(response to message)

I seem to keep responding to my private messages in this public 'blog. I've been trying to control that urge, but this one is pretty harmless I think.

I actually saw the search string for Polly's Freeze show up in my server logs. I was a little curious when I saw the Oklahoma IP address - thought it might be Brian or Teresa or Marty - I have no idea where they are these days.

I certainly remember you guys. I bought a lot of t-shirts from your dad, and Eric and I were probably not as nice to you kids as we should have been.

We called you Moical and Wobbie. Which one are you?

Oh, and I should probably point out that Dina is my younger sister. You have to be careful about accusing a woman of being older than 40 when she's actually still in her 30s.

I understand that when they used your old house for Fire Department training it was quite a sight. I'd liked to have seen it, but it probably would have been a little sad as well.

(Update: Apparently you are Moical. Donna told me that she thinks Wobbie is still around this area. Hi Moical!)

Got my Monte Carlo back yesterday.

I had all of the necessary repairs done except for new mufflers and tailpipes. Those can wait until later in the Summer.

So I spent $1500 because I didn't condition the gas before I let the car sit all winter and because I didn't do anything to control the mice in the garage.

So today I'm taking the Monte Carlo out to buy some poison or some traps or something. I may find something that will just keep them from getting into the car. I'd prefer that to killing the poor things.

We shall see.

The car is running great though.

Last night, I didn't even leave my house until nearly 10:00 because a half-hour process for work turned into a two-hour one. The person that had made the error is also the person that caught it, and found the solution for it, so that was cool. Eventually.

I'd been planning to meet up with RealTrainGirl and MisunderstoodGirl, but by the time I left home they had already migrated to another bar - one that I didn't want to go to - so I told them I was just going to Rich O's.

I probably would have been better off at the other bar.

Rich O's is, as I'd feared, out of Noble Smoker. I ended up having an NABC Bourbondaddy and after that the place was SO LOUD that I couldn't even hear myself think so I left at about 11:30 and went to wait for OutOfTheBlueGirl to get off work.

We ended up going down to Caesars and hanging out there for a while. It was pretty good to see her again.

This morning I overslept and I had two funerals I was supposed to go to and I'm not going to make it to either of them.

There should be more people named Adam.

A few years ago my friend Eric and his wife named their new baby Adam, and it took me a long time to remember the kid's name. I just kept getting it wrong.

Now that I've finally got Adam's name commited to memory, I keep messing up everyone else's names.

And whenever I confuse a person's name, I invariably end up calling them Adam.

I don't know why.

I wish Eric and Terri had named their son Dude, then I wouldn't seem like (as much of) an idiot calling people Dude all the time.

The other day in this 'blog I mentioned that MiddleNameGuy had been proven to be full of shit.

Then on Wednesday I was talking about that with my friends.

Last night RealTrainGirl called me and told me that the guy was dead. He'd died a few days ago.

He was like 24 or something.

I was irritated with him, but he was still pretty cool.

And of course now I feel bad for talking shit about him.

Yet another exciting day. Not.

This morning I awakened with the very vivid, very disturbing, memory of a dream I'd been having. Without getting too specific I'll just say "ewwww" and hope I don't have that dream again.

Today was the last day I have to wear a tie to work until September. I'm very excited about going to business casual dress for the Summer.

My intentions for VigilanteGirl remain less than honorable. As do her's for me, I hope. Too much drama otherwise.

My niece Bethany is graduating from high school next month. I'm mildly freaked out about it.

The problem with the Spring in Southern Indiana is that it's almost impossible to mow your lawn every week. Between last weekend's near-freezing weather and this weekend's rain my own lawn looks like it will go at least three weeks without a mowing.

Got a fairly firm estimate on my car repairs today. To fix everything it will cost $2160 plus tax. Ouch.

Today was rugrat day at work.

I think I know who was sending all the hateful messages to me last Fall. If I'm right, I have decided to forgive the person.

Man I'm bored.

I've mentioned before some of the sick/funny/strange search strings that lead people to my site.

I've put together a new page listing the gems.

I'll try to keep it updated as new weirdness comes along.

Just some stuff about my day. I'm killing time until Lost gets tivoed enough that I can watch it and skip all the commercials.

By the way, if you're not watching Lost, then you're missing out on a great show.

Scratch that - if you're not watching Lost then you suck.

Anyway, today for work we had to do some bullshit.

I've often said that while I don't consider myself especially smart, I do think that a lot of other people are idiots.

After today, I see no reason to revise that assertion.

One good thing about work today was that I got to have a Newcastle Brown Ale during lunch. Yummy and anyone *cough* Roger *cough* that thinks otherwise is obviously so far up the ladder of beer snobbery that there is little hope for common ground between us.

After work I went to Rich O's and had one of the last NABC Noble Smokers, maybe forever. No, I haven't sworn off beer, it's just that they're on their last keg and I remain pessimistic about this fine smoked beer ever coming back.

As I was getting ready to leave Rich O's I saw, lo and behold, that RealTrainGirl and MisunderstoodGirl had come in with GreenBeerDude. I had myself a Diet Coke and did some catching up. The girls are having a party the day after I return from Las Vegas (but that's not the reason, silly) so I'll need to stretch my good-mood goal out one extra day to the 21st.

