I guess that one of the fun things about being me right is that, for some goofy reason that I've yet to comprehend, I'm no longer drowning in my own imagination.
Instead of each and every action revealing million of possible reactions in my head, I only see one or two steps ahead. This might be, some could theorize, because things are so complicated that one or two steps is all my mind can conjure.
But I don't think that's what's going on here. I think that what's happening is that I only have to go one or two steps for something good to happen.
I'm that close.
No longer does my mind need to imagine generation after untold generation of unhatched chickens before I find a scenario I can live with.
Sorry about throwing the chicken metaphor back out there. I just couldn't think of anything better on such short notice.
This is pretty cool. I actually find myself enjoying the act of being me. That hasn't happened in a long time.
My Blackberry sucks.
Something has happened to its ability to save SMS messages.
Like tonight. Right before I left Rich O's, I drunk-texted NotHideousGirl. The gist of the message was that it sucked that there's nobody who'll miss me when I'm in Las Vegas this week.
Lo and behold, she responded. Something about how she missed me.
I replied back with some crap.
But now, when I go to look at my Blackberry to see what she said, and to see what I said in response - there's no record of any messages at all.
My Blackberry sucks.
I feel a little bit selfish.
I've been told, a few times now, that I've been given what you might call a green light.
Not yellow. Certainly not red.
Green. Maybe tinged a bit toward yellow because I'm such a doofus.
But anyway, I just can't seem to be able to justify it to myself. Something stops me from even considering it, except at times like right now. As I sit alone in my house, when there's not a thing I can do about it except think and wonder and ponder and imagine.
Like I said, I feel a little bit selfish. Because the only thing stopping me seems to be me.
And since when did I become so damn important? I never got that memo.
I think I cleared the air a little bit tonight. At least I tried to clear the air. I hope I didn't make a fool of myself.
Given about five more seconds, and I probably would have done just that.
And that would have been selfish, too.
Happy Birthday to LaptopGirl!
Take that, universe!
This year, I got to say it without any hesitation whatsoever!
One day this dude was going to ask a hot girl to have lunch with him. But then he got irritated with her, so he was going to ask this other hot girl to lunch instead. But then he remembered that he doesn't like sluts, so he ended up going to lunch by himself.
The moral of this story is that Red Lobster has yummy food.
So Wednesday, after WeirdGirl left, I headed on down to Rich O's.
The night before Thanksgiving is typically one of the busiest nights of the year there, and Wednesday night started out looking like it would be terribly crowded. People were double and triple parked in the lot. I parked in Chile and hiked in.
The loser area was packed, and the front area was packed. Rich O's proper actually had a couple of open seats. Yay! First thing I noticed was GlassesGirl on the sofa. So I sat on the loveseat and talked to her and her husband and TallLady for a while. I had myself a Cone Smoker (2396). GlassesGirl kept trying to talk me into writing a novel, and I kept trying to protest that fiction is hard and stuff.
After a short while, LaptopGirl came in looking very pretty in shades of brown. She sat at the kiddie table and I pretty much forgot about everyone else. Eventually there was some shuffling of seats, and LaptopGirl moved to the throne and I moved to the kiddie table. We messed with her laptop for a while. I was very disappointed that an initial scan didn't turn up any spyware. So I'm kinda stumped as to what might be wrong with her computer.
Oh yeah, PlantDude smoked a clove cigarette. The smell made me hungry, and it made LaptopGirl queasy, so we split a pizza. I'm sure that, by then, I was on my second Cone Smoker (2416).
Crap, I almost forgot! At one point I looked over at the sofa, and half of TeamHotness was there! Specifically, UnbearablyHotSingleGirl was there! So I of course talked to her for a bit. She looked fantastic. I asked her where ImprobablyHotMarriedGirl was, and she said she was over at the Sportstime side of the building. So I skipped over in that direction, and I met ImprobablyHotMarriedGirl coming my way!
Very cool to see them both!
After my tearful reunion with TeamHotness, I went back to the kiddie table and talked with LaptopGirl some more. The dude who's name I'd gotten wrong had shown up at some point. I talked to him a little just to be polite.
LaptopGirl didn't want to finish her beer, so I choked it down for her.
(draft) Black with brown foam. Strong coffee aroma. Flavor not as intense as the aroma led me to expect. Not very good at all, but I dislike coffee flavor in beer so I didn't expect to like this. I gave this beer a decent rating (instead of swill) because they seem to have at least tried, and I can imagine some people might like it.After LaptopGirl left I moved to the throne. I'd been thinking that I'd go home, but MisunderstoodGirl came and sat on the loveseat. I hadn't got to really talk with her for what seems like years, so I ordered a half-pint of Cone Smoker (2426) and stayed for another hour or so. It was very nice.
The whole night was very nice.
First, I want to say that I was mostly right about something. I had the date and the time and the circumstances right. All I got wrong was the name of the person. That's forgivable, I think. He was a very minor character in our little show, anyway.
Second, I've been such a big slacker about my Rich O's entries this week. As in, there haven't been any. As in, I've been there the last three nights.
I'll start in the logical place. Monday evening. I'd just left work, and my phone vibrated. My first instinct was that some coworker had some last-minute question or problem for me. So I was very pleasantly surprised when I looked at the phone and saw SassyGirl's picture.
She and JauntyGirl had finally come back to visit! Yay!
So of course I went to Rich O's to meet up with them. It was very cool to see them. SassyGirl hasn't changed. JauntyGirl is a blonde now. We sat around for a couple of hour and talked and did some catching up. I emailed LaptopGirl that SassyGirl was in town. I had two Cone Smokers (2316). When we all left, there was much hugging as they were going off on another of their adventures Tuesday.
