Wednesday, November 18, 2015
posted by dave at 12:02 AM in category ramblings

People ask, "So what happened?"

Nothing. Everything.

Something.

I was wrong. I was mislead. I was fooled. Foolish.

And so now, I wait to die.

Most people do the same thing. I'm just a little more aware of it than most.

Saturday, November 29, 2014
posted by dave at 4:14 AM in category ramblings

I've been waiting for so long, that I don't know how to stop waiting. It's become habit. A part of me. It defines me.

Monday, March 10, 2014
posted by dave at 10:17 PM in category ramblings

There's this noise, a roar, a piercing shriek, a riotous cacophony. It permeates everything that I am and was and will ever be. It's deafening, and my ears recoil from the force of the sound. My mind rejects it, but it's like rejecting my beating heart. And my heart is fueled by it.

Its oscillations vibrate my bones, my joints, my tendons. I feel this din as surely as I feel my own body heat. It's just there, always and forever.

Until I try, really try, to hear it.

I shut out all distractions, I isolate myself, I close my eyes, I listen.

Nothing.

Every fiber of my being suddenly craves desires yearns for that which should be there must be there could be there would be there if only...

If only...

I want to write. I really do. I want to write and much as I want to breathe. More, maybe.

Just not about this. Just not about her.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013
posted by dave at 9:39 PM in category ramblings

What do you do, when it's been so long that it's nothing more than a distant memory? Not even that, really. More like a fiction.

Once upon a time, I was a writer of sorts.

Now it's been months. So much has happened. Even more has not happened. And here I sit, in this chair. And here my words sit, inside my head. Struggling to make their way down my arms and out my fingers.

A recap of the last several months? I don't think so. Not yet, not all at once. Maybe tidbits every now and then. Maybe never.

I got my last check from the publisher today. That's twelve stories I've written but never read. A paltry sum I've received, but still more than a lot of writers of sorts manage. I think I was just in the right place, and the right frame of mind, at the right time.

My goal now, were I to be so bold as to state a goal, would be to write in this journal more often. Once per day should be doable, but once per week is probably more likely for now. I'm starting over, you see. Or trying to start over.

This was my outlet for a long time. Then, for even longer, it was my voice, as I screamed of my pain. Now, now I'm not sure what it's supposed to be. I just know that I miss it. I miss this, this sound of fingers tap-tap-tapping on my keyboard as my mind empties onto my screen.

Maybe that's all this will be now. A sedative for my mind and my heart. A calming for my soul.

Monday, May 27, 2013
posted by dave at 12:50 AM in category ramblings

It's impossible not to wonder, at this late hour on this late date, though wondering is bad stupid pointless.

What will happen to me in the next few days? What will happen to me in the next few hours? What what what what?

Context changes once again.

Will the passion that's been sucked from me for so long be suddenly free to linger, to motivate, to perhaps even inspire? Might I write again of the thoughts feelings impulses obsessions compulsions that continue to consume me?

Everyone on Earth, were you to poll them, would say that this is a good thing, this change. Everyone on Earth would be wrong, though. This is the worst thing.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013
posted by dave at 7:43 PM in category ramblings

What I want to write is that I did everything and said everything and showed everything I could, to show both how I felt and what kind of person I was.

I tried my absolute best, but I failed.

I would like it if this was the last time I wrote about this.

Thursday, August 16, 2012
posted by dave at 12:35 AM in category ramblings

Every now and then, it's just memories. Nothing present current pounding buzzing eating eroding exploding. Just the past. The fucked-up past.

Who was I? Who was she? Who were we? What were we? Are we dead now? Were we ever alive? Or were we never anything more than figments?

I always have to remind myself, that I have this outlet for my thoughts and feelings, and for the words that do their best to represent. It's been a month since I've written here, and much longer since I've written anything relevant decent memorable therapeutic.

I want to write a novel. An autobiography of sorts. I have it in me. I have the story, or at least the beginning and the middle and a thousand endings. I have the title, even though RockGirl disapproves of the title I've chosen.

I think it's brilliant, so I'm keeping it.

Sunday, July 15, 2012
posted by dave at 12:22 AM in category ramblings

I don't see the prying eyes anymore, hardly ever. Maybe they're hidden. Or maybe they're gone, and I can actually be relevant here.

Sometimes I watch a movie and some turn of phrase will give me pause. It will make me think or wonder or ponder or wish or dread.

Who knows? Lightning may strike.

And the gist of that statement, the unspoken implication, was that, without the lightning, a life has not been lived. Only a rough semblance of a life. A cheap copy. A dream. A manifestation of wishful thinking.

An imposter.

No matter. For me, lightning did indeed strike. And boy did it burn me. Sear me. Knock me down and keep me down, shaking from the shock. Unable to rise on noodly legs.

So does this count as a life now? If so, it doesn't seem worth the hoopla.

A year ago, I outlived my mother. In a little less than a decade, maybe, I'll outlive my father. Is there a point to this? I dunno. I used to think that maybe there there was. Wait, scratch that - I use to know that there was absolutely a point.

Lightning had struck.

How do you live with no hope? I don't think you do. Maybe you can exist without it, but that's just another imposter.

Inadequate.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012
posted by dave at 11:06 PM in category ramblings

Sometimes I get in this particular mood. I've mentioned it before, ad nauseum...

I yammer sometimes. Usually there's alcohol involved. Not tonight, though.

Who am I? What am I? How am I?

Sometimes, I enjoy contemplating these questions.

I'd like to say that I'm done with what I was doing. They paid me. There's no real purpose to it anymore. I ranted and raved for months and months. It will, most likely, never see the light of day. But they paid me, so does that make me a real writer? A professional? Maybe.

I need to come back here, to where I started. Nothing written doesn't mean nothing nothing nothing nothing. So much has happened, is happening, will I'm sure continue to happen.

It's the same stuff. Some things never change. Some things change too much. I can't even catch my breath, let alone compose my thoughts and put them into words.

I spend a lot of time trying to do what I perceive to be the right thing. Usually, I then spend a lot of time doubting my actions and decisions. I feel like I'm missing something. Like if I said or did or didn't say or didn't do some particular thing or things, then maybe things would be better.

I spend a lot of time trying to understand the motives of people who, quite frankly, are incomprehensible. I hear these words, or I think these words. I ignore all evidence so that I can ignore these words. Crazy is another word I've heard a lot, though I've never quite been ready to accept that particular description. If I did that, then I'd have to assign that word to myself as well, and I'm seldom willing to do that.

I dunno. Maybe I should.

Monday, June 11, 2012
posted by dave at 12:00 AM in category ramblings

Sometimes, I find it.

Always fleeting, fanciful, fictional. Friction as I slide. Purchase as I climb. Crumbling into dust soon after I notice.

Sometimes, I can pause, and relax, and relish.

Not always. Not even often.

But sometimes.

Saturday, May 26, 2012
posted by dave at 12:02 AM in category ramblings

I have this idea, this prediction, this foreboding, of what this entry will be. When it's done. When I finish it.

It will not, most likely, be close at all to what I've envisioned.

Oh well.

---

Nobody will understand. Maybe one person.

---

I get the urges all the time. Every 10 or 20 seconds. For years I've had them.

Usually, most of the time, I've been able to resist.

But. Not. This. Time.

The urge this morning was as if from the Borg.

Resistance, this time, was futile indeed. I barely even tried.

Stupidity, also, may be relevant, most of the time. This time, I ignored it. Relevance be damned.

---

Nobody will get how hard it was for me to send that invitation. Nobody will understand how easy, effortless, reflexive, it was for me to send that invitation.

Maybe one person.

---

My heart leapt out of my chest. It bounced around the room. It finally settled back into place, vibrating with anticipation. I absorbed and endured.

I felt.

Joy.

Terror.

---

When nothing is par, then anything, anything at all, is everything.

There is nothing else.

Nothing.

---

click for larger image

We ended up on this damn road.

Life provides its own metaphors.

How many times have we taken this road?

Numbers don't go high enough.

Our entire relationship has been on this road.


---

It was a nice time. Really really nice. Just what I needed.

---

Nobody will understand.

Maybe one person.

---

It never got better, or easier, or bearable.

It got worse and worse with every passing second and minute and hour and day and week and month.

Six months. Nearly a year before that.

Everybody said it would get easier. Everybody was wrong.

So very wrong.

---

My lunch was yummy. My company was yummy.

---

So, right now, I'm sad.

But that's sooooooooooo much better than devastated, ruined, wrecked, almost suicidal.

I'll take sad, every time and forever, over those alternatives.

Maybe one person will understand why I did what I did. Why I had to do what I did. Why I'm glad I did what I did.

Why it was necessary.

Why I'm so happy to be merely sad right now.

---

I'm under no illusions.

Now I get to try again. To start again.

Maybe it will be easier, this time.

Not better, but maybe easier, for a while. Bearable, for a while.

That would be nice.

---

This entry is not what I envisioned.

Oh well.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012
posted by dave at 11:07 PM in category ramblings

Great, another fucking metaphor.

Deal with it. Or don't. I sincerely hope nobody still believes that I give a shit.

A flipping mosquito. Buzzing and darting and flitting around my mind. Just barely noticeable, most of the time, Until I notice it. Until it's there. Until it's everything that ever was or is or will be.

Or would have been or could have been or should have been.

Bzzzzzt.

People don't get it. I barely get it myself. Almost eight years now, and counting. Always counting.

Since.

It.

Happened.

I changed. Or the universe changed around me. Or I went insane. Or the universe went insane around me, to spite me.

Does it even matter what really happened? Or how? Or why?

Not to me.

Do the ends, maybe not justify, but perhaps neuter, the means?

Bzzzzzt.

This fucking mosquito. Sometimes I'm able to sum up the strength to swat at it, but I always miss, and all I manage to do is piss it off. Redouble its efforts to distract and annoy and irritate.

Anyway, I fell.

And this, this is my reward for it all. And my punishment.

Bzzzzzt.

I'm not so vain to believe that I'm the first person this has happened to, but I remain optimistically stupid enough to hope that maybe, just maybe, I'm the last.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012
run
posted by dave at 11:35 PM in category ramblings

I used to have all these metaphors. I liked them. They were useful and just barely descriptive if someone was paying enough attention.

I lived on my tip-toes. Sometimes that wasn't enough. Usually, it seemed, that wasn't enough. I'm only so tall. Drowning is drowning, whether it's by an inch or a mile. I was constantly aware of that fact.

Usually, back then, it was waist deep. That was the average. Ostensibly safe, but too close for any type of real comfort. Rogue waves would overwhelm me, knock me down, all the time. Now, now it laps at my ankles. Not much at all, really, until I remember. Until I think about it too much. Like I'm doing tonight.

It only takes an inch to drown.

All I have to do is fall, and then I could drown. All I have to do is lie down, to rest, and then I could drown. A big enough wave, and I could drown.

Some people think I want to drown, to die. They're wrong. I want to live, but I'm not sure it's up to me. I'm at the mercy of the waves.

I'm in shock, still, after all this time. I'm just in shock. By all of it. Me. Her. Us.

Don't pity me. Learn from me. Run, at the first sign. It's not worth the risk.

Run!

Sunday, April 8, 2012
posted by dave at 11:41 PM in category ramblings

I remember the first thing I heard. Advice with a warning. Unsolicited, unwanted, and untrue, I knew with all my heart. Territorial posturing. I paid it no attention.

I remember the second thing I heard. Brutal, catty, matter-of-fact, and untrue, I felt with all my heart. Judgmental envy. I paid it little attention.

And the third thing I heard. I remember that all too well, for I said it myself, to myself. Temporary insanity, I wished with all my heart. Sour grapes, as the old fable goes. I paid attention, though.

My life is, quite literally, behind me. For I have turned my back on my life.

I have not yet walked away, but it's only a matter of time. For I cannot simply stand here forever, and turning back to my life is not an option...

...or is it?

Thursday, April 5, 2012
posted by dave at 12:06 AM in category ramblings

An hour ago would have been better, I think. That was when I really wanted to write something. But I was in the middle of a movie, so I kept watching it instead of writing.

Anyway, nobody cares about my excuses.

I've been shooting a lot of pool over the last several months. A lot. One of my regular opponents, and also one of my newest good friends, is a dude at stupid Jack's. I'm better than he is, but he's been improving quickly. I kinda feel like I need to watch my back a little.

A couple of weeks ago we were talking about various pool stuff, and I (stupidly) mentioned that I used to post movies of shots and runs on my site. My friend, naturally, asked me for my URL so he could watch the movies.

Oops.

I changed the subject. I don't remember what I changed it to, that didn't matter, as long as it was changed to something other than the URL of my site.

This site.

I didn't want him to know the truth about me.

Because, see, if my friend watched my movies here then curiosity would probably lead him to my main blog here.

That would be bad.

I don't want people to know. I certainly don't want friends to know. It's not really that I'm ashamed, I don't think. It's more like I just don't want pity or advice. The former does no good, and the latter is crap I already know.

Get over it, and other bullshit like that.

Assuming one waded through the recent inane bullshit, and one got to the meat of the blog, the meat of me, one couldn't help but find out the truth about me.

It's all there for the reading. I'm splayed.

What's happened to me. What's been done to me. Who I am, and why. Word it however you want. It's what I've become, and it's why. One just has to read it, and accept it as the truth that it is.

Jump back far enough, and boy I used to write some doozies. Emotions boiled inside me constantly, and every now and then they'd bubble to the surface, and every now and then I'd let them spill out through my fingers onto the internet.

Oops.

It's just too much, to expect anyone to understand. I'm convinced that 99% of people haven't experienced what I've experienced. Am still experiencing. Will continue to experience. Nobody will understand unless they go through the same thing. And I don't wish this on my worst enemy. My worst enemy deserves better.

Lucky, that's what the 99% are. Unlucky, that's what I am.

Heh, notice how I blame luck, and not intentional cruelty. Even though all available evidence points the other way. My mind, my heart, still cannot accept that this was done to me on purpose, out of malice.

Go ahead, prove me right. Justify this. Make this worthwhile. I fucking dare you.

