That information does me no good.

What would do me some good would be hearing about all of the other things.

Like, tell me about how she jerked her head up every time the door darkened.

Or tell me about how her heart skipped a beat every time she heard a new voice, one that might belong to me.

Or describe how she glared at her phone, and wished it would do something besides just sit there being lame.

That's the kind of information that would do me some good.

And if none of that stuff actually happened?

Well, then lie to me. For sometimes the truth isn't enough.

(response to message)

I think Raindrop was Honeybee's Mom or vice-versa

Regardless, I'm pretty sure that Honeybee was Sergeant's (and Chief's) mom, and that Raindrop was a Pekinese.

I've been wrong before though.

(response to message)

You choose, I can't decide.

Doesn't matter because they're all hot.

Okay, I got them all.

I don't understand most of them, but I got them.

(response to message)

Welcome back.

(response to message)

Will it stop when I reach 100 char. or should I have been counting??

You can always just send me an email. It's daveATbarenadaDOTcom but replace the obvious stuff. There's a link to the right with the same munged address.

(response to message)

No, it wasn't about you. The person it was about does not read my 'blog.

(response to message)

Got this PM from somebody in Arizona

if you were nice to people in the bar, they wont be strangers anymore

Second of all, you either know me or you don't. If you do know me, then you should know better than to send me anonymous messages from Arizona. You should also know that I'm an incredibly nice person. I'm nice to everyone that's not an asshole or an idiot.

But if somebody comes into my bar and demonstrates that he is an asshole or an idiot (some people take longer than others to do this) then fuck them. Let them go to your bar in fucking Arizona and you can blow them until they're bone-dry for all I care. I'm only nice to the people who deserve it - and the loudmouths that have invaded Rich O's during the last few days do not deserve it.

And to continue that second of all thing that I started back there, if you don't know me, then I don't know you. And if I don't know you then why should I be taking advice from you? You're in Arizona, fer Chissakes! There is, as far as I know, one person in that entire state whose opinion I give a shit about. I'm guessing that you're not her, so please shut up.

I awoke at 2:00 feeling severely dehydrated. Now it's 2:47 and I'm on my fourth glass of water.

This reminds me of a funny story I heard at work today.

This guy was telling EwokGirl and me about his aunt or somebody that was told by her doctor that she had to drink 8 glasses of water each day.

So this lady, as soon as she got up every morning, poured 8 glasses of water, and...

...put them in the fridge.

Oh, did you think she drank all 8 glasses first thing in the morning?

Me too!

That would have been a funny story. Instead it's just a stupid one.

(response to message)

Oh yeah? Prove it. What's her name?

I was asked this question via PM today:

What is gained by having integrity, humility, patience, stupidity, etc. ?

(response to messages)

Got them and responded using your password.

The way this works is, I get an e-mail sent to me saying that somebody has left a message at my site. Once I get to a computer, I see the e-mail and then I read the message. Then I respond if I feel like it. None of this is instantaneous. Perhaps in the future I'll have a cattle prod up my ass that will shock me when someone leaves a message. But, until that glorious day, it may take time for me to respond.

I get anywhere between 50 and 100 of these private messages a day. I read them, and respond where appropriate, as quickly as I can. But I do have a life.

(response to message)

My favorite [censored] song is [censored]

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have you ever been truthful per this site?

Everything I've written here has been the truth, at least at the moment I wrote it. I've often held things back though. Obvious things like names and other specifics, but also deeper feelings.

Like I said, I don't understand the question. I'm trying to decide if I should be offended or not.

(response to message)

are these based on real veiws(sic) of scenery

(response to another message from the same person)

OK but if LG wasnt(sic) there would you be with MSG?

To answer your question: I don't know. LG isn't really here anyway, only her ghost is, and it's been here for so damn long that I can hardly imagine what things would be like without it. I suppose that, if I got some closure, or if I grew up, or if somebody hit me in the face with a baseball bat enough times, there could be a time when I stopped being haunted.

So I don't know. Six months ago I'd have said no, there were too many other problems. Today I'm not so sure. There would certainly be obstacles, just as there have always been obstacles. I actually think that I'd be willing to try. She is a very sweet girl, and she actually cares about me, and she's hot, and she's smart, and she laughs at my jokes...

...and she's not LG.

And that's the problem with hypothetical questions. Reality always comes back and fucks things up.

