All is well here. I am a nerd among nerds, but I do try to get myself a bit of kultcha every now and then. Last week I went to see a famous poet, whose name completely slips my mind, give a lecture on virginity in the nave of a vast and ornate Catholic church downtown. It was one of those entirely artificial situations: The church itself seemed like a kind of elaborate mock-up, and the event was sponsored by a group of extremely wealthy women “concerned about questions of women’s spirituality.” The lecture was a bit thin, though delivered with a flawless pretentiousness—pauses for laughter after jokes made entirely in French or Latin (the poet reminded me of a super-refined version of Alvin’s dad), and the pews shone with the hair of dozens of svelte women, hair so smooth and perfectly molded each seemed like a kind of elaborate baldness, their heads all slightly tipped, their smiles cannily amused. I felt as if I were part of an enormous and exquisitely crafted music box, the kind of thing made in the reign of Louis XIV, derived from a culture at the height of its decadence. It wouldn’t have surprised me if the ornate gold-leaf roof had opened up to reveal gigantic rouged faces peering in at us, the poet’s voice becoming a soulless mechanical tinkle as our heads nodded on their little pivots.

I have to finish up. I have an exam on Monday and tonight one of my professors and his wife, who have somewhat adopted me, are taking me to see a play called Endgame or something. I’ll tell you guys all about it in my next letter.

Love, Raj

Dear Raj:

Despite what I thought, it’s a boy. Believe it or not, we still haven’t come up with a name for him. Lew’s dad says he doesn’t want the child named after him or anyone in his family. I know my dad would like him to be called Salvatore Eduardo, but while I love my dad, Raj, I’m going to admit to you that I don’t admire him. My mom thinks it best to give him a “normal” American name: John, Peter, Mark, Simon, Robert, etc.

You said you were thinking of coming back for the break. It would be great to see you and for you to see Baby, who has a full head of blond hair and the most alert blue eyes (nothing in him of me!). Of course we all suspect he is the most brilliant infant ever born, every frown a sign of intense thought, rather than yet another effort to empty his bowels.

You’ve probably heard that Nora and Walter Novus are engaged. Apparently he made his mind up to marry her when he was thirteen. It was on the day I got into a fight with Seamus in the lunchroom, and Nora chased him out—remember?