the lettered

January 21st, 2051

That Little Something-by-the-Sea

Northeast America, Earth, Sol, LIC, LB, Orion Arm, Milky Way

My dear friend, my comrade-in-yearning, Caius--

I was greatly intrigued to read of your interest in these up-and-coming warblers--I've never been much for the easy-bake trills and viral melodies preferred by those still new to Euterpe's embrace, but having ever held your taste in high regard, I endeavor'd to give those winking cherubs some small piece of my attention.  And lo--what a racket!  I confess that I sniffed poison in the well before I ever drank, but give me the lilting tones of Debussy or a good haunting by Rachmaninoff over your little Preschool Paganinis any day.

Things go well here, and the days pass as they must.  I have scribbled a little since I last wrote, and hope to include some samples of those works with my next missive, short and bitter though they may prove.  I am reminded of Mz. Parker's Lament ("I hate writing, I love having written!"), may she rest in the eternal torment that so amused her in life!

Is it strange for me to identify so well with a woman who thrived best in the air of a century-and-a-quarter ago...?  I enjoy my little modern conveniences too much to ever wish I'd been a part of that past, but some piece of me lives whenever Dorothy does, and I suppose it must have died with her, as well.  Oh, to be born out of phase with one of like mind!  It does the heart and mind little credit to dwell on such, insofar as it gets in the way of Proper Business, but the little unkillable romantic in me does read her verse and swoon!

You know I have little regard for my own works, be they poesy or prosy, and derive more delight from expelling the ugly words out of my head than ever from reading them again.  I believe it is the fate of all those who pour themselves into their creations, to be their own greatest critics.  Certainly Mz. Parker found her works to be trashy, dashed-off efforts, not worth the ink used in printing them (or so she said), yet anyone with half an eye for rhyme or meter can see the utter brilliance gleaming right there on the surface.  To ask how a firebrand such as she could not have realized the depth of her achievement is to realize that we are all in the same (sinking) boat, but only some of us can swim!!!

Long have I expounded on the value of a certain Mr. Lovecraft (Here He Goes Again...), but one point about the man is worth mentioning.  He wrote often of the esteemed personages he felt lucky to have met and corresponded with, and often voiced his utter confidence that so many of them would have great and illustrious careers.  I have eagerly sought out the fates of these happy friends of his, but not one has a biography, nor even a full page in the encyclopaedia dedicated to him- or herself.  No, it is always the same line, always, always!--

BEST KNOWN AS A CORRESPONDENT OF H.P. LOVECRAFT

In the end, Lovecraft himself was the most famous person he'd ever known, and the great destinies he foresaw for his friends (and the ignominy he predicted for himself) were quite reversed!

My point, my dear Caius!!  Take no action as though it would not be studied by HISTORY.  Utter no word as though it would not echo through THE AGES!  Your life is merely a scaffolding for the construction of the historical YOU.  Build it well!

Ever your ludicrously well-appointed Squire,

HOMO BREVITAS