I was all set to write an entry, an hour ago. Now, not so much.

Thursday, March 29, 2012
posted by dave at 4:10 PM in category ramblings

What I'm dealing with, and I thought I made the term up but somebody beat me to it, is a foul-weather friend.

This is bad enough, I suppose. What makes it worse is that, every single time without fail, I forget who I'm dealing with. I think that things are better now, that the rough patch has smoothed out, bullshit like that.

I'm not stupid. Really, I'm not. I just seem to have blinders on in certain situations, when dealing with a certain person. Then reality once again knocks me upside the head, and I get angry at myself. Not for being a nice person when help is requested, but for expecting any sort of niceness, or even common courtesy, in return.

Anyway, grrr.

Sunday, March 18, 2012
me
posted by dave at 1:35 AM in category ramblings

I had it, for about 15 minutes tonight as I sat in my garage watching the lightning and drinking a yummy Night Tripper. I had it.

It was awesome.

I spend the bulk of my life looking for that particular mood. I see it often, but catch it seldom. Like the last pea on the plate, evading the stab of the fork. It's so hard to catch.

It's me, that's the point of the thing. It's the me that I want to be, need to be, deserve to be, am resigned to be, am fated to be.

Am.

It's so nice to be me for a while. Even though it never lasts very long. Emotions feed on themselves, a feedback loop ensues, and it becomes overwhelming. Self-defense kicks in. I hate it when that happens.

Eyes roll, and I persevere. Love and hate blur together, and I persevere. Longing and disgust fight for supremacy, and I persevere.

When I'm me, I persevere.

At other times, not so much.

I miss me.

Sunday, February 5, 2012
posted by dave at 1:35 AM in category ramblings

And now it's February already. And I haven't written anything here in almost a month. But that's okay. Nobody cares. I certainly don't care, so I can't imagine any of you readers giving a shit.

The same words, after all, can only be expressed in so many ways. A thesaurus only goes so far.

Except for an irrelevant interlude spent at CornerGirl's house, eating a yummy dinner, today has been uneventful.

I've felt distant today. Distant from all of this bullshit that I use instead of a life. The last time I felt this way for any length of time, I wondered if I'd died in my sleep, and I was naught but a ghost waiting for a bright light to guide me to a better place. Or, at least, a different place. Well, no such luck, then or now. I'm still here. Still muddling through. Managing as well as I can.

Armed with my new-found distance, I've been able to ask myself how and why. I've been doing that a lot today.

How?

Why?

No matter. It is what it is. I keep saying that. Saying and accepting are two different things, by the way, in case you were wondering.

I'm able to ask myself these questions, but the answers remain as elusive as ever. This should be over, but it's not. I should know better, but I don't. I should have moved on, but I've instead remained rooted here. In this fucking gray place.

For the last couple of hours, I've been downstairs. Watching a movie. Shooting pool. Then I had an idea. An idea to write something. What, exactly, I didn't know. Still don't know. I don't really think this counts. Fingers banging into keys. Words emerge, if I'm lucky.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012
posted by dave at 1:06 AM in category ramblings

Sometimes, that's all you can do. Gasp for air, and then do it again and again. An act of will, every time, and also an act of desperation.

I remember the first time I had to gasp like this. I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. What had just happened. What this portended. Everything had changed, and I only needed to live, to keep gasping for air, until it changed again.

Sometimes, things don't work out.

To be so lucky, and still so cursed.

Words didn't work. Actions didn't work. Precious comfortable promising moments didn't work. Even the fucking magic wand didn't work.

My gasps aren't much more than exclamation points now. Screams from a voice that's gone hoarse.

Saturday, December 10, 2011
posted by dave at 12:48 AM in category ramblings

People would say it was a stupid thing to do, if people knew. I don't tell them, though. It's none of their business. It's only for me.

I poke the sleeping beast, to awaken it, to be reminded of the danger that I face.

It's so easy to forget. To be distracted by fleeting glimpses and wispy remnants of fading dreams. By facades and lies.

I poke the sleeping beast. I bare my chest to its claws.

It slashes. Rips. Tears.

And I remember.

Saturday, November 19, 2011
posted by dave at 11:56 PM in category ramblings

I had it all figured out, what I was going to write in another month.

I had all the words corralled in my head.

Waiting. Ready. Eager.

A year would have been awesome.

But noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

I don't get to release the words.

Fuck, I don't even get to write eleven in four minutes. I'd really been looking forward to that.

I have to start all over again.

Good thing I have patience.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011
posted by dave at 10:36 AM in category ramblings

I'm not going to jinx myself here. What will happen will happen, whether or not I write anything or even notice anything. It will either come back or it won't. I'm not going to worry about it either way.

I remember reading that old people often have moments of clarity right before they die. A few precious minutes to be themselves, with their thoughts and their emotions and their memories. A few precious minutes, then they die.

I don't remember where I read that. I don't know if it's true or not. I also don't know what it means that, for the last three days, I've had almost perfect clarity.

RockGirl says I'm probably not about to die. She's usually right about that sort of thing, so I'll go ahead and believe her.

In 2005 and 2006 and even a couple of times in 2008, I found clarity. I stopped being distracted by the context of my life, and I started actually living that life. As well as I could, anyway.

Each of those times, I thought and hoped that it might last forever, but it never did. Each of those times, it only lasted for a few hours before the context rose back up to drown me.

This is a pretty crappy time of the year for me. I've written before about how I hate the Fall and November in particular. It would be so easy to lose focus. It would be so expected to lose focus.

So far, though, so good.

Thursday, November 10, 2011
posted by dave at 2:16 AM in category ramblings

I'm pretty sure I'm repeating myself. I think that a lot lately. The thing is, see, I've written 194,201 words since this all started to end or whatever it did. Things I've written there haven't been censored at all, but neither have they been me because they've been anonymous.

Okay, so those words aren't here. They're elsewhere. You just have to know what to Google. Good luck finding them.

Anyway.

In ten days I'll write a quickie called Eleven or something like that. It will happen. Unless it doesn't.

I don't know what I want. I know I've written that before. It's just a fucked up situation. It's a problem with no solution, at least not a solution that I have any control over.

People can change, but it's rare. People can give a shit, but it's more rare. People can admit the truth to themselves, but that's the most rare of all.

There was another site, not mine. I can't think of the name of it for sure. Some place for anonymous venting. I wrote one thing on that site, once, well over a year ago.

I'm in love with a girl I can't stand. I miss her constantly, but then as soon as I'm with her I can't wait to get away.
So, maybe not particularly nice, but still honest.

And the funny thing is, it doesn't end. My feelings haven't changed one iota. My thoughts have run the gamut, but my feelings, my feelings are still the same as they've been for over eight years now.

If I believed in God, I'd become an atheist just to spite the cocksucker. No way no how do I deserve this. Nobody deserves this.

I'm actually in a decent mood right now.

I'm pissed about that.

Monday, October 10, 2011
posted by dave at 1:10 PM in category ramblings

The walking dorks walked their route the wrong way today. They went clockwise around the parking lot. I bet they're pod people now. That's exactly the kind of simple mistake that pod people would make. I'll have to keep an eye on them.

---

It's not loneliness I feel. It's much more specific than that. It's always specific. One, or the other, or another. I'm alone most of the time, but I don't always feel alone. I'm okay, sometimes.

Crowds are the worst for me. For me, it's impossible to not feel alone in a crowd. I just want to slink into myself and hide from all the chaos around me. Or I find one and I focus.

---

I just have to focus. That's how I manage things like the other night. Once I'd resigned myself to the fact that I couldn't grow eyes in the back of my head, I was able to stop being so damn nervous. Because it wasn't doing either of us any good. We ended up having good time, despite my initial misgivings about going there. A really good time.

---

I don't know where this might lead. Maybe nowhere. Maybe somewhere. That's part of the excitement, I suppose. It's not boring, that's for sure.

---

Picklepie runs up onto my deck most nights when I get home. I pour food in his bowl, but he doesn't want that. He's getting plenty of food somewhere. All he wants from me is to be petted and loved. So I do that. He's a good kitty. I miss him when he disappears.

---

It's not that. Not all of the time. Most of the time, it's just an ache. I can live with it, since it seems that I have no choice.

Friday, September 23, 2011
posted by dave at 8:39 AM in category ramblings

And you just exist, and you try your best to do more than simply exist, and then you see that it's been eight years since your life changed. Ended. Began. Something. And you see that all you've done is exist. Barely.

And you try to convince yourself that it wasn't all wasted. And you fail. And you want to break down. Because it's just too long. Because it's just too much.

Faith is a funny thing. And by funny I mean incredibly cruel.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011
posted by dave at 10:47 PM in category ramblings

This won't work. I'm going to just go ahead and say that it won't work. But I'm going to try. I'm going to try to write something. Even though I've really got to pee right now.

I used to have this thing. This delusion, I guess. Or maybe a psychosis. I thought it was just hope, but seeing as I was subject to delusions and psychosises, my opinion never held much weight. Not even with me.

That was circular reasoning, back there.

Also, I made that word up.

Regarding one particular, um, relationship, I used to think that things would be fine. That it was just a rough patch. That, as long as I stayed true, eventually I'd be treated nicely. It's been a long time since I've felt that way about that particular, um, relationship. After enough mistreatment, I began to expect the worst from every encounter. I lost that hope or delusion or psychosis or whatever. I expected to be shit upon.

Finally, I got to be right. Yay for me, I guess.

Now, there's another, um, relationship that's falling apart. And I find myself doing the same thing. I keep thinking that it will be okay. That this is just a rough patch. That we're way too close to let a little thing like this come between us. That, as long as I stay true, I'll be treated nicely.

So far, not so much.

I think it's a very sad thing, that what used to be so beautiful has been reduced to me waiting for hope to end.

Yes, indeed, it's a very sad thing.

Sunday, August 21, 2011
posted by dave at 9:51 PM in category ramblings

Steeling myself. It won't be long now.

Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day. Anything after Tuesday would be a miracle, I think.

There's nothing I can do, except wait for the inevitable, and prepare to mourn.

Sunday, July 17, 2011
posted by dave at 11:14 PM in category ramblings

So Friday, after work, I went to Rich O's. First time in a couple of weeks, I think. I don't really know why I went. It's not like there's anything there for me anymore. My friends have all finished what I started - abandoned the place for the most part. I think we still go there, every now and then, full of some misguided hope that things will be back to normal for a while.

Yeah, that's never happened. Sometimes the past is really the past. Sometimes change is not only for the worse, it's permanent.

I go in there these days and I'm usually the only customer there is in the Rich O's proper area. Oh well, I guess. This is what they wanted, for some stupid reason.

Anyway.

What I wanted to write about was that, when I went there Friday, I started shaking. Like from a bizarre mixture of excitement and fear. I mean, I fell in love in that place. I found hope in that place. I found patience in that place. Then, later, I found other things. Disappointment. Despair. Heartache.

I finally stopped shaking about an hour after I got back home.

It's really amazing to me, how emotions can hide in places, behind memories. You walk into a place and, for a while, you think you're safe. But you're not. The emotions are waiting. They ambush you. They jump into you, and they take over. They run the show that is you.

My friend OddlyFamiliarGirl remembers every word of every conversation she's ever had. She's all smart and shit, that girl. My own memory isn't quite as strong, nor is it made of the same stuff. Nope, I remember emotions. Not to the point where I can easily relive them, just enough to remember that they're there. Waiting, lurking.

Then, as soon as I realize they're there, they strike, and I shake.

OddlyFamiliarGirl's way would be better, I think. It would certainly be easier to deal with. Plus, it would make for a good party trick.

Behind places, and faces, beneath sights and sounds, the memories wait for me to show up. They even welcome me, sometimes. But hiding behind the memories are the emotions, and they always surprise me with their ruthless intensity, and they tear away at me, and I could do certainly without them.

What good have they ever done me?

Friday, July 1, 2011
posted by dave at 11:28 PM in category ramblings

This doesn't count. I'm nowhere near as loosened up as I'd hoped to be.

I'm going to be so pissed at myself in 40 years, when I go back to read this shit. Such an important and formative time in my life, and I'm staying so silent. It's like I expect to remember all this shit. Fuck, I'll be lucky to remember my own damn name in 40 years, or how to not piss my pants.

But what can I say? What can I say that hasn't already been said a million times, or been censored a million times?

I'm stuck here, you know. Trying to invent a middle ground where none exists. Loving what I hate, and hating what I love. Everything I ever wanted, blended with everything I ever avoided. My life is a grotesque mixture of dread and hope, of fear and desire, of love and hate. I'm trying to muddle through, but really just surviving, and only barely at that.

This would all be so very interesting, if only I could step aside for a while. If only I could be objective for a while. I feel things, and they're not true. They're not even close to being true, but I not only don't care, I refuse to see. Feelings trump facts, every single time. Faced with the absolute worst, I continue to see only the absolute best. Why is that? Why is it so different this time? Seriously, has there truly never been another?

Why am I so incapable of seeing the damn truth when it's been right in front of my face for all these years?

Fuck if I know. It just is what it is. I just am what I am.

Years ago, I wrote that, if I could step back and take a good look at myself, I'd laugh my ass off. Maybe that's still true, but I bet there would be an awful lot of tears as well. I'm just stuck. I don't know what to do, or if I should do anything at all.

Some things never change.

Like I said, this doesn't count. This isn't even close.

Saturday, June 25, 2011
posted by dave at 12:02 AM in category ramblings

I'm not really sure when I crossed this particular line. Sometime between two years and two months ago, if I had to guess. Sadness became a hard thing to muster, and anger became the easiest thing in the world.

I don't like it, but there it is. Things are, as always, what they are.

The quiet contemplative moments are what I crave and relish, but they're too few and too far between for any semblance of normalcy. There is very little silence within me. I just have to feel something, and feel it strongly, and that's all there is to it.

So I turn my back on the anger that the world expects, and I face the sadness that only I truly understand. Because the thoughts that rise from anger, deserved as they may be, don't fit. They don't fit my heart or my head or the world or the universe. I don't want them. I don't want to think those things about her.

