I suppose that wondering can't really be held against me. I mean, I get pissed at myself, for wondering. But it's a pretty normal human activity, I suppose. Not evil at all, and not really stupid, either, as long as it's kept in check.

I wonder if it ever bothers her when I leave. If she ever thinks, just for a second, that things would make more sense if I stayed. That something is wrong, something just doesn't add up, and that maybe if I stayed it would make things right.

I wonder if it ever pisses her off, when I leave, the way it pisses me off when I come home and face yet another night alone.

Early Friday afternoon I found myself missing my dad. A little more than usual, I mean. I was sitting in my Monte Carlo at the car wash, so that probably had something to do with it. The next thing I knew I was shivering at his gravesite.

Then to continue down nostalgia's trail I went to this Hitching Post bar in Louisville. It was Dad's hangout in New Albany. I try to go in there each year, on the anniversary of his death, and have a Falls City beer to his memory. Well, they don't make Falls City anymore, but they do still make Budweiser (24), and it's pretty much the same thing.

After a while, the bartender recognized Dad's old Monte Carlo parked out front, and so he figured out who I was. Next thing I knew there were three or four people in there talking about Dad, and they all had very good things to say. So that was nice.

Then this lady and her hot daughter came in and sat with me for a while. The mom said she'd met me before. I didn't remember it. The daughter kept making goo-goo eyes at me, and we made half-assed plans to go out sometime. I doubt that will ever happen but, just in case, I've dubbed her GooGooGirl.

The first thing we were going to do had maybe a zillion-to-one chance against it. But we were going to do it. As of late Wednesday night, we were going to do the first thing, and I think we were excited about it.

The first thing got cancelled Thursday morning. I was very disappointed.

The second thing we were going to do had perhaps a million-to-one chance against it. But we were all set. It was going to happen. After the first thing, we were going do the second thing.

The second thing never happened, either. I was disappointed.

The third thing, well the odds against the third thing were incalculable. It, of course, didn't happen except in my head.

The fourth thing, we got to do. It was nice. So it ended up being a good Thanksgiving.

I think I'm supposed to write something now. What, exactly, I'm not sure.

---

I had a very good evening.

---

I'm sober, but I'm not really sure how I managed it. I had a Newcastle (11787) at lunch, then a Schlenkerla Marzen (6592) before dinner, then three bottles of Barley Island Barfly (286) and a bottle of Barley Island Dirty Helen (484). I should be shitfaced, but I'm perfectly fine. Weird.

---

As I was driving home tonight, I saw a very bright shooting star, and I gave my wish to LaptopGirl. I hope she uses it wisely.

---

Today I had lunch with HatGirl.

HatGirl!

Yay!

She's such a good person. One of the best.

---

Sometimes I wish things weren't so lopsided. Because then I'd not only know exactly what to do, I'd actually be able to do it without it being weird.

---

There's been this hole in my soul for a long time. During times like tonight, when that hole is filled, I feel like a real person for a while. And then there was another hole. One I didn't even know about, and a little kid snuck right in and filled that hole like it was never even there.

---

Sometimes I can imagine myself being happy. It's nice, when I can do that.

---

I think I'm tired. I won't know for sure, though, until I go to bed. I guess I'll try that now. Long day tomorrow.

They were all wrong. All day and all night, the world seemed out of tune or something.

I've been accused, several times, of overthinking things. I can't really dispute that, but at least I do think. Willy-nilly may be fine and dandy for some people and some circumstances, but not for me, and not when people much more important than me are involved.

Do what you're here to do, then get the fuck out.

That's what the vibes told me, and so that's exactly what I did.

Okay, so I think I'm starting to get a handle on what's bothering me.

Maybe I'll even write about it later, after a couple of beers.

Or maybe not.

I'm in a fairly strange mood this morning. Strangeness brought on in part, no doubt, by an almost total lack of sleep last night.

I feel like I'm waiting for something, but I can't figure out if I'm anticipating it or dreading it. Oh, and I also don't know exactly what it is.

Happy birthday to LaptopGirl!

Yay!

I'm so glad you were born, you sweet, sweet girl. The world is a much better place because you're in it. And I'm a much better person because of you. I think I'm a person, period, because of you.

