I spent much of this morning thinking about making a tumblelog called “Sex in Helvetica”. It would present classic lines of sex in literature, in the cool, clinical font, on a white background. It was to be amazing. Then I realised (a) I couldn’t tihnk of any classic lines of sex from literature; and (b) I don’t have Helvetica.
I managed to cobble together a start post using Coolvetica and Nerve.com’s “The Naughty Bits” column. But it just wasn’t right. So below, as a one-off, you can find the flushed-out fetus of the aborted act of genius that was to be “Sex in Helvetica”. It’s an extract from Athur Miller’s Tropic of Capricorn.