Lo (1,7) Handsome Humbert

We hear about Humbert’s father in this chapter. We get the report of his death, and it is the receipt of a little inheritance that Humbert attains that helps lead him to pursue marriage. It is not a lot of money, we are told, because the Hotel Mirana had already been sold off sometime before. Apparently the father’s business fortunes suffered a bit of a decline. Maybe it was because of the the war; the timing seems about right, and Nabokov knows about the rough fortunes of war. In any case, in addition to this windfall of cash, Hummy reminds us that he is also favored by his handsome looks. So, he has only to pick and choose.

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Let me repeat with quiet force: I was, and still am, despite my misfortunes, an exceptionally handsome male; slow-moving, tall, with soft dark hair and a gloomy but all the more seductive cast of demeanor. Exceptional virility often reflects in the subject’s displayable features a sullen and congested something that pertains to what he has to conceal. And this was my case. Well did I know, alas, that I could obtain at the snap of my fingers any adult female I chose; in fact, it had become quite a habit with me of not being too attentive to women lest they come toppling, bloodripe, into my cold lap.

-- “Lolita” by Vladimir Nabokov

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Happy Boy

12:26! Wow, that is late. It is very rare, these days, for me to get the house to myself. It had also been a long time since I checked out the ASSTR rapefic. I went a little wild and blew the whole morning. I still haven't gotten around to cleaning the toilet yet. Not good. But if these are the biggest problems I have, I'll count myself a fairly happy boy.

Weather

The winds have started kicking up fiercely, and it has become heavily overcast. You would hate to bet any money on rain, but it is looking promising.

Checking Yahoo weather, I see we have received an advisory. A surprise storm is falling. Whether San Antonio and this neighborhood will actually get some of the wet stuff, and not just the wind and dark clouds, remains to be seen. But the odds are looking better.

The Art of Sleeping Alone?

There is a new book out by a woman who went sex-free for twelve years, and from the rather libidinous young age of twenty-seven too, "The Art of Sleeping Alone" by Sophie Fontanel.

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Sex is rarely a meeting of equals in “The Art of Sleeping Alone.” It is a platform for male dominion. “I’d had it with being taken and rattled around,” Ms. Fontanel says. “I’d had it with handing myself over. I’d said yes too much.” Sexual experiences leave her feeling sullied. “He gloried in putting me through my paces,” she writes about a boyfriend. “It fed his pride.”

-- Dwight Garner at The New York Times

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People have sung of the joys of celibacy before, but it never seems to catch on and become a real craze. And I think it is usually women who come to fancy it for a while.

Weather

We did get some precipitation. At least it was more than a drizzle. In the end, it amounted to a summer shower, a gentle downfall of rain that did not last more than ten minutes. I was badly hoping for something good enough that I would feel comfortable about not watering on Tuesday, but this wasn't it.

The Natural World

African Elephant 8 by ~catman-suha

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