Sleep continues to be a serious problem for me. Ever since July 19th, I bet I've averaged three or four hours a night. But it's a weird problem. It's not regular insomnia, where I just can't get to sleep. Nope, it's that I can't get back to sleep. I mean, I fall asleep pretty easily, most of the time, but then what happens is that I wake up drowning, and then I can't get back to sleep.

That happened again this morning. Went to bed at 1:00, had a really nice dream, and woke up drowning in reality at 4:30. And I'm still up, of course. Thinking about what a bad week it's been. One of the worst I've ever had, I think. The problem with the highs is that they make the lows so much worse. Sometimes I just want things to flatten-out for a while, but I don't expect that to happen. I'm addicted to the highs, after all.

Now people are starting to get concerned about me. I can't really blame them. I see what this is doing to me. I see it every time I look in the mirror. I feel it every time I wake up in the middle of the night, drowning in reality.

I keep telling myself that I need to be strong for a little while longer. That I just need to be a little more patient. But those lies are losing their effect on me. So I tell myself that my near-constant sadness is worth it, because I'm so incredibly happy every now and then. I know this to be true, when I'm able to look at my life objectively. Problem is that objectivity is a fleeting thing for me lately.

I need to try to go back to sleep. Maybe I'll continue the nice dream I had earlier tonight. Maybe I'll have a good day. Maybe reality will change. Maybe my patience will pay off.

Happy Birthday to my sister Dina!

Yay!

I always like this period after her birthday but before mine, because our age difference is lessened, and so I don't feel like I'm so old.

Everyone always talks about logical conclusions to some series of events or circumstances. But I almost never hear about the illogical conclusions.

I think that people just like things that make sense, and things that don't make sense - they're either not discussed at all or they're briefly mentioned and then quickly dismissed as aberrations.

Well, fuck that.

Tonight had an illogical conclusion. I shouldn't be sitting here in my home at 1:04 in the morning, typing this entry. It makes zero sense. I should be somewhere else.

Today had an illogical conclusion, as did this week, and did the past month, and did the past year. Every single moment in time rushes insanely helter-skelter from my future into my past, not even pausing as it imprints itself onto my memory. And those memories do nothing but thumb their metaphorical noses at everything that's logical, everything that makes sense, everything that should be and could be right in the world.

No wonder I'm fucking crazy. The world in which I live is crazy. I'm just trying to fit in.

This tiny ember, so small and insignificant, I can hold it in the palm of my hand. It doesn't burn. It barely even glows.

It's all that's left of a once mighty blaze. Soon to be ash, and nothing more.

I've tried so hard to keep the fire going. I've tried like my life depends on it, because that's exactly how it feels. But I can't do it anymore. Not alone. I'm so tired of alone.

This evening, I asked for help. I asked for the truth. A single honest answer after months of evasion. A breath of air to feed this ember, or a more forceful blow to extinguish it forever. Something. Anything.

I asked a question, and I wait for an answer.

It's fading. I could crush it so easily.

I think it took a single email, to start me down this path tonight. It doesn't take much, after all, to right that which is wrong.

Three bottles of Gumballhead (494) certainly didn't hurt, either.

I imagine good things, when I'm in this kind of a mood. I imagine them and I let the feelings - the feelings that always accompany such imaginings - wash over me. Wash away the debris from my heart and let it beat freely for a while.

I imagine fitting together. I imagine hands, arms, legs, intertwined. Of course I imagine those things. I'm not a eunuch, after all.

I imagine kissing lips, softly at first. I imagine that a lot.

But I imagine so much more. I imagine my heart, my mind, my very soul melded with those of another. Two people functioning together. So much stronger than the sum of their parts. Unbreakable. Indestructible.

Invincible.

People tell me that my heart, having been awakened by chance years ago, is now something rare and precious. That's just so very strange to me, when I realize just how true those words are.

Unconditional.

Boundless.

Devotion.

My heart is a fountain, longing for someone to take a drink.

Well, that might just be the cheesiest sentence I've ever written.

I am in a very nice mood. I hope it lasts for a while.

I just had to go and be in a good mood. And, not only that, I just had to go and announce my mood to everyone.

Four hours later the universe started punching me in the gut again, and it hasn't stopped, and there's no end in sight. Not that there ever was an end in sight, but I'd allowed myself to forget that for a while.

That was stupid of me to forget. But, apparently, not impossible. Because I keep fucking doing it.

