I was in such a dangerous mood tonight. A stupid mood.

But now, now it's later. I'm more sober than I was back then, at like 10:00 PM.

Sometimes I lose sight of this one particular very important fact. The most important fact.

At times like that, times like 10:00 PM tonight, I can sometimes feel that fact slipping away. And all I can do is get a tight grip on it, and hope that my grip is strong enough. So that, while I might forget from time to time, the truth will always be there with me, in case I need it.

And I pretty much always need it.

I think I got lucky tonight. I loosened my grip, and the truth fell into my lap.

I'm real. She's real. It's real. This is not some game, or some movie drama, or some story told to little girls while they sit wide-eyed and imagine the stories that might be told about them someday, maybe, if they're lucky.

---

I think that this could all be boiled down to a couple of simple questions. One from each of us. With a corresponding answer from each of us.

My answer is, "Yes."

Everyone knows my answer. It's no surprise to anyone. The only surprise may be that I've waited so long for the question to be asked. The only surprise may be that I'm still waiting, my answer pressed against my lips, ready to burst forth at the proper moment.

It will be explosive, I think, when I give my answer.

It may be my dying word. I certainly hope not, but I'm ready, just in case.

I was doing just fine, for probably twenty years. I forgot the damn song even existed.

Then they played it on the stupid radio last night, and now I can't get it out of my stupid head.

And I can't even say the title of the stupid song, because the title is fucking everything, and it would expose everything that I've, for some stupid reason, kept hidden away inside me.

But the title isn't the real problem I'm having with this song, this song for which I just scoured the Internet for a copy. The real problem is the damn lyrics.

The point of the lyrics, as near as I can tell, is to make me want to kill myself with their mocking.

See, the entire song is about saying things that I'll never say, and doing things I'll never do. I can't even mouth the words to myself as the song plays, because every vow, when it leaves my lips, becomes a broken promise.

Stupid song.

I didn't write about this before, mainly because I feared that the mounds of colorful panties thrown into my yard by passing groupies would detract from my neighbors' fancy Christmas displays, but I have an electric guitar now.

I've actually had it for over a month. Back before I went to Las Vegas, I went to a music store. I needed to buy a new beginner's book. So, of course, I walked out of that store with a new beginner's book, a new guitar, amp, cord, gig bag, stand, strap, tuner thingy, and a bunch of picks. Good thing the place didn't have a tattoo artist on-staff, or I'd probably have gotten one of those, too. Maybe a demon wailing away on a flaming guitar, or something like that.

Anyway, I bought all this stuff, and right from the start I could tell that something was horribly wrong. The amp would constantly emit a loud buzz - so loud that it would drown out most notes. Every note on the guitar also tended to sound exactly the same, because of having to merge with that damn buzzing.

So I've been nagging my friend MusicalYuppieDude to check out my stuff and see if he can figure out what the problem is. Because he's been busy, raking up panties from his own groupies no doubt, we didn't get together until yesterday afternoon.

I packed up my guitar and my amp and went over to his house. I successfully negotiated the Stairs Of Death and made it into his basement.

The first thing he tried was his own fancy "V" guitar plugged into my el-cheapo amplifier. Everything sounded great. There was no buzzing, just sweet music.

Next, he plugged my guitar into my amp. Same thing, no buzzing. He said it sounded good, and I believed him. I was right there, after all.

The only thing left to try was my cord, so we tried that. Still, no buzzing. Still, just sweet music.

By this time a new theory had started to develop in my head. The new theory being that the buzzing might be caused by the electricity in my house.

So we dicked around for a few more minutes, while I marveled that my guitar and amp were capable of producing distinctly different sounds, depending on which strings I strummed and which chords I formed, and then I brought all of my shit back home. I was excited by the chance to finally be a rock god.

My amp had only been plugged into two different outlets. One in my basement and one in my living room. I started trying different outlets.

One on the other side of the living room? The buzz was there.

One in my office? Buzzzzzz.

My bedroom? Buzzzzz.

I took everything down to my basement, and tried an outlet on the opposite side of the house from where I'd tried before.

No buzz. Just a very slight hum, hinting at the awesome rock fury straining to be unleashed.

Yay!

So now I have an electric guitar and amp that are actually useful to me, instead of just looking cool. I've only got a few little things to work on:

1. I cannot pick.
2. I cannot strum.
3. I cannot change chords.
4. I cannot count to four.

And then, then once I get those trivial problems solved, I need to figure out what's the deal with notes.

I don't understand how there can be two strings on the guitar that allegedly play an E note. They don't sound even remotely similar to me. One is low, and one is high. But people tell me that they're the same note. I don't understand, and I fear that the rain of panties will never happen until I do understand.

1. Trevor
2. Cocksucker
3. Cumguzzler
4. Hogarth
5. Blaine
6. Buttpirate
7. Lance
8. Anything with an apostrophe in it - i.e. J'on
9. Anything intentionally misspelled - i.e. Travys
10. Englebert

Keep this handy guide with you at all times.

Being concerned, yet unable to express my concern lest I seem creepy. Sometimes, concern is just concern. This is one of those times, but nobody would ever believe it.

---

Wanting to wish someone a happy new year, but being unable to do so because (a) I deleted her from my phone, and (b) She'd assign some sinister motive to whatever I might say, anyway.

---

Missing someone for all of the right reasons, but knowing that it's useless to say so, because the wrong reasons are all that are ever expected or seen.

---

Being unable to make up my damn mind, about a choice that should be obvious.

We talked for a while, later, about reasons and excuses and justifications. For what we were doing. For what we'd done. For what we would, in all likelihood, do again before sleep took us. But mostly, we didn't really talk. She spoke while I listened, or I spoke while she listened. It was more like a debate than anything else. And our debate had no judge keeping score, except maybe my cat Buddy, who watched us lazily from the top of the chifarobe. I didn't see him taking any notes, though. I'll call it a tie.

This always happens to me. I can never just let myself enjoy simple pleasures. I always have to analyze them, until they're no longer simple, and they're no longer pleasures. My mind tries to jump to the future, but there's nothing there. And I know that I'm on a dead-end road, and I wonder why I'm even bothering.

For WeirdGirl, it's all about the road itself. She gives only passing thought to where it might lead. Wondering and worrying is neither fun nor productive, so she simply doesn't do those things.

Sometimes, I wish I shared her outlook. But I don't. I can't. That's not who I am. I need a destination. Even if it's so far away that I can never reach it in my lifetime, I need to know that it's there. I need to know that there's a point to living.

I forget where I was going with this entry. Probably nowhere. That would be fitting, I suppose.

Yesterday was a pretty good day. I took a late lunch, and went to see AlliGirl for a while. For some reason I didn't eat anything, I just had some Newcastle (8533). Then, on the way home, I suddenly got hungry. I was near White Castle, so I went there. It's been months since I went there.

So I ordered my food, and I was standing back waiting for it to be ready, and I felt a tingling. It was my hot girl radar, pinging loudly and clearly. I turned to my left and saw a little blue car leaving the drive-thru.

