I had to wait until I wrote this entry. And, of course, in the week that's passed since I thought of it, it's become less funny. You've been warned.

I was at Rich O's the other night - I think it was Wednesday - talking to various regulars and irregulars. In that place, I try to steer clear of the usual topics of politics, religion, music and sports. The first two because those conversations always lead to people revealing their stupidity, and the last two because I neither know nor care about those things.

So that usually means that I either talk about beer, or I talk about women.

Women are weird. If you've never read this blog before, then that might come as a shock to you, but trust me - they're weird.

So let's take a guy. But not a regular guy, one instead who has three particular qualities. He's an asshole, and he plays guitar, and he's unemployed.

The thing about that guy, see, is that I absolutely guarantee that he has a girlfriend.

Those three qualities, taken separately, would seem to be either neutral or even negative qualities. But put those three qualities together, and they form some kind of magical sphere - a triumvirate of attractiveness - for the guy. Women find him irresistible.

Weird, like I said. But you can't prove me wrong, because I'm not wrong. If a guy has all three of those qualities, he's got a girlfriend, or at least getting some steady action.

Now, lacking those three qualities doesn't automatically mean that a guy's going to die alone and unloved, but it might. So, in order to foster my own chances of having someone actually cry at my funeral, I'm taking some steps.

First, I'm really not an asshole, though I can act like one at times. I need to do it more often. Recent events in my life have already given me a shove in that direction, so it's only getting easier.

Second, I've been trying to learn to play guitar. For over a year and a half now. I still suck, but not as much as I once did.

Third, I lost my job last Tuesday.

Yes, that's right. I've been made into a victim of this recession, along with another 250 or so people from my old company. So, for now anyway, I've got the unemployment requirement nailed.

Anyway, I had to wait before I wrote about losing my job. My sisters and my niece were on a trip to Europe, and I didn't want to impact their enjoyment. But now they're back, so they can be miserable right along with me.

It's a surreal feeling, and I'm not sure how to describe it.

Waking up, and realizing that you've just been thrown out of an airplane. Falling because you must, and because it's effortless. You twist your body so that your head will impact first.

Touching a fence, and finding out too late that it's electric, as your hands seize into claws unable to let go. Your fingers ignite and you relish the pain because it's better than nothing.

Blinded, deafened, numbed. All senses overloaded and dead, but no matter. Lesser purposes and all that...

Living for that which no longer exists and wondering if it ever did. Questioning, doubting everything you know and everything you feel and everything you are. Answers elude and evade.

It's a surreal feeling.

Last night, I sent RockGirl this email, with the subject of "Yay!"

And yay and yay and yay! I get to have lunch with HatGirl tomorrow.

It's been 17 billion years since I've seen her. *

I'm so excited!

HatGirl flaked on lunch.

I remember what I said. I said that I'd leave. I said that, if I had no reason left to stay, then I'd leave.

Well, maybe I didn't think that through all the way. I mean, how am I supposed to know when there's no reason to stay? It must be a feeling, because facts are piling on top of me, and I still can't decide.

About every hour, I flip-flop between wanting to leave and wanting to stick it out. I bounce between excitement over the prospect of starting over and dread over the same prospect. There's a line between perseverance and stupidity, and I live on that line, right where it intersects the line between cowardice and acceptance.

Whatever I do, I know what I want it to be for me, and not for anyone else. I want to end up doing what's right for me. Wow, that seems like a selfish thing to want.

It's not really that black and white, of course. It never is. I'm not the only one, even though it sometimes seems that way.

I've been dewrinkling my shirt while I type this stupid entry. My dryer just dinged, so it's time to go. I'm going to this Jack's bar and drinking some Rogue Dead Guy Ale. I like that stuff.

Maybe I'll write something when I get back home. I feel like I might be in a writing mood tonight.

I tried to write something this morning, as I contemplated the day and the weather and the life that I find myself living. I tried to write, I even managed to write a few hundred words. All drivel, of course. What else would there be? I deleted those words.

And now it's fifteen hours or so later, and I'm back at this keyboard, once again searching for words and phrases which might, when strung together in a certain way, serve to illustrate the wonder that is me at this particular time and date.

12:26 AM, April 26, 2009.

You know what thought jumped into my head a little while ago, as I drove back home from an aborted trip to this stupid Jack's bar that was charging a cover for a stupid band that nobody ever heard of?

Go ahead, try to guess.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

Wrong.

The thought that crept into my head was one from an old beer commercial.