I think I can do it.

Got home and checked out my new garage door opener. No more hernias for me from opening the door on my detached garage. Yay!

I guess that's it.

My horoscope for this week from Free Will Astrology:

After rejecting proposals from many directors, Bob Dylan has finally authorized Oscar-nominated Todd Haynes to make a film about his life. Seven different actors will portray Dylan, including a black woman. "I am setting out to explode the idea that anybody can be depicted in a single self," Haynes told The Sunday Times. You already explode that idea every week of your life, Pisces, and you will be exploding it with even greater force and style in the coming days. I encourage you to be proud of your own riotous multiplicity. It's something to be celebrated, not to be shy about. Why not fantasize about the seven actors and actresses you'd choose to play you in the movie about your life?

But I thought that it might actually be fun to pick seven people to play me when I become so famous that they make a movie about my life. Here are my picks:

Keifer Sutherland
Waaaaay too cool for the majority of my life, but Keifer could play me during some of the highlights and lowlights. He's a fantastic actor, and those talents would be needed to accurately portray the more dramatic events of my life.

John Cusack
Another guy that's too cool to play me, but the difference isn't quite so extreme as it would be with Keifer.

Jason Alexander
Everybody has some George Costanza in them, and I've certainly got my share. Jason could play the everyday me and he'd probably nail the performance.

Kevin Smith
Who the hell is Kevin Smith, you ask. He's the guy that plays Silent Bob, most notably in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. Any movie about me simply must have a quiet character.

Hume Cronin
Hume was just a very cool old man, and I hope that by the time my movie is made they'll have figured out a way to bring him back to life.

Julia Roberts
The horoscope suggested that I pick actors and actresses and Julia is the first actress that came to mind. I like the way she plays the fish out of water characters and I've certainly felt that way several times in my life.

Richard Gere
Hey! What's so damn funny? I put him on the list because he often portrays the romantic types, and that's what I've turned into.

Portraying other characters in my movie, and I only list the performers here so as not to insult or swell the egos of those in my life, would be:

Clint Eastwood, Marilyn Monroe, Lucy Liu, Patricia Arquette, Rosie O'Donnell, Julia Roberts (again), Britany Spears (sorry), Betty White, Dean Martin, Wilford Brimley, and Marissa Tomei in a blonde wig.

Well I've managed to be in a good mood for several days in a row now.

This doesn't really make any sense to me, but I'm not going to argue with it too much. Because although my mood has proven itself to be remarkably resilient in the past, it has also proven itself to be incredibly, astoundingly, fickle.

A week ago I was very sad. Now I'm not sad at all. What's happened in the meantime? Not a damn thing. Sure, they say time heals all wounds, but a fucking week, after six months of torment? In six months I showed zero real progress and now suddenly I feel fine? Doesn't make much sense to me, but I'll take it.

Maybe I'm just bottling things up inside me. But I don't feel like I am. Perhaps my heart has finally, mercifully, given up. But that doesn't feel right either. Let's face it, if I knew how to turn my frown upside-down I'd have done it a long time ago.

What I'd like to do is maintain this mood at least until I get back from Las Vegas. It's a pretty tall order, especially considering my current situation, but I feel fairly confident that with the proper amounts of alcohol, caffeine, and nicotine I can manage to keep the proper chemical balance in my head to actually enjoy my trip.

Got a call from the mechanic about my Monte Carlo today.

So far, they've determined that:

• I need a new battery (no surprise there)
• The gas in the car went bad over the Winter.
• The carburator is probably fucked up because of the bad gas.
• There is a mouse nest in the insulation on the hood.
• A part of the exhaust system is getting red hot, probably due to a blockage.
• This same blockage is probably what caused the split I mentioned before.
• The aforementioned mice have chewed several wires.

So far I know I'll be paying $70 for a new battery. After that it gets a little muddy.

If my entire exhaust system needs to be replaced I'm looking at about $1000.

The carburator work is mostly labor and is estimated at $200 to rebuild, or maybe $400 to replace.

For the wiring, he can't really give me an estimate until he surveys the damage done.

Then there's draining the fuel system to get rid of all the bad gas, and there's also the regular tune-up stuff I want done.

I'm starting to think that my initial $2000 estimate is going to be pretty close.

This of course sucks, but it sucks even more right now because I've got two bills I'd really been planning to use my tax refund to catch up on, and my property taxes are due on May 10th.

I need to figure out a way to keep the damn mice out of that car during the Winters. I've thought about installing a cat door but then I imagine I'd have all sorts of woodland creatures in there. Creatures even more destructive than mice.

I miss the days when I was rich.

Above is a picture of my childhood neighborhood. The buildings on the right are where my car is getting worked on. The empty field to the left is where my house used to be. This is why I trust these people - I grew up across the street from them. At least I did after the dog beater and his family moved away and their house burned down and the mechanic built his business.

Out of the blue I got voicemails from two people I haven't heard from in a long time.

First, TrainGirl proved that MiddleNameGuy is full of shit by not only remembering me, but actually calling me.

Second, a flame from over seven years ago somehow got my cell phone number. I'm trying to ignore the stalkerish implications of this and am actively rehearsing the conversation that will take place when I call her back.