Driving that little blue car was none other than VigilanteGirl!

Yay!

She saw me, stopped and waved at me through the window, and motioned for me to some outside. Of course I went outside, somehow remembering to open the door instead of just crash through it.

We talked for a minute or two. She gave me her card with her number on it, and said she had to get back to work. I called her a little later, so now she has my number, too. I told her that I didn't want to wait another year and a half to see her, and that we should figure out a way to keep that from happening. She sounded dubious.

But still, it was very cool to see her and talk to her.

---

Then, later in the evening, I stopped at GasNStuff on the way to Rich O's, and VigilanteGirl was sitting in her car talking on her phone. I waved at her, but that's it.

---

Rich O's was crowded as fuck.

I stood around for a while until this one dude finished eating, then I squeezed by him and sat on the sofa. I had an NABC Cone Smoker (3071) and enjoyed it immensely. Other than that, I felt pretty claustrophobic sitting there because it was so crowded. As soon as PlantDude left the throne, I moved there. ArtGirl was sitting at the kiddie table with some dude. I talked to her for a bit, and I chastised her for getting a new boyfriend and not even considering my lovely self for the position.

Next, I had a Smithwick's (1678). I'd resolved that I wouldn't be cutting myself off before 9:00, as I'd done the last two nights, so I was going to alternate between strong beers and tame beers.

This was a nice plan, but it didn't quite work that way. Once most of the weirdoes had left the sofa, MusicalYuppieDude moved over there. We ended up splitting a bottle of Malheur 10 (53). It was fantastic, but it certainly wasn't tame. After that was gone, I had what was left of my Smithwick's, then switched to Diet Coke for the rest of the night.

Then, at about 11:00, at about the time I started to get bored and disappointed with the night, I got a surprise phone call.

I had a couple of hours to kill, so I came home and did a quick straightening-up.

Last night I whipped this together and sent it to a few people. I mainly made it for RockGirl. She was looking for ideas on what to send her boyfriend.

RockGirl decoded it in about two seconds. HatGirl came very close right away, but may have given up. LaptopGirl is probably forwarding it to her attorney. WeirdGirl cheated, but she said it was only to check her answer.

I could have picked another image altogether for the third image. I don't know why I didn't.

[1.] Where was the first time you ever kissed the last person you kissed?
Outside her work.

[2.] What's the greatest thing that happened to you today?
I ran into VigilanteGirl at White Castle.

[3.] What's the first thing you thought of when you woke up this morning?
One more day, then I'm off for a week! Yay!

[4.] Would you rather get up early or sleep in?
Stupid question. I'd rather sleep.

[5.] Last thing that suprised you?
Besides seeing VigilanteGirl at White Castle, I guess it was yesterday when I got some crappy news.

[6.] What's the closest thing to you that is brown?
My cat Happy is at my feet smelling my shoes.

[7.] What would you change about your life right now?
I would add a billion dollars.

[8.] Would you rather smile over a lie or cry over the truth?
The truth is almost always better.

[9.] What's on your bedroom floor right now?
Piles of clothes, in varying states of cleanliness.

[10.] Who was the last person you got into an argument with?
This dipshit a couple of weeks ago, for saying bad things about a wonderful person.

[11.] Do you trust people?
Depends on the person. Generally, no.

[12.] If you could move away, no questions asked, where would you move?
Las Vegas.

[13.] Have you ever been out of the country?
During the first Gulf War.

[14.] Could you go a day without eating?
I could probably use it.

[15.] How much do looks matter to you?
For first impressions, they're pretty important. I think that's normal.

[16.] How do you feel about sex?
I can take it or leave it, usually. I like the emotional connections more.

[17.] When was the last time you had your hair cut?
A couple of weeks ago.

18.] Would you rather be mad or sad?
Mad, but I rarely feel that way.

[20.] What's the best feeling in the world?
BEing in love.

[21.] Are you close with your mom?
She's buried a couple of miles from me. Does that count?.

[22.] Are your parents strict?
They were pretty lax, and they've gotten moreso since they died.

[23.] Do you tell you your parents everything?
That would be weird.

[24.] Would you rather be a bird or a fish?
A bird. Stupid question.

[25.] Name one fear you have ....
I have an aversion to crowds.

[26.] If you need to go to the store a block away, do you walk or drive?
Depends on the weather.

[27.] Does the thought of marriage scare you?
Nope.

[28] Do u want to have kids?
I've found myself thinking about it lately.

[29.] What's your favorite color to wear?
Blue.

[30] What time is it?
2:28 PM.

[31.] What are you doing today?
Worked. Came home. Getting ready to take a nap.

[32.] Would you rather be rich & sad or poor & happy?
If I were poor, I think I'd be sad.

[33] cuddle or sex?
One then the other.

[34.] What would you do if you found a dinosaur egg?
Like a viable one, or fossilized?

[35.] Do you get bored easily?
I'm taking this survey, aren't I?

[36.] What's something that someone can do that really bothers you?
Being cruel.

[37.] Did you ever want to change your name when you were younger?
Not so much. Maybe my middle name - I don't like it very much.

[39.] Do you make a wish at 11:11?
Stupid question.

[40] Are u listening to anything right now?
The clacking of my keyboard.

[41.] Who's the last text message you received from and what did it say?
MusicalYuppieDude - "Yup."

[42.] What are you freakishly obsessed with?
I think I've already covered that particular subject.

[43.] What's your favorite song at the moment?
David Gray - Please Forgive Me

[44] Whats your favorite movie?
I have many favorites.

[45.] Can music affect your mood?
Sure.

46?

[47] Anything bothering u right now?
A few things. None that I can really do anything about, though.

[48.] Have you ever been in a cave?
Yes. Stupid question.

[49] Have you ever eaten a bug?
Not on purpose.

[50.] When will you see the person you like next?
I have no idea.

There are two, maybe three people, who are probably wondering what I'm going to write about tonight. I thought that there might be four, but I've decided that the fourth person wasn't listening. Her gain, actually.

I've decided that I'm not going to write shit about what happened to me today. I didn't write about anything leading up to it, after all, so to just spring this on the Internet would only make people yawn. Like it's not a big deal.

Well, screw that. It's a fucking huge deal.

Anyway.

Tonight, I was in an incredibly shitty mood. So shitty that, in fact, I actually found myself wishing against something that I've done nothing but wish for since 2004 or so.

And then, then my fucking wish came true, and so that just adds insult to injury. Stupid me and my stupid wish coming true. Stupid.

I spent the majority of the night sulking at the bar. Some people had tried to cajole me into sitting in the living room area, but I'd have none of that. Too many weirdoes about.

So I sat at the bar. I had a Pyramid Snow Cap (70) then a De Dolle Stille Nacht (76). Both were yummy, but both were also quite strong. So I had a little Dark Horse Tres Blueberry Stout (165) and then I cut myself off. At like fucking 8:30. Sometimes I really hate being a lightweight. Anyway, I ended up drinking Diet Cokes for the rest of the night.