So, I choose to be sad.

Funny, she was right about that. I didn't know it at the time, but she was right. Faced with the choice I've been given, I choose sadness.

Thursday, June 9, 2011
posted by dave at 6:13 AM in category ramblings

Tossed and turned all night. Too damn hot. Too damn much second guessing of everything.

The birds and the crickets outside my open windows squawked and chirped their disappointment all night, scolding me. The lightning bugs flashed their disgust. The stars blinked in disbelief at what I'd said.

I needed more time to find words, but there was none to be found. The time was upon me, the questions asked, and I had to answer with the inadequate and jarring words I had. Silence, though, would have been worse.

I would have liked to have been able to offer solutions instead of just problems. I would have liked that very much. But I didn't, and I still haven't. Solutions evade me, if they exist at all. I look for them, but all I find are increasingly-unlikely miracles.

There was a time when I'd simply stay quiet. Then there was a time when I'd just walk away. Those times are in the past. Now is the time to speak up. For, if anything is to be saved, it won't be saved by my turning the other cheek. If anything is to be saved, that salvation will have to start with honest words.

My words have always been honest. I only wish they'd been more tactful.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011
posted by dave at 10:03 AM in category ramblings

Let me make sure I've got this straight. I'm stupid, and I'm a liar, and I'm crazy, and I'm a drunk. But I'm a stupid lying crazy drunk with a truck, so that makes me useful?

Well, as sweet as that is, I'm afraid that I have to decline.

I wish I could make myself believe that this was simply being used as a convenient excuse to see me for some other, nicer, reason, but I can't. And I don't.

Reconciliation is what's needed. Rebuilding is what's needed, if it's even possible, for I may have been irrevocably destroyed. We may have been irrevocably destroyed. Even if it's somehow possible to fix things between us, nothing is going to happen without major changes. Changes that I can't make on my own.

And attempting to take further advantage of my feelings does not count as a major change. And neither does name-dropping another guy eight sentences into a conversation. It's just the same old crap. Problem is, I'm no longer the same person, and I won't put up with it anymore.

Especially not when I'd fully expect to be tossed aside as soon as my services were no longer needed.

Act like a certain kind of person often enough and, eventually, I'm going to believe you're that kind of person. And then, eventually, I'm going to treat you like that kind of person.

I'm so very sorry that it's turned out this way, but I didn't get here on my own. I was pushed and dragged. And I was kicking and screaming all the way here. Remember? I certainly do.

Thursday, June 2, 2011
posted by dave at 11:34 AM in category ramblings

Sure, I worked hard, and sure, I put up with a lot of shit, but it was worth it. Or it was going to be worth it. My payday was going to be huge. I was, in fact, going to be set for life.

Didn't work out that way.

Oh well, right?

Sometimes I manage to find that attitude inside me. That oh well attitude that the world expects me to be displaying by now. Sometimes I throw in an at least I tried but not too often because it's usually followed by but I obviously didn't try hard enough

And that sucks, because I really don't know if I was capable of trying any harder.

---

Yeah, so I've pretty much shut down my life. Work and home are pretty safe, for now. Stupid Jack's on Sundays, stupid Bearno's or Korner Pub on others days - they feel fairly safe, for now. Eventually, that safety could be revealed as an illusion, and then I'll retract even more.

It's not the same as it was before. Now, there's too much overlap causing too much paranoia and fear. Places and people and circumstances, huge chunks of my life, are off-limits to me. Not quite six months may as well be not quite six seconds or not quite six centuries. There'll never be enough time for this to become a part of my past. It's a part of who I am, and so I carry it through time with me.

I've made progress, that's for sure. But there'll never be enough. I cling to this slippery slope. Resting is hard enough, climbing is almost impossible, but I do make progress sometimes. Every now and then, I lose purchase and begin to slide back down. So far, I've been lucky. I've managed to catch myself and halt my descent. But my luck won't last forever. Only this slope lasts forever.

This is my life now. Clinging for life, when it would be so easy to let go, and so exhilarating to slide back down.

Friday, May 27, 2011
posted by dave at 7:19 PM in category ramblings

I remember what I said, the words that I chose, when I finally said what I'd waited so long to say.

There have been no lies, before or since, but truer words than those seven have never been spoken.

So there.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011
posted by dave at 2:54 PM in category ramblings

Five or six or a million times a day, I'll have a thought. Then, five or six or a million times a day, I'll remember. The memories vary, as do the thoughts, but all of each kind are rooted together. One encourages, and then the other discourages. One laughs, and then the other cries. One seeks, and then the other hides. One loves, and then the other hates.

My thoughts, my memories, they balance each other almost perfectly these days. No extremity of mood is allowed to last. Intense explosions of emotion are over as soon as they're noticed. Afterimages fade, cycles repeat, days and weeks and months pass.

Holding my interest might be impossible.

This is my problem, and nobody else's.

I knew this would change me.

Friday, May 13, 2011
posted by dave at 12:05 PM in category ramblings

I was trying to find something. A web page I ran across once, several years ago. It was a page about flow. I haven't been able to find that old web page, but I did find an old blog entry of mine that I must have written with that page in mind.

It doesn't make a difference, though, even though every spare instance of logical thought screams at you that it should make a huge difference, it simply doesn't. Not in the long run, anyway. You know what you know, and you feel what you feel, and the sad truth is that the two are not always complimentary.

You find yourself forced to choose between the truth and the fantasy, but it's not such a daunting task, because there is no choice. The heart wins, every time without fail or even much hesitation, the heart wins.

Or maybe it was some time later, when I wrote this drivel.
The thing that I can't seem to get to stick in my head is that there's nothing I can do.

I didn't do enough before. No matter how hard that is for me to accept. Even though I did so much, more than I'd have thought possible and more than most people would have done, I simply didn't do enough to be good enough.

During, I did too much. I was honest and forthcoming. Too much of each, because I was also hurting. In shock by the suddenness and the brutality of what was happening. I should have taken the time to let things digest. But, I didn't. I screwed up and I let my emotions take over. Oops, right?

And after? After, I don't know what's been going on. I've either been doing too much or too little or the exact right amount, but it doesn't matter, because it's been out of my hands, and it's still out of my hands, and I wish I could accept that fact instead of forgetting it every 10 seconds. Instead of always trying to do something, anything at all, to fix this.

I've noticed that, when I embed text into boxes like I've done above. The italics that I'd had in my original writing goes away. That makes me a little sad, because that emphasis really added to the flow of the words. It all seems rather flat to me without the italics.

Anyway, I used to always tell her to stop worrying, that I'd be okay, because I'd always been okay, in the past. I'd always bounced back, in the past.

Lately, I've been facing the very real possibility that I won't bounce back this time. That this just might be it for me. These are not particularly fun thoughts to be having, but I'm nothing if not honest with myself. Besides, I'm not sure I want to bounce back. I definitely don't want to forget, and I'm more than a little concerned that the former may lead to the latter.

I guess I'm a little bored today. I feel writey, but not very flowy.

I'm making up words, you see. That's almost never a good sign.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011
posted by dave at 2:25 PM in category ramblings

I know that expectations are bad things. They only lead to trouble. People tell me over and over to not have them. Many of these same people are the worst offenders of their own rule. They just like to pretend that they've got all their shit together. Maybe they fool themselves or other people, but they don't fool me.

I have zero expectations for the people I don't care about. Also for the people I don't know or never heard of. For everyone else, guess what? Expectations are going to happen.

So, lately, for certain people, I've had to change my expectations. I haven't been able to eliminate them, so I've had to change them. This was so I'd stop being mad and sad and disappointed all the time.

Now, for certain people, I expect nothing but the absolute worst. This sucks, because I continue to hope for the absolute best.

They say that, without expectations, disappointments are a thing of the past. Well, there's another way to eliminate disappointments. Expect the worst. As a bonus, sometimes you get to be pleasantly surprised. So I've heard, anyway.

And it sucks that I feel that I need to think these things about another human being, especially when it's a person who's important to me.

And it sucks even more when these revised expectations are proven right time after time after time after time after time.

Sunday, May 8, 2011
posted by dave at 7:01 PM in category ramblings

Clearly, something has happened. I don't know exactly what. I have some facts, and I'll keep those to myself. I also have some theories, and I don't know if I want them to become facts or not.

I keep looking for reasons. I keep looking and, though they stand right in front of me, I pretend that I don't see them. I keep looking for something that will not only make sense of things, but will make the kind of sense I can live with. Not like or even agree with, just live with. That shouldn't be too much to ask.

I'd like to be able to say that everything will be okay, but I really don't think it will. Not anymore.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011
posted by dave at 4:14 PM in category ramblings

Sometimes I feel like I'm just waiting for this phase to end. Except I'm not really waiting. That's too strong a word. It implies too much effort, or maybe too little effort. Words are hard.

And it's not really a phase, I don't think. Nope, more and more often I find myself thinking that it's not a phase; sometime over the last couple of years, it's become a personality.

I prefer to think of this as a change rather than, say, an unveiling. That lessens the sting a little. Not a lot, but maybe enough. Maybe.

It bugs me when I feel like I'm doing this not-quite-waiting thing. There's really no point. Because I've changed, too, and my change might be permanent.

It would be pretty ironic if the tables ended up turning. Not funny, though, not at all. I think it would be incredibly sad.

I'd probably cave.

Sunday, April 24, 2011
posted by dave at 11:57 PM in category ramblings

Spent some time tonight trying to figure out where I am. Or where I'm going. Both answers have eluded me. I can't even tell if I'm the one moving, or if it's the world that's moving past me. The former, I usually think, but maybe not so much this weekend.

This weekend, I've stood still. I've done nothing. I've rejected invitations and I've ignored phone calls. I've done nothing with my life except that thing which comes all too easily to me. I've wondered.

I remember a time, not too far in the past, when I always felt like I was moving toward something. It was, to be sure, a long and arduous journey, but there was a destination. Now, again, not so much. Maybe I'm still moving, but the world is flat, and only the edge awaits me. Or perhaps I'm a deer frozen by headlights. By fear. By uncertainty as to which way safety lies.

Perhaps there is no safety, and I'm only fooling myself when I let those silly thoughts claw their way to the front of my mind.

It bears down upon me, or I hurtle toward it, and I don't know what it is.

I'm really rambling now. I know that. My brain is at such odds with itself. Wonderful thoughts enter and are immediately rejected as horrible.

I forget too much, and I remember way too much.

I'm just so damn tired of it.

Friday, April 22, 2011
posted by dave at 8:10 PM in category ramblings

I remember reading something once. That a sign of a dying blog is when the blog becomes full of apologies and excuses for not having new content.

I think I'm just tired. Of everything. Writing. Pretending. Work. Love. Life.

There's no point.

There's no spark in me at all. Not even an ember that I can somehow fan back to life.

This mood shall pass.

Unless it doesn't.

So very tired.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Monday, April 11, 2011
posted by dave at 1:03 AM in category ramblings

It's not like that, and it never was.

This has been one of the toughest obstacles to understanding that I've faced over the years. It comes up time after time after time, and it's always wrong, and I never seem to be able to find the words to explain the way it truly was. The way it truly is.

Expectations, assumptions, hopes, they never mattered, not enough to affect any of this. Those things still don't matter.

It just was. It just happened.

That girl is beautiful. That girl seems smart. That girl seems sweet. That girl doesn't seem like a slut. That girl seems friendly.

Nope, I never had any of those thoughts, not at first anyway. I didn't have time for those thoughts. I had two seconds, and that's all I needed. That was an eternity compared to what I needed.

That girl.

Period.

Everything was a bonus. There was no validation or authentication or demonstration or confirmation. There was no ideal, no pedestal, no fantasy, no anything except...

I had nothing but a simple fact, and nothing that's ever happened has changed that simple fact.

That girl.

Period.

---

Sometimes, I hear stories. I don't like them. I don't like hearing them. I wish people would stop telling them to me. They've never changed a thing except my mood.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011
posted by dave at 12:39 PM in category ramblings

I'm feeling jealous today. A little mad, too. These feelings will pass. They always do. Only one thing is constant.

And, before too long if it hasn't happened already, the tables will turn, and I'll be the one being envied.

I don't like these thoughts, but neither do I fight them. I just notice them and maybe use them to understand myself a little better. This stuff is interesting to me, the changes that are happening inside me. The back and forth that occurs as I try to find a new equilibrium in this new reality. I sway a lot these days, but I haven't fallen in a long time. Perhaps that power is no longer hers.

None of this can be forced. I've tried and I've failed to rush this. I just have to let it happen, and hope that eventually I'll be better. But if not, then at least I'll still be me, and not some liar denier pretender. I'd much rather be miserable and true to myself than happy and deceptive.

But still, I don't like these particular thoughts. They end badly, for they lead me to a truth that, even now, I'm not ready to accept.

I dunno. It'll pass, I suppose.

Sunday, March 27, 2011
posted by dave at 1:29 AM in category ramblings

I made a choice once. No really, I did. In November.

It was the first choice I'd made since it all began. I went against every instinct and feeling that I had, and I chose to stop. To give up. To turn my back. To walk away. No matter how you want to phrase it, this thing, this last thing, this ending, it was my choice.

I won't lie; I second-guess that choice every single day. Sometimes I regret it, and sometimes I agree with it. Usually, though, I just wish I'd never found myself in a position where I had to make that choice at all.

Monday, March 21, 2011
posted by dave at 8:54 PM in category ramblings

It's a sneaky bastard, that's what it is. And fucking persistent.

I lock the doors and I bar the windows, and I think I'm safe. I'm not safe. It gets in. It wends its way through the tiniest cracks in my soul.

Hope for what, exactly?

For a chance? That time expired a long time ago.

For a miracle? Nope. Too little, too late.

Maybe, I think, for a series of miracles. At least a dozen of them, each more improbable than the last, culminating in a singularity of...

...something.

I don't know. I just don't.

To nonsensically need what I don't want. To desperately want what I don't need. To count on the impossible. To deny the inevitable. All are true, and all are false.