I wonder what the hell I'm doing here.

Not here in this universe, in this life, or in this screwed up head. Those questions are better left to the philosophers and psychiatrists.

What I wonder is what the hell I'm doing sitting in this chair, writing in this 'blog.

It's not even a 'blog at all is it? Nope, it's an online journal. Completely different, but I didn't know. And it's too late to change now.

But I digress.

What is it that makes me want to sit here in this chair and write out my innermost feelings and my most mundane activities for all the world to see? Why, even during times like this - times when I'd just as soon dig myself a nice deep hole to sit and cry in, why do I instead choose to sit in this chair and type?

I don't know why I have to do this. I just know that I do.

I once again find myself at the center of a whirlwind of emotions, grabbing desperately, trying to pull these feelings in.

This is not the entry I had in my head.

I'm actually in a good mood. I mean, I'm depressed as shit, but I'm kind of happy about it. Not that I expect that to make any sense.

Maybe to at least one person out there, it will make sense.

Maybe that's why I'm sitting in this chair.

For years all of the dreams ended the same way.

We'd be supremely happy. Blissfully happy. Then she'd leave. And I'd be sad.

There have been several different she's in my dreams over the years. There have been several reasons for her leaving. Usually she'd find somebody new. Somebody better. Sometimes she'd just up and leave. Just like that. And I'd be sad.

Now my dreams are different.

Now, when she leaves me in my dreams, I go after her.

Someday I might even catch her. Get her back.

Then I'll wake up happy for once, until I remember.

Until I remember that it was, after all, just a dream.

My Monte Carlo is sick.

It rarely gets driven in the Winter, and this past winter it didn't get driven at all because of a "check engine" light that came on in November.

So it's either sick or pouting.

My battery is shot, or maybe my alternator. One of my exhaust pipes has a split in it. My cousin says he smells something that indicates the catalytic convertor may be bad.

I took it to the garage and dropped it off with a note that I'd call about it in the morning.

I'll be happy if I end up spending less than two thousand getting it back in tiptop shape. I don't really have a choice. I promised myself when my dad died that I'd either take proper care of the Monte Carlo or I'd sell it to someone who would take care of it.

And I don't want to sell it.

Let's see, an uneventful weekend. Can I make an entry about it anyway?

Friday Rich O's was full of strangers. I spent a good amount of time standing in the annex area talking with Roger and drinking an NABC Noble Smoker. It turns out that they've tapped the last keg of this beer, so I tried to really savor it.

After a million years or so the idiots left the living room area so I went and talked with LibertyGirl for a while until DooRagGirl came in and then they just talked with each other.

I also had an NABC Tunnel Vision.

Friday's lesson learned:

Way too many women have had a certain person's dick inside them. It really doesn't matter how pretty or sweet or smart you are otherwise - if you have voluntarily let that person's dick get inside you, then you are a slut, and I have no interest in you.

On Saturday, Rich O's was dead. The fact that they were closed for Thunder Over Louisville may have had something to do with it. Sportstime, however, was open so I went there and had a Noble Smoker while I pondered the weirdness that is that side of the building.

After a while NotGeorge came in and we talked about our favorite subject for a while. I had an NABC BourbonDaddy which was quite good.

ActualGeorge came over and sat with us for a while.

Saturday's lesson learned:

There are a lot of pretty girls at Sportstime. Most of these girls would never dream of going into Rich O's. But that's okay, because they're all stuck up bitches anyway.

I guess that's it.

What's the difference between murder and manslaughter?

Intent.

What the difference as far as the victim is concerned?

Nothing whatsoever.

When somebody types my name into google, gets led to my site, and then doesn't bother to say hi.

Since I'm suffering from mental constipation I thought I'd try putting in some entries from the past.

As a test I did this one and surprise, it worked!

Of course, I may get bored with this, and I will certainly have to guess at some dates, but it should be interesting. To me at least.

Not really sure how to (or if I should bother to) announce that there are new old entries like this. I suppose that it's just safe to assume that anything dated before September 2003, when I started this 'blog, is a new old entry.

Oh, yeah. Some of these will be taken from my memory, but others (starting around 1980) will be from actual paper journals.

I will probably get tired of digging up old memories fairly quickly.

Purchased some tickets to a couple of shows to see next month in Las Vegas.

On Tuesday I'll be seeing that new Ka show at the MGM Grand. I've heard that it was pretty cool.

I also wanted to see O at the Bellagio again, but there are no decent seats available. Next I tried to see Mystere at Treasure Island again, but there are no seats, period, for that one.

So I'm going to see Zumanity at the New York New York. It really seems like more of a couple's show, but I've heard that it was pretty good.

There are some shows that I'd like to see that aren't so artsy-fartsy. Maybe a comedian, maybe a magician. I'll just see how that turns out once I get there.

(response to message)

I've replied here. The city is your password.

This morning, for about the zillionth time in a row, I wrote about half an entry, realized how pointless and boring and stupid it was, then deleted it.

So I am writing, I'm just not writing anything that provides any interest whatsoever. Not even to myself.

I am (holding two fingers about an inch apart) this close to imploding. To becoming a singularity from which nothing can escape.

