It's not that I don't have anything to write about. Really. I just don't have anything that seems worth the effort.

I think I'd rather be funny. Funny people can always write worthwhile things. People like me, pathetic and whiny people - we have a much more difficult time of it, I think.

Firstly, we have to be in a mood that leads to the mental ramblings that can lead to interesting writing. Secondly, and this is the tougher part for me, we have to care enough about whatever the subject is to make the whole process seem worth the effort. Finally, we have to be willing and able to put it all out there for the world to see. Like those dreams we all had when we were kids - we have to be willing to go to school without our pants on.

I'm having a hard time meeting any of these objectives lately. It'd be a lot easier if I was funny.

Then I could write about, say, these dudes that came into Rich O's yesterday. I could call them The Ballcap Bunch.

Five guys, all in what looked to be their mid-20s, all wearing baseball caps. There just has to be a funny story there somewhere. And then, a sixth guy joined them, but he had no cap!

What's up with that?!?

Had he lost his cap? Had it been stolen? Perhaps he was new to the Ballcap Bunch and hadn't completed his initiation yet.

These are the things that capture my interest when I'm not busily feeling sorry for myself.

Wheeeeee!

That is all.

Twice today, I reached out to someone else.

That's pretty much my normal weekly quota, used up in a two-hour period.

And the odd thing is, I don't expect anything in return.

Hell, if I had expected a reaction, I probably wouldn't have reached out at all.

But still, this is progress that I'm making here.

Slowly but surely, I am becoming a person again.

Okay, I'm told that I have to write something, even if it's boring.

So I will. Write something boring.

Today after work I went by Rich O's and ordered myself a SmithWick's (480). While I was drinking that RealTrainGirl called and said she was coming up. So I ended up ordering some food and then I had a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier Dunkel (120) while I waited.

Once RealTrainGirl and GreenBeerDude arrived we just bullshitted for a while. We split a bottle of this Italian beer:

Panil Barrique (Sour) (5)

(bottle) Does weird necessarily equal good? If so, then this is a very good beer. Very sour in both aroma and flavor. Supposedly oak-aged and stuff but I couldn't detect anything beyond the sourness. Fairly decent, but I cannot imagine ever having more than a single small glass.

So I didn't get home until about 9:30 - way past my normal nap time. I'll try to hang in there until midnight to keep myself on a regular schedule.

Oh yeah that asshole dipshit fuckhead was at Rich O's when I got there. I didn't say "Hi" to him. The fucker.

how much do you stalk me?

Didn't do much of anything today. Went grocery shopping. Watched some movies. Shot some pool. Did a couple loads of laundry.

Spent about an hour trading text messages back and forth with a couple of girls. Nice enough girls. Pretty enough too. One that wants too much from me, and another that wants too little. Doesn't matter though, 'cause I don't think I have enough left in me for either of them.

They always initiate these conversations. For whatever reasons, they're bored, or lonely, or whatever. Today they both happened to be bored or lonely or whatever at the same time. So I spent, like I said, an hour juggling two different conversations, neither of which I really gave a shit about.

Because you see, the person I really want to hear from - I told that person to leave me alone. Told her that she was hurting me. Told her in a text message, because to have told her in person would have required more willpower, and more bravery, than I could muster.

Today I watched this movie Hitch which is just completely full of all these cheesy lines about love and happiness and heartbreak. Incredibly sappy stuff, but there was one line that struck a bit of a chord in me:

I waited my entire life to feel this miserable.

But not now.

Now there's just this numbness that I kind of wish would go away.

This Saturday beer report encompasses two different venues, and it's still pretty much a waste of effort. You have been warned.

First there was the Brew at the Zoo. After I'd spent a few hours walking around and feeling sorry for all of the caged and penned animals, the event opened up and the approximately 3 zillion people waiting in line were allowed in.

This was the first one of these that I'd gone to, so I wasn't really sure what to expect. Beer and food I guess. That's what the flyers said.

Funny how the flyers didn't mention the incredibly long lines and the nearly total lack of places to sit.

You got this little 4 oz. tasting cup with your admission, and this ended up being the root of the problem I had with the event.

I'd wait in line for an eternity, get my little beer sample, and it'd be gone in about 2 minutes. Then I'd get in another line and repeat.

So I ended up drinking just three beers at the Zoo. The first was a Bell's Porter (64), which I've had before.

Next I had this:

Broad Ripple Stout (4)

(draft) I think there was something wrong with this beer. It actually tasted skunked. I hope it didn't taste this way on purpose.

And then this:

Bluegrass Smokey the Beer (4)

(draft) First off, what a stupid name. Secondly, I could detect no smoke in this beer, either in the aroma or in the flavor. Just an intense roasted malt flavor. Not very good, but I once said the same thing about their regular porter, so I will try this again someday.

After this third beer I walked over to another tent, but when I saw how long the line was for the Cumberland Brewery I just kept walking all the way to my car.

After a nap I went to Rich O's.

You know, this is boring me to death, writing about last night.

I had myself a Delirium Tremens (317) and then a Baltika "6" Porter (100). Nobody interesting was there and I came home fairly early.

Here are the pictures I took at the Louisville Zoo yesterday before the Brew at the Zoo thingy started.

Please keep in mind that I'm not a professional nature photographer.

The other day, on the way to Rich O's, I found myself thinking about someone.

Someone else.

I found myself thinking about someone else!

Now to anyone that knows me, either personally or through reading this 'blog for anything more than a few months, this probably comes as a big shock.

I know it came as a big huge ginormous shock to me.

Shit, for over a year and a half, there was only one person that I thought about as I went to Rich O's. At first I'd hope she'd be there. After a while I'd hope that her ghost would be there. Then I started hoping that she wouldn't be there.

Rich O's had become, because that's where we met, and because that's where we became whatever the fuck we became, and because that's where I missed her the most, Rich O's had become pretty much synonymous with her.

Until the other day, when I found myself hoping that someone else would be there.

I'll say it again because it feels so good to say it.

Someone else!

Some of you are probably, right now as you're reading this, trying to figure out just who I mean. Some of you already have a theory, I'm sure. You're probably wrong, and I'm not going to say who it is. It doesn't matter, and I'm not going to repeat every mistake I've ever made. I'm capable of learning from my mistakes. Really.

The point I want to make is - it doesn't matter who it is, just that it's not....

Well, everyone knows who it's not.

This is a huge fucking deal! Not that I chose this particular person to think about, but that I finally became capable of choosing anyone at all. It was never a choice before. At least not a conscious one.

Like everything else, I don't expect this to last. I know that my heart will slip back into its comfort zone eventually.

It's like the changing seasons. You have some warm days and some cold days and then eventually Summer is upon you, and Winter is over. I know that more cold days are coming, but maybe, just maybe, this long Winter is finally coming to an end.

I ended up, as directed, going to Bloomington yesterday. I actually took a half day of vacation so I could get there early. This ended up being a good thing, but I'll get to that later.

During the drive up I ping-ponged between two thoughts.

First, I was a little excited to be doing this spur of the moment thing and following the sign I'd imagined getting on Thursday. I had no idea what to expect in Bloomington, but I figured it must be something interesting or I wouldn't have been led up there.

Second, I felt a little silly. I was basically driving up there because a coaster had told me to. I was also a little afraid that maybe I was missing something exciting and/or interesting at Rich O's. Of course maybe that's what the coaster was really trying to do - just keep me away from Rich O's for the night.

Those coasters, you never really know what they're trying to accomplish. They're sneaky and mysterious.