Most of the time I spent sulking, but I did talk to MusicalYuppieDude off and on. And I tried to talk to OddlyFamiliarGirl, but she'd have none of that bullshit. Then I got really claustrophobic because this one PBD was seriously invading my space, so I picked up my shit and moved to the kiddie table.

After another half-hour or so of sulking, I came home.

I've been trying to decide if tonight was a good night or not. You be the judge.

Good: I feel much better, health-wise, than I've felt for days.

Bad: I didn't get to see LaptopGirl, so now it's been two weeks since I was so blessed.

Good: PearlGirl gave me a little card that said I was Hott with two Ts.

Bad: There were a bunch of weirdoes who scared me away from the living room area.

Good: I got a boner.

Bad: I texted the girl about my boner.

Good: There was a girl who I thought might have been a blast from my past.

Bad: She turned out to be the underage daughter of FirstGirl - and I'd never seen her before. She just looked like that other girl.

Good: I had a yummy NABC Cone Smoker (3051) and a glass and a half of yummy Rogue Chocolate Stout (2370).

Bad: I couldn't finish that second glass of Rogue, because I'm a lightweight.

Good: The place was full of random hot girls.

Bad: The place was full of random hot girls.

Good: My pizza was yummy.

Bad: I'd been hoping to split a pizza with LaptopGirl.

Bad: I'm a shithead.

Good: I'm an honest shithead.

Bad: Tonight I missed, in no particular order; HatGirl, MixedSignalGirl, LaptopGirl, SassyGirl, and NotHideousGirl.

Good: I'm excited that I'll get to see AlliGirl tomorrow.

Bad: When I left, I saw LaptopGirl's car in the parking lot, so I should have stayed until she came back.

All in all, I guess the night was a wash.

I guess I'm going to live. Whether it was the nasal spray that my sister brought me, or merely the passage of enough time, or the two-hour hot bath I took, I'm feeling much better now.

Just in time to go back to work tomorrow.

My head feels like it's got hardened cement in it, and my chest hurts from all the coughing and sneezing I've done, but my fever is gone. And the fever is what really knocked me out. Even though it gave me several cool dreams, including one about an orgy that I will never forget.

Tomorrow is supposed to be AlliDay, but either The Pub is closed or AlliGirl just has the day off work. So that sucks, but Thursday will make a fine substitute.

I expect to be the only person at work for the next three days. They gave us the choice between the three days after Christmas or the three days after New Year's Day off, and I took the latter. I don't know why. Probably so I can get some work done this week, since there won't be any distractions. Everyone else picked the days after Christmas.

I've been given token invites to a few things next Monday. I don't want it to seem like I'm holding out for a better offer, but that's exactly what I'm doing.

Shadows are strange. A wall can cast a shadow, but so can a cloud, and the effect is the same.

Darkness.

When I was a child, all sorts of horrible creatures lurked in the shadows. But now, now I see them for what they really are.

Absence of light.

When I was a child, I recoiled from the shadows. But now, now I seek them out. I embrace them, and I thank them for what they do.

Shrouding the truth.

---

Okay, this is stupid. Not at all what I wanted to write. Too metaphorical, too cryptic.

What I wanted to say was that, right now, I don't fear the truth. And I don't even know what the fucking truth is. I think I usually fear it just on principle. But. Not. Now.

I don't want to know, but I do want to know, so badly that every breath I take is nothing but another disappointment, because I'm still in the dark. Still in this shadow. Cowering.

Don't destroy my shadow. Don't take away the obstruction that stands between me and the light. That's not what I want. What I want, what I fucking want, is to be lured from my hiding place. Coaxed. Beguiled. Seduced. Whatever.

I need to emerge willingly, I think, whether through truth or trickery. Otherwise, I fear that the shock will be too great, and my eyes will close forever.

I already mentioned that I got this nifty voice recorder thingy for Christmas. My thinking is that, since I usually have good ideas for entries while I'm driving, I can use my new thingy to record those ideas. Much safer than trying to write in a notebook while I'm driving down the road.

Anyway, tonight I was listening to the stuff I recorded Saturday night, and I heard something that made me smile.

I'm going to go ahead and post the thing in wav format. I hope people can actually hear it.

The first part is the part that made me smile. HatGirl snuck a recording onto my thingy. She's so sweet.

The second part is me saying that I hate that fucker. I'm talking about the dipshit who'd tried to talk to us earlier.

The third part is me singing happy birthday to HatGirl. Girls, please try not to melt.

So, without further ado, here's the file.

This entry is not meant to be used as a timetable of my last several days. I can pretty much guarantee that I've got the order of some things mixed-up - especially for Friday and Saturday. So, unless I specifically say that a certain thing happened on a certain day/night, it's just a guess. You have been warned.

---

Thursday for lunch I went back to The Pub for AlliDay, take two. It was much better - they weren't nearly as crowded and I got to talk to AlliGirl several times. Note that I've switched to calling her AlliGirl instead of BikerGirl. I doubt that I was really fooling anyone.

---

Either Friday or Saturday, I got to see TeamHotness for a bit. They'd been hiding out over at the Sportstime side of things, but I caught them in the parking lot as they were leaving. So that was cool.

---

Oh yeah, Friday night my sisters and I had our Christmas thingy. One of the things I got was a six-pack of bottles of Harpoon Winter Warmer, and I'm told that it can be purchased in Louisville.

Yay!

Neisha's husband Chris and I had a bottle each. It was as good as I remembered. Now I've got four bottles calling to me from my fridge, and if I ever get over this damn death-flu I'm going to drink them.

---

Saturday night this one fucker who I hate decided to sit with me and HatGirl and LuckyFucker. He then decided to try to talk to us. As if. What a shithead.

---

This morning I had a sex dream. It was more of an orgy dream, actually. And a lot of girls I know were in it. I wrote a draft entry about the dream, then sent it to RockGirl for her opinion on whether I should post it or not. Her advice was to change all of the girls' names. I've decided not to post it at all, because changing the names would render the dream meaningless.

---

I've been sneezing today, and sometimes I've sneezed out my eye. I don't mean that my eye has popped out - just some of the snot comes out of the corner of my eye when I sneeze. Gross, right?

---

Dina just came by and got the shrimp tray for tonight's festivities. She also bought me a thingy of nasal spray. I hope it works. And I hope I don't sneeze the stuff through my eye, because I bet that would really burn.

---

I'm going back to sleep now.

You know what's attractive?

When you've been getting more and more sick for three days, and then you get to the point where your sinuses are draining so quickly and so relentlessly that you're forced to sleep with tissues stuffed into your nostrils.

That's what's attractive.

Yeah, so I'm sick. Some kind of stupid death-flu, combined with that never-fully-awake feeling that comes from getting way too much sleep. I myself have slept for almost twenty-four hours straight. I emerged only long enough to drive to the store and buy a bunch of tissues and a shrimp tray. And today's sleep followed the eighteen or nineteen hours from Saturday.