This 'blog is supposed to be an outlet for me, but it's not supposed to be this hard to squeeze my thoughts out. Reminds me of an old poem.

Here I sit, broken hearted. Tried to shit, but only farted.

Well I'm told that I have to write something.

I don't feel like it, but I will comply. I'll write about Saturday night.

Yippee.

Rich O's was almost empty for most of the night. NotGeorge and I sat in the living room area and bullshitted for a while.

I had two pints of NABC Noble Smoker.

At one point some stupid people came and sat with us so I got irritated.

Right when they were getting ready to close up my friend Eric called - he was in the parking lot. Since Rich O's was closing Eric and I went to the bar next door and shot some pool for a while.

There is...Nothing.

Blackness and silence surround him, seep into him.

He wonders how long it has been. A minute? A day? A million years?

Even the familiar thump thump of his heart has stopped. He ponders this, and reaches his hand to his chest, but he finds that he has no hand, and that he has no chest.

He simply exists, seeing, hearing, feeling nothing.

He waits for something to happen, and wonders if he is dead.

Last night I should have stayed home.

But I didn't.

I should have left when I saw how crowded Rich O's was.

But I didn't.

I should have kept my big mouth shut.

But I didn't.

I definitely shouldn't have had that De Dolle Oerbier.

But I did.

So the whole night was pretty much a waste of time. My time as well as the time of those unfortunate to have to listen to me.

My hidden agenda, as near as I can figure it (because it's hidden even from me) is to completely alienate everyone so they'll STOP ASKING ME THE SAME FUCKING QUESTION OVER AND OVER.

The answer is NO.

But I ramble.

I drank my usual NABC Noble Smoker then, for some reason that I cannot fathom, I had the aforementioned De Dolle Oerbier.

I've had this before and I didn't like it. I still don't like it.

It doesn't like me either.

After I left Rich O's I went to listen to some karaoke but they were closing up so I just helped my uncle pack his things up in his trailer.

Then I came home and shot some pool.

Just fixed a stupid bug where a search for the category general matched all entries because the 'blog name is general.

That was the highlight of my day.

For the second day in a row I have nothing to say.

I could just vomit some random bullshit, but even that seems like too much effort.

I feel like my life's entered the Summer rerun season, and with every thought I have, as Yogi Berra so famously said, "It's deja vu all over again."

So, dear readers, I invite you to take this opportunity to catch up on things you may have missed before. The entries that have received the most feedback are listed over to the side. I don't agree with all of these choices, but there they are anyway.

Alternatively, you could just start at the beginning and make youself feel better by reading about how boring and/or fucked up I am.

This dry spell, like all of my others, will end at some point. I've become much too reliant on these writings to simply stop. I've never understood how people can just stop, as so many of my favorites have done lately.

Perhaps they're out fixing problems instead of simply complaining about them. If that's the case, I certainly wish them all the luck in the world.

For me, I don't think that any solutions exist. Other than time, that is.

I'm having some trouble with 'bots again.

This time, however, it's my fault.

Basically, the 'bots are indexing the pages that contain dynamic 'blog entries.

For example, Google might index my index2.shtml page and note that it contains the word "Freeze" - but once I type a few more entries, the one about Polly's Freeze is no longer displayed on index2.shtml because it's not one of the ten newest entries anymore.

This means that somebody can Google the words "double poo-poo" and get led to my main page, but when they get there those words are nowhere on that page. That's just too much disappointment for me to want to take responsibility for. I mean, when you want to read about double poo-poo you just shouldn't have to wait.

What I need to do is have the 'bots follow the links on pages like index2.shtml, but not index those pages themselves.

That way the links to the single entries, like this one, are followed, and only those (static) single-entry pages are indexed.

So here's what I've done:

1. I put this line into the code for my non-static pages:

This tells the 'bots that honor this type of line to follow any links found on the page, but not to index the page itself.

2. I put this line on all of my single-entry pages:

This does the exact opposite - it tells the 'bots that it's okay to index the page but not to follow any further links. These pages are a dead-end, in other words.

Of course these modifications only work if the 'bots are well-behaved. The ones that aren't I try to take care of with my robots.txt and .htaccess files as described in this old entry.

The whole thing would make Rube Goldberg proud.

I really need to simplify my 'blog configurations when I do my next site redesign. Until then I'll probably just do some minor tweaks like the one I made tonight.

(A follow-up to this entry from last week.)

This entry will be a lot shorter than I originally planned. I must have written 10,000 words over the last week. Most of them are now obsolete, and many more I wrote without ever intending to publish them. I'm just going to provide some excerpts.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Wow. Just...wow.

That may be it, folks. It may not get any more eloquent than that.

Sometime during the next several days, I'm not sure exactly when but sometime this week, she is coming back to visit.

...

Something will happen. It may last just a second. She may walk into the bar, spit in my face, and walk out. She may walk in and then ignore me. She may be the same sweet and innocent person she's always been. It doesn't matter, because regardless of what happens next, there will be that single moment, when I see her for the first time since all this shit started - there will be at least that single moment when everything is possible. When every terrible possibility and every wonderful possibility and every imaginable and unimaginable possibility in between come together...

Since this all started, I've been groping about in the dark. Sometime during the next few days that will change.

