But then it happens. They say stuff or they do stuff, and I realize - I've been dealing with one of those people all along. They made me feel like a fool, because I never even suspected that they were one of those people until it was too late. I was already emotionally invested.

Those fucking people, I hate them so much. Always saying that stuff and doing those things. I don't know how they can even stand to be around themselves, let alone expect others to tolerate their presence.

Those people suck. I think I'd wish they would all just die, but I'm afraid that might me too mean of a wish. So, instead, I just wish all those people would go away. Maybe go live on a fucking island, far far away, somewhere with others of their kind.

As long as I never had to see or talk to one of those people again as long as I lived, I think I'd be pretty happy.

Why did he just say that? people might ask.

What does he mean? people might wonder.

What's he doing now? people might question.

I think it's usually subconscious for me, when I do some of the things I do, and say some of the things I say. I mean, I don't hardly ever intend to do/say these things - they just happen. And then, once they've happened, I'm fucking glad that they did.

I was thinking tonight about certainty.

Some synonyms: assurance, certitude, confidence, conviction, positiveness, surety

Some antonyms: ambiguity, doubt, hesitation, questionableness, tergiversation

It seems to me that we all go through our lives with an almost unbearable amount of uncertainty. Our jobs, our families, our friends, our lovers - none are open books. All harbor secrets or, if not really secrets, at least knowledge that hasn't been uncovered. Questions that haven't been answered or even, in many cases, asked.

Will this last?

What does that mean?

Have I blown it?

What just happened?

Sometimes, I do things or say things. Things that, I hope, either reduce or, ideally, eliminate uncertainty about the way that I feel. And why I feel the way that I feel. About the way that I intend and expect to always feel, forever and ever.

Purposeful or not, intentional or not, planned or not, these things that I sometimes do and say - they all have at their core the one thing that's the most important to me as I struggle to keep my head above water through these turbulent times.

They are all the absolute truth.

If, for example, I say that I always want to see a certain person then that's exactly what it means. There's no ambiguity in the word always. It means what it means, Weird and unsettling as it may be, it's still the absolute truth. It's still a certainty.

I've spent so much time without any certainty about the things that are most important to me. I hate hate hate fucking hate the thought of some people being uncertain as to my intentions, or my feelings, or my motives.

I fucking hate that thought. So sometimes I say things, and sometimes I do things. Things that just might help to clarify things, to answer some of those nagging yet unasked questions.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm in a weird mood. I can thank New Holland Night Tripper (68) for this mood.

---

After LaptopGirl left, I think that was about when I started my fourth Dirty Helen. (322). I'd been considering maybe possibly thinking about going to Louisville, but that fourth beer pretty much put that idea on hold. Not that I really wanted to go anyway. LaptopGirl might come back, she'd said.

I'd somehow managed to grab the throne. I don't remember moving there. LaptopGirl and I'd sat on the loveseat when she was there.

Anyway, I was on the throne, just kind of vegging out. Then NotHideousGirl came in. It was very cool to see her, arm in a sling and all.

I didn't word that correctly. The sling part wasn't cool. I meant to say that it was cool to see her despite the sling.

At one point, MusicalYuppieDude came in. I think that was about when I ordered my fifth Dirty Helen (342).

So the three of us talked about random bullshit. The place was pretty dead - just the way I like it. I don't think anyone bothered us except this one dude that's always mooching cigarettes off everyone.

I switched to Diet Cokes at about 8:30 or so. I still felt fine, actually. I just knew that another beer would result in my not feeling fine. So I cut myself off.

Then, at about 10:00, I had an interesting phone conversation. At 10:30 or so, I left Rich O's to go to Louisville.

And then some stuff happened, and some other stuff didn't happen.

For one thing, I got pee on me.

I'm supposed to meet LaptopGirl here at 5:00, to tell her something which she already knows. Not that one thing which she already knows, silly. Another thing. I need to tell her that her computer is probably on its last legs.

Anyway, I got bored at home and I didn't want to start anything new at 3:00, so I came down here instead. And now I'm sitting and writing and enjoying a Barley Island Dirty Helen (262). But mostly, I'm waiting. I do that a lot, it seems.

So this morning, after I took care of some bullshit exciting challenges for work, I took my Monte Carlo to get its oil changed. That wasn't particularly interesting except that this one dude kept bugging me to sell my car to him. Not gonna happen, OilChangeDude, so back the fuck off.

After that, I drove around for a while. I checked out the new NABC brewery location. Not much to see except for this one temporary banner thingy. I took a picture:

Then I went down to the other side of the floodwall and looked at the river for a while. That place used to seem so isolated when I was a teenager. Now it's some kind of stupid park. They've got fucking bandstands and bleachers and shit. Plus, it's closed at night. Much slaking used to take place there at night. I wonder where people go now, when they want to slake.

