That was just the one time and you damn well know it. How was I to know the inner ear is actually built like a fucking labyrinth?
It is true that the lion's share of my letter writing days had well been put behind me by the time you appeared at my window on that fateful night, but now I must confess something to you, my darling, that before now I've never shared with anyone.
For you see, I never could quite kick the habit entirely: not long after our nuptials I in fact I still did quite often write letters, and a great many of them strongly worded ones at that, in order that I could express at length to the local periodicals my precise thoughts about whichever opera or stage performance I'd most recently attended. Now, if memory serves me I'd say this would have been more or less weekly, back during the brief age when letter writing was considered more of a woman's game- you and I had still only been married half a century or so at this point, so of course it felt much too soon to share with you my shameful, clandestine role in our small but vibrant, and yes, almost entirely female, theatre critic community.
While I would eventually wash my hands of that whole scene to instead move onto the more glamorous pursuit of poetry and song writing, I can't deny that the revelation which is Electronic Mail has pulled me right back in. The whole thing is quite deceptively brilliant, really, and what it crucially lacks in the way of romance is still more than made up for in sheer efficiency. I mean my God, how far we've come from the days it might take up to 4 days at the minimum before we could even hope to receive any mail because for some ungodly stupid reason the Western United States decided delivering it on the back of a horse made even a remote lick of sense.
Though I do wish that I'd known sooner how much you missed my love sonnets. Now, admittedly I have been plagued by writer's block for the past four or five decades, but you should know by now you need only ever speak the words and I'd start writing you a thousand more. No, in fact, let's call it an even two thousand, half by quill and half by cock.
Because for you, my beloved darling, I'll even write Jeeves a letter in all capital letters so that it appears as if I'm shouting if that's what it takes. What he needs to understand is that we mean business, and by thunder I'm just the man to educate him.
no subject
That was just the one time and you damn well know it. How was I to know the inner ear is actually built like a fucking labyrinth?
It is true that the lion's share of my letter writing days had well been put behind me by the time you appeared at my window on that fateful night, but now I must confess something to you, my darling, that before now I've never shared with anyone.
For you see, I never could quite kick the habit entirely: not long after our nuptials I in fact I still did quite often write letters, and a great many of them strongly worded ones at that, in order that I could express at length to the local periodicals my precise thoughts about whichever opera or stage performance I'd most recently attended. Now, if memory serves me I'd say this would have been more or less weekly, back during the brief age when letter writing was considered more of a woman's game- you and I had still only been married half a century or so at this point, so of course it felt much too soon to share with you my shameful, clandestine role in our small but vibrant, and yes, almost entirely female, theatre critic community.
While I would eventually wash my hands of that whole scene to instead move onto the more glamorous pursuit of poetry and song writing, I can't deny that the revelation which is Electronic Mail has pulled me right back in. The whole thing is quite deceptively brilliant, really, and what it crucially lacks in the way of romance is still more than made up for in sheer efficiency. I mean my God, how far we've come from the days it might take up to 4 days at the minimum before we could even hope to receive any mail because for some ungodly stupid reason the Western United States decided delivering it on the back of a horse made even a remote lick of sense.
Though I do wish that I'd known sooner how much you missed my love sonnets. Now, admittedly I have been plagued by writer's block for the past four or five decades, but you should know by now you need only ever speak the words and I'd start writing you a thousand more. No, in fact, let's call it an even two thousand, half by quill and half by cock.
Because for you, my beloved darling, I'll even write Jeeves a letter in all capital letters so that it appears as if I'm shouting if that's what it takes. What he needs to understand is that we mean business, and by thunder I'm just the man to educate him.
Forever your baby,
Laszlo