Sometime, during the next few days, I'll find either a light switch or an exit.

Sometime, during the next few days, there will be light.

...

I'm excited because when I see her and don't completely freak out or piss myself or have a heart attack or drop to one knee, that's when I'll know with certainty that I've managed to pull myself out of this Black Pit Of Despair And Fucking Woe Is Me Life Is So Unfair that I fell into when she left.

I want to see her, absolutely. I miss my friend dearly. But - and this is vastly more important - I want to be a person again. To myself and to everyone else I want to be a person instead of a collection of symptoms.

...

My heart is just trying to do what it thinks is right. It's trying to prepare itself. It's just jumping the gun a little, and if it gets all worked up and sad and angry over not seeing her, it will find itself woefully unprepared for the still-likely event that I do get to see her.

I want to document this entire week. It's important. Perhaps the most important few days of my life. If I don't succeed in making myself whole this week, well, I don't have a plan B. If I don't resolve things this week, I may never do it. I may spend the rest of my life not just alone, but feeling alone. I may spend the rest of my life missing something that I never wanted in the first place.

...

I'm actually not nervous at all. That's weird.

I am at a complete loss for words.

She's so fucking beautiful.

I did not freak out. I did not piss myself, or have a heart attack. I did not drop to one knee.

No, it was much worse than that.

Well that was an exciting day of disappointment piled upon bullshit.

Seems just like old times.

I started this period hoping, expecting really, to have a lot of my questions answered.

Didn't work out that way.

Oh, I got the one big question answered, and that answer was very surprising to me, but I'm still wondering about some other things.

Well I'm sure she'll be gone by the time I get off work.

-----------------------------------------------------------

So, that's it. The end of an era.

Didn't get the closure I was hoping for. Kind of hard to get closure when there was never an opening I guess.

This will be the last entry on this subject. I have a promise to keep.

I read a lot of 'blogs.

There are maybe three dozen that I check daily, and another ten or so that I check at least once a week.

One of the things I've learned from these readings is that everyone and I mean everyone has problems.

A lot of people put up with a lot worse shit than I do. Lots of these people would kill to trade problems with me.

It's not the number or magnitude of my problems that makes me special.

There are also some fantastic writers out there. I often find myself sitting mouth agape at how well some people can express their thoughts and feelings.

So it's certainly not the writing that makes me special.

Several of the stories I read are funny as hell. Way funnier than anything I could ever write.

Definitely not the humor that makes me special.

What does make me special is that, of all of the people I read about, I am by far the stupidest.

I imagine that somewhere out there, perhaps on some remote island, perhaps somewhere in the vastness of outer space, there is a civilization of stupid people. People who value stupidity above all else.

I need to find this civilization.

They would worship me like a god.

I wonder if I can get Floyd County to put this sign up in front of my house:

I've written before about Dino, my neighbor's dog that helps me mow my lawn.

Well today I mowed my lawn for the first time this Spring, and of course Dino came running (hobbling actually - he's got arthritis) to help and ran right in front of a car.

He didn't get hit, just maybe startled a little.

After a while, Dino decided to go swimming so he went back across the street, and walked right in front of another car.

Once again, he didn't get hit.

Are you sensing a pattern yet?

No less than five times total did Dino tempt fate by walking straight across the road without even thinking about checking for traffic first.

Eventually I suppose he'll get hit and killed. I hope I'm not there when it happens.

He's a good boy, just a little dumb.

(response to message)

Let me get this straight. I'm supposed to try anyway?

That proverbial fucking ant has a better chance of picking his fucking rubber tree up and twirling it like a baton than I have of even getting close to anything even remotely feasible, but I'm supposed to try anyway?

Fuck that ant and fuck his high apple pie in the sky hopes.

I hope he has a fucking heart attack from the strain.

Do ants even have hearts?

I sure as shit do. So does she.

I don't know who you fucking are. You may know me and you may know her, but you don't know shit else.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, you say? Fuck you. Ever hear of loss? Ever hear of failure? How about heartbreak, sorrow, or grief?

Damn I'm pissed.

So this is the new me.

How do you like me so far?

Twenty-five weeks, five days, twenty-two hours, twenty minutes and fifty-five seconds...

Twenty-five weeks, five days, twenty-two hours, twenty minutes and fifty-four seconds...

Twenty-five weeks, five days, twenty-two hours, twenty minutes and fifty-three seconds...

Twenty-five weeks, five days, twenty-two hours, twenty minutes and fifty-two seconds...

...

...

...

Motherfuck shit piss double poo-poo.

One second...

Two seconds...

Three seconds...

I've written before about some of the funny things I see in my weblogs. Things that people type into Google and get led to my site.

Today I got another doozy:

dave having a poo face

Whatever, dude.

A while ago I wrote about how anxious I was to become whole again.

I'd completely evaporated in the Fall, and I was finally starting to see some semblance of a personality develop in me. No more would I be a walking, talking, collection of symptoms. I'd be an actual person.

Well, that coalescence has finally happened. I finally feel whole again.

That's the good news.

The bad new is: I think I might be kind of a dick.

Allow me to 'splain.