The first thing I did after I got to Bloomington was get a hold of my niece so I could check out her new dorm room. Here's a pic:

Next I went over to the Upland Taproom. Here's another pic:

It's a smaller place than I'd imagined. It was also quite crowded especially when you consider I got there at 6:00. I noted the complete lack of a smoking section and grabbed a seat at the bar.

I told the bartender that I was looking to taste some beers and that the first thing I wanted to taste was their Chocolate stout. So she poured me a little sampler glass (4) before I could stop her. I drained that and asked for a 12 oz. glass.

Upland Chocolate Stout (16)

(draft) Incredible head and lacing. Had a strong coffee aroma but the flavor was an incredible blend of both coffee and chocolate. Very creamy and very yummy.

Upland Bad Elmers Porter (32)

(draft) Had a very strong roasted malt aroma. The flavor was quite nice with roasted malt and a mild chocolate. A dry finish that made me want to take another drink right away.

(draft) Very fizzy but sweet. A mild banana aroma and flavor. Mouthfeel was fizzy wheat. There was a slight tartness to the finish. I liked this, but I've had better dunkels.

I'd actually drank, and rated, the Porter before, but I went ahead and updated my old rating because I like to think that my palate is a little more sophisticated now than it was back then.

During the time I was drinking my beers I found myself looking around, trying to figure out just what I was doing up there. The place was completely packed, but everyone was with their own little group. The only person I really talked to was the bartender.

By the time I'd had my three beers it was only about 6:45. This is something I've noticed each time I've gone into a non-smoking bar. I drink a lot faster. Now some people might consider this to be a good thing but I'm such a lightweight that all it means to me is that my nights end early.

I ended up having a final Chocolate Stout (28) and starting back towards home a little after 7:00.

By the time I got back to New Albany it was only 10:30 so I (of course) went to Rich O's. I ordered a Smithwick's (460) and was just settling down on the sofa when something cool happened.

My friend Eric and his wife Terri came in!

So what had been slight disappointment from not having anything exciting happen in Bloomington turned into a pretty good mood by the end of the night.

Man, I've written this long rambling entry and I'm going to stop now. Nobody reads this far anyway.

Back in May, I had a bit of a physic episode.

Today I had something similar.

I'd been trying to think of something to do over the next couple of weekends. My somewhat limited budget (property taxes and vehicle registrations) are going to limit my choices severely.

So I got to thinking about maybe going to Bloomington Indiana and to the Upland Taproom there.

I was still thinking about it when I got to Rich O's after work and saw that the Weihenstephaner coasters which had been there for a couple of months had been replaced by these:

Whoa.

If that's not a sign then I don't know what is.

I'm going to try to make it up there tomorrow night. If I don't then it'll have to be next weekend because I have this Brew at the Zoo thingy that I'm going to in Louisville on Saturday.

I'm going back to Las Vegas in December! I'm quite excited about this because I'd thought that my trip there this past May would be my only one this year.

I didn't say that it would be a long entry.

I've said it before. It's hard to think of something to write when I'm in a good mood.

Today, I'm in a good mood. Knowing this, you may be able to deduce that I'm having a hard time thinking of something to write about.

No shit, Sherlock.

Oh, I could just write about why I'm in a good mood. That would be a hoot, I'm sure. But then people would start PMing me and calling me an asshole and telling me how stupid and immature I am...

I already know all that stuff. So I'm not going to say why I'm in a good mood.

What I'll do instead, and this has become my standard fallback method when I can't think of anything better to write about, is I'll write about my weekly horoscope from Free Will Astrology:

Dave, You don't need to know how your computer and car work in order to use them. Their inner workings may be unfathomable to you, Dave, but that doesn't matter as long as you benefit from what they do for you. Let's apply that same principle to a certain relationship that is perplexing you, you nitwit. Dave, You obviously get something out of your alliance with this person, since you've chosen not to leave it. Yet you seem bothered by the fact that you can't figure out what you are to each other and where you're supposed to go next. My advice to you, Dave? For now, stop trying to understand it. Just surrender to the fruitful mystery. Simply let your connection perform its enigmatic magic, Dave.

I was actually thinking along very similar lines the other night. No, really. I was. I do have thoughts every now and then. No, really. I do.

Too often we seem to have this need to explain every little twist and turn in our lives and in our emotions. The only good mystery is a solved mystery. The only good predicament is one that we've already wormed ourselves out of. The only good emotion is one that's been analyzed and categorized and just basically had all of the life sucked right out of it.

"Bullshit!" I say.

Talking with my friend the other night, I could almost hear the gears turning away in her head as she tried valiantly to make some sense of what I was telling her. I'd say something, and her head would shake. I'd say something else, and her eyes would roll back in her head. I'd answer one of her questions, and her hand would fly into the air.

I may as well have been speaking gibberish to her. Nothing made any sense.

And I say that this is a good thing.

Look at all of the shit I've put myself through in the past year. If I'd figured it all out back when it first started - how much fun would that have been? How much interest would this 'blog have generated?

The answers to both questions are: Not very fucking much.

I sit here and I write about how much I want answers to my questions, but the truth is that I like being confused. I enjoy being kept in the dark about what's going on. If I knew everything, then my life would be boring, and I don't want to go back to being bored with life.

It took an awfully long time for me to find something interesting. I'm not ready to lose that mystery just yet.

People are always asking me, "Dave, you're so fucking retarded. Have you ever done anything even remotely intelligent in your entire miserable life?"

I used to answer this with a simple "Duhhhhhhhhhhh" but lately I've been able to point out that on 6/19/2005 I did indeed do something smart.

Five little words.

Is that what I want to end this with?

Not.

Will I do anything about it?

Not.

I've written before about how life provides its own metaphors.

I've had the perfect metaphor staring me in the face for months.

Well, maybe not staring me in the face. Sitting in my backyard, actually.

That damn hole!

It's the perfect metaphor for what's been wrong with me!

And now I'm in too good of a mood to capitalize on my newfound insight!

And I've also forgotten how to use paragraphs!

And I'm going to stop now!

I dumped 43 5-gallon buckets of dirt into my hole yesterday.

So, for the moment anyway, it looks a lot less like a hole and more like a patch of dirt.

But let's hold off on the celebrations for a bit, okay?

Even though I piled dirt up to ground level, I didn't even come close to actually filling the hole. Here is a highly accurate (and to scale, and beautiful) view of what I'm talking about:

See, there's an awful lot of empty space that the dirt didn't get to. I'll have to wait for a good hard rain to cause the dirt to settle some more, then I can dump more dirt into the hole.

Gives me something to look forward to.

Can i put one of your photographs on a cd cover (not to be widely distributed)

I'm tempted to just reflexively say "Yes!" but I guess I should ask which image you're wanting to use first. Please let me know.

I wrote last night that I'd had a relaxing night, but that was really simplifying things. Taken as a whole, it was quite relaxing, but parts - especially the first couple of hours - were just exhausting.

I found myself fighting the same old assumptions, the same old explanations, the same old bullshit that I've been fighting for over a year now. It was nice to finally be talking with someone that was actually listening to what I was saying, so I at least felt like there was a chance that I'd be able to get my points across, but it really was pretty tiring.

I'd talk about some small part of this complicated mess that I'm in, and, whenever I'd seemingly contradict something I'd said earlier, RealTrainGirl's eyes would just light up. Ah ha! She'd caught me!

Not.

Because things haven't just been complicated. They've also been ever-changing. Evolving and devolving. Like my mood, my desires and my needs have been constantly reacting to events, thoughts, and realizations.