So I'm pretty well fucking rested, I think.

I don't know what's going to happen with the holiday obligations. I really only have one left. I'm supposed to go to my grandmother's house tomorrow night. It's a long tradition, that we all go there and pose for pictures and stuff. Plus, that's what the shrimp tray is for. But I'm not going to go and risk infecting anyone - especially not my grandmother. She's got enough problems.

I have nothing else planned for the next two days. There's a wrapped and labeled present, for a child I've never met - it's sitting in my car. I guess I won't be allowed to give that gift after all. That's okay, though. I think I understand that it would be weird. Besides, now I'm all sick and stuff, so any gift handoff would be too risky.

I'm going back to bed now.

Buy stock in Puffs plus tissues.

Happy birthday to HatGirl!

Yay for HatGirl!

I got this nifty voice recorder doohickey for Christmas. Tonight, I recorded myself singing happy birthday to HatGirl. I was thinking about posting the audio file here. But I realized that the risk that my singing might melt the hearts of women all over the world - it's just wasn't worth it.

Besides, HatGirl already got to hear me sing it in person.

The Internet is now complete.

I think we should all shut down our sites and our journals now, lest anyone ever be tempted to use the Internet for a lesser purpose.

I was doing fine. I really was. Even though the place was completely infested by weirdoes. My sister Dina was there at first, and she and I talked for a while. After Dina left, I was able to escape the weirdoes in the living room and join the PBDs at the island. I had three yummy Rogue Chocolate Stouts (2336).

I was doing just fine, for several hours, until this one PBD decided to utter the magic words that never fail to piss me off.

It gets blurry after that.

Kind of an irritated day for me. AlliDay was a bust, as they were too busy in there for me to get more than an edgewise word or two in with BikerGirl. But my woes started way before lunchtime.

I can't shake this feeling that I'm swimming against a current, and that all progress is an illusion. I need some encouragement, some sign that I'm not wasting my time with all this. And I'm not expecting to get any.

I should really be more excited about the holidays than I am. I mean, tomorrow is my last day of work until next Wednesday, then I work three days, then I get nine days off. I should be fired-up about all that time off work, but I'm not. Spending a day working isn't all that much different, fulfillment-wise, than spending a day by myself. So the next couple of weeks won't be that special, I don't think.

The holidays themselves? They're shaping up to be irrelevant, just like everything else, everything except this current that's trying to sweep me backwards.

Maybe my mood will change tomorrow at about 5:00, when I get off work. I hope so.

You know, for such a happy guy, I sure am in a funk.

Today, not much of anything happened.

I worked. I went to Rich O's after work, and got a pizza. I came home, ate some of my pizza, and took a nap. I watched some DVDs. That's pretty much it.

I have this thing I want to write about, but I can't for the life of me figure out how to write the thing without making it seem like I'm being judgmental. So I'm not writing about it, yet. Problem is, it's got my brain so clogged up that I can't think of anything else to write.

Tomorrow is AlliDay. Maybe that will unclog my brain a little.

I've noticed something lately. A change in myself, besides the one I keep rambling about. A more subtle change. A change in my reasons for writing my drivel.

It's not a particularly good reason, but it wasn't a particularly good reason before. Most of the world, I'm sure, hasn't even noticed this change. But I've noticed it. I've noticed it, and I don't like it very much.

A long time ago it happened, more often than not, that I wrote my drivel in an attempt to get a reaction. Good, bad, whatever. It didn't matter to me, as long as a reaction came.

Well, no reaction ever came. No matter what I wrote, it was always wasted. But that was a long time ago. And I pretty much gave up. And my writing suffered greatly. It suffered greatly for a very long time.

But then, then something changed. Both externally, and internally, everything changed.

Now, I don't write in an attempt to get a reaction to my drivel. Nope, I awoke from that particular dream a long time ago. What often I'm doing now - and again, I'm not proud of this, is I'm testing the limits of what I can get away with.

So far, I'm getting away with all kinds of things.

It won't last, though. Nothing ever does.

Eventually I'm going to find, and surpass, the limit of what I can write without ruining everything. Eventually, I'm going fuck this up.

Consider this a preemptive apology. I need to do this now, because when that fateful day comes, I expect to be busy kicking myself in the ass.

One time there was this kid with really cool hair, and he would often play with this other kid, until he almost burned the other kid's house down by accident. After that, their parents didn't let them play together anymore.

The moral of this story is that just because you have cool hair doesn't mean that you're actually cool.

I'm pretty much forcing myself to write something tonight. I don't know what I'll write about. It will probably be boring.

I have a couple of good ideas for entries, but I can't remember what they are. I wrote them in my notebook, though. So I'll eventually get around to them. Maybe.

Today I was supposed to go shopping, but I didn't. All I did was drive around and get pissed at crowds of shoppers and football fans. The latter are the worst, if you ask me. Not that you asked me, but if you had, that would have been my answer.

Anyway, I did something sort of nice yesterday, and it's been ignored. So that bugs me a little. It might bug me a lot except I've had myself a bottle of yummy Left Hand Smoke Jumper (193).

That reminds me. Last night NotHideousGirl asked me how I'd been doing over the eleven gazillion years since we'd last talked. I decided to pretend that she actually cared, and answer her. My answer seemed, at first, to be a load of drivel. But I thought about that answer, today while I was driving around getting pissed at people, and it's making a bit more sense to me now.

What I said was that I was happy for the most part, but that sometimes I was sad. That wasn't the drivel part. The drivel part was when I went on to say that I'd done some sort of weird 180-degree flip. Instead of being a sad person, I was a happy person. Instead of being a sad person who, every now and then, got into a good mood, I was a happy person who was subject to the occasional bouts of sadness.

Wait, that wasn't the drivel part either. The drivel part came next.

What I said was that the contrast between my varying moods seems to be a lot stronger now than it was before. Like, back when I was sad and I experienced happiness, it was noticeable, but nothing spectacular. Except for one time back in May. But now, now that I'm a happy person, those moments of sadness really stand out to me. Affect me. Turn me into an asshole, some might say. Or a dolt, NotHideousGirl might say.

It's contrast, like I said last night. Black spots against a white background vs. white spots against a black background. They should be the same, more or less. But they're not. Not even close.

I have a theory about this. I think that maybe I'm not really happy at all. Maybe I'm just not sad. I hate to use this word, but maybe I'm content. Maybe I'm lying to myself, and recent events have not quite lifted my spirits as much as I've thought.

That would suck, I think. If all I could manage was content. Because, seriously, I don't think things are ever going to get much better than this.

---

Okay, I guess that answers the question of what I was going to write tonight. I was going to write crap, apparently.

Ta-Da!

Yesterday we had snow and sleet and freezing rain here, pretty much all day. This was strange, because Al Gore keeps saying that won't happen.

