Greetings, Dear Readers:
I have journeyed far to the East to a land called Washington, where our leaders gather and issue forth proclaimations. My mission is to attend a gathering of scholars who study the eighteenth-century: On Saturday, I shall myself lecture on Matthew Lewis' The Monk. It promises to be a thrilling adventure.
Today, I boarded a flying machine from the mountains of Arkansas, journeyed forth to the Deep South (Atlanta, y'all), and arrived in DC. I then wound my way through the maze of the public transit system. I found myself the object of a kind gentleman's charity: he gave me 35 cents so I could make my bus connection. Alas, his kindness went awry when the connection fee was in fact 45 cents. The bus driver took pity on my poor travelling soul, and allowed me to board anyway.
All was well, until I could not find the Inn. It turns out that Georgetown University Conference Center and Hotel is cunningly hidden, tucked into campus behind (a freakin') hospital. I arrived sore and sweaty from hauling my luggage. Ah, should a shining knight had resuced me! Alas, I must care for myself. And in the end, I much prefer to be independent, alone in a strange city and loving it.
Tonight, the conference opened with much lauded performances of poetry, music, and a staged production of Mr. Pope's "The Rape of the Lock". It was splendid, dear readers, splendid. Afterward, I conversed with many scholars, all of whom were kind and welcoming to me, the young academic setting forth for her first real conference.
It is now time for me to retire my soft quarters. Adieu, dear readers, adieu.