RealTrainGirl just could not seem to understand why I left Rich O's Friday night. She just could not seem to understand why I didn't want to go there last night. I mean, she understood the reasons I was giving her, but I don't think she believed me, and she kept trying to propose her own explanations.

Like I said, things are complicated. There are several reasons that I did what I did, but the main reason is the same one that's been driving me since all this started.

This is now, and has always been, my problem. Not LaptopGirl's problem. Not our problem. I'm the one that screwed up, and I'm the one that should have to face the consequences.

At times during all this, I've been completely taken over by emotions. They overwhelm me and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. If I had stayed at Rich O's on Friday, I would have been overwhelmed. I would have lost control. I would have said or done something stupid, and I'd probably have upset LaptopGirl. Or at least made her very uncomfortable.

I'd have made it her problem, and that's something that I just cannot let myself do. So I got the hell out of there before it got to that point. My leaving like that may have bothered her a little, but I had very little time to choose the lesser of two evils.

Now, on Saturday night, I didn't want to go to Rich O's. Explaining that proved to be a little more difficult.

She did not come back to New Albany to see me. I also seriously doubt that she came back to get upset, or to feel uncomfortable.

I've been assuming that this is simply a visit. That she'll be returning to her new home, and that I can once again begin putting myself back together. If she's in town visiting, then it seems to me that the least I can do is stay away. Let her spend time in her old hangout without having to worry about me and my feelings. Like I said, it's my problem.

RealTrainGirl just didn't seem to accept this explanation. She just didn't seem to understand why I couldn't just go to Rich O's last night and be a normal person.

News flash: I haven't been a normal person in a long time. Not when it comes to LaptopGirl. My emotions are not hooked up to a switch. I cannot simply turn them off when they become inconvenient.

And what if I'm wrong? What if this isn't simply a visit? What if it's permanent?

Well then I'll have a tough decision to make.

I once wrote an entry wherein I said that all I wanted was two seconds. Well, Friday was my chance, and, as it turned out, two seconds would have been an eternity. Long enough to obliterate me all over again.

I got out in time, this time. I saw the meteor streaking toward me, and I only got a glancing blow. I can't count on being that lucky forever though. So, if this visit is more than a visit, I'll have to make a choice.

I'll need to either grow up or give up.

Tonight RealTrainGirl and I went back to The Cumberland Brewpub in Louisville. I'd been wanting some more of their porter, and she was looking for something to do on her night off. Rich O's was out of the question, so to Louisville we went.

We ended up having a couple of the Nitro Porters each while I attempted to explain what's been going through my head lately. I'm pretty sure that I failed, but I did manage to get the main point across. I hope.

When we were nearly done with our second beers, the waitress brought us a couple bowls of ice cream that had been made with the porter. At first I thought the waitress was flirting with me, but after a bit I decided that she was actually flirting with RealTrainGirl. Oh well.

Anyway, the vanilla version of the ice cream tasted like - get this - vanilla ice cream. Just like you'd find at any grocery store. I tried pouring some of my beer over it, and that made it taste better.

The chocolate version of the ice cream was quite yummy. The porter flavor was very apparent.

Next we went to this place called Flanagan's where we both had just one beer:

Beamish Irish Stout (16)

(can) Nice and creamy, though that could have been because of the widget. Compared to Guinness, a little sweeter, with a subtle chocolate flavor instead of coffee. I liked it, and would probably like it more if I could ever find it on tap.

That was it. We had a nice relaxing evening. Much better than if I'd just sat at home feeling sorry for myself.

I guess that's it.

I very nearly stayed home all night last night.

I wanted to go have a beer, but going to the dentist messed up my jaw. I was just in terrible pain, and could hardly move my mouth at all. That'll teach me to get a cavity in a back tooth. It's just too hard for the dentist to reach back there without nearly breaking my jaw to do it.

So by the time the Novocain wore off my tooth wasn't hurting at all, but my jaw was just killing me. I still wanted to go out, but first I had to eat something. I nuked some cheese bread and somehow managed to get it down by taking small bites and only using the right side of my mouth. It was still excruciating though.

I got to Rich O's a little bit before 10:00 and grabbed a seat in the living room area next to some people I don't know.

To drink, I had myself a Baltika "6" Porter. I cannot stress enough how much I like this beer. I may just marry it.

The people in the living room area kept trying to suck me into their conversation. I was in no mood for it, so I moved to the bar and began trying to decide what my next beer would be. I was leaning toward another Baltika but something even stronger might have helped ease the pain in my jaw, so I was considering some Belgians.

What was left of me didn't even think. I got the hell out of there as quickly as I could.

Some people are just good. Some people will always be there for you when you need them. No matter how much pain you've caused them in the past. No matter how much pain you promise for the future. When you need them, they come through for you , no questions asked, and no expectations.

I'm not one of those people. I wish I was, and I'm closer to it than most people I know, but I'm not one of them.

Last night, when I left Rich O's, I went to see one of these good people.

I didn't have to say a word. MixedSignalGirl could see it in my face. She knew that I wouldn't just show up like that unannounced. She knew what had happened, and she pulled me to her.

Driving home this morning, I found myself wondering just what we'd done to deserve each other.

I must have done something really wonderful.

She must have done something terrible.

I will never understand what she sees in me. I will never be able to give her what she deserves. But I will also never forget last night, and I will be her friend for as long as she'll let me.

Well here it is. Friday again.

Another weekend staring me in the face. Challenging me to do something.

I'm a little hesitant. I'm in this mood after all. No longer a bad mood but not quite a good one either. I guess you could call me content. But I'm sure this is only temporary. I think I could tip in either direction, and I'm not sure that I want to.

If I become depressed or sad, that'll be yet another setback in a seemingly endless stream of setbacks.

If I develop an actual good mood then I'm afraid that my face will crack and fall apart from the smiling, and that would probably gross everybody out.

I kind of want to go over to Fourth Street Live tonight. Eat some dinner, drink some Young's Double Chocolate Stout at The Pub. That could be fun.

We'll see. I have a dentist appointment this afternoon and sometimes it takes hours and hours for the numbness in my mouth to go away. No sense eating a good meal and drinking good beer if I can't taste any of it.

I have something to tell you, and I'd like you to hear me out before you say or do anything drastic.

There's another woman.

Actually, there are a bunch of other women. And there are some men. And there are even some kids and some old people.

I've been cheating on you. I've been 'blogging elsewhere.

It started this past Monday. I logged onto my JS account and, over the course of the next 24 hours, I imported nearly all of my 'blog entries into my JS 'blog.

There are several reasons that I did this. I wrote about a couple of them over there, on the other 'blog:

Well I guess I've imported everything I'm going to.

Anyone that wants anything older than last June will have to go to my main site. But, and trust me on this, it's all quite boring before last June. Some would say it's still quite boring.

So, why did I just spend 24 hours importing a year's worth of entries into JS?

I'm so glad that you asked.

A few days ago I had my 1000th viewing here. I'm sure that about 999 of these were accessed via the Random Journal link on the main page. Whatever, 1000 times someone had come to my JS journal and saw absolutely nothing (what Stevie called a Phantom Journal). About 100 of those times whoever it was would bother to click the My Personal Site link and go read my actual 'blog.

That means that over 90% of JSers were missing out on my brilliance. Or my stupidity. Or whatever.