(response to message)

Dont(sic) you find it funny that your(sic) putting MSG thru the exact same things that LG is putting you thru?

The situations are similar, but that's about it.

I was thinking I'd go over some of the differences between these two situations, but the first (and main) thing I need to say here is that nobody is putting anyone else through anything. Those of us that are hurting here, we are doing this to ourselves. To accuse me of putting someone else through something painful implies that I'm doing it intentionally. That's just not the case. I do everything I can to keep from hurting causing MSG any more pain. I believe that LG would prefer that I didn't hurt either. There's no malice here, in either situation.

(I may write something here that could be seen as disparaging. That is not my intention. I'm just stating the facts as I see them.)

I guess that most obvious difference would have to be the fact that MSG and I had an actual romantic relationship. We tried, more than once, to keep that spark going, but it just became too difficult. Her hang-ups, my baggage - it was just too much. Whatever, it makes a little bit of sense that she'd develop some feelings for me during that time. I am a pretty good guy after all.

LG and I, on the other hand, had nothing more than a friendship that turned out to be mostly one-sided. The fact that nobody at the bar believes that it never went beyond that doesn't make it any less true.

MSG and I have talked dozens (hundreds? thousands?) of times about what was going on between us. This type of open and honest communication has been, and continues to be, one of the cornerstones of what I hope will be a long friendship. I've been honest, at times brutally honest, with her at all times, and she has done the same with me.

LG and I have never talked about any of this at all. For this I mostly blame my own fears. Mostly.

MSG knows pretty much all there is to know about me. She knows me as well as anyone ever has. She knows my strengths and my weaknesses. She knows my hopes and my fears. Her heart has been able to make an informed decision about me and her feelings for me.

Everything that I think I know about LG is based on my emotions and feelings and my own sense of the potential in her. I have very little firsthand knowledge about what kind of person she really is.

MSG wanted to have feelings for someone.

I didn't.

MSG still wants to have these feelings.

I don't.

Can i put one of your photographs on a cd cover (not to be widely distributed)

I'm tempted to just reflexively say "Yes!" but I guess I should ask which image you're wanting to use first. Please let me know.

Found this in my inbox this morning.

Hey,

Don't know if this is going to work or not.

I'm aiming at the middle of 2005, but they tell me that there's a two-year margin of error at this distance. If you're reading this in 2003, then you're not going to know what the fuck I'm talking about. If you don't get it until 2007, well you'll have all this figured out on your own by then.

Anyway, it's me. Or perhaps I should say it's you. I'm writing from the future. They won't let me say how far into the future. They won't let me say a lot of shit actually. This technology is pretty new here and people are still nervous that somebody's going to upset the timeline and make the universe implode or something. So they're reading and pre-approving all messages into the past, making sure that nobody breaks any of their precious rules.

So, dear Dave, that means that I won't be giving you any stock tips, or winning lottery numbers, or Kentucky Derby Winners. Because that would make us rich and we just can't have that apparently. Oh the horror!

What I'll will give you here, as long as it passes the censors, is some advice.

It will get better. You know it's got to happen eventually. I myself am certain of it, because it did happen. It's all been a big misunderstanding anyway. Things will work out. Maybe not the way you want them to, but if my memory serves me right, you don't really have a clue how you want things to work out.

Eventually, you'll look back at this time and laugh, just like I laughed when reading all this crap you've been posting. To think, it all could have been averted at any time with

##### DELETED PER TIMELINE INTERFERENCE REGULATION #####

and a little bit of patience. You will get everything you need, just not everything you want. And that's okay because you don't know what either of those things are. Oh, you think that you do, but you're so young. I can't believe that

##### DELETED PER TIMELINE INTERFERENCE REGULATION #####

ago, I was as naive as you are.

So my advice to you is simple, and it's not even necessary. You already know what you have to do. Just fucking do it for once instead of doing nothing and then whining about it.

If you do this, things will start to get better. Stop being such a pussy.

Your lovely self,

Dave

Man I'm putting you people to work lately. Good for you though, those asses could use some fine tuning.

First, I ask you to help me decide on vacation destinations. Thanks for the suggestions, and keep 'em coming! Labor Day is fast approaching!

Now I have another thing I'd like some help with.

I read all these 'blogs, and they all have names. Sometimes pretty cool names.

My 'blog doesn't have a name. Unless you count Barenada's 'Blog and I really don't want to count that because it's a pretty stupid name.