Friday, March 18, 2011
posted by dave at 1:35 AM in category ramblings

People say that it's good that I'm finally getting better, finally getting over this, finally moving on.

Those people can suck my dick.

Those people have no idea what it is to be me and to go through this.

To kill yourself, and hope that there's an afterlife.

Or that there's not.

posted by dave at 12:21 AM in category ramblings

I don't know how to describe this well. I know how to describe it badly, though, and so I guess that's what I'm about to do. You've been warned.

It's like I'm made, not of water and bone and goo, but of clay. Hundred of bits of clay, all stuck together. Ranging in size from that of a marble to that of, say, a baseball.

I walk around, I exist, I go through the motions of life like an actual normal person, but every now and then, a piece of me falls off. It falls off, and it hits the ground, and usually it shatters.

I always notice it, when a part of me falls like that. It's not really painful, not like it used to be, it just something I notice. On those occasions when the piece doesn't shatter, I usually pick it up and try to stick it back on, like sticking a piece of wet clay back onto its vase. It never sticks though. It always falls again. I eventually give up.

What's gone is gone, right?

Right?

But I can't help but wonder what will happen when I run out of clay. When there's nothing left of me to fall.

There, I feel better now. I've had this stupid clay metaphor stuck in my head for weeks.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011
posted by dave at 11:25 PM in category ramblings

And so that inkling became an idea, which quickly became a desire which even more quickly became an impulse acted upon.

No time for doubt before, only for embarrassment after. In the morning. Unnecessary, unneeded, unwarranted, unwanted embarrassment.

For what?

Beautiful, that's what it was. No other word will do it justice.

Do not be embarrassed. It was necessary. It was needed. It was beautiful.

Just like you.

Saturday, February 19, 2011
posted by dave at 8:29 PM in category ramblings

I'm going to ramble for a bit. Get over it. Or not. I don't care. It's my blog.

She's always been nice. Always. Not just when she's been drunk, or when she's wanted something, or when she's felt guilty. Despite the bullshit of two months ago, I can truthfully say that she's always been nice.

And, she's always been sweet. Always. Not just when she's been drunk, or when she's wanted something, or when she's felt guilty.

Tomorrow, I'm going to see her. After almost six months, I'm going to hold her.

But who am I going to miss? Who am I going to continue to miss?

Same person I miss right now.

Someone who's nice, at least when she's drunk, or when she wants something, or when she feels guilty. Someone who's just incredibly unbelievably sweet, at least when she's drunk, or when she wants something, or when she feels guilty.

(That last paragraph reads a lot meaner than it was intended. There were other times. Lot's of other times.)

I'm going to miss her, as I've always missed her, for a lot of reasons. Inertia, partly, but also because I was telling the truth that night. The night after the hurricane, when I took her hand, and I took a breath, and I finally told her that she was the love of my life.

Last time I checked, I was still alive. My life was ongoing.

Barely.

So my statement still counts. To me at least, it counts. For something.

For everything.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011
posted by dave at 10:10 AM in category ramblings, weather

And then, sometimes, I'm thinking fuck it. If those eyes want to keep prying, then how is that my fault?

Oh, that's right, because I'm an asshole who, at any second, is bound to write something mean. Or something like that. If there's a different reason, I'd sure like to know it.

Anyway.

It's supposed to be fairly warm the next couple of days. I'm moderately excited about the possibility of going out to my garage with a beer or three so that I can do some navel-gazing. I haven't been out there since the weather got cold in the Fall. I miss it. I miss my swing even more, but that's a different story.

My mood has been mostly weird lately. My thoughts, unfettered. The things I used to think about all the time, they no longer hold my interest like they used to. So, if I go out to my garage and do some serious thinking, there's no telling where my thoughts will go. It's a little scary, sure, but it's also quite interesting to me. There was a time, not too long ago, when my thoughts always went to the same place.

Now, not so much.

posted by dave at 9:13 AM in category ramblings

I kinda feel like I should be writing something now. I'm at work, though, so it will be something short. And, probably, something stupid. But that's okay with me.

Clearly, I'm sick of doing this. Writing censored versions of my thoughts, lest certain eyes become upset. I don't want to upset those eyes. I've done enough of that over the years. But my thoughts, they aren't watered down and pussified. They're just as intense as they've always been, even moreso regarding some things and some people and some circumstances.

Hence, my dilemma.

If I can't write what I want and need to write, then why bother to write at all?

Wednesday, February 9, 2011
posted by dave at 12:12 AM in category ramblings

So, I write.

I'm still here, you know. This poet, hiding behind feelings behind thoughts behind words. Clutching to the truth lest it be stolen away from me.

Crazy. Stupid. Drunk. Liar. Those labels have been flung at me time after time in desperate cruelty. None of them have stuck. I may as well be called a Giraffe. I'm not one of those either.

How do I love someone like that, someone who's so convinced that she's unlovable that she knows, just knows, that there must be something wrong with anyone daring to try?

I don't, that's how. Not anymore.

Instead, I gave it everything I had and then, after a while, I gave up. I buried what was left and now I pretend that there is nothing. That maybe there was always nothing. That maybe it was all just a mistake, or a misunderstanding, or a delusion.

But, deep inside, a part of me still knows the truth, and I cling to it.

I cling to the truth that only I will ever truly know, and I try to hold myself together.

Sometimes, no matter how tight my grip, a little bit of truth escapes.

And those prying eyes, they see.

Sometimes, I write.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011
posted by dave at 11:55 AM in category ramblings

I don't like it. I'm not entirely sure why I don't like it, but I don't.

It's just been too long. Too much water under the bridge, as they say.

I'm concerned, I think. I don't know what's going to happen next. Could be good, could be bad, could be nothing. I don't like this uncertainty. It, like I said, concerns me.

Plus, I'm a different person now than I was back then. I think I'm a better person now, though anyone who knew me back then might disagree. I'm certainly not the same person. Not even close.

And I don't really like being reminded of how I used to be. Oh sure, I might have eventually gotten around to doing the right thing, 20 years ago, but I should never have let it come to that point. To where the right thing was so fucking painful, I mean.

Could have been worse. I could have stuck around, kept hiding things, eventually exploded.

That would have been gross.

Monday, January 24, 2011
posted by dave at 10:17 PM in category ramblings

He clings. To whatever is left of himself, he clings.

I go down there, every now and then. Just to check on him. We were friends once, after all. I go to see if he's still breathing. Or if he'll say something. Or if he'll fucking eat something.

Over three months now since I made the toughest decision of my life. That's how long his hunger strike has lasted, and how long his voice has been silent.

He makes no sound when I approach. He shows no emotion or even recognition. He simply stares. At me, or maybe through me. I can't tell. His eyes. His fucking eyes. So much hate in those eyes. And so much sorrow.

So much determination, to outlast me, to outlive me.

To win.

You know what's worse than screams?

He stays down there almost all of the time lately. Down in the dungeon of my mind. The doors are not locked. He's free to come and go as he pleases. But he seems to prefer it down there. Or, at least, he prefers the darkness to the light.

His screams were so loud. They cut straight through me.

I feel for him. I really do. After all, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. Faced with that which neither of us could survive alone, the two of us together somehow pulled through. An unbeatable team bound, for a while at least, by parallel goals.

To endure. To live. To persevere. To exist.

To wait.

His screams were so piercing, but at least they showed strength. A will to keep trying, to keep fighting. His screams reminded me of those long-ago days and nights when we screamed together in horrible harmony.

You know what's worse than screams?

All I hear now is soft sobbing. And it keeps getting softer.

And now, now there's nothing but silence and the cold stare of a beaten man. A crumbled shell of a man who's world has been ripped from him. A man who's waiting to die.

Ready to die, in fact, but not until he knows that he'll outlive me.

To love so strongly, no matter what, to never stop...

I admire him as much as I pity him. That poor magnificent bastard...

Tuesday, January 18, 2011
posted by dave at 8:28 AM in category ramblings

It used to be all so effortless, even to the point of bothersome. But it was okay. It was who I was. How I was. What I was. I was that guy.

This morning it's taking an actual effort. I can do it, sure, but it's quickly wearing me out. It's worth it, though. To feel like myself for a while.

Last Sunday was magical. My mind would return there, as always, but those thoughts didn't hold my interest at all. For the first time in years, my mind wandered.

Friday, January 14, 2011
posted by dave at 3:51 PM in category ramblings

I kinda want to write something today. I know what I want to write about, but I'm unsure as to how I should approach the subject. Misinterpretation is, after all, rampant.

I try to be nice about this. Even though I know it's probably pointless. Even though I know that niceness has been and will continue to be twisted into something bad more often than not. Something has poisoned her opinion of me. Every word is a lie. Every action is sinister. Every motive is evil. But being nice still seems like the right thing to do. So, aside from a few moments of anger and a few more moments of despair, I do try to be nice.

Plus, there are things that still happen, every now and then. I don't know why these things happen. I have to guess. And, what I usually guess is that I haven't been forgotten. I try to be nice, to honor those lingering memories.

I tried to be nice the other day. It got twisted into something mean, as I should have known or at least suspected it would. But sometimes I still lose sight of the truth. Sometimes I still do stupid things. Trying to be nice the other day was stupid, as it turned out. But I never have any way of knowing ahead of time how my overtures will be received, if they're received at all. It sucks, but I do what I can when I can. I do miss her, and the kid. Things would be a lot easier, for everyone, if I'd stop missing them.

It would also help if I knew what I wanted to happen. I have no clue anymore. I only have a vague fuzzy sense that I want things to be okay between us. I can't define what that word means. It's a ghost haunting my head, glimpsed only rarely and only for an instant.

I kinda wish that I knew what I wished.

Sunday, January 2, 2011
posted by dave at 9:55 AM in category dreams, ramblings

I can already tell that this isn't going to work.

I'd decided that I'd just do one of those entries where I just started typing, and see what happens.

Problem is, I have a specific topic that I want to write about, and I kinda want it to be a good entry. I have so few good ideas that I allow myself to write about - I don't want to waste an idea with random finger movements.

I had a dream. In my dream, something bad happened, and it caused me to give up. I gave up on everything. Work. Family. Friends. Love. Life. Everything.

I cast loose all of the ties that bound me, and I literally walked away from it all. I lived an anonymous life after that. No friends. No job. Certainly no love. And none of the obligations that come with those things. I touched nobody, and nobody touched me. I may as well have not existed at all.

And you know what?

There was actually a certain appeal to it.

Once I woke up, I felt all of the weights and responsibilities come back to me. I felt all of the ties cinch themselves more tightly around me.

They choke me.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010
posted by dave at 4:00 AM in category ramblings

There was a time, not a specific time but a period of time, when it happened. Over the course of something between days and months, it happened.

It was a couple of years ago now, when things changed. Suspicions became knowledge. Inklings became expectations. Hopes became certainties.

Yeah, that's right. Certainties.

Patience was validated. The long and winding journey became irrelevant, and only the destination mattered. I could see our destination, smell it, almost touch and taste it. It was just up ahead. It was going to happen. We were going to get there.

Just a little bit further...

It became much more than wishful thinking. I hate it when people dismiss it all as wishful thinking. I know the difference. I fucking lived with wishful thinking for years. I'm an expert on wishful thinking. I know the difference between it and certainty. I really do.

Years.

Memories and hopes were all I had, but they kept me going. Wishful thinking kept me going.

Until a period of time, a couple of years ago, when I became certain, certain, that all my wishes were about to come true.

Just a little bit longer...

Damn.

Back then, that's when everything changed. The potential for pain became the potential for utter destruction. But that didn't matter, because I was certain that everything was going to be fine. Great. Wonderful. Perfect.

Damn.

For years, memories and hopes were all I had. They kept me going. Then I found certainties, and it felt like nothing could stop me.

Now, all I have are memories.

I fear that they won't be enough.

Thursday, December 16, 2010
posted by dave at 3:55 AM in category ramblings

I want it to be effortless again. Writing, I mean. I don't know if I can ever go back, though. Everything always seems so forced these days. Or I'll write a little and then second-guess everything I've written. Like it's not good enough, or accurate enough. More often than not, I'll delete it all and hope that I'll do better the next time.

I get so tired of repeating myself to myself. I keep asking myself for explanations, and I keep saying the same things over and over. It never gets through my thick skull. I either don't understand the answers or I don't believe the answers or I don't accept the answers.

Probably that last thing.

It's the same crap I went through for years, trying to answer a different set of questions with a different set of answers.

I imagine myself, in a week or a decade or a century, lying on my death-bed and reflecting on the life that I've had. Or not had. Whatever. I try to envision what I'll think. I rehearse the answers that I'll give myself, when I ask myself if I've had a good life, if I'd do it all again, if it was worth it.

I've said all this before. There's nothing new. I'm stuck in a groove.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010
posted by dave at 8:33 AM in category ramblings

I've said here quite often that I should just shut up. Now I seem to have done just that, but I've done too good of a job. I'm not even explaining my self to myself anymore. So I'm confused.

I owe myself an explanation. A big one.

I'm not sure where to start, though. Maybe that's what's been holding me back. It's just too daunting a task.

Things are what they are. I've done what I've done. And the reasons are, well, I can't think of the word I want.

Next to a million flinches, that's where the reasons lie. Among cruelties, and disappointments, and a few lies, that's where the reasons lurk. They keep fear and pain as their confidants. They hide behind incredible beauty and unimaginable joy, but they're always there, and I lost hope that they would ever go away.

I repeat this mantra to myself. "I'm better off, I'm better off, I'm better off, I'm better off..."

Sometimes I even believe this to be true, I really do.*

But I forget that truth every few seconds, and I don't know the reasons for how things are, and I falter. Whenever I breathe, for example. Or whenever I blink my eyes, and that ever-so-brief moment of darkness lets her face intrude into my consciousness.

It was just too much. After all that time, all those years of waiting and hoping and trying oh so hard, my seemingly infinite patience proved to be finite after all. I felt myself wearing down more quickly than I could regenerate. Changing, mutating into a person I neither recognized nor even particularly liked.

