Postcard from H.P. Lovecraft to Robert E.Howard

Here is another extract from the play and the heading refers to a postcard that Howard received from Lovecraft who was on holiday in Quebec in 1930. This is mentioned before the following extract.

Howard:   My biggest regret is that I was born out of my time. I would have liked to have seen the frontier as it once was and survival is all people cared about. Man is complacent, by God, losing all perspective, when he becomes burdened by civilization. Mores change and the innocents forfeit their heritage and die broken, starving on reservations, and drinking themselves to death with hooch. I distrust all that I see around me and that is why I have become introverted. To have been breathing back then, I could have witnessed Chisum leaving Concho County with his cattle for New Mexico and little knowing of the Lincoln County War to come, the mysteries of the Old West would have been mine to witness. There is killing for the sake of it with Kid Curry, John Wesley Hardin, and those who have been brutalized by the world and kill because they know little else. I could have listened to their stories, dismissing the braggadocio of legendary gunfighters, and did Pat Garratt really shot William Bonney? Who speaks of the passengers that were killed during train robberies? I would have learnt the truth of the old sayings and folklore of Texas. (Laughs). If you go to sleep with the moon shining in your face, you will go crazy. Our old cook used to say that her father was a farmer and that if he saw the Morning Star three times in a row, he would have a good crop that year. My father’s favourite is the weather in Texas shows God has a sense of humour. There are countless others and the Indian creation myths are well worth a read if you have time. Remember, if you see a sundog near the sun before noon, it will rain afterwards. Another story I heard from an old timer was when I was younger was that William Lewis, a Welshman, died defending the Alamo against De Santa Anna. He was visiting a friend when he decided to leave for Texas when the call came. Lewis was a rifleman and served with the volunteers who rode with Jim Bowie. There’s a hell of story here, what with the Irish boys fighting as well. Years later, a small monument was sent to Lewis’s mother as a keepsake of her son’s death. It had been carved from stone taken from the Alamos ruins. I would have like to have heard more of his story. The old timer knew the names of the dead and the story of the battle, its aftermath, and how the bodies of the dead were burnt in a pyre. His version of events belied the history books. The story of how Jim Bowie made his knife is partly true. Travis did write that letter. (He rises from the chair, walking stage right, and stares into the shadowy window that represent his mother’s bedroom, and tenses, then relaxes, before returning to his chair). I will drink more coffee to keep me awake. Can’t sleep now. Nova was self-opinionated and capricious. She had opinions most girls wouldn’t think of. That’s what made her different. She made me wear that suit and fedora for the picture she wanted taken. Never comfortable with a suit on and my scowl said it all. I looked like a cheap Chicago hood! We laughed about it later when we saw the photographs.  Honestly, I never knew what to make of her. Arguments would start through the least thing I said.  The last time I saw her I nearly said why I was so depressed. I don’t think she would have understood. My stomach turned. The moment passed and I drove back home as she went into the lodging house. . .