Tuesday was virtual Friday for me, so I went to Rich O's at 8:00 or so. I was pretty sure that it was a bad idea to go. I wasn't in the best mood. I told RockGirl that I'd probably end the night either sad or very sad - depending on what actually happened.
I sat at the island and had, of course, a Cone Smoker (2336). I had the island to myself, so that was kind of nice. I waved at OddlyFamiliarGirl, who was sitting with some gay guy at the kiddie table. She was wearing her DaveFest shirt.
Then these three girls came in and sat with me at the island. I didn't know them, but they all seemed nice. At about the time I'd decided that I'd end the night sad instead of very sad something cool happened. SassyGirl and JauntyGirl and SassyBoy came in! The girls had decided to postpone their new adventure for another night. Very cool.
I ended up having another two pints of Cone Smoker (2376) while we all bullshitted about various stuff. At the end of the night, there was, once again, much hugging. I ended the night in an actual good mood.
Wednesday I was off work. I slept half the damn day away, and so I was a couple of hours late for AlliDay at The Pub. But I made it there eventually. I had a couple Newcastles (8201) and talked to BikerGirl for a couple of hours. The place was fairly dead, so that was a good thing for me - more time with BikerGirl!
There. That brings me up to Wednesday night. I think I'll give Wednesday night its own entry.
Remembrance is nice, I suppose, when it's all you have. When it's the only option you have.
Remembrance is nice, but it's nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing fucking nothing when compared to recurrence.
That is all.
Got this in an email tonight:
They really need to be more specific about stuff like this. I mean, I can immediately think of two MySpace friends with upcoming birthdays, but there may be more. Then there are at least a dozen people overall who are/have been very important to me - all with birthdays coming up within the next week. This particular week in November has always been a magic and/or cursed week for me.
Kinda makes me believe in astrology, sometimes.
One night this guy and his friend went out to some club. The guy asked a lot of beautiful girls to dance, but they all declined. He became dismayed.
"I'm going to go ask that fat chick to dance," he told his friend.
And he did. And she said yes.
A year later the fat chick was no longer fat, and they got married. That was almost 20 years ago. They're still married and they have several kids. They're happy.
The moral of this story is that beggars can't be choosers.
I was just thinking, for about the millionth time, about letting go of something. Giving up.
Why is it so easy sometimes, and so fucking impossible at other times?
I have been shit on and used and taken for granted, yet I still sit here hoping. Thinking that things can still be fixed, if only. That everything would be just fine, if only.
I, for those of you joining me late, am an idiot. And you might surmise, because I realize that I'm an idiot, I might be able to change my idiotic ways.
Doesn't work that way, apparently.
I think, in the deepest recesses of my mind, it's still denial that's keeping me from giving up. My mind simply cannot accept some of the things that have been said and done, so it denies that they ever happened.
And I fucking fall for that denial.
Every single time.
Like an idiot.
Fitting. That's the word that keeps running through my head and coursing through my veins tonight. But not fitting like a glove would do, or like a pair of pants would do. And not fitting like a reaction to a situation might be.
More like a combination of every possible meaning of the word.
The meanings multiplied exponentially in those places where they overlap each other. Fire feeding on itself, too hot for even the slightest, swiftest touch. Too white, too bright for even the most cursory glance.
I need to think about this some more. About this fitting thing, I mean.
Maybe it's like the final piece of a puzzle. It fits into place, and it completes a picture. This is like that, except this thing I'm thinking about, this last piece for my own personal puzzle - it doesn't just fill a hole and complete an image.
Nope, it fills every possible hole and it completes every possible image. And it answers every possible question and reacts to every possible situation. You get the idea.
It fits, in every possible sense of the word.
This entry sucks. Sorry.
Somebody help me out with my math here.
If the last three work weeks, consisting of 5 days each, seemed to last 13 days, 146 days, and 4.6 years respectively, then how long will this work week seem to last, given that it will only consist of two actual days?
On a slightly related note, should I strive to enjoy myself in Las Vegas next week, inevitably shortening the perceived duration of the trip, or should I wallow in misery in hopes of making the trip seem to last longer than it really does?
One time this guy decided to ignore everything that he wanted, and to only think of this one girl. From that moment on, everything he did and said and even thought was in her best interest - or at least what he perceived to be in her best interest. He didn't matter at all, even to himself. She was the only one that mattered.
Then, several years later, the guy died alone and unloved.
The moral of this story is that there is no moral.
I know I always say this, but I wasn't even planning to go to Rich O's last night. I always say it, but then I follow-up by saying that I went to Rich O's.
I went to Rich O's at a little after 6:00, because MusicalYuppieDude had texted me that NormalGirl might be there. So I rushed out to my truck, drove about halfway there, then came back home and put on clothes, then drove all the way to Rich O's.
When I arrived, MusicalYuppieDude told me that I'd missed "her" by five minutes. Whoever it was. Might not have been NormalGirl at all - all MusicalYuppieDude had to go by was a grainy picture I'd sneaked with my phone's camera the night I'd met her.
I texted NormalGirl and asked if she'd been at Rich O's. No response, but that could mean a lot of things. First thing on my mind, of course, being that I've somehow blown it with her and will never see or hear from her again, perhaps that a restraining order is in the works even as I type this sentence. That's the fun way that my mind works.
Anyway, the place was pretty full of weirdoes, but luckily the kiddie table was available, so I sat there. I had, of course, an NABC Cone Smoker (2246) and I, of course, glared at the weirdoes.
