2.35am
Wednesday
6 July 2005

The most rewarding thing is knowing that people really love coming in [to sugar Sweet sunshine, love]. They're happy, they can't help themselves. Even if they're grumpy when they come in, they're happy when they go out.

--interview with the two girls who founded it, at Gothamist

I hope that Elena and Dave each had fabulous birthdays! Those two kids rock my world.

• × • × • × •

It's late, and I really shouldn't force myself to write things when I don't have any semblance of organization or plan. It leads to rote recitation of day-to-day, if I try to approach coherence, and while that does have some of its own appeal, particularly if it is personally relevant, it doesn't necessarily hit in any desperate and meaningful way.

Desperate and meaningful as of late: my simultaneous craving for and discomfort about eating alone in restaurants, which makes me wonder whether truly satisfying companionship incorporates "easily ignorable" in its list of criteria; shaking off (while in a quiet house in the middle of the night) the creepy fear that resides in the place where my spinal cord is capable of cringing, courtesy of the prophetic giant in the latest episode of Twin Peaks; a dream I had last night that shook me badly—half from a standard phobia of heights inspired by the previous evening's 4th of July skydivers, half from an unexpected phobia of people from my past. I recently have come across a worry that creeps up on me when I least expect it. I used to find comfort in the fact that while I appear to be forgiving, I do recall all offenses and thoroughly catalogue them for whatever retaliation may or may not avail itself at a later date. This does not strike me as vengeful as much as appreciative of appropriate responses.

But the worrisome aspect inching in is that this mental database will surpass rational awareness and develop into a burdensome misanthropic attitude at all times.

Of course I have more of an appreciation for the wide and varied cornucopia of personalities that run amok in the world around us than the typical hip cynic; I do not know if I appreciate any of them to the degree that I would give up rationality for them. But of course that is what I want. As much as I hold irrationality in contempt, what is love supposed to be if not something that breaks down your logic and disregards your boundaries? Perhaps, though, this does not justify creating extraneous boundaries for the sole purpose of testing whether they can be surpassed.

• × • × • × •

A snippet of rote day-to-day recap: I had a beautiful weekend in Charleston and Savannah, primarily with my mommy, who I love.

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