My dear Ms. Rutledge,

Please forgive me my former impolitesse, as I was then but a callow youth. Many things have happened since I last posted, and I should like to bring you current.

I set out from Blue Dog, Arkansas, where I had been dwelling, to find you, Ms. Rutledge. I had every intent of making you my partner in the reproduction of my kind. Fortunately, as I was traversing a "bald knob" in the Ozarks, I was struck by lightning. When I awakened from this electrocution (which would have killed anyone born on this planet), I found that my gonadal cycle (if I may, with your permission, refer to such) had been accelerated and that I was now far, far more interested in things of the intellect than things corporal.

My first inclination was to find a large public library and devour everything in it, but I realized that such would hardly sate my appetite for knowledge. I have, therefore, consumed the libraries of the Universities of Missouri, Minnesota, Illinois, Chicago, and Indiana. (I have also digested the knowledge of the chairpeople of several academic departments, but with little furtherance of my knowledge. I do, however, now have what can only be called an encyclopedic knowledge of various alcoholic drinks and sexual matters relating to Earthen folk.)

Ms. Rutledge, while I still enjoy the ennui and spiritual dissonance inherent in "the blues," I must tell you that I have found that Baroque chamber music, especially that of the period from 1734 to 1785, is so exquisitely complex that I wonder how your Earthen minds concieved it. I have become especially enamored of such as Scarletti, JCF Bach, and the early Mozart.

I shall not annoy you with my attentions any longer, dear lady, but I shall now and again post here, should you wish to honor my scribblings with a glance.