Then I went to Polly's Freeze for lunch. And I got to sit at my favorite table, so that was cool.

Next I drove to Lanesville. I'd decided that I was apparently retracing my childhood in reverse-order. I mean with the floodwall and Polly's. With the oil-change place and the brewery, not so much. So I went to this park in Lanesville where I used to play until I was six and we moved away. It used to be a pretty shitty (hey, poet and don't know it) park. And I suppose it's still shitty. But they keep adding new buildings to the place. They're all locked, though. Maybe that's where they keep all the cool stuff.

I took pictures of this slide. I can't believe it's still here after all these years. I'd have thought it would have rusted into a heap by now. This slide was always scary as fuck to me, when I'd climb up those shaky chains and then pull and contort myself between the bars to the platform. It was worth it, though, because the sliding-down part was really cool.

Next I drove to my old house there in Lanesville. I keep hoping to see somebody in the yard, but I never have, and today was no different.

Next I went home for a bit, but I got bored and came here to Rich O's.

Oh yeah, now I'm having my second Dirty Helen (282) and it's yummy.

So there.

But, if there was any riff-raff there, I didn't see them. It was a fairly nice and relaxing night.

That was the good news. The bad news was that LaptopGirl made only the briefest of appearances. Just enough to whet my appetite. It's okay, though; we're not fighting again. She just had to go back home.

I knew I should have just gone to Covington.

So I spent the bulk of the night sitting at the kiddie table. I started out with a glass of Delirium Tremens (1258) and I followed that up with a couple of pints of Barley Island Dirty Helen (242). All were good. I spent some time talking to SmooshDude, and once he left I moved to the loveseat and talked to PearlGirl and a couple of other chicks. One of the other chicks has been in enough that I will christen her PoolGirl because she's a pool player.

At the end of the night I found myself standing at the end of the bar talking to FutureDude for a while. I came home at midnight or so.

Oh yeah, ActualGeorge was there for a while, too. But he stayed out in the loser section with his family, so I only talked to him for a couple of minutes.

---

Monday I finally had the water pump replaced in the Monte Carlo. So now I can actually drive it again. This is beyond cool to me. I even drove it to work today, risking door-dings in the parking garage. Once I get the exhaust repaired (it's a little LOUD) then there'll be nothing wrong with the car except that its owner still won't really be cool enough for it.

---

One of these years I should probably fix the gutter that was torn loose in January.

---

I think I want to go back to Covington this weekend. I seriously doubt that I'll do any such thing, because last time I checked, Covington wasn't located inside Rich O's.

---

On Monday I got to hang out with NormalGirl and RahRahGirl for a while after work. They were dressed to the nines (whatever that means) in sexy slinky black dresses. I don't think I did a very good job of averting my gaze, especially regarding NormalGirl.

---

I've felt myself starting to lose faith in one of my friends. Not that I ever really had any reason to think that I could trust him completely. But lately I've become a little convinced that he'd betray me in a heartbeat. So, I'm getting a little preemptively angry at him. I'm being stupid, I know.

---

Oh yeah, I managed to poke myself in the eye or something last night while I was sleeping. It's been hurting me all day, and it's a lovely shade of red. I hope it doesn't rot and fall out, but if it does then I'm going to get a glass eye that's brown. That way I can walk around with two differently-colored eyes and see if anyone notices.

---

It's midnight and I still have 3/4 of this Marzen (3591) left in my glass. I'd better get to drinking it.

---

I still have better topics that I want to write about. I still can't motivate myself to write, though, so crap like this is all you get for now.

Normally this type of mood would mean that I was about to start spouting drivel, but tonight I don't think it's going to happen.

See, I'm not allowed to write about feeling sad, which I'm not, because then people go, WTF happened this time? And I'm certainly not allowed to write about being happy, which I am, because then people go, OMG Dave is off his rocker again!

I could write about generic and/or hilarious things, like tonight's Indiana (preliminary) election results, but my heart's really not in it.

So I think I'll just go to bed. And maybe I'll dream something good that I won't be able to write about.

He sensed that my mood was becoming unsteady, and he jumped into my lap and started licking my arm.

Now, if I can only get him to use his psychic powers to tell me the next winning lottery numbers...

It was not murder. It wasn't even manslaughter, though a good attorney might have been able to wrestle a plea bargain from a gullible defendant.

Doesn't matter though. The past has, as they say, passed.

Then, several months later, another really bad thing happened, and I died again. Except that time, the really bad thing didn't just happen. Nope, that time, it was done to me.

That time, I was murdered.

There's really no other way to say it. No acceptable excuse, though a few excuses have auditioned for me. And been rejected outright.

It was done, to me, on purpose. It was premeditated murder. Murder most foul, as I read somewhere in some book I think.

