May 04, 2004 12:13
undated, written on Ian's personal letter head.
Dearest Maggie,
It's been quite some time, hasn't it. You've always been in my thoughts, please know that, even if Richard would have had you believe otherwise.
I promised myself I wouldn't mention his name.
I'm quite high, although it's been so long since I've been properly seen to, medicinally speaking of course, that I don't remember exactly how it's supposed to feel. I've had a bit of the opium that was sent to me by a lovely man, name of Depp, a director I've had the recent pleasure of meeting. As a thank you. You see, not only am I constantly meeting new people, but they instantly recognize and appreciate my charms. And some of them I don't even take to bed! Imagine.
You always thought me too faniciful, too willing to see only what I wanted to see. Certain individuals would believe it was always to my benefit. I think you were the only one who ever knew its detriment. And I do believe it's time to make some changes. California has softened me, it softens everyone, makes them lazy and fat with what they perceive to be power. Even the children of the mother country, darling, you wouldn't believe the sheer nerve of them. I've played into it, of course I have, you don't need to tell me. Lazy, I'm telling you. It must be the heat and all the beauty, it's enough to make one believe.
Enclosed are some pictures of my favourite nephew -- he's some sort of celebrity, the kind California likes to cater to. I'm not sure that you get this particular magazine in London, and you've been asking after him. I do hope you're not disappointed.
You'll never see this, of course. I've a lovely fire here that I've stoked just for the occassion, because it's quite warm even at night this time of year.
Take care of yourself, my precious Margaret.
Yours,
Ian