I noticed ArtGirl sitting over at the stand-up bar - she'd drug a chair there. So I went and talked to her for a bit, and invited her to join me at the kiddie table. She politely declined and continued to write in her notebook. Probably a restraining order.
OddlyFamiliarGirl came in and sat with me, and I spent most of the rest of the night talking with her about various stuff. It was all nice and pleasant, even though some of the topics covered were anything but nice or pleasant. Also, LaptopGirl has been looking for OddlyFamiliarGirl, so I emailed the former about the latter's presence. No response, and another possible restraining order.
At about the time I got my second Cone Smoker (2266), my friends Eric and Teri came in. Surprise! I was very glad to see them. Last time had been for my nephew's funeral in August. So I talked with them until they left to go do something or other.
I rejoined OddlyFamiliarGirl at the kiddie table and talked to her some more while I had a third Cone Smoker (2286). I see that Cone Smoker has moved into second place on my all-time beer consumption list. It passed Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier by 7 ounces, and it trails Newcastle by only 5,875 ounces. Not that anything will ever catch Newcastle. Availability + Yumminess = Supremacy.
OddlyFamiliarGirl moved up to the bar to talk to Roger, and I ended the evening just as I'd begun it - alone at the kiddie table. Also, I'd got a text message from HatGirl, but then something happened to my phone and a lot of my messages were lost. This put me in a bad mood, so I came home.
One time these people went camping. It was pleasant, if a little boring. But then a bee flew down the front of this one hot girl's shirt, and she quickly tore her shirt off, revealing perfect breasts.
The moral of this story is that it would be a shame if all the bees disappeared.
Last night, Rich O's was fairly full, but it seemed empty for a couple of reasons. Reason the first was that there were several actual parking spots available in the actual parking lot. Reason the second was that just about all of the people there were either PBDs or at least regulars. So no idiots or weirdoes. So that was cool.
One of the PBDs had the throne, so I sat at the kiddie table with my first yummy Cone Smoker (2206) of the night. I exchanged a few pleasantries with some of the people in the living room, but for the most part I just vegged out.
Oh yeah, TremensGirl was there. She'd said a while ago that she wouldn't be back until at least December. I'd said that she'd cave before November was over. So I'd win that bet, if we'd actually bet anything.
Nothing happened for a long time. I emailed LaptopGirl that her BFF was there. I resisted the urge to text NotHideousGirl or NormalGirl. I talked to the regulars and the PBDs. At one point GrammarLady "lost" her purse and there was an impromptu Keystone Kops skit as everyone searched for it. It was found, eventually, in her car. Duh.
Then FirstLady gave me the throne. That was nice of her. TremensGirl said something about the universe being right again.
I had a second Cone Smoker (2226) at one point, then I got annoyed by one of the regulars, so I cut myself off lest I say the wrong thing. Again.
This one PBD wanted to buy me a beer, but I had to decline. Three Cone Smokers would have been too much for me last night. The offer was certainly appreciated, though.
Anyway, I ended up coming home at 11:30 or so. Kind of a pleasant night, but also kind of a waste.
I stole this from a thread at fark.com. I want this on a t-shirt:
I was talking to this girl tonight, about various topics ranging from my ass to how good I smelled, and eventually she asked me what it was that I wanted. As in, what did I want in a relationship?
I became a little tongue-tied. Which was strange because I've certainly thought about this subject a lot. Probably more than is healthy.
But, despite all of my thinking, I couldn't really come up with a definitive answer. All I could think of were examples from several diferent relationships. An amalgam of sorts.
Driving late at night, with her and the kids else asleep in the car. She counted on me to get us to our destination safely. She trusted me.
We'd watch a movie, and she'd lie on the couch with her head in my lap. She'd invariably fall asleep, and I'd be unable to move for hours. I could never bring myself to wake her, she was so pretty and peaceful.
She'd be feeling sad, and she'd lean her head against my shoulder and sigh.
She'd come into the bar and look around for anyone she knew, and she'd see me and she'd smile.
She came to me crying, and she hugged me, and she kissed me, and we made love. We didn't say a word to each other for hours, because we didn't need to.
She'd call me or text me whenever she wanted someone to talk to. I was always there for her.
That way she'd blush every single time I gave her even the slightest compliment.
I talked to her, and it was like we were the only people on Earth. I had her complete attention, just as she had mine.
She was tired. I didn't even know her. But she slept leaning against me on the plane.
We talked for what seemed like hours, and our faces were so close that our lips were almost touching. Eventually, our lips did touch.
I grabbed her hand, finally, and she squeezed my hand soooo hard.
I'd look at her in a certain way, and her nipples would harden.
She could never simply touch me. There always had to be something more. Little circles she'd make with her fingers - they'd drive me insane.
She simply understood me.
She forgave me.
She loved me.
I'd watch her sleep, and all of the stress in my life would wash away like it was never even there.
That's what I want. More stuff like that, please.
One night this guy and this girl were at a bar. When the girl left, she forgot her notebook. So the guy went running outside after her, calling her name.
When the girl heard the guy behind her calling her name, she stopped and turned around slowly. She seemed surprised to see that the guy still had his pants on.
The moral of this story is that sometimes you should take your pants off, if only because it's expected of you.
One day these two boys were playing around in an old shed. Then the sister of one of the boys came and locked them in the shed!
After about an hour, she finally let them out. When the boys went to tell on her, they found out that she'd told her dad that the boys had been using bad words. This was not fucking true, but the dad believed the girl and not the boys. So the boys got into trouble for cursing, and the girl probably got ice cream or something.
The moral of this story is that sometimes it's better to be a little girl than a little boy.
...there was this stupid dog named Fido. Really original name, I know.
Fido liked to eat dead animals.