But again, it doesn't matter. The past has passed.

Anyway, what I realized this morning, before it turned into a good day, was that I knew what I was more afraid of than anything else.

It's not the first thing happening again. It's not even the second thing happening again.

It's both things, at the same time.

A part of me expects both these things to happen at any time. Any second now, I expect to check my pulse and discover that I'm dead again. And bullshit like Saturday night only fuels that fear.

I've said it a million times, though perhaps not so wordily; it takes the tiniest of efforts to ease my fears, but it also takes the slightest disregard to create them and feed them and raise them until they're big enough and strong enough to consume me.

Just a little effort. Just a smidgen of empathy, leading to a hint of courtesy. I don't think that's too much.

I know that this is all clear as mud. Can't be helped, I'm afraid.

I had a good day today.

First, it was beautiful outside. A little chilly, but that only matters when I'm outside, and I didn't go outside until it had warmed up to a semi-respectable 60 degrees.

Anyway, my day started, predictably enough, checking email and MySpace and Facebook, looking for some clue as to what the fuck happened Saturday night. Well I found no clues, and I started to get a little sad. But then, then I got the nicest distraction ever when HatGirl called me.

HatGirl!

Yay!

I talked to HatGirl for what seemed like a million years of bliss and, by the time our conversation was over, I was no longer in any danger of being sad. At least not for today.

Guess what I did next!

Guess!

Damn, you guys suck at guessing. Fine I'll just tell you. You'd better sit down.

I replaced the window switch in my Monte Carlo!

Yay!

This is the first time in 23,000 years that the windows in my Monte Carlo have actually been controllable from the driver's door. And, it also the first time in 22,000 years that the door panel has been on said door.

Yay!

Oh yeah, after I went to the parts store to buy a switch, but before I went back home, I went to Polly's Freeze for lunch. All of the food was yummy as always. It kinda sucked that some asshole had my favorite table, though. I guess they haven't gotten around to chiseling Reserved for Dave on the table's concrete surface yet.

After I'd returned home, and replaced the window switch (yay!) I realized a couple of things. Thing the first was that it was a really nice day, weather-wise. Thing the second was that I didn't want to go back into my house on such a nice day.

So, I didn't.

I sat in my garage for several hours, totally kicked-back on my el-cheapo white plastic furniture, and I listened to the radio and I drank a couple of yummy beers and I glared at my phone and I thought about someone something wonderful and I smiled and I laughed.

It was a perfect day.

Then the Sun went down, and the temperature dropped 50,000 degrees, and I came back into my stupid house and watched stupid TV.

I went to my friend Eric's Derby party. I hadn't been planning to make any bets beyond the pseudo-bet of paying $5 and drawing a horse out of an envelope. I got Anak Kara or something like that. I think it's still running.

But then LaptopGirl and I made an arrangement. I would bet her favorite horses and then split any winnings with her.

This betting frenzy, apparently, spurred BadPickleGirl's interest, and so she ended up placing her own bet.

She bet the filly. The only filly in the thing. The filly that came in second. The filly that, immediately after the race, broke both its front ankles, collapsed on the track, and was euthanized.

That filly.

Anyway, while I mostly rooted for LaptopGirl's (and therefore my) horses, I also found myself silently rooting for BadPickleGirl's horse.

Maybe, I think, if I hadn't rooted for the filly, maybe it wouldn't have run so hard. And then, maybe, it wouldn't have broken its ankles and had to be put down.

I'm not saying its all my fault. That would be silly. But I bet it's at least partly my fault.

Also, there seems to be a pattern lately of horses breaking their legs while running. Maybe it's a conspiracy. Somebody should look into this.

I'd look into it myself, but I'm too busy right now trying to figure out why I just wasted 120 minutes of my life.

But now I've got to start getting ready to go to my friend Eric's derby party. I may be accompanied, I may not be accompanied. I may have a second party to go to later, and I may not.

I have a feeling that, by the end of the day, I'll know what it feels like to juggle cats while having a nervous breakdown.

For example, I spent about half the day today wondering if I was thought to be gay. Then, I spent a good chunk of tonight wondering if I was thought to be a dick.

It's the latter thing that I want to write about now. The former thing was just silly. A fun little imaginary scenario that drove me nuts, but still silly.

The Dave is a dick thing is a little more serious to me. Because it might have actually happened. Be happening. Whatever.

See, one thing that my strange brain cannot do is read minds. Another thing is that it cannot reliably decipher vague messages. The lack of these abilities may be normal.

As if I'd know what normal is.

Anyway, the other night I got this email. Unfortunately I can't say, in this venue, what the email said. All I can say is that it was a little vague as to its meaning.

I immediately thought of, and assumed that the worst possible meaning was the correct meaning, and I responded appropriately. Or what I thought was appropriately.

