs to the category of angels, not women. A sexless peasant angel, standing on the side of the road leading toward church. I respect her more and more. She's my only relative on this earth that's why I exclude her from classification.
Almost all the girls and women from the Italian journalist's entourage – he wrote an article about me – are class C, and some are even B.
Class A are very beautiful, very talented, and very rich, I met some them at a few parties when I had just arrived in America and still had rich acquaintances.
I believe that below D class there's still E, F and maybe I. Yes, I'm sure that's the case. So, my girls get to be right in the middle. They're medium.
I believe there exists only one creature above A class. That's the one I'm after. But I have no idea where that is.