Catching up...

I beg my followers' pardon for my extended absence from the world of internet communication. Between attending to my usual affairs at the Opera House and taking International Law classes from the Sorbonne (for the purpose of being better equipped to deal with Erik's gallavanting across the globe, more on that later), my ability to keep you apprised of occurences has been severely diminished. However, I shall do my best to allocate time to write, particularly now that the opening of a certain ill-founded theatrical venture is imminent.

In any event, when our restless Opera Ghost declared his intention to venture forth from his dark abode to visit America's 'City of Lights', that is, Las Vegas, making suitable arrangements for his travels proved most complex. After all, in this day and age, it is rather difficult for a singularly eccentric, to say nothing of occasionally homicidal, masked man (who is likely to possess several lethal weapons on his person) to secure a seat on a commercial Trans-Atlantic flight.

Mercifully, Erik was able to, ah, 'convince' a private aviation company to accomodate his needs. From what our Phantom tells me (and mind you this was only after he returned, seeing as he effectively severed communications by dissecting the cellular phone I had entrusted him with), once he arrived in Las Vegas, there was no need to be concerned about his appearance. Apparently the fabled Sin City is constantly swarming with so many oddities and strangely-garbed people that the Opera Ghost seemed almost boring by comparison. Perhaps I shall have to see this place one day. I am given to understand that at one particular venue some fine Australian gentleman give a memorable performance...

In the meantime, something rather remarkable has happened; Meg and I have come to an agreement about something. Namely, that Mademoiselle Daae is a perfect fool for being involved with Lord D'Arcy's project. Meg has also expressed her disgust for Gerik, the star of the show, who has aparently made some complimentary, but unwelcome, comments about my daughter's physique. Mark me, I shall have words with the scoundrel for such audacity.

On an unrelated note, I must go out to purchase the items our Phantom has requested on his montly shopping list. Some rather odd things this time, though. I cannot imagine what use the man would have for several cans of red spray paint, a couple gallons of industrial-strength glue, and a tank of kerosene.

Perhaps it's better that I don't know.