Great taste. Less filling.

And that started me thinking about emptiness. And that started me thinking about wasted time. And that started me thinking about wasted effort.

I see it all the time, all around me. I see it in myself, when I dare to look in a mirror.

Waste.

If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck and swims like a duck and quacks like a duck - guess what, it's a fucking duck. Call it a cherry pie all you want, but it's still a damn duck.

That's what it is, annoying. After the shock and the denial, I mean.

So I've thought about it, and I've thought about it some more.

I'm not going to say, not just yet.

No need to ruin their good time.

Every now and then something will strike me as being really funny, and I'll just start laughing. Usually I keep my laughter inside, but not always. And it usually happens at the most inappropriate times. Sometimes I just can't help but laugh at the absurdity.

---

Every now and then I'll reach out. For answers, or for comfort, or for companionship - it doesn't matter - and I'll end up with a big handful of nothing. One might think that I'd eventually stop doing this, but instead it only strengthens my resolve to try harder next time.

---

I had way too much caffeine today. And now I'm wired.

---

I've been working on a simple little twitter-like thingy for this site, so I can just use my blackberry to make quick updates. The coding was simple enough, but I'm having a tough time deciding on the output format. Once I get the twitter-like thingy implemented, stupid tidbit entries like this will probably become a thing of the past.

---

I wasn't really trying to fix anything, I was only trying to explain myself. It really did need to be said. Even if nobody was really listening, I needed to say it.

Then we walked a mile or so to HatGirl's car, so we could put our extra crap in there and not have to lug it around all day. Next, we walked all the way back to my truck. We walked all the way back to my truck because I'm retarded. I'd left our tickets for the craft beer tent thingy there. When we got back to the parking lot the dude was still admiring my truck. I think he had an erection, but I was afraid to look too closely.

Then we walked back to the riverfront. The craft beer tent thingy didn't open until 2:00, and it was only 12:30, so we went into Hooters where my cousin Jeff awaited. He'd gotten us free wristbands. That was nice of him. We had some Diet Cokes and sat around for a while.

Oh, and we saw TremensGirl and Bubbles walking around, so that was nice.

Once the thingy opened, we got something to eat and then went down this steep-ass hill to the river. We watched the airshow, which was very cool. There was a fucking helicopter doing fucking loop-de-loops. I didn't think that was even possible in a helicopter. During this period I had myself a Gumballhead (534). This is also when the events portrayed in the comic two entries ago happened, so I had myself 14 ounces of Upland Wheat (297), too.

This was about when I had myself another Gumballhead (550). It was yummy.

Anyway, once the fireworks were over, we were going to hang out for a while, but all of the bars closed early, so we went and sat in HatGirl's car for a half-hour or so, waiting for traffic to start moving. Then we went to White Castle then she drove me to my house.

It was a really fun day, and I only missed a certain person a million times, instead of the asstillion times I'd been predicting.

When HatGirl took me to get my truck yesterday, I'll admit that I was a little disappointed that the dude hadn't washed and waxed it for me. I guess I should have just been grateful that it wasn't covered with his semen.

I haven't heard anything about us suddenly being at war with Ireland, so I guess the girls must be behaving themselves.

For now.

Dum-dum-DUM!!

Such a stupid rainy day. Yesterday was almost perfect weather, though, so I guess today should be allowed to be stupid if that's the way it really wants to be.

But this would have been a good day to work on getting my swing fixed, if I could have talked my sister's husband into helping. And if it wasn't raining.

---

Sometime today HatGirl will take me to get my truck from Jeffersonville. I'm sure that will be the highlight of my day.

As things turned out, our transportation arrangements for yesterday were way too complicated. What we did was, (a) I met her Friday near the riverfront, (b) we parked her car, (c) I took her home, then on Saturday (d) I picked her up in my truck, (e) we parked a couple of miles from the riverfront, (f) walked to the riverfront, and then after the show (g) she drove me home in her car, and then today (h) she'll come and drive me to get my truck.

What we could have done, as it turned out, was just drive my truck Saturday, park and walk, and then walk back to my truck after the show.

It's that 20/20 hindsight thing. Next year, we'll know better.

Plus the parking sticker for HatGirl's car cost $50.

---

I may be housing some dogs for a while. My cats will be thrilled, I'm sure.

---

My sisters and my niece are in Ireland now. I'm totally jealous.

---

I need to do laundry.