So the main reason I decided to import all these old entries, and to continue to keep my JS 'blog in sync with my real 'blog, is to simply get some more readers. I'm kind of a whore that way. I started writing this stuff for very personal reasons, but I'm not ashamed to admit that I continue to do it because I want actual people to read what I write. In other words, if I'm going to vomit bullshit, I want to get it on as many people as I can.

The second reason is that this JS community has always intrigued me. People that only know each other through their writings, yet seem to become friends (or even enemies) through those writings and the comment conversations they engender. I just think it's neat, and I guess I'm hoping to become a part of that someday.

So that's why I did this. My plan is to keep updating my real 'blog just like I always have, and to duplicate everything but the most boring entries to JS.

Awkward ending to entry.

The JS 'blog is viewable by JS members only, but if you are a member, or if you want to sign up, you can check out barenada.journalspace.com. Comments are enabled over there - it's one of the main reasons I'm doing this.

Just a quick update on my vacation/long weekend planning.

A few weeks ago I asked for suggestions, and I've received several. Thanks!

Labor Day is fast approaching, and I get a four-day weekend, so I'd really like to get away from home for a while. Since it's still baseball season, I limited my immediate search to those cities with professional teams.

Detroit Tigers are away next weekend. Ditto for Cleveland Indians, St. Louis Cardinals, and Cincinnati Reds.

Cubs and Brewers are both home next weekend though, so the Chicago/Milwaukee area just might work. I didn't get to make it to Wrigley when I was in Chicago recently, and I've never been to Wisconsin at all.

So I may, just may, drive up there next Friday. It's going to be a little tough financially. We'll see. It may turn out that I just drive to St. Louis and do some non-baseball tourist stuff. Or I may puss out and stay home.

And I've already decided that, next Spring, I'm going to pick a weekend that both the Orioles and the Nationals are at home and spend three or four days in that area.

For this Winter, Detroit/Ann Arbor/Kalamazoo are still very much on my short list, as is Cleveland and New York.

(I just remembered that there's this "Brew at the Zoo" thingy next weekend at The Louisville Zoo. I missed it last year because I had to go to this party that same night. This year I really want to go, so I guess I won't be travelling to any other cities.)

Last Fall I wrote this entry. I quote part of it here:

Shock, sadness, relief, anger, disappointment, curiosity, blame, determination, grief, fear, speculation, impatience, regret, doubt, depression, wonder, pessimism, optimism, nervousness, callousness, understanding, drama, accusation, resignation...

I could go on and on. At night, instead of allowing me to sleep, my mind takes these and countless other thoughts and creates elaborate storylines that branch madly, twisting and weaving, joining and separating, spreading and collapsing. None ever finish. None ever get wrapped up in the end. I resolve nothing then finally I sleep out of sheer exhaustion.

My mind is trying desperately to find something to latch onto. Something to think about. Something to care about. Something to occupy it and pull it from this void.

A million times a minute, it seems, I'll pick up a thought, then dismiss it as irrelevant. Discard it as bullshit.

For so long I tried so hard to get my mind to shut down for just a little while and give me some peace and quiet. Now it's too damn quiet and it's driving me crazy. The silence is deafening.

I think that even sadness would be a welcome diversion from this, this nothing that's enveloped me. Reminds me of another entry:

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.

(response to messages)

I can't believe you said that.

Yes, I said it. Yes, I dropped my pants a little.

Nobody was surprised that I felt it, just that I actually blurted it out.

I don't think I care. I'd been beating around the bush since April, and it just became pointless.

I really wanted to write something good tonight. To change the subject a little. But I've got nothing, so I'll just stand here with my pants down for a while longer.

This week the band picked the songs for each performer.

Jordis: Hauntingly good. I hope she loses so the band doesn't become an anchor for her. (90 points)

Jessica: Love the song. Love the voice. Wow, that was fucking awesome. (95 points)

Ty: He just didn't impress me this week. Not at all. (70 points)

Suzie: Decent, if passionless, performance. (80 points)

Marty: Poor Marty, having to sing a Britney Spears song. He did the best he could with it I suppose. (60 points)

Deanna: Tough song. Missed a couple of notes pretty badly. Just decent otherwise. (65 points)

JD: Seemed really constipated. It was a really unsettling performance to watch and listen to. (55 points)

Mig: Good song. The performance fluctuated quite a bit, but everyone else seemed to like it. (75 points)

Slept all night last night, so I'm caught up for the first time in a long time. Odd to actually be alert in the morning.

Today I'm having a bunch of dirt delivered so I can try to do something about this damn hole in my back yard. This thing has so far eluded every attempt to fill it. It's becoming hourglassed so filling it isn't as easy as just dumping dirt in. If I knew for sure just how deep this old cistern was I'd be tempted to just drive my truck over the area a few times to cave it in. I guess it's good that I don't drink at home.

Wow, this was an exciting entry.

Maybe I'll spice it up a bit...with pictures!!!

This is the hole. Doesn't look like much but it opens up very quickly and may go all the way to Hell.

Here's the dirt I bought to hopefully fill the hole. I half-expect that I'll be ordering more dirt.

Something has happened.

I'm not really sure why it happened, but I do know when. It happened yesterday evening while I was at Rich O's listening to yet another asshole badmouth someone who wasn't there to defend herself.

Instead of becoming angry, as I have recently, this time I just listened. A bunch of shitheads that I hardly know at all making fun of someone who's more wonderful than all of them put together.

How, I found myself wondering, could the entire world be so wrong about her? How come I, and a few of our mutual friends, are the only ones able to see beyond the actions of the past, beyond the quirky and misunderstood exterior, and see what's really there, what's really important?

So I was thinking about how wrong the world was, and something happened.

Something inside me shifted gears. Something inside me switched itself off. Something inside me fell out of love and went back to simply missing a friend.

I know, and anyone who's read anything here in the past year knows, that my moods are ever-changing. Nothing lasts forever, and in my case, nothing seems to last for more than a few days at the most. I expect my mood to change again before too much time has passed.

But for now, but for now at least, I'm a normal person. No longer a person that fears that he's met, and lost, the love of his life. Just a person that's lost a friend.

Every feeling I've tried so hard to suppress is dormant. All that remains is kindness. Affection. Fondness. That annoying habit I'd developed of objectifying her? Gone. Those countless hours spent agonizing over past indecision? No longer needed. The drifting I've been doing for weeks? I'm grounded now.

I'm just a guy that misses his friend, and nothing more. All is as it should be.

At least for now. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

I guess I've given up on sleep for the night.

I developed a bit of a fever this evening. I hope I didn't catch it (or give it to) my grandmother while I was at her house setting up this 1960s technology medical alarm doohickey.

So anyway, I got this fever, and I laid down at about 7:00. For the night, I thought.

Wrong.

I woke up a little while ago and, though I'm still feverish, sleep is beyond me.

What woke me up was dreaming about this one part of this one night last Summer. One night a week before the first part of this entry happened.

That night, my dear readers, was what you call a golden opportunity.

A golden opportunity to be like every other guy on the planet. A golden opportunity to jump in, dick first, without a care in the world for what would happen later.

After all, what could be better? She'd just broken up with her boyfriend in front of my eyes. We'd both been drinking. There was nobody else around. I had, for a while at least, her undivided attention. We even hugged each other goodnight, first time that had happened. It wouldn't have taken much to press things further. To see where they might lead.

Yep, a golden opportunity. A wasted one.

I did nothing.

For you see, I'm not the type of guy that's going to make a move on someone that's been single for less than two hours. I'm not the type of guy that's going to hit on a girl that's been drinking heavily. And I'm most definitely not the type of guy that's going to try anything with a friend of mine unless I know damn well that's what she's wanting me to do.