So I'd like to come up with a name for the thing. That way, when people put a link to me on their own 'blog sites, they can put something better than Barenada's 'Blog or Some Shithead That Vomits Words.

A couple of weeks ago somebody typed the phrase desperate to pooping into google and got led to my site. I find this phrase hilarious, because I'm a child at heart. So far, that's the number one contender for my 'blog's name. My brain is stuck on the phrase desperate to pooping and I don't seem to be able to think of any alternatives.

So, if you would be so kind, please send me some suggestions.

Was asked the following question today by a regular reader:

Don't you ever wonder if maybe you're just building a mountain out of a molehill here? Maybe everything that you think makes this different is just in your head. If you imagine things to be so unusual, then you don't feel so bad for feeling so bad. You know what I mean.

You know, I have wondered this a lot. I've wondered if, by imagining that something extraordinary is happening, I'm managing to ease my own embarassment and guilt over letting it drag on for so long.

The more I think about it, however, the more I become convinced that I'm not just making shit up to ease my own concerns. I'd just love to give detailed explanations for my reasoning here, but propriety prevents me from doing so.

I'll tell what I will do. I'll summarize each thing that makes this different with one word. One word that probably won't do any of you readers any good at all, but it will be plenty to remind me of why I'm so damn confused.

One of these I actually touched on yesterday.

• reincarnation
• irritation
• suddenness
• masturbation
• sacrifice
• insomnia
• decoration
• gorilla
• hair
• fishing

Now, feel free to let your imaginations run wild!

Now, I'm absolutely not saying that all of this is new and unique. I'm sure that zillions of others have gone through the same thing. How else can you explain the country music industry? Or Hell, the music industry in general?

What I am sure of, however, is that this is all new to me. That's why it, and her, have been so fascinating that even with the pain I still relish this period.

Okay, so you want to know the reason. I ramble on and on and then I just rush through the ending and I never reveal the reason that I'll hurt you.

Here's a little secret: Right here, right now, I don't know the fucking reason. Oh, I have some suspicions, but nothing concrete.

I'm not even sure, right here, right now, that there is one single thing that I could point to and say "That there. That's why we cannot be together. That's why I'm so fucked up that I won't let myself have what I want most in the world."

Maybe I don't know because it'll be different each time. Maybe I'll wait until that final conversation to think of something to tell you.

That's probably it. I'll open my mouth and start rambling, and as I say the words they'll become reality.

But don't worry that you'll be short-changed. Whatever I come up with, I'm sure it'll be good and convincing. You'll believe it and, by then, so will I. Everybody will be equally unsatisfied.

But you know, there is a way out of this trap. A way out beside running I mean. It's actually pretty simple in concept, but I guess it's more difficult in execution, because there's only been one so far. And I can't really count her. Okay, maybe there have been two, but I still can't count either of them.

Just dazzle me.

Just be so wonderful, so astonishing and so fascinating that there's no room in me for doubt, or for fear, or for terror. Just be so bright that the only thing I can see is you. But make sure that you do it soon, before I get too complacent. For once that happens, I'll start to think. And that is where the trouble starts.

Don't give me a chance to think.

Just enchant me. Overwhelm me. I dare you.

(response to message)

Yeah, I know. I don't really like it either. The ending sucks, and so does the writing.

I just couldn't leave the poor guy in pain forever, so I had to end it somehow.

A happy ending was not an option. Never was, really.

I could have done a better job of wrapping things up, but I decided that it would be better to just get it over with.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

So one of my female readers helped clarify the I saw him first rule that I described the other day.

According to her, the whole female loyalty thing only affects whether a woman is going to make the first move or not. When the right guy makes the first move, all sisterhood is out the window.

This make perfect sense to me, and it also explains several of the exceptions to the rule that I've seen over the years.

Now I have to ask MixedSignalGirl why she didn't fill me in about this nuance of the rule.

nice pics..hope you donty mind..using one as background

I donty mind at all. If you wanty a higher-res version sendy me an e-mail and I'll checky if I havey one.

Fifteen. That's how many people asked me about my last entry. Specifically, that's how many people asked me about number 9.

A lot of people seemed to think that I had embedded a signal in there somewhere. A lot of people seemed to think that my hidden signal was directed at them.

So I'll make it clear.

The Consonant Of Doom is a K, though a hard C will also work in a pinch.

Not M. Not D. Not L. Not even J, though that one hasn't been too lucky either.