I'm finding everything funny. Even things that are decidedly not funny. And it's not just that I'm laughing on the inside all the time, it's the kind of laughing that I'm doing. It's like inside my head are those guys from Mystery Science Theater. Everything I do and say is accompanied by this running internal commentary of sarcasm and dark humor.

Another thing is that I'm very quick to irritation. I seem to be unable to keep anything bottled up at all. People piss me off without even trying, and I take the most innocent actions and words as personal attacks. And the guys in my head crack jokes about them, their shortcomings, their heritage, whatever.

This irritation, this mocking attitude - these are not attributes that I thought I'd end up with.

My God, I've turned into my grandfather after all! My sister was right!

When I start calling my nieces and nephews "damn brat" and wearing coveralls every single day of my life then I'll know for sure.

Oh well, from what I understand PaPaw got a lot of action. So I guess I have that to look forward to. Plus, I get to keep accumulating old electronic junk and never ever get rid of anything.

So yesterday I was sitting at Polly's Freeze, enjoying my lunch and thinking about my childhood.

I grew up 200 yards from Polly's. My mom and my aunt worked at Polly's. My best friend's parents owned the place. My grandmother's house sat between my house and Polly's. My uncle's family lived back by the woods. They had a pool.

There are an awful lot of memories crammed into that quarter-mile stretch of highway 62. I like to sit at Polly's and let them come flooding back to me.

Anyway, yesterday I was eating my lunch and this school bus pulled up to MaMaw's old house and a bunch of kids got off.

Got off the bus, you pervert.

It was just weird.

I know that new people, strangers to me, are in that house now. I just never really thought of them as living there until I saw those kids. To those kids, that is their house.

Those kids have no inkling of all the fun my sisters and cousins and I had in that house when we were kids, no inkling of the love that my grandmother had for all of us. They're too busy making their own memories.

I wonder if they ever get scared of the upstairs like we used to.

I wonder if they've discovered how to get in to the attic, or that you can squeeze through the vent and get from an upstairs bedroom to the living room without going down the stairs.

I wonder if they look at that huge Maple tree in the front yard and wonder, "Could I build a treehouse there?"

I hope they do all those things. I hope they appreciate where they're living. I hope they make that house a home.

My own childhood home is long gone, a victim of death and deceit. My old yard has reverted back to being just another field. My woods have been leveled to make room for even more houses. My grandfather's propane business, later my uncle's nursery, those are gone too.

All those memories, crammed into a quarter-mile stretch of road. That's all most of them are anymore, just memories.

But two things remain. Polly's Freeze and MaMaw's house. They stand as they always have, watching over that stretch of road.

And where they stand, a part of me stands.

Last night a friend asked me what I wanted.

I don't remember how I answered. Probably with some bullshit cop-out.

Oh, I didn't lie, I just didn't quite tell the whole truth.

The fact is, what I want doesn't matter. It's irrelevant.

What does matter, what is relevant, is the sad truth that what I want stands in firm opposition to what is possible and what is right.

I think this is the case for most people most of the time. Really, how often do we get what we want?

I'm not talking about the little things. You want ice cream, you go get some. You want to sleep, you take a nap.

But start wanting to win the lottery, and things get a little tougher.

Start wanting things like everlasting happiness and love, and you'll probably be better off forking out the cash for those Powerball tickets.

My friend probably thinks I'm stupid. Stupid for finally knowing exactly what I want (something some people never do) but not fighting for it.

Maybe she's right. Maybe I am stupid. Maybe I'm just scared.

Hell, I'm sure that I'm both of those things, and quite a few other things as well.

But some things that I'm not are insensitive, or mean, or selfish. Fighting for what I want, when I know that it's not the right thing to do, that's just not in my nature.

Or maybe this is just another bullshit cop-out.

Okay, one of you women out there reading this - preferably not a relative or friend of mine.

Please e-mail or PM me. If you use the Say Something Dammit form at the side of this page you'll have to tell me what password you want, or I won't be able to respond.

I have a question about your species.

Thanks.

Well that was brilliant.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, good.

If you do know, pretend that you don't.

Thanks.

Made a slight change to the 'blog displays so clicking on the category name will bring up a search of all entries in that category.

Clicking some of the categories, like drink, will return a shitload of entries.

I should probably look at a way to limit the entries returned from a single search. Maybe display them in blocks of ten or so.

We'll see.

His strength has been slow in returning. His wounds are healed, but he knows that the scars will last a long time. He wanders aimlessly about this, his island, and reflects constantly how lucky he is to at least be alive - to at least be safe.

He doesn't see it coming.

The tsunami roars in from the West, and sweeps him back out to sea. Back to where he'd started.

The depths welcome his return. The depths are so beautiful.

He opens his mouth to laugh, and his lungs fill with water.

Back in February I did a little experiment.

Today (actually, yesterday) I tried another one.

For my after-work beer I had my usual NABC Noble Smoker. Once I had that glass down to about 1/2 full I ordered a 10oz. glass of NABC's Tunnel Vision and dumped it in with the Noble Smoker.

This experiement did not turn out as well as the previous one had.

I think, because the Noble Smoker is not as strongly-flavored as the Rogue Smoke was, a 1-to-1 ratio was probably not the best combination.

It was still good, but I think it would be better made with two parts Noble Smoker to one part Tunnel Vision.

Here are some pics I've cleaned off my phone.

