I finished reading O'Keeffe and Steiglitz, which brought home again the well-worn point that some people are not cut out to live a "conventional" lifestyle, and that includes romantically. That said, I did feel that some of the folks in the book were destructively dysfunctional. Generally I tolerate whatever consenting adults do with each other (assuming they go about it with taste and discretion and don't involve me in it), as long as they are honest with themselves. Regarding self-honesty and self-awareness, I know it sometimes takes time for us to grasp truths about ourselves that outsiders may spot more easily. But I hate People who consistently respond to their own difficult choices, or emotional fallout caused by their own actions, by shifting blame to others, thus casting Themselves as perpetual baby or perpetual victim or perpetually Right. All of us are those things sometimes, but none of us are those things always. I enjoyed the fact that O'Keeffe never attempted to justify her assholiness, and at the end wrote, "Art is a wicked thing. It is what we are." Indeed.
I am now reading Plath's unabridged journals, having rompused through Bell Jar (meh) yet again on the west coast. Hmmm, maybe I should redecorate the inside of my oven before I get to the end.