It's such a bullshit situation, this one in which I find myself. Not only have I been conclusively and irrevocably convinced that I must turn my back on the most important relationship I've ever had, I've also been sworn to secrecy about my reason.

I hope that, someday, somehow, I'll be released from this particular gag-order, but I only wish that for the sake of my own conscience. Though this did certainly end and it is certainly over, I don't like the way it happened, simple as that. The relationship, however one wished to define it, deserved more. But I will not break my word.

As it is, I haven't been asked, and I don't expect to be asked. Assumptions and rumors will serve as facts, because facts are unavailable, and because facts can be cold and hard.

It seems like such a daunting task to write an entry about Saturday. It was such a long day, after all.

But I think I'll wait to see what pictures HatGirl took. I only took a few with my Blackberry, but she had a real camera with her. So I'll wait to see what pictures she has and then I'll steal some of them to help punctuate my entry.

Briefly, for now, though, we had a really good time. The crowding and even the traffic turned out to be quite bearable. I did manage to get myself a spiffy new sunburn, but it's not painful, so it's okay.

The first part of the day consisted of work, punctuated by lunch at Wendy's with HatGirl. I only mention that because, after work, I had dinner with HatGirl at Buckhead in Jeffersonville. I only mention that because tomorrow HatGirl and I are going to this fireworks thingy. I only mention that because, as I said a few entries ago, I got to see HatGirl at Rich O's on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Like I've already said, HatGirl is doing one hell of a job keeping me distracted. In other words...

HatGirl!

Yay!

It was funny to us.

I will never get tired of HatGirl, by the way.

So then after dinner - I had a Paulaner Hefeweissbier (607) - I decided to stop at Rich O's. You know, just for a change of pace, also known as a Schlenkerla Marzen (10299).

This is, from right to left, the lovely BadPickleGirl, my lovely self, and the lovely friend of BadPickleGirl who doesn't get a nickname unless I see her again.

One thing I've noticed today. Just one thing out of a million things that swarmed through my head as I continued my struggle for clarity and my desperate grasping at resolve. One tiny trivial tidbit that's stuck with me.

For months, either too many times or not enough times, I would say, "I wish things were different."

But today, those words are no longer appropriate. Today, those words are no longer true.

Today, I'm imagining saying, "I wish things had been different."

Slightly different tense, for an incredibly different reality.

If I were a real writer, I could write about anything, and make it legible, maybe even enjoyable.

Well, I'm not a real writer, even though I fancy myself as one from time to time. I doubt that I fool anyone except maybe myself.

Remember how I used to write about beaches and islands and oceans and crap like that? Well, tonight I'm going to write (briefly) about a lighthouse.

It was so fucking bright - blindingly so, one would think - but it never once hurt my eyes at all. And, even though that coast was fraught with danger after peril after hazard, I never once doubted that I would be safe. That light was everything to me. My guide. My inspiration. My target, for not only safety, but for paradise.

And then some dipshit had to come along and extinguish the light.

I miss the light. Not only for everything that it did for me, but for everything that it stood for.

Already the memory of it fades from my mind, already the blobs fade from my vision.

I was just thinking about the past. Two years ago, to be precise. April of 2007.

Back then, I had several things going for me in my life. I had what seemed like millions of unanswered questions, a few choice untold secrets, and I spent my life kicking my own ass because of fears and uncertainties that had held me back two years earlier. And I also had a stupid little spark of hope for the future.

Now it's two years later, and everything is different. I've told my secrets, and I've had my questions answered, and I no longer loathe myself because of those fears and uncertainties.

And that stupid little spark of hope?

It's gone now. That's another thing that's changed. I miss having hope, that's for sure. But good riddance to all that other crap.

Tuesday and Wednesday nights were very similar to each other. Both nights I went to Rich O's and met HatGirl.

HatGirl!

Yay!

I'm getting so spoiled by HatGirl. She's been so good about helping to keep me distracted. She's always been really good at distracting me. Plus, she managed to talk me into going to the fireworks thingy without even really having to try.

Also, both nights I drank some beer. Also, both nights MusicalYuppieDude was there and I talked to him some.

Wednesday night was a little different because I texted OddlyFamiliarGirl and she came down after she got off work. So we sat and talked for our usual couple of hours, then I gave her a ride home.

I never said this would be an interesting entry. I'm suprised I can write anything at all.

I need to say some things.