It had to stop. It had to end or I was going to end. And, even though it seems to me that I did end, I really didn't. I'm still here, barely. What's left of me.

It was just too much. Maybe that's the explanation. Maybe that's the only explanation there will ever be, because better words escape me...

* - poet and don't know it.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010
posted by dave at 1:32 PM in category ramblings

Kinda feeling weird today. Detached, I guess, would be a good word. Unless I can think of a better one. Like I'm detached from myself and from the reality that's surrounding me.

I mean, I know that there's this big giant chunk of my life that, well, is no longer a part of my life. I know that I should still be upset about the loss that I'm experiencing, and I definitely still am upset. But, I'm not as upset as I should be. I dunno, maybe because the sadness that I should feel would simply be too much for me to bear. So, as a self-defense mechanism, I've detached myself.

Whatever works, I suppose. Whatever can get me through this. Eventually. Maybe.

I'm so tired all the time. What's up with that? I know that a big part of it is that I'm getting up at 5:00 every morning, but that can't be the only reason. I should be able to last beyond 8:30 or so at night without feeling like I'm about to fall over. There's probably some kind of clinical depression going on, what would be just my luck. Something else to be wrong with me.

I will be so glad when this month is over. November sucked, but I think December is shaping up to be much worse. Too many opportunities for me to think about how things might have been. Could have been. Should have been. Whatever.

I'll get over it. I always do.

Saturday, December 4, 2010
posted by dave at 5:42 AM in category ramblings

I don't know what I'm doing. I don't think I've ever said that I did. What I've always said is that I'm just muddling through.

This is all just so weird to me. So unusual. So unexpected. So fucked up.

Things end all the time. I understand that. But how do they end when they never began? And how does that make it a million times worse?

How can I be so wrong about the one thing in my life that I was positive about? How could I get to this point? How could I let this happen?

I'm just trying to get my thoughts together, somehow, when I write crap like this. It's tough. My thoughts are all over the place.

I know what I want but I don't want to want it. I'm pretty sure I've said that before. It's not true, though. Sometimes I lie to myself. The truth is that I just don't want to be the only one who wants it. I'm so tired of being alone in this.

Expectations and hopes and desires can either be the best of friends or the worst of enemies. Circumstances vary. Sometimes circumstances crumble into dust. You deal with it. And, if you can't deal with it, then you do the best you can.

Sometimes it's all you can do to simply endure. You breathe. You try not to think. You muddle through as best as you can.

You make mistakes, and you hope that you're forgiven. You hope with all your heart that the bad times will end. You wait for them to end, somehow, and you don't even care how they end, as long as they end.

The old saying is that "God won't give you more than you can handle."

To that I always respond, "Tell that to my friend WomanRepellant."

I don't know what I'm doing. Everyone on Earth tells me to do one thing, but it's just not me. What's more important, to be true to myself, or to give myself a chance at a life?

Friday, December 3, 2010
posted by dave at 2:53 PM in category ramblings

I'm not sure that I made myself clear. It's not what a person does, it's what kind of person they are. And, often, actions are the main clue you get.

So you examine the actions or the words or whatever, and you interpret them. You form an opinion, based on the available evidence, as to what a person is really like. Sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes you're right. Sometimes you're right, but you wish you were wrong.

Anyway, an action - or a series of actions - doesn't have to be some big terrible thing. It doesn't even have to be bad at all to the other seven billion people on the planet - it only has to be bad to you. Bad enough to shift your opinion.

And so, my opinion shifted. That's all that happened. My feelings haven't changed one iota.

Maybe I'm wrong. I hope that I am, but I can't ignore the evidence that's been presented to me.

Not anymore.

Monday, November 29, 2010
posted by dave at 12:02 PM in category ramblings

I need to get something off my chest now.

I think I'm hoping that, by writing this, I'll defuse my emotions a little. I'll imagine that it will be read, and that way I'll be able to make my point without any confrontation.

Speaking of confrontation, I'm pissed.

I thought that things had been exaggerated. I was, after all, being assaulted with false accusations; it didn't seem like much of a stretch to assume that other details were being at least skewed and perhaps even fabricated wholly to better match my accuser's anger.

But now I've heard pretty much the same story from several different sources, and it turns out that there was no exaggeration at all.

She absolutely didn't provoke the situation. And she didn't do anything to move things to where they went. She stayed calm and non-confrontational even as you escalated to threats of physical violence against her.

Seriously, you threatened to beat her face? Why? Because you don't like her?

That's the exact same reasoning that assholes and bullies use. Which one are you? Or maybe you're both?

On what planet did she deserve those threats? Certainly not planet Earth.

Look, you're allowed to dislike a person. Nobody is perfect, and I'd venture that everyone has at least one person that just rubs them the wrong way. Hell, most people I meet rub me the wrong way. But adults don't go around threatening physical violence. Adults don't resort to any form of intimidation at all. Adults simply choose to not interact at all with the people they can't stand. That's a hell of a lot easier, and more civilized, for everyone.

Are you not an adult, is that the problem?

Or are you going to blame alcohol?

Oh, that's original.

Sunday, November 28, 2010
posted by dave at 3:53 PM in category ramblings

I don't expect this particular exercise - writing this entry in this journal at this time on this day - to do any good. But neither do I think it will particularly hurt. I think it will waste time, and that's something that I'm very good at, it seems.

I'm trying to make sense of nonsensical things. Why things are the way that they are. How things are, period. It's like there's a part of me that can understand and accept with cold calculated precision, and another part that can only sob. Somewhere in the middle of those two extremes, I sit with my head bowed and my shoulders slumped, and I wait.

I don't know what I wait for. Release from all this, probably. I don't know what this is, maybe it's everything.

I'm angry at myself all the time. For hanging on for too long. For not hanging on long enough. For waiting too long. For not waiting long enough. For closing my eyes to the truth and to the lies. For wondering all the time about the future and regretting all the time about the past, and not spending nearly enough time in the present.

I'll never truly know, none of us can, what would have could have might have happened, if I'd just done a better job of things. If I'd just been a better person in her eyes. I fear, though, that I'll always wonder, and that will be it for me. That will be the rest of my story; a seemingly endless series of ellipses, until it finally and abruptly ends.

Dammit...

posted by dave at 2:23 AM in category ramblings

I know that it's a cliché for some people that people never change but I think that's bullshit. I know that people can change. I'm living proof, for one thing. There are other proofs, but I don't want to get into that right now.

I've been having a lot of flashbacks lately. Just weird random thoughts and remembrances of times far in the past.

I've remembered taking my stepson to watch fireworks on the day that his sister was born. I've remembered driving through South Dakota as I moved to Seattle. I've remembered my first night of basic training. I've remembered the first time I made love to MixedSignalGirl, and I've remembered the first time I laid eyes on LaptopGirl. I've remembered taking a piss in the middle of the night in the Nevada mountains, and being awestruck by the stars.

All sorts of memories have made their way to the surface of my brain lately.

I don't know why. Not really. I have some theories, though. Maybe I'm suppressing the really important things. The current things. Or maybe I'm focusing on the past because I can no longer imagine a future.

I'm not the same person I was, not twenty years ago, and not four weeks ago. I used to be so full of hope and excitement for the future. I used to think that there was a future.

Now, not so much. Now, I just sit here, and I wait. Every now and then, I breathe. I don't know why. Something to do, I guess.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010
posted by dave at 1:20 PM in category ramblings

Fuck it, I'll write something. Nobody's doing any real work here today, anyway.

There's a certain appeal to it. Mainly, I suspect, because it's the easy thing to do. I mean, nothing is always easier than something, right?

Right?

So maybe I'll just do nothing, and then I'll stay like this.

I'll be that guy.

You know that guy - he tried to give himself away, and then when his offer was rejected, he didn't want himself back.

Or something like that. It's hard to write sometimes. I know what I meant, though, even if I'm only rarely able to translate thoughts and feelings into words anymore.

There, I managed to kill ten minutes out of my day by writing this crap.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010
posted by dave at 2:53 PM in category ramblings

And the whole process of guesstimation is fraught with guesswork.

When does a dude stop simply acting like an asshole and become an actual asshole? When does a girl with loose morals become a raging whore? When does a child go from misbehaving to being a brat?

These are the kind of questions that we all ask ourselves all the time.

And there are no easy answers.

I've advised several people, over the years when they've been angry or sad, to just hold off a little. To not do anything in the heat of the moment. To take some time to think about what's happened and to consider what they're really dealing with.

It's the person who matters. Not the actions.

And sometimes I take my own advice. And sometimes I take it far too often, and far too many times.

Until something snaps and it no longer matters what kind of person I'm dealing with. The actions become all that matters, because everything else seems like a lie.

And so, here I am. Wherever this is. Nowhere, I suspect.

posted by dave at 1:55 PM in category ramblings

In a perfect world, I don't think anyone would care about how someone used to be. It should be obvious, after all is said and done, that it's how a person actually is that's more important.

A guy could have been, for example, a real asshole in high school but be a great friend now.

And even more important than how a person is would be how a person will be.

Like, a girl could be a total slut now but eventually she could settle down and be faithful.

There are three problems with all of this.

1. It's not a perfect world.
2. We can't see into the future, so we have to make guesstimations based on present and past behavior.
3. Sometimes past and/or present behavior simply cannot be ignored. See numbers 1 and 2 above.

To summarize, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.

Monday, November 22, 2010
posted by dave at 2:38 PM in category ramblings

I get up. I go to work. I go to Rich O's. I go home. I sleep. On the weekends I might mix things up a bit. I don't work, for one thing. And maybe I'll go to stupid Bearno's and hang out with an old spark for a while. On Sundays maybe I'll meet OddlyFamiliarGirl at Jack's.

I go through the motions of life, just like everything is normal. But, what is normal? I mean, I'm a guy who dreamed for years and suddenly I found myself living a nightmare from which I refused to awaken. Who am I to even pretend to know what's normal?

I glare at my phone not out of hope but out of paralysing dread. Out of dread that it will remain silent, or out of dread that it will sound. My motivation varies with my mood.

I've not awakened from this nightmare. Things are not normal. I pretend because I don't want people to worry about me. I pretend because I don't want people to blame her for my problems. I pretend because maybe, just maybe every now and then, I'll fool myself.

It hasn't happened yet. I may be too smart to believe my own lies, but I'll keep trying. For a while, at least.

Sunday, November 21, 2010
posted by dave at 10:21 PM in category ramblings

I see denial and I see fear. I see timidity and I see delusion.

I see uncertainty and I see anger and I see sorrow and I see regret.

Closing my eyes, that's not an option, no matter what everyone on Earth thinks. It's already burned into my brain.

I'm really tired. Of being deemed useless and insignificant. Of being invisible. Of everything.

That first step?

It was a doozy.

Monday, November 15, 2010
posted by dave at 12:37 AM in category ramblings

There is more to say. More that I need to say. Wants went out the window a long time ago, and all that's left are needs.

You might think that I've said everything. You might think that I've run out of things to say and so I've simply repeated myself over and over and over and over.

But, you would be wrong.

There's so much that's been left unsaid.

As the walls go up, the truth makes a panicked and desperate dash toward freedom, lest it be trapped forever.

There are reasons for all of this. Reasons, I mean, besides the obvious.

If the truth is hidden away and silenced, does it even count? Is it still true?

There is more to say.

(During a morning re-read, the above came off as slightly ominous. That was not the intent at all.)

Sunday, November 14, 2010
posted by dave at 6:07 AM in category ramblings

This isn't going to work. I can't write anything now. I'm too fucking tired. I'm pretty sure I slept Wednesday night, but I'm equally sure that was the last time.

I just watched a movie. And in that movie a plane was about to crash. And on that plane people held hands when they thought they were about to die. I know, it was just a movie, but those people in their last moments of life touched another person. If they were lucky, they got to touch a person they loved.

I can't write this. There's no point.

Thursday, November 11, 2010
posted by dave at 9:36 AM in category ramblings

I'm in a weird mood. Weird, huh?

I should go somewhere this weekend. I should go to Covington. I say that every weekend. It's become a bit of a tired joke with RockGirl:

I should go to Covington this weekend.

Then, sometime Saturday evening:

I should have gone to Covington.

I never go anywhere. I always want to go, but then I don't. I don't know why. Lack of motivation, I suppose.

I'll go see StupidGirl in February. That seems like a million years from now. A lot can happen between now and then, so it's kinda hard to get excited.

I could die between now and then, for instance. Or StupidGirl could get married or something. I'd still go to Las Vegas if that happened, it just wouldn't be as much fun.

I think that, if I had to pick a word to label this mood I'm in, that word would be conversational. I want to have a couple discussions and try to sort some things out. It probably won't happen, though. People, including my lovely self, get too defensive and accusatory. It makes rational conversation almost impossible.

I just can't help but think about the .0000001% chance that things could work out. That tiny chance makes me feel like a jerk and it keeps me awake at night and it keeps me from lowering my foot.

Anyway, I guess I should get ready for this meeting.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010
posted by dave at 12:20 PM in category ramblings

I think I wantneed to expand a little on the quickie I just posted, "My brain is stuck in a groove today."

This has happened before. A couple of times over the last few years, it's happened. I somehow go from thinking about the same thing (you get one guess) every few seconds to thinking about nothing else at all. I somehow still manage to breathe and stuff, but it takes a conscious effort.

In the past, this has usually led to constant sadness or incessant giddiness. But today, today it's not really leading anywhere. It just is.

To paraphrase something that was recently said to me, "I should be more upset about this, but I'm not."

Very, very strange.

Odds are very good that I'm simply in denial, and that once my subconscious recognizes the harsh reality of this mess, I'll fall apart. But that's okay. If that's what it takes for this to be over, then that's a price I can pay. I've wanted this to be over for a very long time.

Besides, I've fallen apart before, and maybe this will be the last time it ever happens.

Yeah, right.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010
posted by dave at 1:19 PM in category ramblings

Just kind of trying to get my thoughts together now. No easy feat; they're running and jumping around inside my head like they saw a spider in there or something. Maybe they did. That would be weird, but it might also explain some things, like the cobwebs that have been impairing my judgment lately. It would also explain the screams.

