In Which I Clean Up My Desk, or, More Posts I Will Never Write

1)
The one about Alastair Macauley and his obsession with the dearth of male/male or female/female duets in classical ballet.

2)
The one about marriage, namely the case against. A part of my dark heart really really wonders what the point of marriage is. It just complicates things, what with inheritance laws, rights to visit loved ones in hospital, tax inequities.

3)
The one about Newton Arvin. Mostly I want to know why my mother ripped out a 1998 piece from the New Yorker, entitled The Scarlet Professor. Was it just because he'd been a professor at Smith when she was there? Was it the Truman Capote connection? Had she read the Melville biography?