Stacy Horn

I watched something on PBS about Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid last night and once again I was the most drawn to Etta Place. For those who may not know, she was the girlfriend or wife of Sundance (Harry Longabaugh). When it looked like there was no escaping the outlaw life or the law she left them and disappeared. It’s really something that no one has been able to find out what happened to her. How is that possible? She was still in her twenties when she and Harry parted so she must have lived for many many years more years. Decades, probably. She must have had friends, relatives, so many people who knew what happened to her. How is it possible that all of them kept quiet, and continue to keep quiet (presuming her friends and relatives told their children, etc.). It’s just inconceivable to me.

And it makes me want to give finding her a try.

See the darkened windows three floors from the top? I want to live in there. The floor looked empty and available. The building is 1200 Broadway—not the nicest spot in the city but it’s a beautiful building.

And I can’t get a shot that shows how intense it is! When I took this it was almost a white-out situation, and you can’t see that at all. It was insane. NYU called to tell me not to come in for my dental appointment, the clinic is shutting down this afternoon.

It seems to be calming down at the moment, but I’m hearing there will be a second wave of snow at the end of the day. I should go out there and explore.

This may not sound like a Stacy Horn book, but I’ve wanted to write a book about slavery for a long time. Whether or not that will ever happen remains to be seen (although if I get to write the book I’m thinking about and plan to propose slavery will be in it).

In the meantime, I found this incredible website which lists which U.S. presidents owned slaves. Bottom line, “twelve of our presidents owned slaves and eight of them owned slaves while serving as president.” The site lists who they were, how many slaved they owned, the circumstances, quotes of theirs about slavery and any action they took regarding slavery. VERY eye-opening. It was put together by Western Washington University librarian Robert Lopresti.

Somewhere in Brooklyn, I know not where because I forgot to ask where I was.

I came pretty late to Loehmans, and other stores where you could spend less for clothes. I think I stayed away due to memories of shopping with my mother, when I’d sit for what felt like hours and hours and hours, in agonies of boredom, waiting for her to be done shopping already. Is there anything more stultifyingly tedious than waiting for someone who is shopping for clothing?? Whenever I see men in waiting areas while their girlfriends or wives shop I feel pity.

Barneys, which used to occupy the spot where Loehmans is now, is returning. I loved browsing that store. There was one floor where all the clothing were like works of art. Of course I couldn’t afford anything on that floor—or anywhere in the store, for that matter—but the dresses displayed on this particular floor cost in the thousands. They were worth it though, they were just glorious. It was where Glinda the Good Witch of the South would shop if she were a real person.

In order to completely empty the place out, everything in Loehmans is on sale now, including the mannequins. The grey ones are the most beautiful. They’re also kinda creepy.

Someone carrying a blaring boom box. I never used to mind, for the most part. I often liked hearing them. This one was blaring Stevie Wonder. I had no objections. I’m not sure how he felt about me, however.