And those of you who asked about A - I suppose I can understand your guess, but that is a vowel.

Man I'm bored right now.

(response to message)

How did you get the people out of the way long enough to take that poster-pic? It's a high traffic area.

Cool site, but the set-up aggravates me. no direct comments, etc...

As far as taking the picture went, it's amazing how quickly people will get out of your way when you threaten to take their picture and put it on the Internet. Plus I took the thing after work one day last week so it wasn't that crowded.

I had a much simpler 'blog navigation setup originally, but several people complained that they wanted the ability to see the posts in either ascending or descending order. That's pretty much why things seem so complicated. You do have a lot of choices to make though. I think most people just keep hitting the "previous" link until they run out of new stuff. A lot of people will also switch to ascending ordering almost immediately. I always do that when I'm reading my old entries.

I don't have individual comments for my 'blog entries because I don't have the time to screen comments before they get posted, and I've seen enough abuse dumped on other bloggers via their comment forms that I just decided to pass on the whole public comments thing.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

(response to message)

Ha ha, very funny.

While I seriously doubt that you are who you pretend to be, you do actually make a valid point.

I just might be a dumbass. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say that I probably am a dumbass.

But not for the reasons that you imply.

The simple fact that so much time has passed pretty much has to invalidate that theory.

Nope, if I'm indeed a dumbass, it's for reasons that you and others of your ilk just don't seem to understand. Reasons that, were you to actually be who you're pretending to be, you'd almost certainly get. Maybe not like, but at least get.

If I'm a dumbass, at least I mean well. There have been far stupider things, done for far less altruistic reasons, than what I'm doing now. Or not doing now. Whatever.

In the end I may very well be proven wrong. Perhaps someday I'll look back at the results of my (in)actions and just weep. Perhaps someday I'll realize just what it is that I've done, and I'll simply be unable to live with that knowledge, and I'll throw myself off a cliff or something.

Perhaps someday I'll see these holes in my awareness filled with facts instead of conjecture.

But for now I have to go with what I do know.

And what I do know, right here, right now, is that I'm taking the only course of action available to me that keeps the vast bulk of the pain directed inward. Where it should be. Back towards the source.

And, if you happen to be who you pretend to be, that was a pretty callous and mean-spirited thing to say. But I forgive you.

That's what friends do after all.

I'm not dead, and I'm not off stalking anyone.

What I am doing is preserving my laptop batteries as somebody stole my power cord while I was staying at Mandalay Bay.

Just to quickly answer a private message:

A link to email me is on the side of my main page. You have to change "AT" to "@" and "DOT" to "." to get it to work.

I cannot believe that I just had to explain that.

Anyway, I leave tomorrow morning. I may try to catch up on what's happened since Tuesday before I go. It all depends on (a) my alcohol intake, (b) my laptop battery level, (c) whether PigtailGirl wants to get together again, (d) if I can stay awake, and (e) whether I feel like it or not.

Either way, I'll post complete update(s) when I get home.

(response to messages)

Several people keep asking me the same questions regarding my upcoming Vegas trip. I figure I'll answer them here all at once. Use your imagination for the questions - it's fun!

Let me know what you think the questions are. Maybe I'll post the funniest guesses.

(response to message)

A year and a half ago I complimented you.

Big mistake.

The compliment on your game was deserved, but I'm afraid that you may have read too much into it.

I'm not in love with you.

You are not allowed to suck my dick.

You know, every gay person I've talked to, male or female, has professed to being much happier once they finally came out of the closet.

I suggest that you do the same. I can tell that your secret is eating away at you. It doesn't have to. It's the year 2005, people are much more accepting now.

But honesty about your gender identification will only get you so far. I myself am straight, and there's nothing that you can do about it. You'll just have to settle for a lesser man.

So, climb to the top of the Space Needle and shout out I LOVE BIG GIANT COCKS for all the world to hear. There's somebody out there willing to let you slobber greedily at his genitals.

That somebody is just not me.

Was this what you meant when you complained that I never wrote about you?

(response to message)

I seem to keep responding to my private messages in this public 'blog. I've been trying to control that urge, but this one is pretty harmless I think.

I actually saw the search string for Polly's Freeze show up in my server logs. I was a little curious when I saw the Oklahoma IP address - thought it might be Brian or Teresa or Marty - I have no idea where they are these days.

