This New York Review Books classic reissue claims to be the kind of book that people are always rediscovering and adoring and then rediscovering a few years later. The introduction says that this is because Americans can’t respect funny books, and I think that is probably about true- also we tend to be terrible prudes. And this is a funny sexy book- as others have said, a female counterpart to Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis.
I really enjoyed it, although the flighty character made me extremely nervous. She drinks too much and sleeps with the most wrong men and makes bad decisions and doesn’t think of her friends. And she’s an actress. And basically it hit too close to home. But very funny, and very fifties bohemian.
The Peabody Essex Museum reminded me of the 
If one has already done the unprotected sex followed by walking alone by the highway at night (it’s a metaphor, dad, ha ha) and that doesn’t seem to have worked out… what is a better way to take chances? 
One interesting suggestion i read for developing generosity starts off simple: try passing a beloved object from your left hand to your right. Even that tiny transfer can pull your heart if the object is very precious. From there perhaps you can build up to greater acts of generosity. Imagine giving away the most valuable thing you own! OUCH!
Another thing I’ve been holding onto is the idea that at any moment I might leave the country, meet the man or woman of my dreams and relocate to New Mexico or Old Mexico, or SF or the island of Elba. This despite the fact that in NYC I worked for the same place and lived in one neighborhood for 6 years (not, actually, the free spirit I imagine myself to be.)
