I cancelled Thom.

Ignoring the hurricane of his mother in the background (albeit suddenly picturing the dionysiac excess of her sexual freedom), we re-scheduled for sunday. I felt instantly guilty and, as I reached for my toast, was reminded of Deleuze's comment on masochism as the attempt to resolve guilt by reactivating the Oedipus complex. I realized I had cancelled Thom in order to confirm for myself these amorphous feelings of guilt and while I have often considered guilt an adolescent, almost working-class emotion, nevertheless I spent the next two hours in various tawdry shops, searching for rap music for my son. Plainly, I prefer parental guilt. Hauling myself from this nadir, I took myself to Brown's and ordered a bottle of the house white.