I certainly remember you guys. I bought a lot of t-shirts from your dad, and Eric and I were probably not as nice to you kids as we should have been.

We called you Moical and Wobbie. Which one are you?

Oh, and I should probably point out that Dina is my younger sister. You have to be careful about accusing a woman of being older than 40 when she's actually still in her 30s.

I understand that when they used your old house for Fire Department training it was quite a sight. I'd liked to have seen it, but it probably would have been a little sad as well.

(Update: Apparently you are Moical. Donna told me that she thinks Wobbie is still around this area. Hi Moical!)

(response to message)

I've replied here. The city is your password.

(response to message)

Let me get this straight. I'm supposed to try anyway?

That proverbial fucking ant has a better chance of picking his fucking rubber tree up and twirling it like a baton than I have of even getting close to anything even remotely feasible, but I'm supposed to try anyway?

Fuck that ant and fuck his high apple pie in the sky hopes.

I hope he has a fucking heart attack from the strain.

Do ants even have hearts?

I sure as shit do. So does she.

I don't know who you fucking are. You may know me and you may know her, but you don't know shit else.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, you say? Fuck you. Ever hear of loss? Ever hear of failure? How about heartbreak, sorrow, or grief?

Damn I'm pissed.

So this is the new me.

How do you like me so far?

(response to message)

Got this message today. I think it's generic enough to post part of it:

I'd say "long time reader, first time blogger" but I really only discovered your website a few months ago. I grew up in Omaha and that's what drew me to your website, but your writing is what keeps me stopping back. I think alot of what you write is so honest and I appreciate being able to read it all.

Just wanted to say that it's very refreshing to get a message like that. Especially today.

So many of the messages I get are full of bullshit advice or misinformed opinions. It's quite refreshing to hear from someone that's not trying to fix me.

Especially when the bulk of the advice I get can be summed up as "whip it out" - these people are just not paying attention to what they're reading.

So, thanks again. Glad you enjoy it.

Got an anonymous message this morning with a link to a story on a newspaper web site.

The article was about where LaptopGirl lives now.

The article mentioned LaptopGirl!

And it even quoted her a couple of times!

There was nothing about what a creepy asshole she thinks I am, so that was good.

There were, on the other hand, no pictures at all, so that was bad.

Thanks for the link, anonymous internet person!

Final tally after day one: 53.

Final tally after day two, and after eliminating several duplicates: 81.

It's probably for the best that I keep this bottled up for a while longer.

Happy Birthday to me!!!!

Yay!!!!

Don't forget to send me birthday greetings.

My Happy Birthday challenge, issued late last night, resulted in 46 birthday greetings as of 7:00 PM tonight.

Now, at 1:04 AM it's at 53 greetings.

Less than 24 hours left, and 47 to go.

Wish me a Happy Birthday, Dammit!

Use the little form thingy over to the side - it's not difficult.

If I get a hundred birthday wishes I'll let you people know the truth, otherwise I'll keep it bottled up.

The deadline is midnight (EST) Sunday night.

Don't you do it.

I'm not ready yet.

I need some warning, some time to prepare.

Don't you do it. Close the phone. Push away from the keyboard. Put the pen down. Burn the tickets.

I want it too much. It's been too long. But I'm still not ready.

Please don't.

(response to message)

That was a long time ago, and I honestly haven't thought about it in years. All is forgiven.

What I'd really like to know is this: The night before, did I miss a hint?

I'll kick myself if I did, but it would also help me to understand your behavior.

I really had no idea what I was getting you into.

I just wanted to show you off a little.

How could I have suspected that a person could decrease in maturity as they aged?

I know you can take care of yourself, but this is something you shouldn't be faced with.

I know you'll let me know if I need to intervene.

(response to message)

Yes, that's the guy. E-mail me with your contact information if you'd like me to pass it along.

(response to message)

I never got that impression (the second term) from you at all.

(Update: The definition given by the quiz people is not the definition I learned in school. I retract my statement above.)

(Second update: All may not be as it seems. I'm thoroughly confused now. This is in opposition to all the other times when I'm only partially confused. This would be a pretty big coincidence, I have to admit.)

(Third update: A coincidence it is then. As penance for my invalid assumption I will hum It's a small world after all for one hour.)

(response to message)

...you are officially strange.

If you want a private response you need to tell me what password I should use. Perhaps your middle name.

Or just call - it won't kill you. Or just e-mail me.