I hardly ever think about that night. I have plenty of other moments, much more dramatic, seemingly much more pivotal, to occupy my mind. I don't think I've really thought about that particular night in months. But I'm thinking about it right now, and I'm thinking, once again, that I'm a dumbass.

Everything hinged on that night, on those two seconds when we pulled away from our brief embrace. Nothing that's happened since then would have been the same, if only I'd been like every other guy on the planet. If I'd just leaned back in. Put my hand aside her face. Pulled her to me. Tasted her lips. Things may not have turned out well - they probably wouldn't have - but I'd fucking know. I'd know and I wouldn't still be guessing a year later.

Every once in a while, something happens, or doesn't happen. Something that's important. A brief period that doesn't seem like much at the time but turns out to be one of the most important moments in a person's life.

I could have tried, failed, and then moved on.

I could have tried, and succeeded, only to have things fall apart later, and then moved on.

I could have tried, and succeeded, and been deliriously happy for the rest of my life.

These were some of the the paths that lay in front of me on that night last Summer. I chose instead to do nothing. To just stand there. A part of me is still standing there I suppose. Wondering.

Went and ate a very good steak dinner with MixedSignalGirl last night. I know, this was probably a bad idea. I think she figured that out as well because she bailed after we'd eaten and I'd assured her that nothing I've been writing about lately (the bullshit last week) had anything to do with her.

To drink with dinner I had myself a Guinness (736). For some reason the Guinnii at Tucker's taste better than the ones at Rich O's. I think it has something to do with the temperature, but I'm not really sure.

So next I went over to Rich O's. The parking lot was jammed but I guess everyone must have been on the Sportstime side because Rich O's itself was only about 1/3 full. I sat on the sofa with the beautiful HatGirl and ordered my first beer.

Rogue Chipotle Ale (22)

(bottle) Very faint peppery aroma, with a little smoke thrown in. Not much taste until the finish, then a little pepper heat. I was expecting more pepper, so I was expecting to dislike this more than I did.

I was really having a hard time keeping from jumping into HatGirl's eyes and swimming around, but after a while this dude showed up and sat with us and HatGirl left pretty much immediately. Just a coincidence I'm sure. Not.

OldBob joined us then and we both tried this Jenlain beer.

Jenlain Farmhouse Ale (10)

(draft) Orange. Some faint apple flavor, but even more apricots. A little too sweet and citrusy for my tastes.

The rest of the night was pretty dull. The place was even more of a sausage festival than it normally is, thanks I suppose to WomanRepellant, who sat and talked with me about this one fucker that we both hate.

Got home a little after 11:00 and finished watching Last of the Mohicans.

I want to write something, but I think I should wait a little while. I should wait until this nagging little something rattling around in my head slows down enough for me to recognize it for what it is. Anything I write now will be just a guess.

But I want to write something, so I'm going to, dammit.

The other night, after the fucked up shit happened, I reacted pretty much as I expected. I then laid awake all night, all tensed up, waiting for it to happen again. Hoping it would happen again, at least on some layer. I mean, on a conscious level I wanted it to stop, but some small part of me was actually excited over the prospect.

I'm not completely sure which part of me that was.

Was it a part of me that stands over whatever small spark of hope for the future I still harbor? Perhaps it was a part of me that still clings to the idea that this can all be fixed somehow, that given the proper opportunity, I can still make everything okay. Maybe even better than okay. Maybe even great.

Any of these things would be understandable, certainly. Even expected, as long as you're looking at me from the outside. Through this 'blog perhaps.

From in here though, from here inside my head, I know that it was none of those things. Those parts of me are gone. Perhaps comatose, perhaps dead. Maybe they've just gone off to Tahiti and are getting plastered with Koko. I dunno, but wherever they are, they're not in my head now, and they weren't in my head the other night either.

So what was it? What was it that dared to hope for the bullshit to continue while the rest of me screamed for it to end?

Perhaps, and I hope that this is correct, there's just a part of me that's become so bored with drifting about that it'll welcome any stimulation whatsoever. That would at least make some sense, right? I can deal with that, if that's all it is.

But I don't think so.

I think, I'm afraid, I really hope I'm wrong, but maybe that small part of me hoped for another chance to...

I'm having a hard time thinking of words here.

The other night I didn't react in the most mature manner. I reflexively did what I felt needed to be done, but I don't think I did it for the right reasons. I did it for me, to ease my own discomfort.

Since when did I become important? I'm not the victim here, and I never have been.

By reacting the way I did, I put myself first. I gave no thought to what effect it might have on anyone else. I saw a hand timidly reaching out to me, and I slapped it away.

This bothers me a lot, that I'm capable of doing this. What bothers me even more is the possibility that the small part of me, the one that hoped for more bullshit the other night, that this part of me wanted to cause more pain. To be in control of the situation. To dish it out for once.

To get a little bit of revenge.

I've known for a long time that I'd come out of all this as a different person. I hope the person I become is not this shallow self-centered prick I fear is sitting inside me now. Waiting, hoping even, for a chance to lash out...

Man, even thinking about this is upsetting me. I don't want to be this person. I hope I'm not this person.

I really should have waited a while before I wrote this entry.

Last night I went to the Cumberland Brewpub in Louisville and met up with RealTrainGirl and GreenBeerDude.

This was my first time going to this place, despite (a)It being a brewpub and (b)It being only about 30 minutes from my house. The first thing about the place is that it's very hard to find a parking place. Luckily it wasn't raining. The second thing about the place is that there were a lot of pretty girls there.

These aren't particularly good or even interesting pictures, but they're all I've got:

I arrived before my friends and ordered some food and my first beer. I ended up drinking two of these:

Cumberland Nitro Porter (40)

(draft) Took a long time to pour, but worth the wait. Very smooth. Nice chocolate aroma and flavor that reminded me of Young's Double Chocolate Stout. This is a very good beer. Yummy.

After a while we went to the upstairs (which I didn't even know existed) and I had a small glass of the only other beer that seemed interesting to me.

Cumberland Nut Brown Ale (10)

(draft) Another winner from this small brewpub. Quite malty and nutty, but enough hops to keep it nicely balanced.

Then we all went to Rich O's. I'd been wanting to try this Rogue beer, but by the time I got there I decided that it was too late to be cranking open a 22-oz. bottle, so I just asked the bartender to set one aside for me to drink Saturday night. I just had some Diet Cokes.

We sat around at the island. NotGeorge joined us and then, lo and behold, MisunderstoodGirl came in! Very cool to see her after what seemed like forever. RealTrainGirl gave me shit for not talking up a storm, but really I was just basking in the glory that is MisunderstoodGirl. Words were unnecessary.

After the girls (ha ha again) left NotGeorge and I talked for a while, then I came home and shot some pool until the Sun came up.

Ask me a question, and I'll try to answer it.

I need some ideas for an entry.

I'm still quite wiped out. I don't understand how I can still be so tired.

So after work I went to Rich O's to meet up with RealTrainGirl. I needed to tell her what happened Tuesday night, plus it's always good to see her.

To drink, I had a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier Dunkel (91) and then a Guinness (712).

RealTainGirl and I plan to go to the Cumberland Brewpub Friday night. I hate plans, but I've really been needing something to do besides visiting the ghost at Rich O's every weekend.

Oh yeah, I was also supposed to take a look at VigilanteGirl's computer tonight, but I've been stood up. For something she asked me to do. Women. Typical. Hmmph.