Also, I got to have lunch with HatGirl today.

HatGirl!

Yay!

This was our third attempt since Friday to do this. Friday she was sick, and Monday I was swamped at work, but today everything worked out just fine. We ate at While Castle. She made me forget my troubles for a while. I think I might have actually smiled, once or twice.

HatGirl thinks I'm awesome. That's nice of her to think that. I wish I believed it.

Once upon a time, a wise man wrote, "One of the fun things about being a crazy person is that I get to fool myself into thinking that good things might happen."

That wise man was, of course, my lovely self. I wrote that statement back in January 2007, about something completely stupid and irrelevant, but the truth of that sentence has withstood the test of time since then.

Like today, I made a casual mention of next Thursday. Then, later, I made another casual mention, in an email this time, of next Thursday. Now, I have zero idea what's going to happen nine days from now, but I'm not going to let that stop me from enjoying the fun I'm currently having.

I'm imagining the perfect day, and fooling myself into thinking that some of the good things I'm imagining might actually happen.

It's fun, sometimes, being crazy. Much better than facing reality all the time.

Work yesterday was fun. I'm on-call this week, and all hell broke loose Sunday and spilled over into Monday. I like dealing with technical problems like that. Much more fun than shuffling paperwork all the time.

Then I had a good evening. Of course I had a good evening. That which had been missing from my life, it was back. So that was cool.

Then all hell broke loose at work again, and I had to deal with that. It wasn't as much fun as it had been earlier.

Anyway, to review:

Pizza Hut Meaty Marinara = tastes like Chef Boyardee.
Schlenkerla Marzen (6396) = yummy.
Barley Island Barfly (170) = good.
Harpoon Winter Warmer (254) = yummy.

I'm kinda irritated right now. Big huge shock, right?

I'm irritated, as usual, with myself. And maybe with Everyone on Earth, but mostly myself.

It seems that Everyone on Earth has opinions. Can't really fault them for that, but what I can fault them for is that they seem determined to have opinions that are in direct opposition with the opinions I want them to have.

And, not only that, they're actually starting to sway me. They're actually starting to make me lose hope that things will ever get any better. They're actually starting to make me question whether I'm wasting my time or not. Whether I'm wasting my heart or not.

What right does Everyone on Earth have to pry my eyes open like this? I was doing perfectly well, groping around in the dark.

But it's my own damn fault. I might have to hear the things that Everyone on Earth keeps saying, but I don't have to listen.

I need to stop listening. No good will come from listening.

I wasn't even going to write about Saturday night. The entry would have seemed like a copy/paste of Friday, but there were some differences.

Instead of standing at the bar talking to ActualGeorge, I stood in the annex and talked to MusicalYuppieDude. He also wasn't quite as sure of my retardation as ActualGeorge had been Friday.

When I first got to Rich O's, there were about a dozen hot girls in the red room. So that was nice, I guess.

The place wasn't nearly as crowded as it had been Friday night.

After I left Rich O's, I went over to Louisville to see WeirdGirl for a bit. She was having some kind of crisis, but it must not have been too bad because she wanted to go bar-hopping and partying all night. I came home instead.

Those were the differences. The main thing that was the same was that I had three more glasses of Schlenkerla Marzen (6379) while I was at Rich O's.

Meanwhile, my refrigerator is broken.

Had a million things to do yesterday, so I ended up taking a half-day off work. And I managed to get everything done, mainly I think because HatGirl was sick and had to cancel our lunch date.

Last night I was in a pretty crappy mood, and I felt like I needed to share my crappy mood with other people, so I went to Rich O's at 7:30 or so. The place was pretty packed, both because it was a Friday night and because they were having some thingy out in the special people room. I don't know what that was all about, and I don't care.

At first I sat on the sofa, but as soon as TallLady left I moved to the throne. I had myself a Schlenkerla Marzen (6294) and talked to OtherDave and some other people. Oh yeah, StoreGirl was there. Hadn't seen her in months. So that was nice.

Then MusicalYuppieDude and WeatherGirl came in. It sucked that it was so crowded. I really wanted to talk to WeatherGirl because she's one of the people taking my side about this whole mess I use for a life. But the living room area was packed. I did try to get them to come and sit at the kiddie table, but they didn't, and then some weirdoes sat there instead.