I spent my day at home. Messing with a web page design for LaptopGirl in between power outages. I'd planned to do my Christmas shopping, but I didn't feel like dealing with the idiots on the roads. They're bad enough even when the weather's good.

Anyway, a few times in the past, when it's snowed, people have been known to puss out and cower in their homes instead of going out. And, when Rich O's is really dead, they'll close up early. I was a little fearful that they'd be closing early last night, so I went there very early. Like at 6:00 or so. I figured that if it was dead in there I could at least buy a growler to take home.

But it was okay. The place was fairly full. A bunch of people I know were in the living room area, and for some reason they saved the throne for me. So that was nice of them.

I had myself a pint of NABC Cone Smoker, and enjoyed that immensely while I talked with TremensGirl and MusicalYuppieDude and NotHideousGirl. NotHideousGirl and I have agreed that we will each pretend that we share fault for our crumbling friendship. This is a good compromise, I think.

At about 8:00, I remembered that it was the Ides of December, so I got myself into a bad mood. I briefly toyed with the idea of just going home. Actually, I obsessed over that idea for quite a while. But eventually I decided to just have another Cone Smoker (2881) and stop being a baby.

At one point during the night, I observed this conversation:

I will never understand women.

I had the brilliant idea to text BikerGirl and invite her to Rich O's. I'd thought that maybe having NotHideousGirl and me both there might be enough to entice her. This thought helped to slow the descent of my mood, and I ordered another Cone Smoker.

But then I remembered that BikerGirl was working.

I drank about 2/3 (2895) of my beer, but I saw no point in staying any longer, so I came home at 10:00 or so.

Last night, I was late getting to Rich O's, having gotten caught up in some work bullshit exciting opportunity that took longer to resolve than I'd hoped. I didn't get there until after 9:00, an hour after HatGirl had texted me inquiring as to my whereabouts. I feel bad for making HatGirl wait - she does enough of that already.

When I first arrived, it was pretty crowded. So I stood at the end of the bar and chastised PearlGirl a little for almost getting me into big giant trouble the other night. PearlGirl had some cute girl in tow. I forget her name.

Anyway, after some strangers left, and after some preliminary seat-shifting, I found myself in the throne. I had myself an NABC Naughty Claus (43) and talked with HatGirl and LuckyFucker for a while about various nonsense. I also watched the door a lot, out of habit more than out of any sense of optimism.

At about the time HatGirl and LuckyFucker left, I ordered a second Naughty Clause (63). I like this year's version. UPSDude had moved to the loveseat at some point, and I spent the next hour or so babbling to him.

That was pretty much it. The place was only about half-full for most of the night, and it was almost all strangers.

I had most of a glass of Schlenkerla Marzen (2289) and came home a little after midnight.

I am imagining a surfer, who catches what he expects will be a really good wave. He stands on his board, and he rides toward the shore. But the wave never becomes more than a swell in the water. It never rises. It never curls. It never breaks. It's a nice wave, it provides a pleasant ride, but that's all it provides. It is, once everything is said and done, a waste of his time.

It's understandable, this fear and this uncertainty that you feel. How could you not feel these things, given the deceits and disappointments of your past? Life and love have at times conspired against you, making you wary, watchful, suspicious. Maybe even paranoid?

You've never had much to go on, regarding me. You've had a glimpse or two, but not much else. Hearsay has clouded things even more. You don't know what to believe, or what to think, or what to feel, or what to do. A part of you tells you to run, as fast as you can, away from me. But another part is, at least, curious enough to stick around. On the outskirts of a relationship. A fisherman with a bite, but not quite willing to crank the reel. Not quite willing to see what's on the other end of that line.

You wrestle with yourself. And I wait, my heart leaping inside my chest, for a winner to emerge from the dust.

Doubt is universal. Fear is universal. It's perfectly normal for you to feel these things. But you don't need to feel doubt, and you don't need to feel fear. I can take those feelings from you. I can feel those things enough for both of us. And I can handle them, because I'm used to them.

I wish that things were different. I wish that you would trust me, that you would stop being afraid of me. I wish that you would look into my eyes, and see even the tiniest glimmer of what I see when I look into yours. That glimmer would be enough to erase your concerns.

I wish that you knew me, because if you knew me, then you would know what to do.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. But, there's no hurry. This offer is eternal.

Here, take my hand. I want to show you something.

This will be close, but it probably won't be exact. It's been a couple of weeks since this one dude told this to me. I'd say exactly who it was that told me about this, but his mother or grandmother might read this blog, and I don't want to get anyone into trouble. Even though he could say he was tricked into watching it.

Anyway, according to my friend, there was this video. On the Internet, I think. I hope. I'd hate to think that this was in someone's private stash.

At the start, there were two naked girls kissing each other.

I immediately thought to ask the obvious question - Were the girls hot? - but as my friend continued to tell me about the video, the issue of the girls hotness became irrelevant very quickly.

Apparently, these girls moved directly from kissing each other to shitting on each other. I know, not exactly a normal progression, right?

But that's not all.

Then, I guess, the girls began to eat each other's shit.

But that's not all.

Next, I heard, one of the girls proceeded to vomit shit onto the other girl's face.

But that's not all.

At that point, I gather, both girls then started licking the shit/vomit mixture off of each other's faces.

At that point, I asked what had become the new obvious question.

Was one of the girls Cartman's mom?

I know why my friend told me about this video. It wasn't because he thought I might get turned on. Nope, it was because his head was totally full of disgust, and so he hoped to give some of that disgust to me. But it was just disgust, not shit, so it was okay.

I can't help but wonder about the girls in the video. About (a) why they'd do such strange things, and (b) why they'd have it taped and put on the Internet.

I can think of two reasons.

First, maybe there really are people who are into this sort of disgusting stuff. Maybe these girls are two of those people. Maybe it was all done in the spirit of some bizarre kink.

Second, maybe they just did it for the notoriety and/or some monetary gain.

I really hope that it's the former, because the thought of people doing that to each other and not even getting to enjoy it - well that would just be sad.

And I don't like sad things.

Found out today that BikerGirl will not be leaving The Pub and, by extension, my life.

This is great news. Frankly, I was getting pretty sick of people leaving my life.

If I had to guess, I'd guess that it was about fifteen times. It's impossible to know for sure, because a while ago there was this disaster of sorts and a lot of comments and private messages were lost forever.

But fifteen is a good approximation. So I'll use that number. Fifteen times people went out of their way to tell me pretty much the same thing. To tell me what I pretty much already knew, or at least suspected.

I have this other blog, you see. And, in my other blog, I don't hold myself back nearly as much as I do here. I don't have to hold myself back, because it's anonymous. More or less. I've told a couple of people about it, where it is, but for the most part I've managed to keep my big fat mouth shut.

Anyway.

In that other blog, I've said pretty much everything that there is to say about a certain subject. And, if I do say so myself, I've done a pretty good job of writing those entries. It's actually readable, almost all of it, and that's a lot more than I can say about this blog you're looking at right now.

