Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Aliquando Bonus Dormitat Homerus

Hello friends,

Alisdair and I have just returned from a long evening (which began early this afternoon) in the American capital. Despite having visited more than a dozen bars and more than one society event, I find myself decidedly sober, and what is worse, without female companionship. The inability to get drunk after several dozen drinks is the unfortunate and unique scourge of the rake. This is why he spends so much of his time either trying to get drunk or trying to procure funds which he will use to get drunk. My lack of inebriation is made all the more painful that I, Gaspard Sébastien Lerâteau, have fallen in love. The raven haired siren that captured my affections earlier this eve possesed the ample wit and charm that a rake cannot help but find appealing. However, I was unable to secure her company for the early morning hours and my heart now trembles with the thought that I must somehow replace her, as I never even learned her name. At this point, music is the only art form that can express the turmoil of my inner soul. For further information, please refer to Chopin's Nocturne No. 13 in C minor.

- Gaspard


  1. Dearest Gaspard,

    At last, I've found you again. It's I, the "raven haired siren" (thanks for noticing. . .takes me hours to do my hair!). After we met at the Shadow Room, I've been unable to rest in my effort to find you. Google has done the work for me. And, while you may have forgotten my name (I did treat you to 10 top-shelf/Henricks gimlets, no?), I did not forget your distinctive name. Nor can I forget your dashing good looks and your uncanny mastery of all things irrelevant but interesting. You are most entertaining. I'll admit that, being a girl of proper education, I was put-off by your cunning attempts to lure me back to your hotel. I am willing to overlook that small indiscretion should you be appropriately apologetic and should you attempt to woo me in the proper fashion (though with a sufficient dose of rakish virtue such that I remain amused).


    Julia Flyte

  2. Dearest Gaspard,
    I've set up my own account, rather than using my room-mate's account, so voila, our correspondence can not be official and private.