1984 (2,4) A Man and a Woman

Our sated lovers enjoy a concupiscent nap after their amorous exertions.

_ _ _

Presently they fell asleep for a little while. When Winston woke up the hands of the clock had crept round to nearly nine. He did not stir, because Julia was sleeping with her head in the crook of his arm. Most of her make-up had transferred itself to his own face or the bolster, but a light stain of rouge still brought out the beauty of her cheekbone. A yellow ray from the sinking sun fell across the foot of the bed and lighted up the fireplace, where the water in the pan was boiling fast. Down in the yard the woman had stopped singing, but the faint shouts of children floated in from the street. He wondered vaguely whether in the abolished past it had been a normal experience to lie in bed like this, in the cool of a summer evening, a man and a woman with no clothes on, making love when they chose, talking of what they chose, not feeling any compulsion to get up, simply lying there and listening to peaceful sounds outside. Surely there could never have been a time when that seemed ordinary.

-- 1984

1984 (2,4) A Man and a Woman

Our sated lovers enjoy a concupiscent nap after their amorous exertions.

_ _ _

Presently they fell asleep for a little while. When Winston woke up the hands of the clock had crept round to nearly nine. He did not stir, because Julia was sleeping with her head in the crook of his arm. Most of her make-up had transferred itself to his own face or the bolster, but a light stain of rouge still brought out the beauty of her cheekbone. A yellow ray from the sinking sun fell across the foot of the bed and lighted up the fireplace, where the water in the pan was boiling fast. Down in the yard the woman had stopped singing, but the faint shouts of children floated in from the street. He wondered vaguely whether in the abolished past it had been a normal experience to lie in bed like this, in the cool of a summer evening, a man and a woman with no clothes on, making love when they chose, talking of what they chose, not feeling any compulsion to get up, simply lying there and listening to peaceful sounds outside. Surely there could never have been a time when that seemed ordinary.

-- 1984

Hitch on Dickens

Christopher Hitchens seems to have given us at least one more critical essay before his death, and it even happens to be about Charles Dickens. How timely! Seeing that my interest in the man has been reawakened and, even now, I am in the middle of "Our Mutual Friend", and I think the interest is going to stick this time too.

You know Hitch: the essay is not a slavish piece of fanboydom. He even debunks a story I only recently came across and shared on these pages, a story that I liked a lot, the one about he and Dostoyevsky meeting. Nevertheless, you cannot really appreciate a man until you know some of his flaws, for it is only then when you can appreciate his humanity. We are wretches all, but too few of us are inspired artists. Apparently, Dickens was like Shakespeare in his appreciation for the Anglos and the whites over the darker natives of lesser civilizations. It was a long time ago, before the age of Political Correctness and Multiculturalism and the Great White Condescension. I can overlook it, myself. I need these books, and it is not like Dickens and Shakespeare harp much on the inferiority of we less favored peoples.

( Read more... )

Hitch on Dickens

Christopher Hitchens seems to have given us at least one more critical essay before his death, and it even happens to be about Charles Dickens. How timely! Seeing that my interest in the man has been reawakened and, even now, I am in the middle of "Our Mutual Friend", and I think the interest is going to stick this time too.

You know Hitch: the essay is not a slavish piece of fanboydom. He even debunks a story I only recently came across and shared on these pages, a story that I liked a lot, the one about he and Dostoyevsky meeting. Nevertheless, you cannot really appreciate a man until you know some of his flaws, for it is only then when you can appreciate his humanity. We are wretches all, but too few of us are inspired artists. Apparently, Dickens was like Shakespeare in his appreciation for the Anglos and the whites over the darker natives of lesser civilizations. It was a long time ago, before the age of Political Correctness and Multiculturalism and the Great White Condescension. I can overlook it, myself. I need these books, and it is not like Dickens and Shakespeare harp much on the inferiority of we less favored peoples.

( Read more... )

Losing a Loved One

[The study] found that a person’s heart attack risk is 21 times higher than normal the day after a loved one dies. Over time the risk of an attack declines, but it remains elevated within that first month. In the first week after a loved one’s death, for example, the risk was six times higher than normal.

-- Andrew Sullivan's Dish

I can see that. I mean, I wouldn't have focused on heart attacks, but I suppose there are few things more traumatic than losing someone you love. Hell, just losing a cat really takes it out of me. Just getting defriended by a blogging friend can be pretty devastating. In the event of Pop's death, I don't know if I will suffer a heart attack, but the end for me may be very near.

Losing a Loved One

[The study] found that a person’s heart attack risk is 21 times higher than normal the day after a loved one dies. Over time the risk of an attack declines, but it remains elevated within that first month. In the first week after a loved one’s death, for example, the risk was six times higher than normal.

-- Andrew Sullivan's Dish

I can see that. I mean, I wouldn't have focused on heart attacks, but I suppose there are few things more traumatic than losing someone you love. Hell, just losing a cat really takes it out of me. Just getting defriended by a blogging friend can be pretty devastating. In the event of Pop's death, I don't know if I will suffer a heart attack, but the end for me may be very near.