I had a nice text-messaging conversation with HatGirl. She was still feeling a little icky, and declined my offer of free beer if she'd drag her ass to Rich O's. HatGirl is another person who's definitely on my side.

After a while, I got really claustrophobic, so I picked up my shit and moved to the end of the bar. Pretty much spent the rest of the night there, drinking a couple more glasses of Marzen (6328) and listening to ActualGeorge tell me that I'm retarded. Like I didn't already know that.

Once the thingy in the special people room was over, Rich O's proper got even more crowded. Part of the crowd was some photographer. I got to talking to him for a bit. He was there taking pictures for some website. I got him to take a bunch of pictures of me and StoreGirl - she being the only person I know who's more camera shy than I am.

Then I went back and let ActualGeorge tell me that I'm wasting my time for a while. I disagreed with that particular sentiment. Then at 11:30 or so I went to White Castle then came home.

I absolutely did not forget.

Happy anniversary, sweet girl.

Tuesday night seems like such a long time ago, but I'm going to try to write something, and Tuesday night would be a good place to start, I suppose.

The entire day pretty much sucked, what with my cat dying and all. I also didn't get to see her at all, and even email contact ended abruptly at 5:30.

So, I went to Rich O's. On a Tuesday night. Weird, I know.

At first I sat in the throne, but people kept trying to talk to me, so I moved to the island once it had been vacated. I had a Schlenkerla Marzen (6193) and a little pizza. I did my best to hold myself together, and I suppose I did okay for a while.

Then people came and joined me at the island and started talking to me. Being too unmotivated to pick up my shit and move again, I stayed put where I was.

Oh, and by people I mean ElPresidente and FirstLady, though some other people stopped by from time to time. I spent most of the next four hours talking to ElPresidente - a conversation which can be summed-up as follows:

ElPresidente: You're still whining about that?

Me: Yes. Yes I am.

ElPresidente: Idiot.

And so it went. But it was still lots better than going home and having to watch my remaining cats search in vain for their missing friend. And I even had another Marzen (6210) to help take the edge off things.

Wednesday was, by my estimation, a million-bazillion times better. I was still sad about Happy, of course, but I found myself a very nice distraction. I didn't get to eat lunch, but I got to see her and play Santa Claus to her son, so it was a very fair trade.

After work I went back to Rich O's. I had myself a Rogue Hazelnut Brown Nectar (243), then I bought a growler of it to take with me. For the second time in only a few hours, I got to be distracted from this bullshit I use for a life. We had this alfredo stuff from Pizza Hut that I thought was very good. We each had a couple glasses of the Rogue (273).

Then on the way home I stopped at Rich O's again. I had a Marzen (6227) and had a nice little email conversation. I also had a nice actual conversation with OddlyFamiliarGirl, who surprised me by still being alive.

OddlyFamiliarGirl said some very nice things to me, and made me feel like an actual decent person. So that was nice of her.

Anyway, then I came home and successfully avoided calling out Happy's name when I walked in the door.

Yesterday I was going to write a long entry about my dead cat. I didn't write that entry, though someday I might. Also yesterday I wanted to write something about my dad. Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of his death. I didn't write that entry either.

Truth is, there's still only one thing on my mind these days. I am consumed by it, but I can't write about it.

Sucks to be me.

The call was a strange one. Not that the situation could ever be considered normal. Not by me, anyway. The vet probably makes calls like that a lot.

She got the results from Happy's blood tests. Not good. His kidneys were almost completely failed. He'd lost almost eight pounds since he was last weighed in September. And most of that weight loss was muscle mass. He was not diabetic, and his condition wasn't contagious to my other cats.

There wasn't any hope for long-term survival - that's pretty much what she told me.

Then she told me that he'd gone into cardiac arrest and died this morning when they were treating him.

Seems to me that she could have told me that in the first place.

I'm really not trying to be funny. It's just that this is going to hit me pretty hard before too long, and I wanted to write something before I lost my mind.

It would have been eleven years, on New Year's Eve. That's not nearly long enough.

Well my cat's appointment has been pushed back to 11:45, and he's sleeping at my feet. So now I've got an extra hour to kill.

What to do? What to do?

Oh hey, I'll try to write something!