I had such a bad day Saturday. I'm still in shock from it. Both because of the complete meltdown I witnessed, and because of the way I reacted to it. Maybe it was necessary. Maybe I needed something to push me out of this place. This place I've been shown over and over and over. This ever-shrinking place. This terrible and wonderful place that's been my home and my cage for over seven years.

I'm trying to take a step. That's all it should take. Just one little step in any direction, and I'll be gone. Somewhere else. It has to be better, right?

Right?

Oh, here's a thought.

Maybe I really did die back in 2004. Maybe it wasn't a metaphor at all. I've heard stories about how sometimes, when people die, their ghosts are trapped and left to wander and moan and stuff.

Maybe I'm a ghost, stuck in this place because I have unfinished business here. Not that I know what that business might be. I used to think that I knew. I was wrong.

Anyway, boo!

It shouldn't be this hard. Nothing should be this hard.

Just take a damn step, Dave.

Okay, good, you picked up your foot. Was that so bad?

Now, just put your foot down somewhere else. I don't care where, just so long as it's outside this place.

Just do it, you pussy! Be a man and put your foot down!

I think the same thing so many times. I wonder so many times. I think that this is the love of my life, and I wonder what the fuck I'm doing. I wonder what I could possibly be doing, with my foot hanging in the air like this.

There will, by definition, never be another. So as soon as I leave this place, as soon as I put my foot down outside of this place, I'll might be nowhere at all. I wonder if it's an illusion. I think that maybe nothing exists outside of this place. I wonder if I'll simply disappear. I wonder if that would be a good thing.

It shouldn't be this hard.

Monday, November 8, 2010
posted by dave at 9:52 PM in category ramblings

That one thing: Nope.
That other thing: Not anymore.
That really unlikely thing: Never, really.

Without trust, everything else is irrelevant.

Sunday, November 7, 2010
posted by dave at 2:47 AM in category ramblings

It's not that I don't care, it's that I wish that I didn't care.

Because there's just no point to caring. To any of it. It's all a waste of time and emotion. To care and wish and yearn and desire. To fucking know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it will all be worth it in the end. And then to be dismissed over and over and over and over and over.

To hurt just for the sake of hurting, because that's all there is, and because that's all there will ever be.

It's all pointless. Nothing good will happen. Not for me.

It's not that I don't want to reply, it's that I wish that I didn't want to reply.

Being a good person feels wonderful, for a while. I live to be useful to the people I care about. Until I start to feel like I'm being taken advantage of. Once that happens, once that really starts to sink in, that's when being a good person feels pointless, like everything else. Friendship. Love. Everything. Pointless.

It's not that I don't want to be there, it's that I wish that I didn't want to be there.

Maybe even worse than pointless.

I feel like a fucking doormat. Again.

Dammit.

It's not that I don't care, it's that I wish, with all my heart, that I didn't care. That I would stop. That this would all just stop.

I had a bad day. It fit in nicely with all of the previous days.

Friday, November 5, 2010
posted by dave at 10:46 PM in category ramblings

Blow after blow land square and hard. He stands, somehow he's remained standing. His knees, however, have become weak. He wobbles. His mind wanders to escape the pain. He forgets why he stands. Soon, he will fall, and the count will begin.

Thursday, November 4, 2010
posted by dave at 11:11 PM in category ramblings

I thought that I felt like writing something. I really did. I even had a couple potential topics in mind. But then, when I sat down at this computer, I lost all interest in writing.

So what I'll do instead is what I always do. I'll repost an old entry from back when I used to write.

Okay, I'm plagiarizing myself here, but it's okay - I gave myself permission.

I hate the Fall.

Too many things have happened to me at this time of the year. There are very few good memories, only memories of death and dying and loss and pain.

I look out my window, and I see that everything around me is dying. The sky is gray, the grass a dull brown. My yard is littered with fallen leaves.

The only things giving color to the world are the leaves. Many of them still cling to their branches, but inevitably, they too will fall and join corpses of their brothers on the ground below. And when they fall, when they spin or glide or spiral through the air, that is when they're at their most beautiful. The death of each leaf is a dance.

I like to stand outside my building at work, when the ivy leaves are falling. Sometimes, a leaf will get caught in the winds swirling around the buildings. Sometimes, a leaf will take a long time to fall, and it will dance in the air for me. If I'm quick enough, and if the winds are just right, I can catch a leaf before it hits the ground. Before its dance is over forever.

My grandmother used to tell me that it was good luck, catching a falling leaf. I'll hold the stem between my thumb and forefinger, and I'll twirl it for a bit, then I'll open my hand and let it finish its fall. Let it finish dying.

Sometimes I envy those leaves. Their most beautiful moment comes at the end of their lives. They don't have to keep living and remembering how wonderful things used to be. And when they fall, they don't have to get back up.

There's this sound that my phone makes sometimes. It happened a couple of hours ago when I was watching The Office. I love that sound, and I hate that sound, but most of all I hate that I even care about that sound.

Sometimes I want so badly to reply, but that's not allowed. It's not real communication, after all. It's just an illusion, like everything else.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010
posted by dave at 5:15 AM in category ramblings

I've been having a really tough time getting my thoughts together lately. That's one of the big reasons that I don't write very often anymore. Another big reason is self-censorship, of course. And there's also the fact that I'm sick and tired of announcing to the world that I'm sick and tired. And I don't like to write when I'm in a bad mood. Fuck, it's a wonder I write at all. You people should be grateful for what little you get.

So, last night I was talking with OddlyFamiliarGirl and the subject came up of the worst things we've ever done. She went first, and I told her that I was going to go pee and when I came back I'd tell her what my worst actions had been.

It wasn't too tough to come up with some very bad things. Maybe it wasn't as tough as I'd have liked, but oh well.

I'm basically a pretty good person. I keep saying that. Maybe eventually it will be believed. I get so fucking tired of being accused of lies and manipulations and cruelty.

But I digress.

And now I'm in a crappy mood, again, so I need to stop writing, again.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010
posted by dave at 11:51 PM in category ramblings

I want to say something now.

But, I won't.

How many times have I said it before? A dozen? A hundred? How many times have I promised myself and promised those who care about me?

Too many.

I've been wrong every single time.

How many times have I wished it before? A thousand? A million? How many times have I lost hours and hours and days and days of sleep wishing?

Too many.

That wish, like its opposite, has always gone unfulfilled.

So, tonight, I'm not going to say it, and I'm not going to wish it.

I'm going to think it, though.

I think therefore...

For the moment at least.

Sunday, October 24, 2010
posted by dave at 10:25 PM in category ramblings

Now it's after 10:00. I'm up too late again. I have to get up at 5:00, after all.

Why am I still awake?

There's no reason that I can think of. I'm not even glaring at my phone tonight, so even that old standby of an excuse is no good.

Anyway...

(Deleted)

I should have gone. But, I didn't. But, I should have. Maybe I'll get another chance. If so, then I'm fucking going. I'll deal with the aftermath later, but I deserve a chance, no matter how slim, at a happy life.

I really do.

Thursday, October 21, 2010
posted by dave at 12:26 AM in category ramblings

If I was going to write something now, as I wait for my clothes to finish washing so I can throw them into the dryer, if I was going to write something now, I guess I'd write about how sometimes I just get pissed about it all.

I'd write that I try to be reasonable. I really do. And I'd write that I know that it's both silly and futile to be angry about it. Much more understandable to simply be sad, but sad gets old after a while. Anger always seems new. Like it's something special. Something that might last, I might write.

But then I'd write about how it never lasts. About how I always catch myself and I feel guilty. Because I have no evidence that this was done to me as opposed to in spite of me. No evidence at all, unless you count the words of everyone on Earth. And I don't. Or at least I try not to.

If I was going to write something now, I'd probably go off on a real tear about things.

Good thing my laundry is done, so I can stop before I write anything.

Sunday, October 17, 2010
posted by dave at 3:08 PM in category ramblings

I had this thought, this entirely different way of looking at things. I had it, a week ago today, and it led me to a place I'd never expected to be again. The thought is gone now. It's gone back into hiding inside my head.

But, it's in there. Just knowing that it's in there means a lot to me. Just knowing what's possible means the world to me.

Wait a second. That wasn't entirely true. It didn't go back into hiding. I did.

A wise man once wrote:

Like an animal raised in captivity, when I became too afraid of the opportunities and obstacles presented by my newfound freedom, I ran back into the comfort and safety of my cage.

But it's okay. I feel safe in here. I feel like myself in here. In here, everything is perfectly clear. All of my hopes and dreams and desires, in here they're all the same. There are no wrong choices in here. There are no choices at all.

And now I can't even remember what I'd been thinking. Like the memory of a dream, it faded too quickly, and now I'm left confused and dumb. Trying to decide if I'd really dreamed at all.

The easy thing isn't always the right thing. I wish that it was. I wish a lot of things.

Saturday, October 16, 2010
posted by dave at 10:51 PM in category ramblings

So I was thinking earlier about some bullshit. The way people paint themselves into corners, and then they whine about being stuck.

I suppose I've pretty much done that to myself, but that's not what I was thinking about today. Nope, today I was thinking about a couple of girls I know and how they've managed to slut their respective ways to solitude.

Yes, slut is also a verb. It is now anyway.

And also, eventually people stop thinking of things as the way a person is acting and they start thinking instead that those things are representative of the way a person is. This happens a lot, and it's usually well-deserved.

When listening to disparaging words, I don't always stay silent because I don't know what to say or because simply listening is all that's wanted. Sometimes, sometimes I stay silent because I'm in complete agreement, and I don't want to seem cruel.

Sunday, October 10, 2010
posted by dave at 12:19 AM in category ramblings

My mind just doesn't seem to be able to stop today. No matter how much I've wanted to stop thinking, I've just kept doing it and doing it and doing it and doing it...

At one point, around 3:00, I was tired and I was going to take a nap, but then I got distracted by some stupid daydream or something and I totally forgot that I was tired, so I went to Rich O's instead. I'm pretty sure that going to Rich O's is the exact opposite of taking a nap.

And now it's midnight Saturday night. I think I've slept about an hour since Thursday morning. As a result, I expect to ramble. You've been warned.

I don't know why. I don't know why this week has been so much worse than the weeks and months and years that came before. I don't know why, but it is. It fucking is.

Pretty soon I'm going to sleep. I'm going to collapse, and then I'll sleep. This is my plan. It's a good plan.

I wish I had some topics all lined up nice and neat, so I could just pick the next one in line and write about it. But nooooooooo, I've got nothing except the same old bullshit.

You know what pisses me off? Besides everything, I mean?

All of my friends used to root for me They wished for me the same thing that I wished for myself. But not anymore. Nope, now everyone is rooting against me, and so I'm on my own.

Anyway.

One of the things I thought today was that I've been looking for a switch, but I should have been looking for a cure.

Another thing I thought was that there are an awful lot of things that I cannot do, but there's one thing that I'll be able to do forever. Luckily, it happens to be one thing I'm really fucking good at doing.

I also found myself wondering earlier. Wondering is a dangerous thing for me to do. It almost never leads to anything good. But this time I think it was okay. I was wondering if I would feel relief. You know, when it finally ends once and for all. I don't know if I would or not. Certainly not right away. Right away would suck. I might not even survive. But, eventually, maybe I'd be relieved. I dunno. It's not something I like to think about, to be honest.

Next subject, please.

I spent a couple hours out on my deck with Picklepie tonight. He's such a great cat. Easily the most affectionate cat I've ever known. It breaks my heart that he's got so much discomfort in his future.

And I had a brilliant idea for a novel tonight. Or at least a short story. Next month is November - maybe I'll try that nanowrimo thingy this year. I know, I always say that, but then I never write shit. I've been distracted for the last seven years.

Wow, seven fucking years.

This is a cancer upon my life.

Monday, October 4, 2010
posted by dave at 11:13 PM in category ramblings

I was thinking earlier today about something I'd been thinking about last week, about something I'd been thinking about two or three years ago when I read a certain book. I don't remember the name of the book. I remember that I kinda liked it, though. Light-something, I think it was called.

I don't think I'll feel that bad for myself, should I continue down this path and die childless. After all, people die childless all the time. Why should I be different? I do try to live my life the right way, and I try to help the people I care about. I guess they're surrogate children, of a sort. Sometimes those people even let me help. That's nice of them.

Anyway.

Last week, I was in the hospital talking with my grandmother. My last grandmother. My last grandparent. My last remaining ancestor. It's hard to describe, the thoughts that were going through my head and I sat and chatted with her, for what at the time I thought might be the last time.

My mind went back, as it had years ago when I read that book. My mind went back and back and back and back...

Now, anyone who knows me also knows that as far as religion goes I'm an agnostic at best. This means that I believe in evolution. This means that I believe, just as strongly as some people believe in an invisible man in the sky who controls everything but prefers to let people suffer, I believe that my family tree goes back much farther than 6,000 years or whatever those crackpots zealots believe. I believe that my family tree goes back billions of years. I think that 3.7 billion years is the current estimate. For the beginning of life on Earth.

Back then, back at the beginning, there was something. probably a single-celled organism, but maybe something even more primitive. Maybe just a clump of amino acids that had clumped together just right. Whatever it was, there was a first. The first life on Earth. And then, because of the first, there was a second, then a third, and a fourth. And then, millions and millions and millions of generations later, here I sit. Letting my fingers type into this journal because my brain is too distracted by a sweet heart and a pretty face to be bothered to write anything coherent or relevant.

If I should die childless, I will feel bad. But not, as I said, for myself. Nope, I will feel bad for the first. For breaking a chain forged billions of years ago. Because the first sprang from nothing, and that effort, against all odds, deserves better than for me to simply die. For me to let the chain end.

I will feel bad. Billions of years, wasted, because of me.

Sunday, September 26, 2010
posted by dave at 3:48 PM in category ramblings

This isn't a real entry. Just a quickie, but my quickie scripts don't handle paragraphs very well. My fault, because I wrote the thing. I probably won't bother to fix it.