But, besides being stupid, Fido was also lazy as fuck, so he never bothered to actually hunt and kill anything. Nope, he'd just look for something that was already dead. Like road-kill and other gross stuff.
Then he'd bring the rotted carcass up onto the porch and gnaw on it for a while, until this kid named Dave took it from him and threw it in the trash barrel.
The moral of this story is that random dead things are disgusting.
Took too long of a nap tonight. Might have slept all night except my phone Woo Hooed at me at about 11:30.
A message from LaptopGirl!
Anyway, this morning I was in a bit of a pickle. As far as I knew, I had about 83 cents to my name, and I was nearly out of gas. So I had the brilliant idea to actually check my bank balance instead of just assuming that I was broke.
Almost $94 in there, on the day before payday. I've been eating dirt for the past week for nothing, it seems.
So I was able to gas up my truck and make it to work. Later, with my newfound wealth, I was able to go and observe AlliDay at The Pub. BikerGirl got her hair cut off and dyed slightly red. She looks hot. I told her that it was like I'd discovered that she had a hot twin sister.
I ended up having a pint and a half of Newcastle (8139), and a dude from work paid for it.
Then, after work, I went to Rich O's and had a Cone Smoker (2128). While I was there, Bubbles came in, and she'd messed with her hair as well. Went from blonde to completely black. A huge difference.
I was talking with NotHideousGirl's ex-husband, and this one chick I never saw before. The subject of hitting a deer on the road came up, and I mentioned that I'd met MixedSignalGirl when she'd hit a deer while driving in front of me. The chick I never saw before said that she'd hit a deer once, too. Turns out that the chick and MixedSignalGirl have the same name.
Now, after my nap that ran on for way too long, I'm wide awake at 1:00 AM. I'm having a glass of Cone Smoker (2146) in lieu of anything with caffeine, so I hope I'll be able to grab some sleep in a couple of hours.
Well, I guess I'm not going to do the novel thing this year.
There are several reasons. I wrote most of them in an email the other day, in part saying...
I think that, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the nanowrimo thing just wasn't for me. Not this year at least. I don't want to do anything half-assed, and that's pretty much what they tell you to do, with that whole Quantity Over Quality thing. It just rubs me the wrong way. Plus, there are some weirdoes in the group.There was another, more private reason, but I think that the main reason is also the simplest. It's also the reason I left out of the email. Duh.
I just don't have the time. Not this month. I've got this Las Vegas trip staring me in the face, and all I can think about is that I'd have to write my entire 50,000-word novel by the 24th instead of by the 30th.
I still really like parts of the idea though. So I might just try to write myself a 50,000-word novel. It won't be done in a month, though. More like several months or even a year.
It seems like it might be fun, as long as a deadline isn't constantly bearing down on me.
I'm sitting at my computer, at this semi-late hour. I'm looking at my screen, and all of the miracles thereon. Ordered by date and time, they mark the timeline of my resurrection even as they cause my resurrection.
It's just so fucking surreal sometimes. All those times, I waited for miracles that never came. I finally stopped waiting. And now they're queuing up like baby ducks.
There's another miracle! In bold, for now. I'll click on it, and it will fade to gray. But that doesn't matter, because it's already burned its way into me.
Not much to report today, so I'll make this brief.
After work, I went to this Hitching Post bar, where my dad used to hang out. I was going to have a disgusting Falls City in his honor, but they didn't have any, so I had a disgusting Bud Light (336) instead. I drank it straight out of the can, like Dad would have done it.
After that, I went to Rich O's and had a yummy Cone Smoker (2108).
I couldn't afford a pizza, so this week's Pizza Night is postponed until Thursday.
I told you this would be brief.
I can't think of anything lengthy to write, so I guess I'll just list more random crap.
I go to Las Vegas two weeks from today. I'm practically dreading the trip, but I'm hopeful that this attitude will reverse itself - probably when I'm about to land and I can see The Strip out the plane's window.
Several week ago, RockGirl told me something that I didn't want to believe. I knew that she was telling me the truth, but I fought that truth for a long time. Now, that truth has come to pass, and I'm much happier for it.
I had a weird dream last night. I don't remember very much about it, but my friend Eric's wife Teri was in it, and she was some kind of secret agent on a mission to kill me. Luckily for me, she was pretty bad at her job, and we all had a good laugh about it later.
Yesterday I went to my nephew's grave for the first time since the funeral. They finally got his headstone delivered. It's very nice, for a headstone. I took a picture of it, but I'm not sure that it would be appropriate for this venue. What with it being depressing and all that. I much prefer, as everyone knows, to write entries about good stuff like boxes full of cute kittens.
Dina has redone Cory's room into a sort of sitting room. It's very relaxing, and quite a contrast from the teenaged boy's chaotic room it used to be. The walls are now painted a color that I can only describe as school bus yellow. I'd been led to believe that setting foot in that room would cause immediate blindness and/or skin cancer, but it's not bad at all. It really looks nice in there.
I've been talking to FirstGirl about maybe making a necklace or a pendant out of my rock. The whole thing was my idea, but it still makes me very nervous. I'm not sure that I'm a necklace kind of guy. I also don't want to do anything to damage my rock, so no drilling.
You know what's weird? The only dirty clothes in my house are the maroon scrubs I'm wearing right now. Last week, I did a million loads of laundry, and I've been keeping up with it ever since. Very strange, and my cats are beside themselves without the normally ubiquitous piles of clothes upon which to nap.
The other night NormalGirl and I were talking about some of the places I've lived. That discussion got Seattle stuck in my mind, and now I really want to go back there for a visit. Even though it's a long way away, I think I'll put it on my short list for next Spring's Easter trip. I'll have to stop smoking first though. I think that the new law in Washington allows people to shoot smokers on sight.