1. This was my decision.

2. I don't like it even a tiny bit, but it still needed to be done.

3. I am a man, after all.

4. Some things can neither be excused nor ignored.

5. You people who thought I was being stubborn before - you haven't seen anything yet.

6. I'm sure that I will second-guess this for the rest of my life, but I will not regret it.

7. Nobody can ever say that I didn't try my absolute hardest.

8. This is not my loss. My loss happened a long time ago.

Well, this year we're supposed to be going. It's this Saturday.

I've gone ahead and gotten a head start on freaking out about the traffic and crowding, but the company should be good, so I'm also looking forward to it.

I must say that I never really saw that coming.

Though perhaps I should have.

And now I get to live with the consequence of my blindness.

If I can.

---

It's so weird to feel myself functioning via reflex.

A car passes my house, and a stray photon from its headlights strikes my phone and bounces into my eye. My brain interprets this peripheral vision as my phone lighting up. Reflex takes over. I jerk my head.

False alarm. It's nothing. I sigh with relief.

---

This, of course, shall pass eventually. The friction of daily life will inexorably wear down the inertia of emotion with which I've lived for so very long. This will stop. I will stop.

I don't know who I am.

I guess I'm about to find out.

I hope I'm not a dick.

What I think, and I've thought this before, is that this is a really good stopping point.

Not ideal, certainly, but is there really such a thing as an ideal stopping point? And this is about as good as it's going to get, I'm afraid.

And, of course, the question is - will we take advantage of this opportunity, or will we squander it as we've done with all those that have preceded it?

And the other question is - if we do squander this opportunity, why?

I'm not sure what to call it when this happens, when I wake up like this after only a couple hours of sleep. I don't think it's insomnia - that's for when I can't fall asleep in the first place - but it should certainly be called something. I'd nominate bullshit but that word is already over-used.

Tonight I'm struck with the urge, more than on almost any other night I can remember, to vent. To just let it all out and say everything that's on my mind. To just start typing and not stop until I've said it all. To tell this entire story.

Because people don't know. They only see the shadows.

I'm trying to write tonight. I'm trying to write well. I've sat at my computer for two hours. I've written two thousand words, and I've deleted almost all of them. None have been good enough, and that's been the problem all along. None have ever been good enough for this.

Understanding, acceptance, even belief have been denied me, because my words haven't been good enough.

It was really fucking crowded when I got to Jack's last night. So crowded, in fact, that I had to walk back outside and try to come up with reasons to go back inside. I guess the reasons that I came up with were (a) I'd driven down there, (b) I wanted a beer, and (c) I'd already told OddlyFamiliarGirl that I was there and (d) she was on her way.

Originally, there wasn't going to be any beer last night, and therefore no Saturday Beer Report. I'd had an impromptu date at my house, and we watched Big Fish and Meet Dave courtesy of Netflix. Those two movies put me into a bad mood, mostly the latter, because it was so stupid.

So I decided, once I was alone, that I didn't really want to be alone. So I went to Jack's.

I managed to grab a table and, once OddlyFamiliarGirl showed up, we sat and talked for a couple of hours. I had two bottles of Rogue Dead Guy (879) and they were very good.

Oh yeah, now I'm supposed to watch Gone with the Wind, because OddlyFamiliarGirl says I'm either Rhett or Scarlett. It's been a long time since I've watched that movie, but I'm pretty sure I own it and it's around here somewhere.

After OddlyFamiliarGirl went home, I moved up to the bar and had some Diet Coke and talked to these chicks who kept having flaming homers or something like that. I asked if the flames made the drinks taste any different, and they admitted that it was all just for show.

It's possible, even for me, to see clearly. If I squint my eyes in just the right way, if I cause this illusion to be distorted by just the right amount, the truth appears.

But if I feel something strongly enough, if I believe something with enough conviction, if I know something with enough confidence, then does it really matter if it's real or not?

If it's absolutely real to me, doesn't that count as reality for me? If the truth differs from what I know with all my heart, then doesn't the truth become irrelevant to me?

I've written before that hope is self-defeating - it exists only to disappoint because, once fulfilled, it vanishes - and I still believe those words. But beyond hope lies belief, and beyond belief lies knowledge.

And this one thing, I know. I just know.

I am here for a reason.

People can, and do, say that I'm crazy and stupid and childish and stubborn and blind and weird and any number of other derogatory adjectives they can come up with. People say these things and they think these things and they pity me and sometimes they even pray for me, that I might open my eyes, or squint them just right, and see clearly.

Well, my eyes are wide-open. I see just fine, thank you very much.

I am crazy and stupid and childish and stubborn and blind and weird, but those are merely symptoms. Shadows on the wall lacking enough dimensions to ever be more.