Anyway, I was thinking about how everyone thinks they have all the time in the world. To search for something that lets them finally stop searching.

Sometimes, those people are wrong.

I guess that's it.

Oh yeah, except that sometimes, people can't see the tree right in front of them, because they're too excited about the forest.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010
posted by dave at 9:32 PM in category ramblings

I'm going to be so pissed at myself someday.

Someday, I'm going to feel like rummaging through my old memories and emotions. I'm going to, after some token resistance in case anyone is watching, zip straight to what's left of this blog and to these years. 2008, 2009, 2010.

And, once there, I'm going to find nothing but feeble ramblings of a man so torn-up that even breathing was an effort; writing coherent words was way beyond the realm of possibility even if self-censorship hadn't appeared out of the gray and stopped my fingers from doing the type-type-typing that they've always wanted, needed, to do.

I am a writer, dammit! I have things to say! Important things! Why have I stayed so silent for so long?

It was two years ago last Tuesday that I finally opened my mouth. Finally said the words that I'd waited either three or four or forty-three years (depending on how you count them) to say. That should have been the last day of my life, or the first day of my life. But, instead, it was just another day. Just another fucking day.

What should have been the end, continued. What should have been the beginning, stopped in its tracks. I entered limbo. And though I've tried to leave, my path has been blocked. And, though I've been shown the door, I've been unable to exit.

I'm still here. Stuck between a place I don't want to be and a place I can't imagine leaving. And I watch everything dissolve slowly around me, and I want to cry out. I want to scream so loudly that my bones flee my body in terror, but I don't know what to say.

"Hurry up! Good riddance!"

"No, wait! I need more time! Just a little longer!"

I used to always say, when I was asked, that it was never all or nothing for me. I meant those words when I said them; they were the absolute truth.

But I haven't been asked in a long time, and I'm not sure what my answer would be now.

It's the not knowing that's the cruelest blow of all. It should never have come to this. I should have died knowing, or I should have lived knowing.

Instead, I just don't know.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010
posted by dave at 11:22 PM in category ramblings

I had this thought a little while ago. Maybe it was more of a remembrance than a thought. I'm not sure. My memory of what it was is fading quickly.

I'm surprised all the time lately. Usually not in a good way, but not always in a bad way, either. Just surprised.

I mean, for example, I wake up one morning and I'm forty-five years old. How the fuck does that happen?

Or, I wake up several hundred mornings, and I'm by myself. She's not with me. And you can define she however you want, it makes no real difference. I'm still waking up by myself.

It's shocking, that's what it is.

It's not supposed to be like this. I'm not supposed to be like this.

And now I've got rabies from this damn cat.

Surprise!

But I digress. Rabies will do that to you, I've heard. Makes you digress all over the place.

My life goes through cycles. Never about me, always about someone else. Fuck you, it varies. It really does. Of course I miss LaptopGirl, but then I miss HatGirl, and then I miss MixedSignalGirl with an intensity that still shocks me after all these years. Then for a while I'll miss KittenDamsel, and then I'll almost certainly give StupidGirl her due. It's always about missing someone. It's never about just being sad for no reason at all. Or, God forbid, being happy.

It's never about just being myself.

I'm not sure that I have a life of my own anymore.

When I was a little kid, my future seemed set in stone except for that small detail of her face. Now usually I feel that her face is certain, but everything else is murky and indistinct. Grasping at phantoms that don't really exist.

I liked having a future, even one that improbable. It was something, dammit. Now, nothing.

I don't like it.

Surprise!

I feel like I should start living for myself. But then I remember that there's no point in doing that. Because, who the fuck am I?

Friday, September 3, 2010
posted by dave at 9:39 PM in category ramblings

Okay, so I had a wonderful, fantastic time in Las Vegas. It may seem like an obvious foregone conclusion to some of you, but not to me. There were several million doubts in my mind.

Every one of my doubts evaporated at approximately 3:00 PM PDT Sunday.

This leads me to an observation.

I should have been there already. I should have been there almost 18 months ago, when every reasonable reason I'd ever had for staying put was ripped from me.

Why, why wasn't I already there?

Well, those of you who (a) have been reading this journal or (b) listening to the words that have been coming out of my mouth, and (c) aren't retarded - you people already know the answer to that question.

---

I've deleted the remainder of this entry. There was nothing nice in any of it.

Saturday, August 28, 2010
posted by dave at 10:02 PM in category ramblings

I've been saying the same thing now for a long time.

The first time I remember saying it was last November or December, in a text message to HatGirl.

Though I probably felt it a million times before then. And definitely a million times since.

I want this to be over. More than I've ever wanted anything else.

Yes, even more than that.

That was a beautiful dream. That was my reason for living. But that has turned into a terrible nightmare. But that has soured me on way too many things. That has made me doubt way too many things, question way too many things. Scary questions, that lead to even scarier answers.

I want to wake up. I want to I want to I want to I want to wake up from this nightmare.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010
posted by dave at 10:27 PM in category ramblings

I repeat myself a lot. With my words. With my thoughts. With this journal.

I usually realize that I'm repeating myself when I'm about half through repeating myself. And, I figure, as long as I'm that far along, I may as well push on through and get it over with.

Anyway.

I want something. Maybe even need something.

There's this nagging emptiness following me around everywhere I go. I can't seem to escape it, except sometimes when I sleep and my dreams take me somewhere else. Some place where none of this matters. And where the emptiness can't find me.

I don't know what I want. I don't know if I want it or need it. Most disturbingly, I don't even know what it is.

That up there - that's a fine example of me repeating myself. For more examples, see almost every entry I've done for the past year and a half.

Anyway.

That's what I miss, maybe most of all or at least in the top five things I miss. That sense of knowing exactly what I needed and knowing that I absolutely needed it. My life may have been replete with confusion and doubt but, by fuck, there was always that one thing that I knew beyond any shadow of any inkling of any doubt.

Now?

Not so much.

To repeat myself again, I miss me. It's been a long time since I've seen myself, talked to myself, commiserated with myself.

It's been so long, in fact, that I'm not even sure that I'd recognize myself.

I wrote back in February 2005:

I'm more than a little ashamed of what happened to me, and more than a little sorry for feelings I've hurt and concern I've caused, but more than that, I'm amazed at how quickly the person I was evaporated. I'd have never believed that anything could affect me so strongly. Could essentially erase everything I was and turn me into this amorphous thing I see when I look into the mirror.
I'm still looking in that mirror. Looking for some clue as to who I might be.

And I'm still repeating myself.

Sunday, August 22, 2010
posted by dave at 10:41 PM in category ramblings

I'm trying to be reasonable now. It's tough going, because it's totally unfamiliar territory for me. But I am trying.

It's just so hard, so incredibly hard to separate the reasonable emotions from the unreasonable kind. To throw the latter away and deal with the former in a semi-mature manner.

Earlier tonight - about four hours ago - would have been a much better time for me to write this entry. Earlier tonight, I was much closer to the place I want to be. A shitty place, but a place I know I can endure because I've endured for so long already.

Now, four hours later, not so much.

The thing is, I haven't been exaggerating about any of this. In fact, I've toned things down a lot. Because the truth unbelieved is often worse than a lie. Because the truth stands all alone. Because the truth hurts.

And, now, it's happening all over again. And so, now, I wipe the spit from my face and I wait, all over again.

Wait for what?

I don't know. I used to know, I really did.

Now, six months later, not so much.

I do know it's more than just inertia that makes me wait again. And I know it's more than just stubbornness. And it's still a fuck of a lot more than a crush, no matter how ready people still seem to be to label it as such.

Hope?

I don't think so. Hope needs a target, and there isn't one that I can detect.

The comparison has been made a million times. The challenge. But the simple facts are that A does not equal B, and B does not equal A.

Not even close.

I wish I knew the magic words, to make my dreams come true.

Also, I wish I still had dreams.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010
posted by dave at 10:51 PM in category ramblings

Well, this should be interesting. And brief. Or maybe just brief.

My brain is infused with hardening cement right now, so my fingers will have to come up with a blog entry all on their own.

Anyway.

I had this thought last night. Just a random thought like millions of others that have popped into my head over the years. Preventing sleep. Unleashing dozens or hundreds of linked thoughts to tumble and crash.

What if I had a choice?

That was the thought. Six simple words, but six words strung together in a sequence that they'd somehow managed to elude for a very very very long time.

Just a simple question, really. But not to me. And, and the answers...

I can't stop thinking about the question I asked or answers that I almost immediately, reflexively, instinctively, gave last night, as I toed the line between awake and asleep.

Someone else, I answered.

Anyone else, I continued.

And, even more surprising and unexpected than the answers, was the fact that the question could exist in the first place.

Everything has changed now, mostly because I asked, but also because I answered the way that I did.

This won't last. Only one thing ever lasts.

Monday, August 16, 2010
posted by dave at 9:11 PM in category ramblings

Wow. I wrote this in April of 2007. I don't remember why, but I was in a crappy mood. Oh, wait. I think I remember why now.

Somebody once said that if you don't have anything nice to say, then you shouldn't say anything. Or some crap like that.

I'd bet that if bloggers took that advice to heart, then there'd be no bloggers.

Anyway, today I'm pissed. At pretty much the entire world.

I think I just get tired of hearing the same bullshit over and over, only to see it contradicted just as fiercely via actions and inactions.

Those two things speak louder than words. Actually, words don't speak at all. They mean nothing. They are hollow.

This is why I've given up. Because I've stopped listening to you people out there. Telling me how great I am, then turning your noses up at me when I show some emotion you don't agree with or understand. Offering comfort, but only so you'll feel less uneasy around me. Spouting advice, when you haven't a fucking clue as to what's happened to me.

It's all so fucking convenient, to seek my friendship when you need it. I'm always there. Where else would I go? But let me fucking need you, and you scatter like cockroaches in the middle of the night when the light is suddenly turned on. Because I don't fit into your mold. Because suddenly I'm the needy one. You reject the reality of the situation. You reject the truth. You reject me.

Today, I'm pissed. At pretty much the entire world.

Tonight, I'm not in as crappy a mood. I'm just tired.

posted by dave at 8:41 PM in category daily, ramblings, travel

A million years or so ago, I used to have my very own muse. Heck, she even kept being my muse for a couple of years after she stopped being my girlfriend. She'd call me or, more often, visit my site, around 11:00 PM each night. She'd see if I'd written anything new that day. And, if I hadn't, well she'd make damn sure that I didn't go to bed until I had written something.

Sigh.

I miss her. I miss her for lots of reasons. Not just because she was my muse. I guess she's doing okay. I haven't talked to her in at least 9 months. Weird how things change.

Today has been a very long day. I think I started yawning around 11:00 AM, and I haven't really stopped since. And I don't mean that I've yawned several times - I mean that I've let out one long yawn, for almost 10 hours now. I know that I'm tired. I only slept for 4 hours last night. But it might be something else. Something more. I kinda feel like my Fall seasonal allergies might be starting up. If so, then they're about a month early.

Last Fall, my allergies were so bad that my nose started bleeding from all the wiping and nose-blowing I did. There was a steady stream of snot and blood flowing from my face. Yes, it was gross, thanks for asking.

Meanwhile, I continue to wait for that killing blow. It hasn't come. Quite the opposite, in fact. I'm ashamed to say that I'm more than a little bit fooled by what's been going on.

Stupid hope...

I'm so tired right now. I need to go to bed.

Tomorrow I've got a thingy to attend. There might be some people from my old job there. That would be cool. Most of those people, I'd love to see again. A couple of them could drop dead on the way to the thingy and I wouldn't bat an eye. I guess I'll see what I'll see. I probably won't be bored, that's for sure.

In less than two weeks I'll be in Las Vegas again. It'll be different, this time. I don't really think there's a reason to go. Not anymore. Problem is, there's never really been a reason to stay in Indiana, either.

I guess that's it. Maybe I'll have a beer and then glare at my phone for a while before I go to bed.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010
posted by dave at 10:46 PM in category ramblings

There's this one word that I hate, at least recently. And don't even ask me to define recently because I don't fucking know. Somewhere between a couple of weeks and a gazillion years.

The word is deserve.

I was just thinking about that word, as I stood out on my deck petting her cat and trying in vain to ease its torture over whatever cats feel tortured about. Lack of mice, perhaps. Or maybe too many moths, so little time. I dunno.

This cat is distraught. It likes being here, and it likes hanging out with me on my deck or in my garage, but something is missing. The cat knows that something is missing but, being a cat, it cannot vocalize exactly what's missing. If it even knows.

Such is my life, even thought I'm not a cat. I don't think I am, anyway.

Meow?

But I digress, wildly.

Anyway, in an attempt to get back on topic, let me say that Everyone On Earth is wrong. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. It's happening right now. I'm right and Everyone On Earth is wrong.

So there.

What Everyone On Earth says is that I deserve something. For my efforts. For my patience. For my craziness. For waiting for almost seven years when most people would have given up or killed themselves a long time ago.

It's not that big of a deal, to anyone except me. And it's not like I count for anything.

News flash: Nobody deserves shit.

We want what we want, and we need what we need, and, unfortunately, we get what we get. And then we die.

That's it. That's the boring truth.

So, sorry to disappoint you, Everyone On Earth, as you cheer for me to get what I deserve, or as you pity me for needing and wanting what I don't deserve.

I'll get what I'll get, and that will be the boring truth.

Sunday, August 8, 2010
posted by dave at 12:44 AM in category ramblings

I have a serious question now.

Why is it so bad that I know what I want , and that I want what I want?

I don't get it. I don't run around trying to talk people out of wanting things or doing things. Yet my entire life for the past seven years has been as a target for these activities.

People tell me that they care about me, but they spend almost every second that we're together trying to convince me to change that one part of me that's impossible to change. Either explicitly through words or implicitly through lack of words, they try to convince me to strip away the most important part of me.

Like it's nothing more than a veneer or a fashion statement. Like she's nothing more than a pretty girl.

Fuck that.

Take me, or leave me. Stop trying to change me.

