Early Thursday Morning

One of those nights of broken sleep. A four o'clock morning. I was free of this burden for a while and had almost forgotten what such nights are like. Well, consider me dreadfully reminded of how this is usually the norm. Catnaps today!

Pop and Kay

Pop parks his car off to the far side of the driveway. I guess Kay is coming, and in time for grocery day tomorrow. At least I won't have to worry about checking on him in the middle of the night. I wonder if we will have pancakes at Jim's again; I'm kind of hoping so. After eating real pancakes, it is really hard to heat up a batch of frozen pancakes in the toaster.

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2100

And breakfast at Jim's it will be. It looks like this gets to be a little consolation for me on Kay's visits, with the fact that, I guess, Pop will never stay over there again. I'm surprised I am given this little consideration.

1793 The French Revolution

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On January 21, 1793, more grisly events forced a reappraisal of the notion that the French Revolution was a romantic Gallic variant of the American Revolution. Louis XVI - who had aided the American Revolution and whose birthday had long been celebrated by American patriots - was guillotined for plotting against the Revolution. The death of Louis Capet - he had lost his royal title - was drenched in gore: schoolboys cheered, threw their hats aloft, and licked the king’s blood, while one executioner did a thriving business selling snippets of royal hair and clothing. The king’s decapitated head was wedged between his lifeless legs, then stowed in a basket. The remains were buried in an unvarnished box. England reeled from the news, William Pitt the Younger branding it “the foulest and most atrocious act the world has ever seen.” On February 1, France declared war against England, Holland, and Spain, and soon the whole continent was engulfed in fighting, ushering in more than twenty years of combat.

-- Ron Chernow, “Alexander Hamilton”

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The Jeffersonians did not feel a need to revise their opinions. Quoting one of their main newspapers and party organs, Freneau’s The National Gazette, “Louis Capet has lost his caput. From my use of a pun, it may seem that I think lightly of his fate. I certainly do. It affects me no more than the execution of another malefactor.”

Chili

Something was definitely off about my last batch of chili. Not only was the flavor less than delicious, it has left me a little diarrheic. It must be one of the ingredients. Then I realize that the meat is a likely culprit. Getting good meat is always chancey, since the stores are always willing to push off their spoilage onto the consuming hordes. It is one of the hazards of being a meat-eater.

Women's Sex Memoirs

It is the old question: what do women really want?, how would she like to get it? The issue in this article is taken up with the business of women writing sex memoirs. Sure, women are lusty and horny, yet it is, of course, more complicated than that. Apparently, it is a question that a woman is always asking herself - before, during, and after sex (so long as she is conscious, I suppose). The following excerpt from Katherine Angel's Unmastered is held up as an example of this: 'When her partner “pushes himself deeper” into her, she’s ambushed by a fantasy about him hitting her'.

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It remains unclear; what do I mean? Being slapped? I don’t think so. Punched? Surely not. Somewhere between the two, perhaps. The content has blurred edges, but the feeling is precise.

I want him to do something like hitting. Something—something—that would stop me in my tracks.

I want to say crazy stuff, I whisper. He says, Tell me.

But I don’t; I hold back.

-- Katherine Angel, Unmastered

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[Source: Claire Dederer, "Why Is It So Hard for Women to Write About Sex?" at The Atlantic]

Blurty

I wonder if Cheever will ever surprise us and give us an update on Blurty. Yet, silence may be better. If he does make an update, it may be only to tell us that he is taking down the site for good.