Your apparent obsession with my food intake is both impressive and disturbing.

Italian sausage and roasted garlic is the answer you seek. If Arni's is the source then pepperoni and sausage. For Papa John's I like chicken and mushrooms.

MisunderstoodGirl wants to know how you're doing.

So do TallLady and RealTrainGirl.

We all miss you, and we all hope that your absence is justified in the end by your happiness.

(If you are not the person you are pretending to be, then never mind, and go fuck yourself.)

...one where empathy exists.

Oh yeah, seeing you was really nice too.

(response to another message)

Yes, when I first met them I got their occupations switched around in my head. Hence TrainGirl then RealTrainGirl.

(response to a message)

Is that TrainGirl's last name? I don't think I ever heard it, and with her gone now I never got a chance to ask her.

(I suppose this entry would fall into the if you don't like it don't read it category)

(Update 12/31/04: Slight edit for clarity and to say that I was actually in a good mood when I wrote this, and that I remain in a good mood. I just told the people what they wanted to know.)

The other night I posed some questions in this 'blog:

Who are you people? What do you want?

Much to my chagrin, but otherwise not surprising at all, the overwhelming thing that people want to know is this (I paraphrase here):

What's going on with you and that girl you were so tore up over?

I wasn't even going to respond to this line of questioning. It's still a little too recent after all. A little too private.

Even as late as tonight I was telling CoffeeDude that to bring the subject up at all was to risk reopening those wounds, and that wasn't something I wanted to do.

Nevertheless, inspired in part by a couple of good beers and a couple of good friends, I sit here picking at scabs.

My sister is concerned about me. She saw, too late, what LaptopGirl's leaving had done to me. To her, I suppose, I just wasn't the type of person that would let myself be so affected. I'd been living all over the country every other time anything close to this had happened, and so my sister, my entire family in fact, had barely noticed my turmoil.

I got through those times on my own, just as I've been getting through the last few months. I do it because I have to. You play the hand you're dealt, and you don't waste too much time and energy wishing for a redeal.

My sister has, for the first time, seen the vulnerable side of me. She's concerned about what might happen next. She sees me writing about someone new and worries that I'll just end up being hurt again.

She may be right. I am on the rebound after all. On the rebound from what exactly I still don't know. I mean, how do you define the end of a one-sided relationship that wasn't even a relationship? More than nothing, less than something.

To answer the question of what's going on, the answer is nothing. No contact whatsoever for weeks. A couple of calls to make sure I wasn't going to surprise her with a visit, a near-frantic plea to refrain from sending Rich O's pictures, an ignored Christmas greeting, and that's been it.

I think the thing is - I lost two people when she left. I lost the most fascinating person I'd ever known, a person that, by her very presence, made me feel more alive than I'd felt in years. That person was my friend, and I miss her dearly.

The other person, the person I came awfully close to falling in love with, is a person that doesn't even exist. Perhaps she never will, but the loss of that person, that potential, simply devastated me. I don't know if I can explain it, even to myself. I wanted to watch that emergence, know that person, just be in her life. Not in a romantic relationship. That's what everyone's been assuming all along, but everyone's been wrong.

My sister is worried about my heart getting broke. She's a little late. Pieces of my heart lie scattered in the parking lot of the Burger King on Grant Line Road. They lie where they fell when I realized that not only was LaptopGirl going away, she was already gone. The things I needed to say to her would not be said in person, and most of those things remain unsaid to this day.

I know that things will never, can never, be the same between us. I've said too much. I've hurt too much.

I do miss her though. I miss my friend. If I didn't miss her I might as well be dead, and it was she that had reminded how to be alive.

The last three months cannot be undone, and I wouldn't undo them if I could. For along with the potential I saw in her, I found a new potential in myself. The potential to be happy instead of simply content. My heart may be mostly scar tissue now, but it beats faster when I kiss a girl. It warms me more when I hold her hand. It hurts more when I think about sad things.

It reminds me that I'm alive.

And now, to quote one of my favorite movie characters,

And that's all I've got to say about that.

I did answer your very strange question.

Go here.

(response to message)

Why thank, you. I am feeling better today and even went back to work.

(response to message)

I think that's interesting because I spent the last few years of my Seattle time missing New Albany and feeling stranded in Washington.

Rich O's is awesome though, so we agree on that much. Look me up there sometime - we'll compare notes.

I miss The Mountain.