Missed by *that* much

Good! Fresh material.. And she seems to be lifting out of her funk, although the last couple of paragraphs hint at her continuing enmeshment with M.

Agatha, it appears from the Muse's latest posting that if you and Dorothy L. had elected, at about the hour of High Tea, to indulge in bean juice at the two-cupper up Elgin Street, 'steada waiting to pound brewskies in some cat's basement rec room a little later, you would have had a chance at an actual sighting -- avec lcp. But no cigar. And no Mystery Muses in dark glasses, either.

He do get around, don't he? I may need to re-evaluate that 'truncated mojo' crack. I'd call him a dog, if it didn't give certain other canines a bad name. Serious sultriness was being slung about the place last night. And many more-than-suggestive invitations from the lcp. Although the lady in the peachy Striesand pantsuit seemed, very intelligently I thought, to laugh it all off and leave the panting and lash-batting to the regular suspects. So, for the moment, I still lean to the judgement that the lcp, in baseball parlance, is a starting pitcher, not a go-to relief guy -- he throws a lotta heat in the opening innings, but seems to be almost eternally doomed to fizzle and be yanked from the game, innings short of a win.

However, evidence today suggests we may have misjudged the exact timing of the lcp's exit to the showers. ('Showers.' Recurring theme, lately, isn't it?) The loan of an album and the invite to judge fringey events -- and her fulsome reactions to both -- all suggest that he's not quite out of this game yet. There are some surprise innings left in him. Bring on the oversized buckets o' Molson's & the overpriced Crackerjack! We got a major-league event happenin' here! May as well settle in & watch the game.... and enough with the frat-boy sports analogies.