A Missive from Abroad

It is in the rake's nature to be constantly on the move; exploring new cities, regions and countries. In doing so, he alleviates his constant boredom by continually finding refreshing scenery, female companionship and new and interesting varieties of food, tobacco and spirits. In the course of my rakish wanderings, I have had the privilege to meet many fine young bounders who share my worldview and passion for consumption. One such gentleman I met on a cold winter's night on the streets of Vienna. He was staggering about in evening clothes, simultaneously blessing and cursing the gods for inventing the female form. In my rudimentary knowledge of die deutsche Sprache, I asked him his name and his occupation. He merely laughed, saying something about how die Arbeit was for the common. As for his name, he replied "Félix Bandolier, at your service." We returned to my hotel and spoke at great length about the problems facing our fragile youthful frames over several bottles of the finest champagne available. At some point I dozed off, and when I awoke, he was gone. An exhaustive search of the city's taverns, publikhausen, and rathskelleren over the next several days yielded no results. According to the barmaids and street walkers of the fair city, no one by the name of Félix Bandolier has ever walked the cobbled lanes of Vienna, and judging by what I know of him, these women would know. Upset at losing contact with one who shared my thoughts on as many subjects as bottles of liquor he could drink without falling over, (I assure you it was several) I hoped that one day I would hear from him again.

Ladies and gentleman, that day has arrived. Just tonight, I noticed a letter sitting on my kitchen table, postmarked with several stamps of indeterminable origin. I will transcribe to you here exactly what was written, with no omissions.

Dear Gaspard,

Hope all is well. I am sorry for my abrupt and unexplained departure at our first, and last, meeting. I was being pursued by creditors and needed to flee the country.
In my weekly internet perusings I noticed your site and would be pleased if I could share my knowledge with your readers. Here are some recent thoughts inspired by a brief stint in Rome.

It is no passing maxim that church breeds the most adept rake, as dualism is the prevailing force on the human spirit. As the curious schoolboy becomes the seasoned cad, notions of guilt and deliverance may come into play during the melancholic haze of a Sunday morning. Ideas of failure, evil, and sadism could very well dominate a mind that had thought itself free of ethical bondage only a few hours before.
The best medicine for such issues would be a midday Satanic ritual or sigil casting to expel any grievances lingering. While sex magick could work here, and it all truly depends on the psychological construct of our given man, the best angle to play is one of cleansing and penance. A simple black magick ritual should be enough to reprogram your mind for yet another night confronting the retina of chaos.
Lastly, when one is experiencing the tremors of the soul, a clean suit may solve most of the problems right off the bat, particularly if a poignant tie clip is utilized.

I will send more when time permits.

Yours Truly,

Félix