A · Taste · for · Foppery · and · Gin

Alas, I fear that I have not come to entertain all of you, my darlings, in what seems like sheer millenia! This lovely afternoon I bring quite fabulous news to you, I will be participating my darndest in a quite fine project founded in my wonderful home base, Eugene. Alas, however, I will be performing within Corvallis, a nearby town, for I currently find myself stationed away from Eugene due to reasons that I myself cannot control.



Darlings! I desire to hear word of many of you participating with this fine project within Eugene! I myself greatly look forward to it.

And how have I been holding myself together, you ask? Quite well, quite well. I feel I may have discovered some semblance of happiness within your era at last, however I cannot offer you details at this time! Suffice to say, I am happy, loves, I am quite happy.

However, there I was browsing through a section of recordings of Mozart in the musique storefront, and someone (mistakenly, I presume) had replaced a particularly moving piano recording with a recording by an artist called "Falco." I chanced to take a listen to the recording, and lo and behold it was about Mozart himself! The song was entitled "Rock Me Amadeus," though I cannot be sure what "Falco" meant by that title.

It was a simply delightful tune, however, almost as delightful as Wolfgang Amadeus himself. And so, when I left the marketplace hidden in my purchases of Mozart merchandise was the recording of Falco. I think I could fall for this gentleman, I really do! It was almost like discovering Voltaire for the first time, and oh my was that discovery a "doozy."

I fear that may be all I have to say this evening, as it is nearing time for me to retire to my bedroom. Good night, fair ladies and gentleman, I shall write once more when the mood strikes me.

I came to find myself searching frantically through the marketplace shelves this afternoon. Choking back on howls of anger, I threw aside jar after jar of facial cleansers and other cosmetics.

The direction of my woes?

A recent lack of lead based face powder! What am I, Sir Benedick Chauncy Arlington, to do? Without lead-based face powder I feel that my beauty my shrivel up and leave me! How will I possibly survive my own day to day struggles if I cannot be beautiful? Do tell me; I feel sick to my own self merely thinking on it.

When I came to the female clerk (these days!) and demanded to be directed to a marketplace in which my treasured powder may be found she laughed in my face, laughed! At me, Sir Benedick Chauncy Arlington! How could she? How could a woman find it in herself to--Oh, it just fills me with so very much rage even to only remember the incident.

"They haven't made lead face powder in, like, forever!" She huffawed at me.

"Well, my fine lady, no one has informed me of the developments, when did this occur?" I found myself responding politely to such an outrage.

"Like, I said, y'know? In forever. It drove people crazy."

"CRAZY! CRAZY!?" I found myself screaming at the top of my lungs. The nerve of that woman! Lead driving people towards insanity? How ridiculous! How preposterous! I find myself in perfect mental order, and the nerve of a woman named "Floe" to tell me otherwise!

As you must now understand me, ladies and gentlemen, I find myself feeling more and more at a loss as to what shall befall me in this town, and this era.

However, I must say, I did find a simply dashing powdered wig at an adorable art gallery and musique store in the town square today. It is simply ravishing to behold, I do feel that it makes me swoon over my own person!

And so I will leave you once again, but fare-thee-well. Tally ho!

Here I sit at my delightfully fabulous desk is my dressing down, and yet I find myself believing that perhaps this lifestyle is not for me. I am coming precariously close to my centennial, and a thought such as that--At times I can find my appearances fleeting. Gentlemen are no longer so gentle as they are cruel. In France there was dignity, even as I was not a commonplaced actor, the citizens still treated me with respect!

I find that all is dwindling in this time. No one holds doors for a woman, men are spurning their own kind, and fashion (if one can truly believe it is at all possible!).

No, I fear that I may not belong here, that I have lived one hundred years for a complete fallacy.

God save this country, but not the residents therein.

Fare thee well, all may hear again when next I find that my pen is itching for the parchment nearby.