Random thoughts

The cumulative effect of Clarissa involves an unabashed sublimity, at least for me, and yet one of the interesting things about the novel is that it is full of stretches of embarrassingly bad writing, especially in the letters of Lovelace. Context for this would be not just the caviling of some of Richardson's contemporaries about his failure to create a plausibly upper-class male rake's voice, but an older critique of similar in something like the record playwright Thomas Shadwell left of Dryden attempting and failing to capture the obscene wittiness of Rochester et al.: supposedly at Windsor one day, while Dryden was working on Marriage-a-la-Mode and spending time with the wits of the court circle, somebody asked how they would spend the afternoon and Dryden said “Let’s Bugger one another now, by God."

Good example of the sort of passage I have in mind - it makes me laugh and cringe, it's amazingly over-the-top in a way that I think is not tonally within Richardson's control or comprehension, though that is of course debatable:

Let me perish, Belford, if I would not forgo the brightest diadem in the world for the pleasure of seeing a twin Lovelace at each charming breast, drawing from it his first sustenance; the pious task continued for one month, and no more!

I now, methinks, behold this most charming of women in this sweet office, pressing with her fine fingers the generous flood into the purple mouths of each eager hunter by turns: her conscious eye now dropped on one, now on the other, with a sigh of maternal tenderness; and then raised up to my delighted eye, full of wishes, for the sake of the pretty varlets, and for her own sake, that I would deign to legitimate; that I would condescend to put on the nuptial fetters. (706)

In other news, the minor woe of the last few days: the amazingly named seabather's eruption!

Mundanities, a.k.a. "Thursday is my weekend"

Thursday this semester was always my "weekend," unless I had complex meetings or a deadline, but the day after the last day of classes always brings particular relief!

I slept late (late enough that I am not going to hot yoga this morning - may hit a class in the early evening if I have the energy, but it's fine if not).

I finally made two phone calls that I've been meaning to take care of for weeks: scheduling a house call to get my two cats a proper checkup (they both had initial kittenage vaccinations, but I have been remiss about vet visits - this is long overdue!); scheduling an appointment with my asthma doctor to discuss ongoing exercise-induced asthma issues but more particularly to ask what I should do about the fact that my indispensable asthma control medication Flovent will no longer be covered by my prescription health coverage plan as of January. This is frustrating, it has worked very well - it would cost about $200/mo. if I am paying for it out-of-pocket, so really I need to find out what I can take instead, but I wish they weren't messing around with some solid basics!

And I have a haircut appointment at 2 and will go from thence to the allergy doctor for shots - missed last week due to Thanksgiving-related scheduling issues.

Not an exciting day, in short, but a very useful one, and the best part of it is that in half an hour or so I will head out for a lovely quiet run. The weather is foggy but very mild, with temperature in the mid-50s - short sleeves!

(I do have to write one more letter of recommendation, but that won't be too bad....)

Stuck up!

This post title is a homage to Wendy, who liked punny blog titles and who would have used it to solve the puzzle of what kind of a doctor I saw on Thursday and Monday, stomach-ache notwithstanding: the allergist!

The initial round of testing on Thursday sent me into something of a mental tailspin.  It was not to my surprise but certainly to my chagrin that I proved violently allergic to nearly every major environmental trigger.  On my way home, I was so immersed in the leaflet the doctor gave me that I actually missed my subway stop; of course, partly the distress is physical, the histamines were raging in the bloodstream and the amazingly named "wheal and flare" response to skin pricks is unpleasant, but I think the major emotional stress factor here concerns the question of living with a cat.  To me that seems non-negotiable!  I have obtained new bedding and will start allergy shots tomorrow or the next day: the doctor chooses five high-priority allergens to desensitize the patient to, and I think she said that we will do spring pollen/trees, fall pollen/trees, dust mites, cockroaches (NYC living!) and cat dander.  I'll go a couple times a week just for next week or two to get a head start, and then fall back to once a week.  I also have nasal spray and instructions to wipe down the cat with a wet cloth a couple times a week: little does he know what is in store....

Light reading around the edges: an advance copy of Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl, which truly exists at the sweet spot between Joyce Carol Oates and Robert Crais (I wasn't crazy about the final twist at the very end, but it is grippingly readable); and Kameron Hurley's fascinating and engaging God's War, which has a misleading and odd opening that I think detracts from the effectiveness of the book as a whole but which I really loved otherwise.  Kind of like Steph Swainston, with worldbuilding reminiscent in certain respects of but to my taste superior to The Windup Girl.