It's kind of hard to tell from this picture, but that's WorldsHottestGirl sitting over there in the red room.

Just took this picture from the red room. This was the first time I'd ever sat at this table.

SpoonsGirl has a purse that exactly matches this lampshade. It's uncanny, really.

That's my house. Or at least what it looked like in the Spring of 2002.

Today I have a gray roof, and the clubhouse in the backyard is gone.

TerraServer USA

Had a bit of a snafu hit my Las Vegas plans today.

It turns out that Mandalay Bay will not, as advertised earlier, be holding rooms for those of us wanting to extend our stay beyond the conference end date. In fact, they're kicking us all out on the 17th as they've sold out their rooms.

They're also not able to accommodate any arrivals prior to the 15th for the same reason.

To make a long story short, this means that I needed to find rooms for the day before the conference and for the three days I'll be staying in Las Vegas after the conference ends.

So, get this. I'll arrive on the 14th and check into the Luxor. The very next day I'll repack my shit and move over to Mandalay Bay. Two days later I'll repack my shit again and move back to the Luxor and stay for three nights.

Pretty fucked up way to run a vacation.

You know how you're driving in the snow at night and the flakes all seem to be flying towards you in the illumination from your headlights and it's kind of chaotic and hypnotic at the same time?

Well, it's not a very accurate metaphor for what's going on with me right now, but I still thinks it's cool.

I'm taking a break.

Not a break from posting.

Just a break from posting anything interesting.

It won't be a long break - maybe a week at the most. And the good news (for me at least) is that I'll still be writing, and I'll probably post everything I've written once this break is over.

My reasons for this break are numerous:

1. Things are unraveling and reweaving at a pretty strong pace in my head and in my life right now. I don't want to post something only to have it made obsolete by the next thought I have or the next thing that happens. I need to have some time to edit and check for some semblance of continuity before I publish anything.

2. Right now, I'm the happiest I've been since November. I don't want to spoil this mood by ruminating on the various possibilities of what could happen this week.

3. Yay!

4. What's going to happen is, frankly, what's supposed to happen. I don't want to influence anything by making predictions or posting reactions until it's all over.

5. Some things are not anybody's business.

6. This will, one way or another, be the end of an era. I want anything I write about it to be both good and accurate. I'll need to take my time with these writings, and having a self-imposed daily deadline just won't do.

7. See number 4 above.

8. Yay!

9. I'm not the same person I was 6 months ago. I'm not even the same person I was 24 hours ago. I need to finish solidifying and then let the new me decide what should, and what should not be posted.

In the time between now and when things have settled down, I'll probably still be posting to this 'blog. I'll just be posting bullshit that, according to the latest polls, nobody cares about.

So, loyal readers, don't fret that I've become boring again, just hours after I'd finally posted something interesting. My life promises to be quite interesting for the next several days, and you'll be able to read about it later.

Just not right now. I've got a nervous breakdown to attend.

Y...Yttrium
You scored 38 Mass, 13 Electronegativity, 53 Metal, and 0 Radioactivity!

Yttrium? Yttrium??? You're messing with me, right? That's not a real element. Really? If you say so. Okay... how about: You are really a solitary creature, and you're somewhat set in your ways. You work, consciously or subconsciously, towards the betterment of society, but I guess you do this by befriending its strangest elements. You're kind of a spaceman, but in the end you're allright. You try to be with the benign weirdos of the world because, by goodness, no one else will. Oh, it says here that you are abundant on the moon. Interpret as you will.

The Which Chemical Element Am I Test written by effataigus on OkCupid Online Dating

It seems that there was a sporting event of some kind last night. People stayed home to watch, then when it was over, I guess they all went and threw themselves off the Sherman Minton bridge. Whatever people were doing, they weren't at Rich O's.

Here's Rich O's at 8:45 on a Saturday night:

LaptopGirl and I used to say, on those nights when Rich O's was dead, that all of the cool people must be at some fantastic party. A party to which we weren't invited. Last night was like I was the one having the party, but nobody felt like coming.

Anyway, the place was dead. I caught a glimpse of CoffeeDude, and DisgustingMakeoutCouple showed up after a while, but other than that it was me and the bartenders. By the time I left at midnight a whopping dozen or so strangers had managed to push aside their grief over some guys scoring more points than some other guys, so the place was only quiet, no longer dead.

To drink, I had (surprise!) an NABC Noble Smoker. DayShiftDude recommended a Schlenkerla Fastenbier so I had a half-pint of that.

Schlenkerla Fastenbier

Supposedly lighter in smoke than Schlenkerla's other rauchbiers, and I guess that's right because I didn't feel like I was eating a charcoal briquette. I'd say it was pretty good for one glass. By the time I finished my second glass I was pretty much smoked out.

I drank my beers in a silence interrupted only by the occasional interloper to the living room area. I had some news on my mind that I was trying to come to grips with. Not sure that I really made any progress, and any that I did make was overshadowed later, so I guess the night was pretty much a wash for me.

Oh, yeah. I stopped and protected VigilanteGirl from some mumbling crazy guy. He was really creepy so I stayed for a while to make sure he didn't come back.

I'm such a stud.

There have certainly been worse things said to me over the years, but I'll be damned if I can think of one right now.