What people have told me, what people have told me about fifteen different times, is that my words would work. They'd stir certain emotions, and they'd cause certain reactions. Good reactions.

But, the thing is, that's not why I've written those words. I haven't written them as an explanation of my innermost thoughts. I never intended to use them in lieu of simply saying the words out loud, someday, maybe.

That other blog is more like a giant Post-It note to myself. So I don't forget what to say, if the time ever comes to say it. So I don't forget what I've felt, even if the passage of time is constantly threatening to strip me of those, my most precious memories. I never really meant for anyone to actually read the thing - it just happened. It's not even a real blog. It's a series of speeches that I hope to make someday. Before I die.

It would be so easy, right now, to let that cat out of the bag. I could just post a link to the thing. I could do it. But, I won't. I want to say those things out loud. I don't want to run and hide while they're read and absorbed and digested. I want to be there, and I want to see the reaction to my words as it happens. As reality sinks in. I want to watch as skepticism becomes clarity becomes understanding becomes, whatever.

Everyone already knows. That's the thing that gets me. Everyone already knows, but they turn away from the truth, because it's just too much. They throw words like exaggeration and dramatization in my direction, like those words could actually affect me. Affect this.

Lately, I've let my other blog slip. Not that it was ever updated with any regularity, but lately I've had things that I should have written there, and I haven't.

I've turned away from it.

I think that, sometimes, the truth is too much for me, too.

I'm feeling much better, thanks for wondering. It's always like this with me. I get all worked up over something and then, well I suppose I get it out of my system. Or maybe I just get used to it.

I guess I'll just go back to what I've always done. I'll wait. I'm good at waiting, and I'm pretty sure that my wait won't be in vain. Eventually, something good will happen.

---

A guy at work shot himself this morning. It's in the paper, so I guess I'm allowed to mention it here. I didn't know the guy. I just knew who he was. I imagine that a lot of people would say exactly the same thing. Maybe that was part of his problem.

I fully support a person's right to end their own life. To choose when their life will end. We get so few real choices as it is. But I don't support shooting yourself at work, where someone will have to find your body, and where someone will have to clean up the mess, and where someone will be traumatized. It would be much better, I think, to just disappear and never come back.

---

The other day I had this totally brilliant idea for an entry. For an article, actually. If I ever get around to writing the thing, and if I do as good of a job with it as I'd like, it may end up being my main contribution to mankind. That would be cool.

---

It's hard to stop counting days. I count the days until something good, or I count the days after something good. Because, right now, I have nothing specific to look forward to, I'm mostly counting the latter. Then, when that number gets high enough, I get to freak out a little. So maybe I do have something to look forward to.

---

Yesterday it took, I shit you not, an hour and a half for my pizza to arrive. And then, when I finally got it, it was ice cold. So much for enjoying Pizza Night.

So today I went back to Rich O's after work for another attempt. Rogue Chocolate Stout is back on tap finally, so I had one of those (2196). Right before I finished that glass, I got a little reckless.

Dave's Smoked Chocolate

(mixture) I mixed Rogue Chocolate Stout and NABC Cone Smoker in a 1:1 ratio. I'd been expecting these two very different flavors to elevate each other to new heights. But that's not what happened. They pretty much cancelled each other out. Good thing I didn't waste too much beer with this experiment.

Today's pizza arrived in about ten minutes, and it was yummy.

---

One of the things that keeps tempting me is the fact that, with about fifteen minutes, I could end all of this confusion. I could correct all of these misinterpretations. I could answer all questions. Now, knowing myself as I do, I realize that I'd try to stretch that fifteen minutes out to like a thousand years, but I think fifteen minutes is all I'd really need.

---

I just thought of something else, but it's worth an entry all on its own.

Sometimes I can't seem to shut up.

There are three people who are usually the brunt of my rambling assaults. OddlyFamiliarGirl may have gotten the hint and moved to Siberia so as to not have to listen to me any more. And RockGirl has never had to face me when I babble - it's always in email form. She's got it easy. But, MusicalYuppieDude is still hanging tough, only rolling his eyes when I'm not looking.

I can hear his eyes rolling, though. It's kind of a squishy/squeaky sound. He should get that sound checked by a doctor. It can't be healthy.

Anyway, the thing is, this thing right now, I think it's perfectly reasonable that I'm concerned. I keep thinking that I'm being reasonable. I keep telling myself that I'm being reasonable. And, so far, nobody has told me otherwise. Including myself, and I'm really the only one listening anyway.

If only I could explain myself, just a little bit, without causing trouble.

I don't know how do that. I don't know what I could say that might actually be believed. I don't even know where to start.

I made a pact with myself, a long time ago. I promised myself that I would resist the urge to start babbling, and keep babbling, until I'd said everything that there was to say. As a compromise, I promised myself that, if I were asked and only if I were asked, well then all bets would be off.

I fear that I may end up breaking that pact. I fear that I may never be asked, and I fear that invalid assumptions will be made.

I cannot allow that to happen.

This is too important.

This is everything.

If I were to start babbling, I think I'd say that I'm not writing wedding vows, and I'm not out buying gallons of anal lubrication. It's not like that, and it was never like that. Never never never never never.

I'm just trying to get my life back, That's all. And, for the last couple of days, I haven't liked my odds very much.

It was really a no-win situation. I mean, every fiber of my being told me to leave, but I knew that leaving would have only made things worse. It would have been misinterpreted, just like everything else.

This isn't about what people think it's about. Occam's Razor, once again, fails to live up to its reputation. It's a false lead. Fuck, it even fooled me for a little while there, before I'd had some time to digest things.

Sometimes I think about becoming more forthcoming and spontaneous. People tell me that I should do that. But, when I really think about it, I don't really see how that would help anything. Seems like I'd have to start spending all of my time explaining myself and doing damage control. I think my current modus operandi for living, waiting to explode, is much better.

Still, it would be nice to be able to say some things. Just to clear the air a little. I know there are questions that should be asked yet never will be asked. So sometimes I think that maybe I should just start preemptively providing answers.

Maybe I would, if I thought I'd be believed.

I went out tonight. I wrote a bunch of stuff in my notebook. It was relaxing, I suppose. I haven't done that in a long time.

Anyway, nobody needs my bullshit. So I'm going to stop for a while.

Plus, I'm very tired.

I'm in a crappy mood.

I'm not allowed to be in a crappy mood, and I'm not allowed to say why I'm in a crappy mood. These two restrictions combine to shove me into an even crappier mood. It's all circular and shit.

I actually wrote a nice little entry about my crappy mood. It stayed up for about eight hours before I deleted it. I hate it when I write bullshit like that.

Anyway.

I got to Rich O's a little after 6:00 last night. This was pretty early for me, but I wanted to give myself the best chance of getting a seat. I needn't have bothered - it wasn't too crowded at all, and seats were fairly plentiful.