I'm pretty sure that I just did something stupid. I meant well, though.
I've been very tempted to delete my MySpace account. It no longer serves any purpose for me. I'll probably end up leaving it there, but ignoring it. We'll see, I guess.
I've noticed lately that a couple of my friends are very bad influences on me. Just to be clear, I blame myself for any and all personality defects that arise when I'm around these people. I somehow remain hopeful that I will eventually learn to spot, and stop, these defects before they ruin any more nights for me.
Hey, it's 11:11 on 11/11 now. I think I'll stop writing for a while.
Have you ever noticed how cats, if they're caught doing something clumsy, quite often their first reaction is to lick their ass?
I wonder if that's supposed to distract us, possibly make us forget the clumsiness we've just witnessed, or if it's somehow intended to enhance our viewing experience.
I think I've figured out why things went so horribly awry. It wasn't my fault, and it wasn't directly her fault. This realization makes me feel a little better about the whole situation. It still sucks though.
It makes me sad when pretty girls are sad. I know that I shouldn't care whether they're pretty or not, but I do.
Last night I bought a half-gallon growler of NABC Cone Smoker. I plan to drink some of it tonight, but first I have to go to the store and get some food. I'm starving over here.
Tomorrow is November 12th, so I plan to go to my dad's old hangout and have a Falls City in his honor. Except that I'm not sure they make Falls City anymore, so I might have to drink a toast to Dad with something else. He can, however, rest assured that it will be something equally horrible.
I've been in this giant gaping financial hole since August. Finally, this Thursday, I hope to be able to climb out of it. This will be thanks to my holiday bonus, which always comes in the middle of November.
Tomorrow I start another week of being on-call for work. I am so not looking forward to it.
I guess that's it. I'm going to the store now. Maybe I'll drink a lot of beer and write some drivel later.
It was a pretty decent night, I suppose. Quite crowded, partly because of this big meeting the PBDs were having, and partly because there were a lot of strangers all over the place. But about half of the strangers were pretty women, so that made it bearable.
I arrived way earlier than normal, hoping to catch LaptopGirl, but I was too late for that. I grabbed a seat at the kiddie table and ordered a Cone Smoker (1994).
My night consisted of sitting at the kiddie table, enjoying my beers, and talking with StoreGirl and/or FirstGirl, as one or both of them would frequently come in and sit with me for a while. MusicalYuppieDude was at the bar, so I did talk to him every now and then.
Other than those people, and the main mass of PBDs who mostly stayed out front, I didn't recognize a single person in the place. Oh yeah, except for HopGirl. She came in and sat with some people in the red room. I went over and talked to her briefly. I think she did something to her hair, because she was looking disconcertingly pretty. Oh, and ArtGirl made a brief appearance before she moved out front. Ditto on the pretty thing.
I think that's about it. I ended up drinking a couple more Cone Smokers (2024), then I went and said goodbye to ArtGirl, and I came home at 11:00 or so.
That show Extreme Makeover: Home Edition is in Louisville makeovering a home.
Yeah, I know that's not a real word.
It's been all over the radio, how they're redoing a house for some semi-famous blind guy. Plus I guess they're all staying at this fancy hotel across the street from where I work. At least there's been a very large bus parked there all week, and everyone is saying it's the people from the show.
I used to watch that show. I used to like it. I mean, the things that they do to transform those houses are truly amazing. But I haven't watched it in a couple of years. It just got to be too much, with all the heartwarming and the tears and the uplifting moments.
It used to be that they'd swoop in and fix up a house for any of a number of reasons. Maybe because you were cool, or you needed more space, or maybe just because you applied for the thing. And, of course, there were the charity cases. People in real trouble, who needed real help.
But things changed. I guess the heartwarming stories rapidly became the most popular ones. And the more desperate the lives of the people being helped, the better the ratings were. So it kinda snowballed.
It used to be, back when I first started watching that show, it used to be that I could almost imagine them showing up at my house someday. I liked the semi-randomness. For me, that was a really big part of the show's appeal.
Now, though, they don't do that semi-random stuff anymore. If they show up at your house now, then you know that your life truly sucks big ones.
Like, we had a storm here in August, and one of my Tivos broke. I seriously doubt that the people from the show are going to give my house a makeover because of my broken Tivo. But, back when the show first came on, it was fun to fantasize about it. Now, it would be a horrible fantasy. Because first I'd have to imagine that half my family was dead. And the other half had cancer. And the other half was blind or otherwise disabled. And that my cats all hated me. And that, despite all the problems, I still spent all of my spare time and all of my spare money helping those even less fortunate than I was.
It used to be fun to fantasize about that show redoing my house. But now, I wouldn't wish that fate on my worst enemy. Nobody deserves to have a life that's so crappy as to lure that show in.
I got to Rich O's early, about 7:20 or so. I hadn't really been planning to go at all. I was just going to sleep and wake up whenever I woke up. But then HatGirl texted me that she was at Rich O's. So I went to Rich O's, even though I was very tired, because, duh, HatGirl!
Also, Thursday I went there after work and saw this bit of loveliness on the board.
I asked Roger when he thought it might be available, and he guessed that it would be around the first of December.
So, imagine my surprise and glee when I went in on November 9th and saw this.
Cone Smoker was on tap! Yay!
I went into Rich O's proper and sat on the sofa. I said hello to everyone around me. MusicalYuppieDude, some dude without a nickname, LuckyFucker, HatGirl.