Usually these things come in the heat of the moment. During an argument or a disagreement. They can, and should, be taken with a grain of salt. The context can lessen the sting.

But sometimes, sometimes you never see it coming. Sometimes there's no malice, no anger. Sometimes there are no extenuating circumstances to lessen the blow.

I paraphrase here:

Sorry, I didn't know I had to broadcast it to everyone.

Ouch.

With that single statement, that single pseudo-apology, everything that I've been through, every feeling I've fought, every torment I've endured, it was all dismissed as irrelevant.

No, not irrelevant. Not even insignificant. Like it never even happened. Not erased, but never even written.

Well, fuck that.

No malice. No anger. Just a simple innocent statement that showed me my place, and stung me more than pity or mockery or even animosity ever could have.

All of the times my mind has run rampant, all of the times I lay awake all night as scenario after scenario careened through my head, this was one I never saw coming. This I never even considered.

I'll say it again.

Ouch.

Last night I went to Rich O's.

I'll give you a few seconds to recover from that shocking news.

...

...

...

Okay, now breathe. It'll be okay. The Sun'll come out tomorrow.

Actually, the night started out with other plans. My sister Dina had called me to say that she and SpoonsGirl would be at a bar called O'Shea's in Louisville, and I figured that I'd go there and hang out with them.

Right after I left home, however, Dina called me to tell me that O'Shea's had been boring and that they were now at a place on Market called Farmer Brown's or some such.

A few relayed questions to the bartender confirmed that this Buster Brown's or wherever had only piss on tap, and I told Dina that I'd be going to Rich O's after all.

They joined me, and we spent a few hours in the red room talking about various stuff.

At one point this guy (one of those fucking pretty boys that always gets his way that I hate) tried to pick up one or both of the girls with the classic line, "I'm going to the store, do either of you need anything?"

My sister rattled off a shopping list consisting of feminine hygiene products and various ointments and creams. It was quite funny.

To drink, I had (of course) a couple pints of of NABC Noble Smoker. Dina had two "peachy things" which I guess were Lindemann's, and SpoonsGirl had something so boring I can't remember. Probably Spaten Lager.

After I left I went to listen to some karaoke with my cousin. There was a girl there that I went to school with but didn't really know. I will say that BigHairGirl is aging quite well.

Once I got home I played pool, pausing every minute or so to glare at my cell phone, until about 4:00 then went to bed.

Last night my sister confirmed that my 'blog has become boring.

This wasn't exactly a huge revelation. I know that I'm having a hard time being creative.

There's just not much interesting going on right now. Even my trip to Maine was nothing more than a diversion from what's become a pretty mundane existence.

Oh I could write some shit. I get into these little moods and sometimes I do write some shit. Those of you who read this 'blog late last night or early this morning may have seen such an entry. I got irritated and wrote about it. Then this morning I deleted the entry. The thing is, I'm not sure, deep down, if I was actually irritated with her or with myself. I'm not sure if it was the mistreatment that bothered me, or the possibility that my reaction to it was actually part of a much larger problem. A problem that I often think I've pushed away. A 900-pound gorilla.

So I deleted the entry, and in doing so, made my 'blog more boring than it was.

I don't like being boring, any more than I like being bored, but when I remember the things that have injected interest into my life over the last several months, I have to admit, boring is a bit of a relief.

Plus, there are things looming on the horizon that should provide interest for me and for you readers. Things that I'd like to say I'm prepared for, but I don't even know what's going to happen. I coined the term dreadicipation for what I've been feeling, and I think it's a pretty good word for my mood most of the time.

I spent a good chunk, nearly 40 years, of my life living in the present. I spent a good chunk of the last few months living in the past. These days I look to the future. I look for answers to questions that have been nagging at me.

When will I feel whole again, and when I do, what kind of person will I be? Am I the phoenix, about to rise from the flames as if nothing had happened, or am I the butterfly, struggling to escape from my cocoon and try out my new wings?

Have I really managed to claw my way out of this chasm I fell into? Am I really safe?

What will happen when I face my greatest fear? Will I lose all of the progress I've made? Can I regain that balance that I lost last Summer?

Will I remember the lessons learned, or am I doomed to repeat them?

The answers I seek are out there. It's only a matter of time before I find them.

Or they find me.

(response to message)

Got this message today. I think it's generic enough to post part of it:

I'd say "long time reader, first time blogger" but I really only discovered your website a few months ago. I grew up in Omaha and that's what drew me to your website, but your writing is what keeps me stopping back. I think alot of what you write is so honest and I appreciate being able to read it all.

Just wanted to say that it's very refreshing to get a message like that. Especially today.

So many of the messages I get are full of bullshit advice or misinformed opinions. It's quite refreshing to hear from someone that's not trying to fix me.

Especially when the bulk of the advice I get can be summed up as "whip it out" - these people are just not paying attention to what they're reading.

So, thanks again. Glad you enjoy it.

Some people are just mean.

Not insensitive.

Not distracted.

Not clueless.

Just flat-out fucking mean.

And the rest of us, we just keep suffering the abuse until we decide to become mean ourselves, or we build walls around us that are strong enough to provide protection.

Or we just get the hell away.

If we can.