The truth, as I see it, is all that matters.

I know the truth. It's my truth and nobody can take it away from me.

I fucking know.

Omaha was just too far away, I finally realized. I really wanted to be there, but I didn't want to go there. It's a 13-hour drive, after all.

But I still wanted and needed to go somewhere, just to get away from this situation for a night. So, I went to Covington KY.

The drive up was uneventful for the most part, except for the inevitable slew of emails and texts that always start streaming in whenever I'm driving. I replied to those as well as I could and managed to not get myself killed in the process.

When I was about halfway to Covington, SassyGirl called! We talked for a half-hour or so as I made my way up I-71. She and JauntyGirl are in Las Vegas, of all places. And so, of course, is HatGirl. And StupidGirl, of course, lives there. So three of my favorite women on Earth are all in Las Vegas at the same time. I'm a little surprised that MixedSignalGirl didn't call me to tell me that she was there as well.

And there I was, going to stupid Covington KY.

Once I arrived, I had my usual Covington lunch at Skyline Chili, then drove the short distance (it was raining) to the Mainstrasse area and went into the Cock & Bull bar. Not much has changed since I was last there in November, and that was good. And they still had Moerlein OTR on tap!

Yay!

So I had a couple pints of that (400) and decided that I'd be spending the night in Covington. I hadn't really made up my mind until then. I went and got myself a hotel room and took a nap for a couple of hours.

Went back to the Cock & Bull bar at 8:00 or so. I ordered an OTR, but they'd changed kegs and there was something wrong with it, so I only had a few sips (403) before switching to Newcastle. Then, after my Newcastle (12578) I decided to risk the OTR again. I figured maybe the glass had just been soapy or something. Well, I guess I was right, because my next OTR (423) was just fine.

Switched to Diet Coke and then, once the Cock & Bull got too crowded, I went back to the hotel and tried to sleep.

At 12:30 or so I gave up on sleep and drove home.

It has been proposed that it was weird for me to drive home last night. Perhaps, but I could tell that it was going to be a long sleepless night for me, and I was really dreading driving home this morning on little or no sleep. Better, I reasoned, to just drive home last night when I was still semi-alert. So that's what I did.

I was still awake at 5:00 when HatGirl started texting me from Las Vegas. I didn't complain because (a) it was HatGirl, and (b) I was awake anyway.

I think I finally got to sleep at 6:30 or so. Then I was awakened at 10:30 with an accusatory email.

Still fucking awake.

Las Vegas is so lucky!

So I dropped HatGirl off at the airport, and hung out there with her for an hour or so before she had to go through security. Next, I was planning to just go over to Rich O's because I was meeting BadPickleGirl and some other people at 5:30 or so. But around 4:00 I found myself suddenly starving to death. I mean, I was so hungry that I was actually shaking a little bit. So I went to the haunted Burger King and scarfed down some food. After that I felt better, but my stomach was a little queasy.

I went to Rich O's. I sat at the throne and had a couple glasses of Diet Coke to calm my stomach. I glared at my phone. I waited for BadPickleGirl.

Once they all showed up, it was a pleasant enough evening. I had some glasses of Schlenkerla Marzen (10040) and then a Diet Coke. It was nice to be able to talk to some people closer to my own age.

I came home at 10:00 or so, then slept for a couple of hours before sleep once again escaped my grasp.

Tomorrow I want to take a trip.

The good news is that I'm taking HatGirl to the airport in a couple of hours.

HatGirl!

Yay!

The bad news is that I'm taking HatGirl to the airport in a couple of hours.

Days and days without HatGirl!

Boo!

So I decided, before I went out last night, that I was going to write a beer report about my evening.

Then it ended up being a very boring night.

I sat on the throne and had a couple glasses of Schlenkerla Marzen (9958) and talked to StonerGirl and a few other people. Then I switched to Diet Coke and talked to OtherDave for a while.

Then, after Rich O's closed, OtherDave and I went over to Jack's and talked some more. I had a couple bottles of Rogue Dead Guy (855) while I was there.

Other than those things, all I did was glare at my phone.

I'm still doing that this morning.

Sometimes, you're told a lie, or even a meticulously-crafted series of lies.

I am an honest person. I do not like liars.

Sometimes, the truth sucks, but it's always better than a lie.

Except when it's worse.

The hard part is thinking of something to type before and after the videos.