I sat on the loveseat for a while. This dude who looks like my cousin Robbie was there with some of his friends. I had myself a Gouden Carolus Noel (50) and listened to them rag on each other for an hour or so. Then I moved to the kiddie table so I could eat some pizza in peace.

My second beer was new to me:

Jolly Pumpkin Noel de Calabaza

(draft) Hazy dark amber. Decent head that faded quickly. Slightly sour aroma. Slightly sour finish. Not much else to it. A decent beer, but not really worth my time. I tried to give half the glass away, but nobody wanted it.

Then some bullshit happened.

Then HatGirl came in with LuckyFucker.

HatGirl!

Yay!

This was about when I had a Brooklyn Black Chocolate Stout (14). It was quite good, and quite strong. So I cut myself off for a while, and had Diet Cokes while I talked to HatGirl and LuckyFucker.

Then some more bullshit happened.

Eventually I found my way to the throne. I sat there and talked to HatGirl and TremensGirl for quite a while. After HatGirl and LuckyFucker left, I continued to talk to TremensGirl for a while. I don't remember what any of the conversations were about. Probably stuff like, "Stop being such a grouchy pussy, Dave."

I ended up having a couple glasses of Schlenkerla Marzen (2263) to close out the night.

Sometimes, I get the impression that people give a shit. Hell, sometimes they even come right out and tell me that they give a shit.

When that happens, it's like a ringing in my ears. I notice it, but I kinda wish that I didn't.

Because it's distracting to me. And I don't want to be distracted. I want to listen, with every ounce of my being, for a sound that will never come.

I'm an asshole, by the way, in case anyone was wondering.

Two hours after my dentist appointment, my tongue still lay in my mouth like a dead rat. I began to fear that it might not return to normal in time for tonight's Saturnalia kick-off at Rich O's. The thought of missing the good beer put me in a bit of a funk. Plus, HatGirl kept emailing me to see which beers Saturnalia would have to offer, and when I would be there.

Luckily, magically, amazing, at about 6:30, my tongue returned to life. So I emailed HatGirl that I'd be there by 7:30 and I jumped in the shower.

Friday nights are always busy at Rich O's. The opening nights for beer festivals are also always busy. Roger, via some bizarre decision-making process which I will probably never understand, invariably chooses to start his festivals on Friday nights.

So, it was very crowded. Between all the Friday weirdoes and all the festival beer snobs, the place was already filled-up by the time I got there a little after 7:00. As I made my way into Rich O's proper, I spied a lone open seat at the bar. So I hurried over there, saying hello to TremensGirl on the way. She was sitting on the loveseat.

Once I'd seated myself, and ordered a Schlenkerla Marzen (2195), I surveyed my surroundings. About an even mix of weirdoes, strangers, and regulars. The one weirdo sitting alone at the kiddie table turned out to be PlantDude, so I decided to move there. But then I looked at the sofa and, lo and behold, there was NormalGirl!

She hadn't seen me yet, so I texted her a quick, "Hi, stranger!"

But before her phone could ring, our eyes met, and I had to go and ruin the surprise by telling her that I'd just texted her.

Because NormalGirl is 4,430,087,701.00046 times prettier than PlantDude, I eschewed the kiddie table and moved to the sofa instead, strategically placing myself between NormalGirl and this other hot girl who turned out to be one of her friends from nursing school. I shall call her RahRahGirl, because she's a cheerleader, and that's what cheerleader's do.

So the three of us talked for a while, and all the other guys in the place got jealous. NormalGirl told me that she's been very busy. I said that I understand. If and/or when and/or where our second date might occur, I'm still leaving that up to her.

Oh yeah, NormalGirl told me that I'd just missed my sister, Dina. So that sucked.

At 8:00 or so, HatGirl texted me to ask about the seating situation. Right then, as it turned out, there were a few empty seats in the place. Weird, because it was still very crowded. It was just that a lot of the weirdoes were standing around instead of sitting. Because that's what weirdoes do - weird stuff. So I texted to HatGirl that there were some seats.

Unfortunately, by the time HatGirl and LuckyFucker arrived, those seats were gone. NormalGirl suggested that we all squeeze together on the sofa, but by that time HatGirl was in a bad mood, and so they left after only a couple of minutes. Probably just as well. Had I been squeezed between NormalGirl and RahRahGirl for any length of time, I wouldn't have been able to stand up for a week without getting arrested.

It probably would have been worth it.

Anyway, I spent more time talking to the girls. I had a second Marzen (2212). Idiots and weirdoes and regulars and strangers came and went, but I barely noticed. I was busy. Plus, I felt bad about the HatGirl situation, like I'd let her down somehow. Not a good feeling at all.

Once NormalGirl and RahRahGirl left, at about 10:00 I think, I moved to the throne. I had a third Marzen (2229) and just kinda vegged-out for a while. I found my mood slipping. Everyone was in their own drunk little worlds, and it was too late for me to join in any of the conversations. So I ordered a pizza and came home.

The odds were certainly low, but they've released the names of the Omaha shooting victims, and I didn't know any of them. So that's good, for me at least. I wonder what I'd have done if my ex-wife or one of the kids had been on that list. Probably nothing. I'm good at doing nothing.

Strength can seem to come from the strangest places. Usually, it deludes us into thinking it comes from something or someone besides the person needing the strength. A friend, a lover, a god, a therapist. I won't pretend to know much about any of those things, but I do know where strength comes from.

Sometimes, I open my eyes a little, and I look around me. I don't do this very often, though. It's too much.

I see a downward spiral, and I hear a silent scream, and I know that I cannot help, because I fear being caught in the downdraft. And this tears at me, but I do what I can. I cannot slow her fall, but I will be there to help her stand back up.

I see unbelievable grief, and I know that I cannot help, because I can never fully understand. And this tears at me, but I do what I can. I cannot ease her grief, but I can be there when she wants to feel normal for a minute or an hour or a day.

I see infinite patience, in an endless battle with infinite disappointment. And, I fear that perfect balance is shifting in the wrong direction. And this tears at me, but I do what I can. I cannot give her advice, for I could never be objective, but I can support every decision she makes. Even if I think it's wrong.

I see unwarranted guilt, blame that is reflected straight back because in any other direction it might be lost forever. And I know that I cannot help, because I am irrelevant to her pain. And this tears at me, but I do what I can. Which, in this case, isn't much. I try to be a friend even when that seems way too shallow a goal.

I see a valiant struggle for independence, and I know that I cannot help, for independence is self-defining. And this tears at me, but I do what I can. I applaud her and I cheer for her, and I hope that my support is appreciated.

Strength comes from one place. Inside each of us. Every other source is naught but an illusion. Nobody can give you strength, and nobody can take strength away from you. It's yours, and it will always be yours.

It will always be there, you just have to look.

Yeah, right. Like I fucking know anything about anything . I struggle, just like everyone struggles. I need strength, just like everyone needs strength.

I can find strength. I just have to know where to look.

One time, this guy found himself totally surrounded by all kinds of drama and potential drama. But he barely noticed any of it, because it was all irrelevant.