---

She keeps saying that I'm bored. Not really accusing me, more like, "I'm sorry you're bored, Dave."

Like it's a foregone conclusion.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Hmm, let's see what the opposite of bored is.

Encarta says it's fascinated. Sounds good to me.

And Thesaurus.com lists exhilarated, excited, interested, and enthusiastic.

Not sure I like those antonyms that much. They make it seem like the opposite of boredom is always a good thing. I mean, if you're on a plane that's crashing, you're probably not bored. But are you enthusiastic? Or if, like me, you're taking your beloved pet to the vet, and you're afraid that you're going to have to have him put to sleep, you're probably not bored, but are you excited?

I doubt it, unless you're even more weird than I am.

I have some words that I think of when she says that I'm bored. I think that I'm enthralled and mezmerized, or sometimes I might go with dispirited or pessimistic.

But not bored. Never bored.

We did end up hanging out for a while Sunday afternoon and evening. I can't write about that, though, except that I had a Barfly (140).

I've been saying that I've got this mood that I can't seem to shake. Well, that was wrong. It's not a mood that I get into, it's reverting to normal. That's why I haven't been able to shake it. Because it's not a mood at all, it's the way I am now. Instead of being a happy person with occasional bad moods, now I'm quite the opposite.

Anyway, after I'd reverted to normal last night, I stopped at Bearno's for a Newcastle. The keg blew, but the dude did manage to get most of a glass poured (11638).

Then I came home.

My cat Happy is very sick. He's going to the vet this morning, and I fear that I won't be bringing him home. I guess I'll know more by 11:00 or so.

I had a couple bottles of Newcastle (11662) last night while I tried to comfort Happy.

Well I ended up not taking a trip yesterday. The same lack of motivation I'd had about writing kept me from making up my mind about going anywhere until it was too late. So I just dicked around the house for the most part.

Then last night I got to do some stuff I can't write about, I guess except that I had a Marzen (6152) and three bottles of Barfly (128). And I think I did a pretty good job of keeping my thoughts where they belonged.

Today we might do something. Or we might not. It's kinda hard stupid to plan anything more than about five minutes ahead of time. As proof of that statement, I offer yesterday, and next weekend, and probably Thanksgiving. But it's okay. Spontaneity has its charms sometimes, and being penciled in is better than nothing.

A pen would be nice, though, every now and then. It would be nice to be worthy of a pen. The dipshit gets a fucking pen.

I'm supposed to write in this thing. That's pretty much what it's here for. Some days it's really hard to get motivated, though. That's what today is. I just don't feel like writing. Because of that, this is going to suck.

My life is a fucking lie. A play in which I'm forced to perform, and they forgot to give me my lines.

Lunch at this weird Lynn's Paradise Cafe place was nice. A little strained, I thought, but that's to be expected, what with everything going on and what with me being in this damn mood that I can't shake.

After work I tried to take a nap. It didn't take. I think I'm overly tired. Two or three hours of sleep per night for a week will do that to a person.

So then I went to Rich O's. I'd thought it might be a short visit, because sometimes I forget that hope is stupid and that I should stop having it. I ended up sitting at the kiddie table for four hours talking to OtherDave for a while, and ActualGeorge for a while longer. I tried to talk HatGirl into coming, but she was busy or sick of me or something.

I had a couple glasses of Schlenkerla Marzen (6135), which were quite good. I had a drawn-out email conversation, and that did help to make me feel a little better.

I stopped at White Castle on the way home. My jalapeno cheeseburgers were very yummy.

Oh yeah, remember how I found out yesterday that MixedSignalGirl wasn't dead? Well, last night I found out that NotHideousGirl wasn't dead, either, because she came in to Rich O's. So that was nice. And I got a couple of text messages from SassyGirl, and she wasn't dead either. I miss SassyGirl. I think I miss just about everyone. My own damn fault. I've almost totally isolated myself.

I want to take a trip today. I need to get away. But I probably won't.

Just a quick note to say that MixedSignalGirl isn't dead, and that I'm glad.

I called her this morning, sorta breaking our rule about things like that, but they had this big blizzard up where she lives, and I needed to know.

"Hi, Miss! Are you dead from the blizzard?" I asked.

"Nope, just driving to work in regular snow, not blizzard snow," she answered.

"Well, I'm glad you're not dead," I offered.

