A man once pointed out that I made a football comment that wasn't full of love & therefore can no longer have song lyrics that have the word 'love' here
$jnomik
Whenever I catch myself not reading things completely, I remember anti-intellectualism is on the rise, literacy is in decline, and I don’t want to be a VICTIM!
In 2022, writer Lily Majteles was diagnosed with lymphoma. She did nine rounds of chemotherapy and her cancer went into remission. But her uterus hurt more than ever before. “Until this point, it had felt greedy to care about sexual pleasure when my goals were always much simpler, like ‘don’t die of cancer,’” she writes. “But I wondered if, with the lymphoma eradicated from my body, I might be able to really experience pleasure for the first time. I went on a few dates and fought the urge to ramble about cancer. I learned to put on makeup and talk to men again. I had sex, and it felt like being penetrated by a cheese grater.”
A doctor told Majteles that she was likely living with endometriosis, with symptoms that had rapidly accelerated when she first became sick with lymphoma. Her doctor had a plan and proceeded to list treatments she had never heard of nor considered. But it would cost her.
“I found myself sitting across from my father at a kitschy Italian restaurant while he scolded me for my lack of a boyfriend and what he perceived as an unwillingness to ‘put myself out there.’ I dodged his questions, but he was adamant, and finally I blurted out, ‘I’m not dating because I can’t have sex without excruciating pain,’” writes Majteles.
There was an oh-so-small moment of silence. But then, “he told me we’d solve this together as a team, just as we did with my cancer. He meant it. From that moment on, we had an understanding: I would use my parents’ money to heal my pelvic floor, no matter the cost.”
Read Majteles’s essay on the price she paid to heal her body after surgery and chemotherapy: https://t.co/jtjrk5fJZL
We spent decades trying to rid ourselves of Massachusetts archaic ‘blue laws’ and the Scots just came in and laughed and chanted them away in a weekend. 🏴
no comparison, D.H. Lawrence. a rare writer who'd tried to depict, not sentimental "romantic" love, but intensely complicated, erotic love.
Austen never even tried to depict actual, physical love which would have been unthinkable for a woman writer of her time but Tolstoy certainly did, usually negatively.
Lawrence, for all his excesses, in prose & also poetry, tried to depict the love/hate of passion; that commingling of despair that Mellors felt, along with sexual desire, at the prospect of living again through such turmoil.
you have to have lived a while to appreciate Lawrence. Tolstoy is another matter: a man who'd impregnated his wife repeatedly & blamed her for his lust, not unlike Charles Dickens who complained of having at least five "unwanted sons."
So far this World Cup has been a great reminder that we make too many assumptions about one another, and that the vast majority of humanity is awesome.
It's been pretty damn refreshing, honestly.
Next time you go to Walmart pay attention to how many young women are stocking shelves that you’d normally find hostessing at mid-tier restaurants in your area. There’s your consumer confidence index. There’s your recession indicator.