So now it's not even 8:30 and I'm going to try to get some sleep. Maybe I'll actually catch up and not be exhausted all day tomorrow.

This will finish up my Boston Monday story, started here and continued here.

When I first went into Boston Beer Works and ordered my first beers, I grabbed a seat at the bar next to this chick. Didn't really pay too much attention to her when I sat down, because that would have been rude. I just made sure that the seat wasn't taken already, then sat down.

Well the damn beers came with fruit in them and I just had to make sarcastic comments to somebody, so I chose the girl next to me. We got to talking about various crap like where we're from and what we're doing in Boston. My story is boring: I'm from Southern Indiana and I'm in Boston for work. Her story is fascinating: She's from England and she's in Boston because she's traveling the world.

Not since MaineGirl have I ever met anyone that was so friendly and outgoing and charming with a complete stranger. EnglishGirl and I spent the entire night talking, mostly about her adventure.

She's traveling the world alone, staying in youth hostels, and having the adventure of a lifetime. She has a twin sister who, if she can get over her fear of flying, will be meeting her soon in Washington DC. She's seen nobody in her family for four months. So far she's been to (if I recall correctly) New Zealand, Australia, Los Angeles, and Boston.

The girl was just nice and friendly and endearing- everything that someone her age (23) is not supposed to be, especially toward a complete stranger 17 years older than her. She was also (surprise!) a cute brunette with glasses.

One of the guys I was traveling with asked me the next day if anything had happened between me and EnglishGirl. I told him that nothing had, and it was the truth. I've stated here before that I'm not a one-night-stand type of guy, and I couldn't very well say something like that and then proceed to have two of them in less than 3 months. I don't know if it was even possible. What I do know is that, at a fairly late point in the evening, I became concerned that it could be possible. I also became concerned that, if anything were to happen, EnglishGirl would start to think that I'd just been talking to her all night so I could get into her pants.

The thought of this, of her lumping me into the same category as every other fucking guy on the planet, didn't appeal to me at all, so I actually disappeared right when the bar kicked us out. Just grabbed a cab and left.

Now I've been kicking myself ever since.

Not because I should have tried to get into her pants. Not that at all. I'm kicking myself because I should have at least given her my e-mail address. I became very wrapped up in her story. I'm really excited that she'll get to see her sister again soon. I want to, maybe not keep in touch with this girl, but at least have the chance to let her know how fun my evening was because of her.

So I'd wanted to return to the Beer Works on Tuesday, but I was just too damn tired. I didn't get a chance to tell her what I wanted to. I don't know her last name, and she doesn't know mine. I figure I'll never see or hear from her again, and I think that really sucks.

I have a few readers (that I know of) in England. I know that even though it's a fairly small country, you don't all know each other. But I do think that there's at least a small chance that somebody out there knows this girl.

If she sounds familiar to you at all, please use the Say Something Dammit form to let me know. Tell me her first name and that should confirm it. I also know her sister's name. If you know her, and can give her my e-mail address, I will owe you about a zillion beers if we should ever meet.

I just don't like the way I tore out of there, and I'd like another chance to properly thank her for such a wonderful evening.

Well, I'm not finished with Monday yet, but I'm going to go ahead and quickly cover Tuesday now. The rest of my Monday entry deserves more attention than I'm able to give right now.

Tuesday was fucked up.

Because I hadn't got back to the hotel until after 2:00, and because I hadn't got to sleep until 4:00, I was pretty wiped out all day long.

Once our meetings were over with, I walked down to The Hard Rock to eat some dinner and pick up shirts for me and VigilanteGirl. I had a pint of Guinness (692) in a souvenir glass.

I'd kindof halfway planned to take a cab back to The Beer Works and hopefully run into EnglishGirl again, but I was just too damn tired, so I just went back to the hotel and went to sleep.

Until a little after midnight when some fucked up shit happened.

I've decided that I'm not going to get into any detail about what happened and about what my response was. I'll just say that I didn't get to sleep again that night.

I'd really have liked to have been able to spend more time in Boston. I just know that there is some great beer there that I just didn't get a chance to try. There's also all this historical shit that I'm kicking myself for not visiting. Boston is definitely on my short list for a weekend getaway.

So anyway, I've had about 6 hours of sleep since Monday morning, and I'm just wiped out.

And, yippee! I get to go to work in the morning.

At some point I will finish up my Monday night story. Just not tonight.

Okay, as I mentioned, I left the game early to check out this Boston Beer Works place.

I was very much aware that there were 50,000 people across the street watching the game and I figured that a large number of them would be coming in soon to do some drinking (and distract the bartenders from getting me more beer), so I ordered two beers right off the bat:

Beer Works Bunker Hill Bluebeery Ale (5)

(draft) This might have been sweet and syrupy or it might have been all the blueberries floating up and down. I couldn't finish the glass. Those things hitting my lips were just too strange.

Seriously, those blueberries were just too much! I ended up leaving the glass sitting in front of me for the entire night. The blueberries would rise and fall constantly. It was like a little lava lamp or something. As far as the beer went, I just never got a good enough taste of it to really form an opinion.

Beer Works Watermelon Ale (12)

(draft) A light brown ale (think Newcastle) with a wedge of watermelon in it. Once I removed the offending fruit I couldn't detect anything noteworthy. Maybe a bit of a hoppy finish.

This beer wasn't too bad, but without the fruit wedge there wasn't really any watermelon taste to it.

So by this point I'd found myself in a conversation with a cute girl from England. She's going to get her very own entry in this 'blog, but for now, she was very cool and we spent the entire night talking until they closed the bar and kicked us out.

Beer Works Beantown Nut Brown Ale (12)

(draft) A nice malty brown ale. Very pretty lacing. There was a bit of a coffee overtone that I could have done without. Quite good though.

Before I ordered this I asked the bartender if there were going to be any surprises. She didn't get what I meant. It was good enough that I'd have had another one if there weren't any other beers that I wanted to try.

Beer Works Haymarket Hefeweizen (12)

(draft) A very cloudy yellow beer. Strong banana aroma. Came with a citrus wedge that I seem to have removed before it ruined the flavor. Quite yummy.

Another fucking piece of fruit! Don't these people know anything? Anyway, with the fruit gone, this was my favorite beer of the night. EnglishGirl tried some too, breaking away from her fairly constant stream of Boston Common beer. She claimed to like it but didn't quite finish it before ordering another Common.

The guys I'd been traveling with came in at about this point and, thankfully, didn't mess with me and my new friend. I'm sure they considered it though. If they had, I may have lost it because by this time I was quite fascinated with EnglishGirl. This was probably fairly apparent to them, and I appreciate their restraint.

Beer Works Buckeye Oatmeal Stout (12)

(draft) Pretty good. A slight coffee taste. A slightly bitter finish. More roasted malt flavor than I'm used to in this style, and I think that's what saved it for me.

By the end of this glass I really liked this beer.

The place had another dozen or so drafts listed, but there were none that looked appealing to me, so I just had another glass of the hefeweizen (24). By this time I was also amazed at all of the alcohol I was putting away. I guess the twelve oz. glasses made it seem like more than it really was.

As I said before, EnglishGirl and I ended up staying until they kicked us out...

Our flight to Boston was delayed because they had to replace some part of the plane, and they had to fly the part in from Atlanta. I didn't complain too much because it was a better option than trying to get just one more flight out of the failing part would have been. Some kind of fuel regulator or something equally important sounding. An antiexplodometer perhaps.