Then, after about 10 minutes, I realized that none of the bartenders were going to ask me what I wanted, so I went up to the bar and ordered my first Cone Smoker in 18 months or so (1936). It was a little darker than I remembered. More malty, and not as bitter. Quite yummy, though - that hadn't changed.
I ended up having a second one (1956) then most of a third one (1974) before my stupidity irritated me to the point where I became unfit for human company. At that point, I came home.
I don't feel like writing anything.
You ever have one of those nights when you feel like you just can't control yourself?
Well, I have them every so often. Usually I manage to restrain myself a little bit, enough that I don't fear falling asleep because the dread of waking up is too much to bear.
Usually, I manage to do that, but not tonight.
Tonight was a fucked-up night.
I doubt that any of the people I talked to or emailed or texted tonight, I doubt that any of them will assign any particular importance to this night. But I certainly will.
I simply could not shut up.
I had a choice. I could explode, or I could be an idiot.
I chose what I perceived to be the lesser of those two evils.
Because exploding would be pretty gross, I think.
I just had a very funny thought. Or I guess it was more of a daydream than a thought. In it, I imagined being misunderstood. But that wasn't the funny part. Nope, the funny part was the exact nature of the misunderstanding.
My reticence was thought to be caused by apathy.
Pretty much the funniest thought I've had in a long time.
Or maybe it was the saddest. It's so hard to tell sometimes.
Also, I'm writing a song of sorts. I can't play it for shit, but I'm thinking that if I keep trying for a million years, then maybe I'll get it right once or twice. This is the same theory I'm testing for my love life.
I neither read nor write music. I'll have to describe my song to MusicalYuppieDude, so he can tell me how it would look in musical notation Then I'll post that notation. After I add some variety.
For now, according to this site, it just goes like this
Cmajor, Cmajor-Cmajor, Cmajor, Cmajor, Cmaj7, Cmaj7, Cmaj7, Cmaj7,Then, it repeats. I need to add more variety. My Grammy will have to wait until then.
Am, Am-Am, Am, Am, Asus2, Asus2, Asus2, Asus2...
The nice thing about these four chords is that I can almost switch between them quickly without dislocating some vital joint or pulling some vital muscle.
I never said this would be interesting.
I think I want to buy a sailboat. Nothing ostentatious. Just something big enough, say, for me to sail around the world if I felt like it. I'm pretty sure that I'd feel like doing exactly that.
I think that I just get sick of being by myself in crowded rooms. It happens all the time. Often, the more dense the crowd, the more alone I am. I'm a third wheel, or a fifth wheel, or a nine hundred forty-third wheel. It always seems to be an odd number, and I always seem to be the odd one out.
So I want to buy a sailboat, so I can sail around the world all by myself. So there are no more crowds pushing me aside like a drop of oil in a lake.
I think that, if I were physically alone, then the mental isolation wouldn't seem so bad. At least, then, I'd have an excuse.
Today was Wednesday, otherwise known as AlliDay. One of the highlights of my week, when I can sneak away from work and go have lunch at The Pub and talk to BikerGirl for a bit. Work has been crazy lately, but today I did manage to spare an hour. I had a nice Newcastle (8109) for lunch, and talked to BikerGirl for a bit.
At the end of the day I got my hairs cut, then I stopped at Rich O's for a quick Schlenkerla Marzen (2056). I don't think that my spiffy new good mood quite fits in with going to Rich O's after work anymore. I haven't felt happy there after work for a long time.
Anyway, I had a dream tonight. I think I can remember enough about it to describe it. I'll try.
I was at Rich O's. But it wasn't the real Rich O's. It was the same one from this dream. Instead of there being a single living room area, with couches and stuff, there were dozens of them scattered about. I was sitting in one such area when she came in.I think that I can understand most of this dream. Random hot girls are, of course, a staple. As is Rich O's, even this super-expanded version. The part about wanting to help LaptopGirl's baby wasn't too much of a stretch either.
Some hot blonde girl. I never saw her before in my life, but she seemed to know me. She certainly acted like she did. Within about 10 seconds after her arrival, we were making out like teenagers. So, pretty much exactly like my waking life. Not.
The blonde girl and I went outside for some reason. I asked her what her name was. "Zwanka," she said.
So that was weird.
When we came back inside, there was a huge crowd waiting to hear some band play, and Zwanka and I got separated. I was looking around for her and I saw a baby sitting on the floor all by itself.
I somehow knew that this was LaptopGirl's baby. But I hadn't seen her anywhere around, and nobody seemed to be paying any attention to the baby. I was afraid that somebody might step on it or abduct it or something. So I scooped it up and started walking around looking for LaptopGirl.
The baby and I talked as we walked around. He was about a year old, but quite a good little talker. He helped me look for his mother, but it seemed that just about every girl in the place had dark hair and glasses, so we kept going on little wild goose chases. It was fun though. I remembered thinking that I hadn't held a baby in a very long time.
Then I saw that Dan was bartending, so I asked him to put the baby up on this shelf behind the bar. That way, if LaptopGirl came in, she'd be sure to see her baby up there. I asked the baby if he wanted to go play with Uncle Dan for a while, and he agreed. So Dan put the baby up on the shelf, and I went looking for Zwanka some more.
I never did find Zwanka, but the next time I glanced at the bar, the baby was gone, and Dan gave me a thumbs-up.
Where did that come from?
Okay, so I was in the restroom at work when it happened. By it, I of course mean that my building burst into flames.
Well, maybe not really. But I couldn't really know that, could I? I was in the restroom, busily doing restroom stuff. There were storms in the area, and there was a very loud crack, and then the fire alarm went off.
