quote #40

He remembered very clearly the only two pieces of information his father had given him about [sex]. Once when they were out shooting together Nick shot a red squirrel out of a hemlock tree. The squirrel fell, wounded, and when Nick picked him up bit the boy clean through the ball of the thumb.
"The dirty little bugger," Nick said and smacked the squirrel's head against the tree. "Look how he bit me."
His father looked and said,"Suck it out clean and put some iodine on it when you get home."
"The little bugger," Nick said.
"Do you know what a bugger is?" his father asked him.
"We call anything a bugger," Nick said.
"A bugger is a man who has intercourse with animals."
"Why?" Nick said.
"I don't know," his father said. "But it is a heinous crime."
Nick's imagination was both stirred and horrified by this and he thought of various animals but none seemed attractive or practical and that was the sum total of direct sexual knowledge bequeathed him by his father except on one other subject. One morning he read in the paper that Enrico Caruso had been arrested for mashing.
"What is mashing?"
"It is one of the most heinous of crimes," his father answered. Nick's imagination pictured the great tenor doing something, strange, bizarre, and heinous with a potato masher to a beautiful lady who looked like the pictures of Anna Held on the inside of cigar boxes. He resolved, with considerable horror, that when he was old enough he would try mashing at least once.

Fathers and Sons
Ernest Hemingway


movie #62

Zodiac / 2007
David Fincher

quote #39

After a while he heard his father blow out the lamp and go into his own room. He heard a wind come up in the trees outside and felt it come in cool through the screen. He lay for a long time with his face in the pillow, and after a while he forgot to think about Prudence and finally he went to sleep. In the morning there was a big wind blowing and the waves were running high up on the beach and he was awake a long time before he remembered that his heart was broken.

Ten Indians
Ernest Hemingway