I need to make it easier to convert videos for the web. Then maybe I'd do more of these. It's kinda fun to ramble into the camera.

Managed to find some work to do, and that bored me enough that I'm ready to challenge sleep again. I'm mildly optimistic, because I don't have to go in to work today.

Wish me luck!

I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be writing now. It just seems that I should be writing something.

It's 3:05 in the morning. Sleep has, once again, managed to escape from my grasp after struggling for only a couple of hours. Now it dances around me, taunting me, daring me to try again.

The gentlest of tugs, that's all it would take. It's so weird to be writing that. Even more weird to be thinking it. Knowing that it's true.

Note that I do not and cannot count the oh-so-kind offer that StupidGirl made in February. That wasn't a gentle tug - it was a mighty yank - and instead of moving me in the desired direction, it simply broke off yet another piece of me, leaving everything else stationary.

Sometimes, even for the intangible, slow and steady can work when fast and sudden don't.

I should write that down. It seems important.

Oh wait, I just did write it down.

Here I go again. Watch the two prior videos first.

Sometimes I don't seem to be able to shut up.

I haven't done one of these in a long time. And, apparently, I talk really fast. Try to keep up, please.

Anyway, today this one chick noticed this picture on the wall. "So all I have to do is kiss you and I can get my picture on the wall, too?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. "And bring all your friends. We'll cover the entire wall eventually."

We never did follow up on that plan. I was too tired, I guess.

---

I just got a haircut, in case you were wondering.

I sent this picture to HatGirl and she asked me if I was okay. I sent it to SassyGirl, and she sent me a picture of her and some girls having fun in the sun. I sent it to RockGirl, and she suggested that I take a nap.

---

Of course, this discussion was all moot, because the elephant is clearly Belgian. The dead giveaway being that it's fucking pink.

I can't sleep tonight. Not anymore. Had a stupid series of stupid dreams, and I can't get them out of my head.

So I gave up and I got up and I went for a drive at 3:30 or so. It was kinda nice. I wish I wasn't on-call this week, or I might have just kept on driving. Gotten away from here, tried to evade reality.

It wouldn't have worked, of course. After all, reality easily followed me to Las Vegas in February; it certainly could have kept pace with me tonight. But I'd like to have tried, I think. If nothing else, it would have given me something to do besides glare at my phone.

I can't really be sure, of course. I could be wrong. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

But we talked about it for a while last night. First time we've really discussed it at any length. I think she brought it up, or maybe she just said something that awoke the topic from its fitful slumber inside my head. Hard to say for sure why we discussed it. It just seemed necessary, I suppose. The emperor had appeared naked before us and we simply couldn't ignore it.

The thing is that we get along insanely well. I think we both agree on that. Never has a harsh word passed between us, and I can't really imagine any circumstances where that would change. Humor, temperament, intelligence, morality - all nearly identical. At least that's the way I see it, and she'd probably agree.

So we discussed it tonight while I sat at the bar glaring at my phone and she sat next to me glaring at her phone. We discussed that What if? scenario that's way too big to be encompassed by a single hypothetical. It would need something more like What if this and that and the other thing and oh yeah that one thing too and then some more things? to even come close.

But, strip away all the impediments and the question is laid bare.

What about us?

Because we would certainly try. I don't see how we could avoid trying. We get along too well to live the lies that would allow us to avoid it. Ridiculously compatible, I think I called it. We agree on that too.

The thing is, I think that we'd try, and I think that we'd eventually fail. We'd run into some of the incompatibilities that we discussed tonight, and probably some other, heretofore hidden obstacles, and eventually we'd fail. We'd have a lot of fun trying, and it would be really good for a long while, but in the end, we'd fail.

But the friendship would survive, and that's all that would really matter in the end.

We agree on that, too.

They don't really snap.

It's more like they stretch and stretch and then eventually they just sort of dissolve.

So then suddenly they're just not there.

And I try to make do, with whatever's left. I shift my grip, and I try to hang on.

If they snapped, if they made a sound when they broke, I think that would make more sense. And maybe it would have more impact that way, instead of just sort of sneaking me up to this inevitable fall.

I don't know why I think that, though.

Maybe for the same reason I keep trying to hang on in the first place.

Maybe because I'm weird, or maybe because I'm in love, or maybe because I'm retarded.

It's all a matter of persepctive, I suppose.

Every now and then, I get something.

A certain look, or a word, or a touch. It's never much, or almost never much, but it's always something.

People ask me why. All the time, people ask me why.

Because, every now and then, I get something.