I have some questions. If you're taking a shit, and you fear that your building has just burst into flames, what actions should you take before you run screaming from the restroom?
Should you wipe? Pull your pants back up?
Should you wash your hands?
These questions, they haunt me now.
Anyway, it turns out that lightning had struck our building in such as way as to set off the fire alarm, but we didn't find that out for a while. Because it was raining pretty hard, we only mostly evacuated. We went to the bottom floor, near the door but not quite outside the door.
Then all the firemen (I actually do think it was all of them) came and started checking everything out. I texted NormalGirl that I might be late for our date, because my building might be on fire.
Then one of the firemen told us about how our building wasn't on fire, so we went back to work, and I texted NormalGirl back that I'd be on time after all.
Later, as I was leaving work, I got a message from NormalGirl that she was on the Sportstime side. So, that's where I went. It's weird on that side.
I'd been hoping that NormalGirl wouldn't wear anything cute, so that I might be able to get to know her better without all the distractions, but alas, she was wearing a cute hoodie and had cute sunglasses on top of her head. But I persevered. We had a nice time, I think. I poured on all of the charm I could muster, and I think we were each genuinely interested in what the other had to say.
It was fun.
Let's see, to start off the evening, I had a Delirium Tremens (1053). NormalGirl was having an Upland Wheat. We shared a pizza and some conversation. For the next beer, we split a bottle of Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (2279) on my recommendation. She seemed to like it okay.
As the conversation continued, I had a bottle of Schlenkerla Marzen (2022). I had NormalGirl try a small sample of that. She didn't gag, so that was cool.
We have agreed that, since I chose the time and the venue for this date, she will be in charge of the next one. I hope that the next one happens. I like what I've seen and heard so far.
After NormalGirl left, I went over to Rich O's and talked to MusicalYuppieDude while I had another Marzen (2039).
Despite all outward evidence to the contrary, my fantastic mood continues. I mean, I've become even more aloof around my friends, sometimes I don't bother to go out at all. My tolerance for idiotic behavior has never been lower. I tend to blow off people who try to talk to me.
It's not that I don't care. And it's not even that these people are not relevant. Even though they're not, for the most part.
It's just that I know, for an absolute fact, that none of them are going to make me feel any better than I already feel. It's simply not possible. That's not to say that they will make me feel worse - it could be a status quo type of thing.
But, why take that chance? It just doesn't seem worth it. There's no reward with that risk, because I already have everything I could ever need. Wants are, of course, a different matter entirely. And my wants still vary. I kind of hope that they'll continue to vary, because I can imagine that, by doing so, they could inject some much needed drama into my life. I'd really hate to get bored with all this happiness, though the irony of it would definitely elicit a chuckle or two or a million.
Almost nobody knows me anymore. The vast majority of the people, who think they know me, they only know me as I was for the past couple of years. They've never seen me like this.
I'm no longer a sad guy who might get into a good mood every now and then, shocking friends and misleading strangers.
I'm an actual happy person, and feeling bad or sad or mad - even though those feelings will certainly continue to make appearances, those feelings are no longer the norm for me.
It used to be that even the tiniest things would send me plummeting back into the abyss. Not now. Now, I'm possessed of my own intrinsic buoyancy.
The weight of a lost friendship?
The burden of mounting work pressures?
The near-constant load of financial obligations?
This too shall pass.
I am happy, dammit.
And, also, a little surprised that the shock of this transformation didn't kill me.
A little while ago I got an email from RockGirl. Earlier today, we'd been discussing various meal choices, in particular my own preference for eating a lot of a single thing instead of a small amount of several things.
RockGirl asked me what I'd serve if a hot girl (she specified a certain one, but it's not important for this exercise) came over to my house for lunch.
It took me about a half a second to come up with an answer.
Homemade chocolate pudding. Then I'd say that I had no clean bowls or plates or spoons, and so we'd have to just lick it off each other's bodies.I thought this was funny, and so I plagiarized myself for this entry.
I'd probably get away with it, too. Because in this fantasy universe of yours, wherein a hot girl comes to my house for lunch, anything at all is possible.
Maybe I'll sue myself later. I'd probably settle out of court, though. I wouldn't want to give myself too much hassle.
I'm a little bit torn right now. There are several things that I'd like to write about. But it's late, and I'm tired. So I have to be very brief.
I got to see HatGirl - Yay! - tonight, for the first time in a million zillion gazillion years. It was very nice to see her.
There was about a 40/60 ratio of girls to guys at Rich O's tonight. That would be strange enough, but what made it even more strange was that the entire 40% consisted of hot girls. There wasn't a bowser in the bunch.
I had four bottles of Schlenkerla Marzen (2006) tonight. All were yummy.
There were a lot of weirdoes tonight. Many more than usual. The presence of all the hot girls somehow turned all of the guys into weirdoes. Wouldn't be the first time, but I've rarely seen such outbreaks at Rich O's.
Toward the very end of the night, I began to feel some of my recent resolve deteriorate. Luckily, they declared last call before I did or said anything stupid.
It was a nice night. I was in a good mood even before I got to see HatGirl, and after that I was in a fantastic mood. A couple of people and events tried to spoil it, but tonight my mood was invincible. I don't expect this invincibility to last very long. The good things never last.
Okay, that's it. I'm tired.
The other day I said that I felt like I was doing something wrong at the most basic level.
Well, today I decided that I was correct. There
are were two things that I was doing which were just incredibly wrong. I am now trying to correct those things, but only time will tell if I'm successful.
