Further Excerpts From Susan Sontag’s Journals and Notebooks

Why do I stir my coffee counterclockwise? Is this more effective, or merely habit? Is it perhaps offensive + off-putting to others? Do not stir coffee counterclockwise, unless certain culture is tolerant of same.  

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Oh, how rapturously, tremendously, monumentally do I adore Gide! I want to wrap Gide around myself + go running through the streets! I want to wear Gide around as a hat! I want to lick every page of Gide, to absorb it through my pores, to drink it like water! I want to bathe myself in Gide. Which reminds me: bathe daily.

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Was lying in bed telling H. how much I desired to possess her utterly. Not sure what she said in response, as I was busy contemplating how pretentious my use of word “utterly.” Do not use “utterly” in intimate confessions, as it sounds premeditated + insincere. At any rate, suppose H. did not feel same, as I am now writing this, rather than possessing her utterly. Wait, did she go home? …Shit.

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Had baby.

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Have discovered Kafka! Oh, bless! A thousand, shuddering, deep, rapturous cries of joy spring from my soul! How did I live + breathe + eat before I knew of this felicity? From now on, it’s all Kafka, all the time.

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Bathe every other day.

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I do not feel X. with my son, as much as with H. Not at all X. with Philip. A little bit X. with our current congressional representative. X. with coworker Y. definitely, but only on Tuesdays. Not so much X. with anyone on the weekends…is this because of weekends, or because of X.?

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It seems that a certain pore on my right cheek is slightly larger than those around it. Is this something that can be corrected without great trouble or expense? Look into it.

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Today, created self, destroyed self, + created self again, as usual. Yesterday not so productive – did not create self so much as merely tinker with aspects of self. Philip walked in while tinkering with self. Embarrassed.

After reading the above, considered erasing. But then, reconsidered. I ought to be honest with myself, even (or especially?) in aspects of myself I would rather were not so. Don’t be embarrassed of revealing self in front of Philip, who, after all, loves me. And don’t be embarrassed of admitting (to self or [especially?] in print) own embarrassment about embarrassment, or, for that matter, of admitting embarrassment about embarrassment over own embarrassment.

Considered erasing above, as conclusion drawn seems to negate necessity of initial observation. Reconsidered. All is valid. Do not waste time on such circuitous contemplation in future.

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Bathe, Susan. Bathe. Damn it, how hard is this to remember?!