"Me, too," she replied. "I'll be sure and let you know if I die, though."

"Fair enough," I said, and then we chatted for a couple of minutes before we ended the call.

Anyway, whew!

Tonight I'm struck by the absurdity of all this. What's happening. What's not happening. It just doesn't seem right, for things to be the way that they are. While I was distracted, some kind of bizarro world materialized around me. I don't fit here, in this strange place. This absurd reality.

A movie about my life wouldn't make any sense. It would be impossible to figure out what was happening. Or who the protagonist was, or the villain, or the comic-relief. I think I might be all of those things.

You get told certain things as a child. Maybe you don't pay much attention, but you're told those things so often that the words sink deep into you, become a part of who you are, or at least who you want to be.

This isn't right. It doesn't make any sense at all. I don't fit here.

Good is bad, and bad is good. Love brings indifference, and indifference brings love.

I keep hoping that I'll wake up some morning, and things will be normal. The way they should be. That things will make sense. So I can feel like I belong.

It's a stupid and pointless thing for which to hope, I know. The world isn't going to change; it's going to have to be me.

The rest of Wednesday consisted of spending all afternoon in one of the saddest moods I've had in months, then spending the evening pretending that everything was fine. Until, eventually, thanks to a little kid mostly, everything was fine. What a delightful child. His mommy is kinda neat, too, for a jailer.

But eventually, the cage walls started closing in on me again, and I made a graceful escape. One made a bit less graceful because of my Blackberry. Upon leaving, I sent an email saying that I'd had an overwhelming urge to give her a foot massage. But my Blackberry, in a fit of stupididy, had interpreted my typing of the letters f-o-o-t as d-o-o-r instead.

Now, I don't really know what a door massage is. Sounds pretty kinky. But I bet I'd give a good one, and make her forget all about the dipshit.

On the way home, I stopped at Rich O's and had myself another Marzen (6101) and ordered a pizza to-go.

Got to have lunch with HatGirl today. Our lunches are always so chaotic, at least the last two have been.

HatGirl!

Yay!

Anyway, we ended up at White Castle. It was a little weird, eating there in the the middle of the day and completely sober, but the company was nice, of course. HatGirl is a genuinely good person, and to prove it, she spent an hour alternating between listening to me gripe and trying to think up reasonable excuses to explain the way I'm being treated.

After that lunch, I took another lunch and went and talked to WeirdGirl for a bit. We'd had this crazy idea in our heads, but after we talked about it for a while, we decided that it was just too crazy, and not worth the trouble it could cause. I'm relieved, I think.

I think I'd probably leave. I don't know where I'd go, or what I'd do once I got there, or whether I'd ever come back, but none of that would really matter. What would matter would be that I got away from here, from all of this. The pity. The laughter. The reminders. The ashes.

Someplace warm would be nice, I think.

Maybe it'll never come to that. Maybe I just need to have more patience.

Today I get to have lunch with HatGirl. Maybe she'll renew my faith, remind me of the value of patience.

Sometimes, I can just start typing. And then, I'll stop and decide that I've written something worthy of posting. I don't know if that's going to happen tonight, but I guess it's worth a shot. I'm in a semi-weird mood, after all.

Something happened to me, a long time ago. I really wish I knew the date, but I don't. It was a little over five years ago, when I'd just started this blog, but before I really had any purpose in mind for it. Before I really had any purpose in my life, as it turned out.

Well, on that unknown date about five years ago, even though I didn't recognize it at the time, I went and found myself a purpose. I wasn't even looking - it was thrust upon me - but I haven't been the same since. Not even close to the same.

I gave my life to that purpose, and though I've strayed from that path every now and then, I've never strayed very far. And I've always come back.

I think about these last five years, and I know that most people would tell me that I've wasted them, but that's not what I think at all. Nope, I think I wasted the nearly four decades that had passed before. There was literally nothing in my life that was worth living, until that mysterious date in 2003. But, as of that date, my worth as a person was suddenly very clear to me. My reason for being here was obvious to me. My purpose was unmistakable.

But, as sometimes happens, I fucked up. Either through bad timing or luck or fear or genetics or whatever, my reason for existing was taken from me. That's a date I fucking remember. November 9th, 2004. Almost four years ago. Everything I'd spent my life waiting for was lost on that day. Everything I was, died on that day. Everything, that is, except for one tiny spark.

