Wednesday, January 14, 2009
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.
Posted by Gaspard Lerâteau at 2:27 AM