The moral of this story is that we all live in our own little worlds.

I don't know why, but tonight I found myself thinking about this one perfect day. I started thinking about it, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it for hours now.

So, I thought I'd write about it. Then maybe my brain will let me have some peace and quiet for a while. Maybe I'll even sleep tonight.

It was June 13th, 2004. I didn't remember the date - I had to use my blog to look it up. It's handy-dandy for things like that.

Anyway, that was a day I'll never forget. It started and it ended in Las Vegas, but that day wasn't about Las Vegas. That day wasn't even about getting up at the buttcrack of dawn (because of the time zone change) and renting a car and driving to Death Valley, simply because I'd never been there before and I thought it would be cool to go there.

It was a long drive. It was very hot even before I'd dropped below sea-level. The scenery consisted of rocks and more rocks, and weeds and more weeds. I was pretty sure, a couple of times, that I'd gotten lost, and that I'd die out there in the desert. Perhaps buzzards would eat my eyes while my heart still beat and my brain still registered pain.

But that day wasn't about rocks or weeds or about getting lost and dying, or even about buzzards eating my eyes while I screamed.

I have a pretty good memory for dates. Anniversaries, I mean. Some particularly good thing happened on a certain date, or some incredibly bad thing happened on some other date, I usually remember that date. But this time, this time I had to go look the date up. That's weird to me. Because, looking back, that's one date I'd have thought I'd have remembered, as much as, or more than, any other.

June 13th, 2004.

That's when it all started to become real for me. That's the day I realized that I was falling, but before I saw how far above the ground I still was.

I felt no fear. Instead of falling, I felt as if I was flying. Soaring.

That feeling, that fucking feeling that I had that day, I could live a million lifetimes and never come close to experiencing it again. But that's okay. Once was enough. Once was very nearly too much.

Once was, as it turned out, perfect. Because that feeling is still with me. Though I've since found myself splattered myself across a gray plain, a part of me, the important part of me, is still flying.

June 13th, 2004, was the day I saw a hint of an inkling of a chance of a possibility.

There's a picture, somewhere. I had some other tourist take a picture of me standing at the lowest point in Death Valley. I just spent a few minutes trying to find that picture. I wanted to see if the smile on my face betrayed the contrast between the depth of my body and the height of my soul.

I didn't find the picture. But that's okay. I don't really need it. All I have to do is look in the mirror, for that smile is back.

It was a perfect day. The first of many.

One time this guy fell in love with this girl. But all of his friends told him that she was a bitch. Hell, even his enemies told him that the girl was a bitch. But the guy didn't listen to any of them. He was in love. So he bided his time. After he'd known the girl for about fifteen years, and she'd managed to alienate every other guy she knew, she finally agreed to be the guy's girlfriend. Then, much to the guy's surprise, she turned out to be a total bitch.

The moral of this story is that when friends and enemies agree about something, they're probably right.

Clearly, I seem to have fallen out of the habit of writing here. I'd like to say that this will be a temporary thing, but I just don't know. I've become very tired of writing boring stuff, and I've become quite fearful of writing interesting stuff.

I find myself being tempted by old paths. Paths which are fraught with danger, but maybe that's part of their allure. For danger brings with it the possibility of salvation. And salvation would be a nice thing, I think.

Anyway.

I think I'm jet-lagged. After I got home tonight, and after I'd eaten some pizza, I found myself exhausted. So I went to bed, a little after 8:00. My intention, my expectation even, was that I would sleep until my alarm sounded at 6:45 in the morning.

Didn't happen that way.

I woke up at midnight or so, and I've been up ever since. Watching episodes of Heroes in my basement, and pausing every now and then to mess with my guitar.

I still suck at the whole guitar thing, in case anyone was wondering.

Tonight, I was also thinking about how things can change, and how sometimes they can only seem to change. Like, sometimes I almost open my big fat mouth, and state that which is obvious to everyone. If I were to do so, things would almost certainly change. But, I don't think that they really should.

If, for example, I said that water was wet, nothing should change. Water has always been wet, and water will continue to be wet. My speaking about it doesn't change its wetness at all.

This is like that, I think. Maybe even more obvious than wet water. I should be able to say it, and then absolutely nothing should happen as a result. My admission of the obvious should not change a thing.

Like I said, these old paths are tempting me.

I wish I was tired. This is a dangerous mood for me to be in. Sleep would be safer.

I was struck by a realization this evening. This realization followed, quite logically, a thread I'd started in an email to RockGirl a few hours earlier.

What I realized, what I realized was that it's the second of December. Not that this particular date means anything. It's not some significance of the date that struck me - it's the lateness of the date.

This year is almost over with. That's just so hard for me to believe. So much has happened to me, to my life, this past year. So much has happened, I almost want to say that, were I inclined to list the various highlights and lowlights of the year, that I wouldn't know where to start.

But that would be a lie.

I know exactly where I'd start, were I so inclined. Same place I always start. Same place I always end.

Anyway, the lateness of today's date struck me with a force that, had I not been sitting down already, I'd surely have been knocked flat onto my ass.

See, there's this sort of timeline in my head. Stretching out in front of me. I can almost imagine my future. One possible future, at least. And now my stupid mind has decided to compress that timeline. Cram all of the events therein together. Rush things.

Today is the second of December. In a few short weeks, this year will be over. In a few short weeks, it will be New Year's Eve.

I used to think, maybe, someday.

Right now, like a dumbass, I'm thinking, maybe, on New Year's Eve.

Now I know, and everyone who knows me knows, and everyone who's read this blog with any sort of regularity knows, that I'm probably going to spend those few minutes that bridge the years 2007 and 2008 by myself. Conducting a séance of sorts, just like I always do.

Talking to people who aren't there. Speaking words that might otherwise never leave my lips.

But now, I've dared to imagine another scenario. One in which I'm not alone as the hour and the month and the year change.

Clearly, I've taken things too far, here inside this lump of fat I used for a brain.

I mean, being in a good mood is one thing. Being an optimist is another, more dangerous, thing.

But assigning an expiration date to that optimism - well that's just the stupidest thing I've done in a very long time.

So, I'm back. Got back yesterday evening.

I've been struggling for a week now. Trying to decide what I was going to write about my trip. Besides the usual stuff, I mean. Like the yummy beer I drank, and the boring conference I endured, and the video poker I played.

But there were other things. Things which I haven't quite figured out. What happened? Why did it happen? What will happen next? Will anything happen next? Do I want anything to happen next?

And then, then there was some crap that happened back here, while I was gone. And I ask myself the same five questions.

I don't want to lie, here, in this blog. But neither do I think that telling the whole truth would be a good thing. And I don't particularly want to guess.

Hence, my struggling.

---

Anyway, last night was much more normal for me. I went to Rich O's, that decision having been made for me by the simple fact that LaptopGirl was thinking about maybe going to Rich O's.

It was a nice night. I took it easy on the beer, though.