So we got to Boston a couple of hours later than we'd planned on. This severely cut down (eliminated) our pre-game sightseeing, but who cared? We were going to Fucking Fenway Park! It was suggested (maybe by me) and agreed upon (definitely by me) that we'd go to Fenway two hours early and check out the surrounding bars before we went into the park.

Driving up to Fenway sent chills down my spine, and I guess I spent much of the rest of the night muttering Fenway. Fucking. Park. Cool.

Our second stop (after a souvenir store) was The Cask 'n Flagon, a sports pubby place with a decent beer selection. The only local beer they carried was Harpoon IPA though, so I opted to have a couple Guinnii (672) instead.

After everybody had lubed up a little we went into the park. Fenway. Fucking. Park. Cool.

A view of The Green Monster from our seats..

The infield from our seats.

The Boston skyline.

We were sitting in that last glass-enclosed luxury box.

I really had to fight the crowd to even get this close to the playing field.

Play ball!

I now officially understand why people will get drunk and naked and run out onto the playing fields at sporting events. I wanted to do it myself. It's Fenway Fucking Park! Cool!

It was a pretty good game. The Bosox won of course. I actually left the game just as the eighth inning started because I wanted (needed) to check out The Boston Beer Works...

Okay, I'm back from Boston.

I had a lot of fun on Monday night. I have at least two entries to write up. For now I'm too tired though.

How do you get jet lag when you don't change time zones?

Going to try something here. First I need some text.

This is the caption for this imageAmerica was a great country, and that Americans were right to be proud of her. I'd think a lot more of today's politicians if they'd show just a little bitof that optimism instead of telling us that America is spiraling down the toiletand

Caption goes here.America was a great country, and that Americans were right to be proud of her. I'd think a lot more of today's politicians if they'd show just a little bitof that optimism instead of telling us that America is spiraling down the toiletand

I think the nation lost a great man in Ronald Reagan. I don't say this because he was the first man I ever voted for (which he was). I don't say this because he was instrumental in bringing The Cold War to an end (which he was). I don't say this because he seemed like a hell of a nice guy (which he did). I say this because of the optimism he had about the country he led. He truly believed that America was a great country, and that Americans were right to be proud of her. I'd think a lot more of today's politicians if they'd show just a little bitof that optimism instead of telling us that America is spiraling down the toiletand they're the only hope for a recovery. It pisses me off to no end to think of the ultra-liberals, hating Reagan for no reason other than his political party affiliation, furiously masturbating to the images of his flag-draped coffin.

I think the nation lost a great man in Ronald Reagan. I don't say this because he was the first man I ever voted for (which he was). I don't say this because he was instrumental in bringing The Cold War to an end (which he was). I don't say this because he seemed like a hell of a nice guy (which he did). I say this because of the optimism he had about the country he led. He truly believed that America was a great country, and that Americans were right to be proud of her. I'd think a lot more of today's politicians if they'd show just a little bitof that optimism instead of telling us that America is spiraling down the toiletand they're the only hope for a recovery. It pisses me off to no end to think of the ultra-liberals, hating Reagan for no reason other than his political party affiliation, furiously masturbating to the images of his flag-draped coffin.

Are you out there?

Are you reading this?

Do you know what a philotic connection is?

I'm thinking about you right now.

Will you ever read this entry and recall feeling anything at 11:07 PM EDT on August 7th, 2005?

I wonder about things like this.

I wonder why I picked this moment to think about you.

Are you out there?

Do you feel anything?

I'm leaving for Boston in the morning, so I've gone ahead and updated my little map. That, and this entry, are two less things I'll have to do in the morning.

I'm looking forward to this trip. We'll arrive early enough to maybe do a little sightseeing before the Red Sox game Monday night. After the game I hope there's a little bit of time - maybe I'll check out Boston Beer Works.

Then Tuesday night will hopefully be unchoreographed so I'll get to mess around some more. Not too much though because I'm flying back early Wednesday morning.

The mind is a funny thing.

And when I say mind I mean heart and when I say funny I mean stupid.

How quickly it forgets.

I can sit here and write about pain. I can talk about pain with my friends, my family. I know pain. I remember everything. But because I don't feel it anymore, it's become something else. Just a concept. Just a memory. It's not real anymore.

I read through my old entries and I try to imagine that pain. I try, in a way, to relive it. I try to feel that way again so I don't forget completely how fucking real it all was. So I don't unlearn the lessons I paid so much for.

This conversation last night surprised me. Scared me a little.

Is feeling pain really better than feeling nothing? Was I better off before than I am now? Is anything, even if it's bad, is anything better than nothing?

I don't think so. There are worse things than nothing. At least a part of me knows that. A part of me remembers, and that part of me screams out in shock and outrage when I make statements like the one I made last night.

I hear it cry out, but I don't feel its pain. I really wish I did. I really wish I felt something. Anything at all.

Saturday night was much more bearable than Friday had been. The place was only about half full, for one thing. For another thing, there were a lot of women. I actually think they outnumbered the guys for once.

RealTrainGirl was there so went spent the first part of the night bullshitting about various fluff. I had an NABC Cone Smoker (220) to start out. MusicalHippyDude joined us and the two of us waited very patiently for this girl in the red room to turn around or stand up so we could check out her front. RealTrainGirl kept telling us that it was a guy. RealTrainGirl needs glasses.

Let's see, DooRagGirl came in and after a short while her friend HatGirl joined us as well. I had myself a couple pints of Dave's Cherry Porter (60) while I did my best to keep my eyeballs in their sockets and my tongue off the floor.

RedRoomGirl did eventually stand up, and she was indeed cute, though way too tatted up for my tastes.

After RealTrainGirl left I stuck around and had a Guinness (660) then a couple of Diet Cokes to finish the night. I like sitting with women and joining, as much as I can anyway, in their conversations. Their perspective on life in much different than what I hear from most of my guy friends. Much more balanced.

Anyway, once all of the hot girls had left it was closing time so I left before the bartenders had to turn a hose on me.

Last night I saw a friend's car in a store parking lot, so I wrote a quick little note and left it under her windshield wiper.

I guess she drove all the way home with this note - never noticing it - and then saw it this morning.

So she calls me up wondering how I knew where she lived.

She must have been imagining me skulking around her house in the middle of the night, with my pants around my ankles no doubt, peering into her windows, only pausing long enough to leave my note.

Okay, I'm going to vent a little.

These all go out to different people.

• What, I'm not good enough for your precious list? Fuck off then.
• I tried really hard to miss you tonight, but I failed. That's good, right?
• You have no idea how good it is to have you in my life. You help ground me.
• I'm beginning to see what others dislike about you.
• You're coming on a little strong. Just ease off a little and I think we can still be friends.
• I have serious concerns about your taste in men, but you still intrigue me.
• Don't fucking ask the question if you're not going to listen to the answer.

Tonight Rich O's was incredibly crowded. There were a few people that I know, but it was mostly strangers. I actually would have left after just one beer but RealTrainGirl was coming and I wanted to see her.

To drink, I started out with a Smithwick's (420), then a Baltika 6 Porter (32). While I was drinking the porter RealTrainGirl came in. She and her roommate and GreenBeerDude and I talked for a bit, though GreenBeerDude left rather abruptly, and RoommateGuy I don't know at all.

For my final full beer I had this bottle of stuff from Finland:

Kataja Olut (11)

(bottle) Zero carbonation. Zero fizz. This lack of head reminded me of every NABC beer ever made. It was a very nice copper color, and it had a very nice and sweet flavor. I'd love to try this in draft form someday, but I don't really expect that to happen. This would get a yummy rating except for its flatness.