First, my left hand should never ever ever ever be used to support the guitar. My left hand's sole purpose is to form chords. If I feel the need to support the end of the guitar with my left hand, then I'm doing something wrong. I'm out of balance somewhere. My left hand needs to be completely unencumbered, so that it can reach all of the strings easily. Supporting the guitar with my left hand is a distraction at best, and a total hindrance at worst. Usually, for me so far, it's been the latter.
Second, strumming should be about 95% elbow action, and only 5% wrist action. This particular problem is a little harder to describe, but I'm still sure that I'm right. It has to do with how and/or if I hit the proper strings when I strum, especially on my upstrokes. I'm working on this, but it's proving to be really tough for me.
It's fun for me to pretend that anyone cares about this crap.
I'm dewrinkling some clothes now, so I have a little bit of time to kill. This one stupid shirt probably won't get dewrinkled, and I'll have to iron it. I hate it when that happens.
Yesterday I had a dentist appointment. It was routine, except for the girl who did most of the work. She was far from routine. She was gorgeous. Way too pretty to be working in a dentist's office. I mean, I generally like for any girls sticking their fingers in my mouth to be of reasonable appearance. I wouldn't want some old hag doing it, neither would I want a super-model doing it. At least not in that context, super-models should all feel free to stick fingers in my mouth at other times. And this chick was as pretty as any super-model I've ever seen. Especially when she had her cute little mask on, and all I could see were her incredible eyes.
So I spent all of my time in that chair thinking about baseball, so I wouldn't spring an erection and distract the poor girl as she worked inside my mouth with sharp metal utensils.
The greatest moment that I ever personally witnessed in baseball was several years ago. The Mariners were playing the Indians, and Kenny Lofton had spent about a week calling Randy Johnson a headhunter. When the game started, Lofton was the lead-off batter, and for the first pitch Randy threw a fastball straight at Kenny's head.
A big to-do ensued. There was no fight, but there was a lot of arguing. The umpire gave Randy a warning not to do that again, ever, young man.
Things settled back down, and the game resumed. For the second pitch of the game, Randy threw another fastball straight at Lofton's head, then he walked off the field. Classic.
Last night I went to Rich O's. I hadn't been planning to go, but LaptopGirl wanted me to take a look at her computer. That's not a euphemism. Her computer has been acting up.
So I had a nice pleasant evening talking with LaptopGirl. It didn't seem as surreal as it has lately, so I guess maybe I'm getting used to this new reality. I hope so.
Her computer is running Vista, and it's got some crap wrong with it. I managed to correct one glaring problem, but the rest will have to wait until we can scan the thing for spyware. I'm fairly convinced that's what's causing most of her computer woes. Also, the damn thing bluescreened on us three or four times. I didn't think Vista was ever supposed to bluescreen, and I'd definitely thought that Microsoft would have done away with that particular anachronism by now.
Like I said, it was a nice night. I had most of two bottles of yummy Koningshoeven Quad (722), and I had most of three bottles of yummy Schlenkerla Marzen (1938). LaptopGirl had the rest.
Later, the place turned back into a sausagefest. I stayed around for a little while, though. Talking to MusicalYuppieDude and a couple of other guys. I left just before they started kicking every out.
I had this really clever thing that I was going to write about. It was going to tie in perfectly to my current life, and it was going to set me free.
Problem was, once I actually wrote it, it ended up saying pretty much the exact opposite of what I'd originally thought it would say. I blame beer for this lapse in judgment.
In this case, see, the fucking glove fits perfectly. Like my own skin, it fits. So acquittal is out of the question. Guilt is certain. Beyond a reasonable doubt. Even beyond an unreasonable doubt. Beyond a shadow of any kind of doubt whatsoever.
I'm guilty as fuck.
It really was a good idea for a while, though.
There. I think this is cryptic enough to pass my internal censors.
Lately, I never seem to know how to start an entry. I know what it is that I want to write about. I know all of the major points that I want to make. A lot of times, I know what the last sentence will be. It's that first sentence that's eluding me. I want the first sentence to grab people, and to not let go of them until they've read the entire entry.
Tonight, I wanted to write about overflow. And, for a first sentence, I whined and complained. That's just not right at all. But, lately, I don't seem to be able to do any better. And that's the point I was making with that first sentence.
I've been doing this blogging crap for over four years now. I don't even want to count how many entries I've written, but MoveableType tells me that this is the 2,422st entry in my barenada.com blog. Off the top of my head, I'd guess that there are another 100 or so entries scattered about my other blogs.
Over 2,500 entries. And you know how many have been readable, meaningful? You know how many have been completely honest and candid?
A couple of dozen. Maybe, If I'm feeling generous, maybe three dozen.
I can go back and read those entries, the ones that are readable. And I do go back and read them fairly often, for various reasons, most of which are of interest only to me. But one of the reasons is to remind myself and prove to myself that I'm capable of so much more than what I normally write.
Sometimes, it's like I transcend my own abilities. It's really an amazing feeling, when everything falls into place, and all of the right words just flow onto the screen. I know that I can write, every now and then. The trick seems to be in doing it all the time. Or, at least, doing it more often than not.
The people who know me, they know what I've gone through. And most of those people know what I'm going though right now. And yet, I continue to write mundane irrelevant drivel. Because, for now, that's all I can write. Because, for now anyway, I can contain myself.
Eventually, I manage to fear and hope with nearly equal intensity, eventually these words and thoughts inside my head will no longer be contained. They'll overflow my mind and run down my arms and out through my fingers and onto my keyboard and into the world. I will become a like a mountain spring. A spring of what, exactly, I'm not sure.
Anything, anything but drivel. I'm so fucking sick and tired of drivel.
Damn, I want to be free of these shackles. But, I fear, I'd be dangerous without them.
This isn't the entry that I thought I'd write.
It never is.