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I lost one of my favorite places yesterday. The Night Kitchen was a restaurant with a clever and simple concept — they were only open at night, from 6:00pm until 9:00am. That suited me just fine.

I’ve always held kinship with people who are enemies of daylight, the people whose brains are wired just a little differently, who have too much to do and think about and talk about to be bothered with trivialities like sleep. There’s a point past tiredness, past exhaustion, that you can reach with enough caffeine and enough enthusiasm, where the fatigue in your bones is replaced with an electric tingling that fills your veins and your skin and your thoughts, a vibration that sparks from your fingertips. The people who know this are a tribe, and they can’t be confined to their homes in this condition. They need to be out, out in the city, out in places like this.

One less place, now.

The Night Kitchen was a bar, it was a restaurant, it had a spacious yet cozy back room that was perfect for planned gatherings or spontaneous conversations. I held a reading there back in January. I’d had my fortieth birthday party there, not long before.

I knew the owner before the place opened. I made their website for her, and so was always somehow proud of the place, just by association. I’ve met friends there, brought dates there, sat at their bar while looking over footage we’d just shot nearby for a Causality promo. Hell, they’d offered to let us shoot some of the actual scenes for Causality there, and we were really looking forward to taking them up on that. We’d mentioned it by name in the script. I’ll need to go back and change that, now, we’ll need to line up another location. It won’t be the same.

They announced just yesterday that they were closed for business, thanked everyone for being involved for the past couple of years. No real explanation beyond that — the owner is too upset to talk about it, yet, and I understand that. I hope she’s doing okay.

The things we love, we lose, eventually. One way or another. A lot of what I write is really about that fact, if you deconstruct it. I keep losing the places I love that I’ve done readings at. The Aurafice, the Wayward Coffeehouse, and now the Night Kitchen. It gets harder every time.

Good night, Night Kitchen.

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