That's how my brain works.

But then, earlier today, I thought of a second possible meaning. And then, tonight, I thought of a third possible meaning. All are equally possible, given the vague wording of the email, but taken in the context that is my life, there's about a 99.99% chance that I was correct with my initial assumption.

But what if I was wrong?

Well, if I was wrong, then I'm a dick for not responding in an appropriate manner.

It's only a .01% chance that I was wrong. But it's enough, I think, to keep me from getting any sleep tonight.

Good thing I don't have to work tomorrow.

Anyway, I was in Covington, KY, which is across the river from Cincinnati and next to Newport. It was for a work thing, a series of meetings that lasted from 8:30 until 5:30 Wednesday. I drove up Tuesday after noon and spent the night.

After I'd checked into the stupid Marriot, I set out on foot in search of food and beverage. I walked from my hotel, at the river's shore, about 18,000 blocks South. All I found were pawn shops and cash advance places. So, not the best part of town, I figured. Next, I shifted a couple of blocks to my left, turned around, and trekked back towards the river. Still, pawn shops and cash advance places, but now with some strip joints thrown in for good measure.

I got back to the stupid Marriot, intending to get in my truck and drive to Newport. I know they have beer there. But, at the hotel, I got to talking to the doorman, and he told me where the touristy section of Covington was.

Remember, back two paragraphs ago, I said that I'd shifted to my left. Well it turns out that I should have shifted to my right. Because to the right was where all of the bars were.

The guy told me it was a two-minute walk. It was more like a zillion years, but I finally made it there. By the time I arrived in the touristy area, I was dying for Newcastle. So I went into the first likely-looking place, called the Cock & Bull.

I'd been hoping to find a Guinness, maybe a Newcastle. I most certainly hadn't dared to hope that I'd find Delirium Tremens, or Unibroue Maudite. Or a bottled beer selection that even MrPopular might envy. It was a very nice place, and I stayed there for hours.

Because I had fish and chips for my late lunch, I was bound by both honor and propriety to have a Newcastle (9367). The glasses were only 16 ounces, but they were unchilled. I was very happy. Even though I thought the fish kinda sucked.

My next beer was a Delirium Tremens (1225), and I spent some time talking to this one dork who wanted Beck's and would settle for nothing else.

Next, I tried something new to me.

Moerlein O.T.R.

(bottle) Clear dark orange. Kind of a weird color. No head to speak of. An aroma of malts and hops that was pretty enticing. Medium mouthfeel. The flavor was extremely good. The hops seemed to be a mixture of the piney kind (which I hate) and the flowery kind (which I love) and there was also a strong malty component to the flavor. Definitely very interesting and balanced and drinkable. I'd love to try this on tap someday. Yummy.

Just one example of my stupidity: I was talking for a couple of hours to this one cute girl about my reason for being there and the upcoming derby and beer and whatever else. It was a good conversation, I will call her EyesGirl, because she had two of them. Anyway, at one point she suggested that we go to some of the other bars in the area. Because I'd told her that I was only in town for one night, she said she wanted to show me a good time.

And not in a hooker way, I don't think. In a I'm a nice girl but I'll be naughty with you way.

So, naturally, I told her that I was seeing somebody. Even though I'm clearly not seeing anyone.

EyesGirl left shortly afterwards. Probably went home to masturbate, the poor thing.

I ended up convincing my boss, in town for the same work thing, to come up to the Cock & Bull and have dinner. I had another Delirium Tremens (1235) and then I talked my boss into giving me a ride back to the stupid Marriot.

Then today I had meetings then I drove home.

I need to see if Rich O's can get the O.T.R. there. I think people would like it, but mostly I'd just like to have it again without having to drive to Covington. It's kind of a cross between Rogue Dead Guy and Three Floyd's Gumballhead.

There's this one date that I really wish I knew. But I don't

I can rattle off every other relevant date without batting an eye. But the most important date? The first relevant date?

At that, I can only guess.

See, I used to think that this all grew as time passed. That there was a reason for it. That I wasn't crazy. This was yet another series of lies that I told myself. So that I'd think that I was more normal than I really was.

But it didn't grow. Instead, my denial and my disbelief - they shrank. They shrank until there came a day when I had to believe, because there was nothing left to do. Occam's Razor definitely applied.

I know that fucking date, when I finally saw the truth. When everything changed inside while the outside remained exactly the same as it had always been. I remember that date. Like it was important or something.

That date was nothing. I'd finally opened my eyes. Whoop-dee fucking doo.

The important date, the one I should know, so that I can celebrate or mourn as dictated by whatever my current mood and circumstances happen to be, all I can do is guess at that date.

I think I'm going to guess September 20th, 2003. That's at least close. It's what you'd call an educated guess.