And I persevered. Against all reason and logic, I kept that tiny spark of hope burning in my heart. It hasn't been easy for me, or even intentional some of the time, but I somehow managed to hold myself together. Long enough to have another chance.

I got that chance, and I'm fucking that up as well.

What am I supposed to do now?

Die?

Sometimes I hope for that.

Tonight, I sit here in my office late at night, and I try to prepare myself for the unknown that I find myself hurtling toward. I imagine the worst, and I steel myself as best as I can. I imagine the best, and I nearly weep from the joy of it.

To my detractors, I say that this time has not been wasted. Sometimes the journey really is more important than the destination. And sometimes the journey is all you get.

I forget where I was going with this entry, but I'm pretty sure that I've strayed again.

Oops.

I've had this stupid little nagging thought in my head for the past couple of days. I've had it before over the years, but I've always been able to ignore it until it went away.

This time, the damn stupid little nagging thought is being stubborn, and I'm not sure that it's going to go away. Because it might be right.

---

Today it's supposed to be really nice outside. Like 76 degrees. I'd walk to The Pub for lunch, but there's no point, because there are no beer sales until the polls close.

---

Sometimes I have to ask myself how things should proceed, if they proceed. I mean, if they're allowed to proceed to their logical conclusion, how should it happen? Slowly and deliberately, or as quickly as possible, to get the inevitable out of the way?

Sometimes it's really surreal that these aren't completely hypothetical questions.

---

Damn, I was supposed to pick up a case of Moerlein OTR when I was in Covington, but I forgot. Oh well, it's close. Maybe we can go up there together some weekend.

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I forgot to set my clock back, so I got up an hour early this morning.

...I'm back home, and I still don't give a flying fuck.

Lot of that going around these days. Maybe it's contagious.

And another thing is that I don't care about this blog anymore. Not at the moment, anyway - my interest might eventually resurface. So the only reason I'm writing here now is so people don't think I'm dead. Like my sister today asked me if I was okay, because I'm not writing here anymore.

Today I drove to Covington, KY. Once I got here, I glared at my phone, and I had some Moerlein OTRs (360). Now I'm going to bed.

Oh yeah, I got a nice email from HatGirl.

This is going to be brief.

I just went to fark.com, and I saw a topic there.

In honor of All Souls' Day... who would you want to give your eulogy and what do you think they'd say about you?

I'd want it to be my most special friend RockGirl, absolutely zero doubt about it.

And I think she'd say something like, "Dave was one of those rare people who knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life, and even though he never got to do it, just knowing that he had a purpose and that he would spend his life trying to fulfill that purpose - it was enough to make him very special. He never wavered, not even for a second. He was my dear friend, and he will be missed."

Not that I'm planning on dying anytime soon, but it would be nice of RockGirl to acknowledge me like that.

It's like I live a secret life or something. I wonder if people are intrigued by my recent silence. It might be cool if they were.

But, as is so often the case, the truth isn't quite as interesting as people might suspect.

I get to see her almost every day, except on the days when I don't. And those latter days don't matter except to mark wasted time. And on the days when I get to see her, time always passes so quickly that I always end up feeling like I've been robbed.

So, almost every day, I get to be happy, albeit for a brief time. Then, on the rest of the days, I get to be miserable.

Usually, I think it's a pretty fair trade. And it's certainly not boring.

I remember when my life used to be boring. It sucked.

But anyway, it's not like there's anything going on between us. We continue to be lopsided. That kinda ruins the intrigue, but it's the truth anyway. I don't have to like it, but I'd like it even less if people thought something was going on when it wasn't.

I don't even know if I'm going to post this. Probably not. I'm just sitting here typing, trying to kill some time until I get to see her again. Shouldn't be too much longer, I hope.

Her kid likes me, so that's cool. But I keep trying to tell her that I'm here for her, not for her kid. That would be a real dick move, I think, winning over a kid to get closer to his mother. Maybe a lot of guys would do it, but I'm not a lot of guys.

Tomorrow I'm driving to Covington, Kentucky and spending the night. I'll be working in that area Monday. I suppose I'll have some fun, going to that one bar in Covington and drinking some OTR beer, but I won't get to see her at all tomorrow. Please reference the third paragraph above for what that means.