While we were wrapping up our evening, I sampled some of RealTrainGirl's beer:

Gaffel Kolsch (2)

(bottle) A fairly standard lager. Not as fizzy as some, but not as flavorful either. Nothing special.

While I'm listing beers, I'll go ahead and describe a couple that I tried in Chicago:

Bells Oberon (5)

(draft) Bright and fizzy. This would probably be good if it was a hot enough day. Like a million degrees or something.

Goose Island 312 Urban Wheat Ale (5)

(draft) Take a light American wheat and spray lemon pledge in it. Not the worst thing I've ever tasted, but far from the best.

What the heck, I'll also list the new NABC beer that I've now tried twice:

New Albanian Phoenix Kommon (8)

(draft) No matter how hard I try, I cannot detect any aroma or flavor. All I get is a slightly drying finish.

Tonight was one of those nights that make me wonder just what the hell I'm doing. It's one thing to drift through life, but a completely different thing to live by habit and inertia. If I actually gave a shit I might start looking for other things to do on my weekends.

Fucking Hostess for putting fucking raisins in their fucking cinnamon rolls without fucking listing them on the fucking ingredients list.

God I hate fucking raisins.

People forgetting to set my ice dispenser back to cubed when they're done getting ice.

I look down at my fortress. The newly-rebuilt walls. The gleaming metal protruding from the sniper towers. The moat, and the drawbridge. The main doors, long rusted shut.

All useless, for now. Protecting nothing more than an old dream.

I see her trying to scale one of the walls. Striving to gain purchase and pull herself just a little bit closer to her goal. Inch by inch, day by day, she's actually making progress. She's doing much better than I'd have ever expected. Most have given up by this point.

I don't know what she's expecting to find. Back when we used to talk about that sort of thing I never got the same answer twice. If I had to guess, I'd say that she just wants to share this haven I've constructed. To be safe for a while. For I am, if anything, safe. Good old safe and boring and reliable Dave.

So she climbs. Every now and then she falls into the moat. But she gets right back out, shakes herself off, and tries again. Stubborn. I like that. Foolish perhaps, but who am I to judge foolishness?

What will she find when (not if!) she makes it over that wall?

I think she'll be disappointed. My courtyard is bare except for one thing. A statue. Of a girl that isn't her. But that's not what will disappoint her, or surprise her. What will be a shock to her is what's not there. Who's not there.

She'll spend all this time and energy and still find herself alone. For I'm not there. I'm up here drifting.

I suppose that she'll look up eventually and catch a glimpse of me. Then she'll start working on a flying machine.

Stubborn. I like that.

Meanwhile, I continue to drift.

People and events call out to me as I pass by overhead, and I may look down upon them with interest or even compassion, but I lift my feet away from their grasp. I'm not ready to care. Not just yet.

I should have let the poor sucker live. How could I have known though? How could I have known that survival was even an option? It sure didn't feel like it at the time.

Is this survival?

So I drift along with the wind. I've been looking for a place to land, but when I do come down I want it to be on my own terms. I don't want to be pulled back down into a world that I'm no longer ready to face.

Of course, I don't really expect to have a choice in the matter.

Here's my horoscope for this week from Free Will Astrology:

Wasting your time and getting caught up in trivial details might feel like the most natural thing to do in the coming week, but I'd love to steer you away from doing that. Please please pretty please take heed of this proverb from ancient Rome: "The eagle does not catch flies." In other words, avoid lowering yourself to pursue rewards that don't really interest you or nourish you. And please please pretty please also listen to the advice of this Nepalese proverb: "Conduct short rituals for minor gods." Translation: Acknowledge the second-tier powers-that-be, but don't prostrate yourself in front of them for hours.

If I were to believe in this kind of thing, this is another horoscope that would freak me out a little. See, I fully expect to be asked (even required) to focus on trivial shit over the next few weeks. I'd just love to be in a position to refuse these requests, but I'm not there yet, and may never be.

The second part of the horoscope doesn't have any relevance to my current life. At least none that I'm aware of.

Tuesday was actually a pretty interesting night.

There were a couple of reasons for this.

First, we all went to a Chicago White Sox game. I took pictures of their new (to me at least) park.

My company had rented this party deck waaaaaaaaaaay out past center field. Kind of prestigious I suppose, but not much chance of a ball ever being hit there. Especially without Frank Thomas playing.

This ballpark has no good beer at all. I only tried one that I thought sounded a little interesting:

Canoe Honey Wheat Ale (2)

(draft) Lord, why hast thou foresaken me? I thought this was crap. I only drank about two sips and then I threw the rest away. Blech.

The White Sox lost their game, just like the Reds lost their game when I went to see them. I wonder if I'm cursed.

I of course bought myself a Sox cap. I also bought myself a Cubs cap because I was planning to head over to the Wrigley Field area later and didn't want to be murdered for wearing the wrong cap.

As it turned out I didn't make it to Wrigleyville. I instead went to this Piece Brewpub that Roger from Rich O's had recommended to me.

A pretty nice little place, though a little bit too dark for pictures. The pizza smelled fantastic, and I'm kinda kicking myself for not trying any of it.

I did try several of their beers though:

Piece Hoppy Ending (4)

(draft) An otherwise bland vehicle for a bitter hoppy aftertaste. What's the point?

Piece Golden Arm Kolsch (4)

(draft) Very light and citrusy. Tasted like a Bud Light to me. Supposedly an ale but I'm not convinced.

Piece Dysfunctionale (4)

(draft) I've rated this right down the middle in every category. Nothing at all stands out. I don't like the style, so I don't like the beer.

Piece Dark Bier (20)

(draft) Dark Lager, almost black. A light coffee flavor. Fairly thick mouthfeel with some lagery fizz at the end. Not too bad, but not great.

Piece Belgian Three-Way (24)

(draft) Citrusy aroma. Light apple flavor, with maybe a little apricot? No finish at all. Decent, but the apricot turned me off a little.

So I ended up liking the Belgian okay, and I had two glasses.

Then I went back to McCormick and Schmick's to drool over the pretty waitress some more. I had a couple of Guinnii to give me an excuse for being there.

I still owe an entry for Tuesday night, but for now I just wanted to say that I'm back home.

I came back a day early due to a family emergency. Or maybe it's just a family thing. Yes, I think that's it, a thing. Next week's Boston trip may be in jeopardy as well, or everything may be fine by then.

Just a couple of things.

There has not been enough free time to go to any of the places on my list, so now I've added Chicago to my short list of places to visit some upcoming weekend.

I've been drinking Goose Island Honkers Ale and Guinness almost exclusively.

There's a waitress at McCormick and Schmick's that I cannot take my eyes off of. Guess what her hair color is, and then guess how good her eyesight is.

Tonight we're going to a White Sox game. I remain cautiously hopeful that it will actually be fun.

So I'm in Chicago. Whoop de doo.

Our entire week is choreographed, but I did find myself with a little bit of time yesterday afternoon. I tried to walk to the lake but couldn't find a good place to cross Lakeshore Drive. Hopefully I'll have a chance to try again before I leave.

Our hotel is a couple of blocks from the Hancock Tower.

There's a good restaurant across the street from the hotel. They have Guinness and several Goose Island beers. So guess where I went last night after my t-shirt buying trip to The Hard Rock?

I have a feeling that this is going to be the most exciting entry I make all week. We'll see.