This sucks. Don't get me wrong. I hurt quite often, but I'll take it because it's better than the alternative. I'd rather hurt than feel nothing. I'll have plenty of time to feel nothing when I'm dead. Until then, I'll endure and I'll muddle through, and I'll at least know that I'm alive.

Monday, July 19, 2010
posted by dave at 7:54 PM in category ramblings

What I'd like to do, see, is write at least one blog entry every day. This has proven to be extremely hard (that's what she said) because (a) I don't feel like it, and (b) I don't want to, and (c) I don't care.

I've always wondered what I'd write, when I didn't care what I wrote. I guess there have been a few examples of such indifference in the past. Mostly, those entries suck, but every now and then they turn out to be at least halfway decent.

This will not be a halfway-decent entry. Not even close.

That's what she said.

I scratch at the surface of my mind, and I try to uncover something, anything, that's not related to you-know-what. This effort is usually futile, and it's proving to be futile this evening.

Fuck. Stage one sucks.

But I still know that there's something worthwhile down there, hidden. A little diamond in the rough that will make it look like I know what I'm doing.

But I can't find it. I don't even know where to look.

That's what she said.

posted by dave at 12:13 AM in category ramblings

The problem with letting my fingers type, like I'm doing right now, isn't that they're incapable of stringing sentences together. Quite the opposite, in fact. Many times they do much better than my brain would do facing the same challenge.

The problem is that, by taking my brain out of the mix, the problem is that I'm also taking my thoughts out of the mix, and leaving my emotions to, um, anchor the entire recipe.

Okay, so maybe that metaphor was a bit of a stretch. So sue me.

Now, in the past I've often given one guess as to what my emotions might revolve around, but you people don't even need one guess. You already know, those of you who've been reading me for any length of time at all. The rest of you, you newcomers, well quite frankly I don't care about any of you. Not yet, anyway.

Speaking of anyway...

Anyway, it constantly amazes me that I'm not pissed off 7x24x365. Equally amazing is that I'm not constantly depressed. But, waaaay beyond those two amazing things, I sometimes manage to be happy.

Me, of all people.

I somehow manage to fluctuate, and I don't know how I manage to do that. And it hurts by brain when I try to figure it out.

I mean, seriously. Everyone On Earth knows that I've been used and abused and taken advantage of. I know these things myself.

But, do I care?

Fuck yes, I care. A lot more than I've been letting on but, it seems, not enough. Never quite enough.

Okay, so what am I going to do about it?

Not much, it seems. Just muddle through, like I always do. Wait for it to finally be enough. Meanwhile, after all, the good times are pretty fucking wonderful. Still fantastically surreal even after all this time. So I enjoy things when I can, and I endure the rest when I must. It doesn't even out, and it's become harder and harder to enjoy those good times, but oh well.

For a while there, I thought that maybe I'd survive this. At first, calluses formed, and it looked like they might protect me. But, after months and months and years and years of constant grinding, the calluses went away. Now there are only open sores oozing nasty smelly fluid which, while vile and disgusting, I'm still pretty sure I need because they're part of me.

I know, that was gross. Sue me again.

I really don't know if I'm going to survive this, or ever get over this. This wasn't just a huge blow to what self-esteem I might have had, it's something that's still going on. Every single second of every single day of every single week of every single month, it goes on.

The wounds ooze.

How can they ever heal? How can I ever heal?

I know, or at least I think I know, the answer to those questions. But I don't like those answers, so I feign ignorance. I lie to myself and to her and I perform in this stupid little play.

I hang onto this thread. I walk this thin ice. I endure blow after blow. And I pretend that everything is fine. I pretend that I'm fine, or at least that I will be fine.

But the truth is there, buried deep enough that usually I'm the only one who really sees it. The truth that I'm waiting and expecting to die at any minute. For the thread to snap, or for the ice to break, or for the killing blow to mercifully land and end this nonsense once and for all.

And the other truth, the one that keeps me awake at night, is that I don't know if I'll go quietly when the end finally comes. I fear the things I might choose to say as my last words.

So there.

Sunday, July 18, 2010
posted by dave at 4:33 AM in category dreams, ramblings

Back in January, I found myself at this bar called The Green Frog in Bellingham, Washington. I'd gone there because some dude at another bar had told me, in a conspiratorial whisper, that they had a better beer selection there. For the record, he wasn't lying. Because (a), they had Ommegang Chocolate Indulgence on tap. And (b), who cares what else they might have had?

Anyway, I was sitting at the bar, minding my own business, trying not to listen to the jug band "jamming" in front, and this chick got up from a booth and sat next to me. She startled me, not only because she reeked of Patchouli, but because she looked almost exactly like SassyGirl. Seriously, for a second there I actually thought it was her.

But no, it was just another damn hippie. In that part of Western Washington, I'd found, it was hard to even take a piss without getting some splatter on a hippie. I'd learned to ignore them, for the most part. Except when they sat next to me and announced, "Your aura is broken."

Great. One of those hippies. One for whom the years of marijuana smoke and patchouli fumes had caused irreparable brain damage. Next, I expected her to offer to "fix" my aura for a nominal fee. Or maybe she'd do it for free, as long as I didn't mind sacrificing a chicken or something.

"I know," I replied. "But I can't do anything about it. The warranty's expired."

"You don't belong here," she said.

"And just where do you think I belong?" I asked, already tired of the conversation.

"Far away," she replied.

"You got that right," I said.

We talked for a few more minutes, mostly about how much she looked like SassyGirl. I even managed to find a picture on my phone to show her. She admitted the resemblance, so she wasn't completely crazy.

But, she was crazy enough, so I was relieved when she went back to join her friends. I haven't really though about her since, until tonight.

Tonight, or this evening to be more accurate, I was at Rich O's. I'd gone before dinner, and then again after dinner. The first time was to see LaptopGirl, and the second time was to glare at my phone.

During that second visit, I realized that I'd eaten way too much food, and that I needed to go home to sleep. So that's what I decided to do. Except I was on my way out the door and this chick looked up at me and then said to her friend, "That guy's aura is broken."

Whoa, right?

So I sat down at their table and said, "Hi, I'm Dave." Brief introductions ensued, and then I continued. "I couldn't help but overhear," I said. "That's the second time in my life that I've heard someone say that my aura is broken. The first time, I dismissed it as craziness brought on by years of marijuana smoke and patchouli fumes. But you don't look the type. So what's your excuse?"

"No excuse," the possible hippie-in-disguise said. "Sometimes I just see things about people."

"Fair enough," I said, because I'm trying to be more open-minded about shit. "What do you see that makes you say my aura is broken?"

"It is broken," she said. "Like it's been ripped apart. And a lot of it is missing. You're here, but you're not all here. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense," I replied. "A big part of me is missing." I paused. "My heart, to be precise."

"Where did it go?" she asked, with a look of genuine concern on her face. A look that I really appreciated, because I'm really sick and tired of pity and disbelief.

"I think somewhere in Louisville," I replied.

And that was pretty much the end of that conversation, as her husband and/or boyfriend came back from the restroom or wherever and glared at me. I made a graceful exit and went home for a much needed nap.

I dreamed that I was looking for the missing parts of my aura, but they were in Minneapolis, and I got totally lost because the roads up there are totally nonsensical. And the hippie chick from Bellingham was in the car with me, trying to help but only making things worse.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010
posted by dave at 6:53 AM in category ramblings

According to a friend of mine, my problems aren't important. Her reasoning for this opinion isn't, as with most people, that they don't exist or that they're unwarranted. Nope, it's simply because other people have worse problems, therefore my own don't exist.

Note that this is not a simple matter of comparing the severity of problems and assigning importance accordingly. It's a total dismissal of any problem as long as someone, somewhere, has a problem that is worse.

A nice example might be, You have no right to be sad about your love-life, Dave, because my other friend has cancer.

That was an actual real-life example, by the way.

Taking this logic to its, um, logical conclusion, I realized something.

Nobody is allowed to be sad or complain. Ever.

Take any person with any problem. There's almost definitely someone out there with a worse problem, so our hypothetical first person isn't allowed to lament at all. He's a dick if he gripes about his kid dying because there's somebody else who had two kids die. And then there's somebody else who had two kids die and he has a hangnail. It goes on and on, until you get to the person with the worst problems in the world.

You might think that the poor sap with the worst problems would be the only one on Earth with free reign to feel sorry for himself. But nope, because there are other people who are dead. Even the poor sap has it better than dead people, so he can't be sad or complain either.

I, of course, disagree with this entire line of reasoning. Maybe that's because complaining and feeling sad are some of my favorite things to do, and they're what I'm best at.

I guess what I'm saying is, just because something else has a bigger problem, that doesn't mean that our own problems aren't important. They're important to us, after all.

Feel better now?

Friday, June 18, 2010
posted by dave at 7:38 PM in category ramblings

First, a disclaimer.

The existence of this entry means nothing beyond the fact that this entry exists. Please do not infer that now I'm going to be a regular blogger again. Such an inferation* would probably be foolhardy.
Next, the real disclaimer.
This will not last. Only one thing ever lasts, and this, this is pretty much the opposite of that one thing. I am aware that this will not last, yet I choose to write about it anyway. This is one of the perks of having my own blog; I get to choose my own topics. So there.
I've wondered, often and frequently, what would happen when I lost hope. I've wondered what I'd write here, or if I'd write here, but mostly I think I've wondered what kind of person I'd become.

Right now, as I type this sentence, I have zero hope.

Z.E.R.O.

Also, as a bonus, I have zero expectations.

Once again, Z.E.R.O.

And, to top it all off in a weird way, I have only an infinitesimal amount of desire. And most of that is probably just inertia.

So much has changed, internally and externally. I'm finding myself wondering again. About myself. About this blog.

So, what will I write here?

Only stupid entries like this one, apparently.

What kind of person have I become?

That's a little bit tougher to say. I might be too close to myself to give any kind of objective opinion. RockGirl could probably provide an in-depth diagnosis, but I haven't asked her. I think I'm scared to ask her.

Anyway, I don't think I'm a dick. I was really worried about that. I also don't think I'm a fuckhead, though I've been accused of that. And I'm definitely not a dipshit. I'll never be a dipshit.

I guess, if I had to guess and I guess that I do have to guess, I guess I'm still me. Just a watered-down version with no passion.

That's actually kind of disappointing. I'd hoped to change more.

I suppose it's good that this won't last. I'll have plenty more chances. To be hurt again.

I postulated, back in March when I was almost, but not quite completely driven away, that I had one possible route toward a chance at having a happy life. It wasn't much of a chance - 10 or 20 percent at most - but it was and is certainly better than zero.

The route is simple. Zero contact and zero sightings. That's what it would take to give me my 10-20 percent chance at a happy life. I mean, I've been asked to forget, and I've been asked to stop thinking. How can I do either when reminders are so random and when they occur so often?

Answer: I can't

I do not think that this route of possible happiness exists in the same universe as me. So I expect to have zero chance at ever having a happy life.

Oh well, I guess.

* - I might have just invented that word.

Sunday, June 6, 2010
posted by dave at 10:43 PM in category ramblings

It's not like before, this quiet. I'm not sure that I can describe it. It's not a lack of noise, or a softening of sound. Those things have happened before. This time it's different. Now, now it's something else that's going on.

Maybe the years and years and years of noise have finally started to affect me. Maybe I'm going deaf. Maybe I've...

Scratch that, I figured it out.

It's become constant. There are no ups or downs anymore.

Noise without fluctuation has no meaning. It's just static, and I think that I'm starting to ignore that static.

This won't last.

Thursday, June 3, 2010
posted by dave at 6:35 AM in category ramblings

I think that I'm settling into this schedule too easily. In bed by 10:00, up at 5:00. Work, home, sleep. This is a recipe for complacency. For the same fucking contentedness that wasted most of my 30s.

Not that I'm even close to content. But I can tell that it's there, just around the corner beyond acceptance. Eventually, if I'm not careful, I'll get there.

That will suck. Man was not born to be content. To just go through the motions of life.

Sunday, May 30, 2010
posted by dave at 1:15 AM in category ramblings

As long as I'm repeating myself over and over and over, I'll say that sometimes I really wish I could still write.

I have lots of ideas for blog entries. No, really, I do. Please stop laughing.

Like tonight. I was watching this movie that this one girl says is about this one dipshit, and it gave me an idea for a blog entry. It's a really good idea, and one that I haven't touched upon here before.

And that, unfortunately, takes me back to where I started.

I wish I could still write.

Because this is, like I just got done saying, a good idea for an entry. It could be funny and sad and thought provoking and maybe even moving. Tears of laughter would intermingle with regular tears. Yes, it's that good.

So good that I find myself woefully unworthy of writing about it. It deserves better than me.

I keep thinking, hoping, that it will come back. That elusive quality that my words used to have. Where I'd come back weeks or months or even years later, reread some words I'd once written, and think, "Wow, I did a hell of a good job with this entry. Almost like a real writer."

But, right now, tonight and this week and this year and fuck even this decade I suppose, that old spark just isn't there. I certainly try, every now and then when I feel like it, but my words no longer live up to my thoughts.

With all that drivel said, here is, in my opinion, the best thing I ever wrote.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010
posted by dave at 1:09 AM in category ramblings

This isn't going to work. But I guess I'll try. I said that I would, after all.

My brain is useless right now. Too much NABC Cone Smoker (6028). So I'll let my fingers do the writing. Such as it will probably be.

That last sentence made perfect sense to me, by the way.

I'm supposed to write about faith. This is, believe it or not, something with which I am intimately familiar.

Because I fucking have it.

Not in a supreme being, like too many of my friends. Not in karma, like a lot of my more hippiefied friends. And not even in myself, as I'm so often urged to do.

Fuck that. Who am I to deserve such consideration? Such faith?

I believe in one thing. I trust in one thing. I live for one thing. I have faith in one thing.

Love.

Weird, I know.

But it's never wavered, not even once, not even a little bit. Everything else stands on wobbly legs and sways dangerously and threatens to collapse and kill and maim, but love is a fucking rock. It's a rock shored up by other rocks, defended by more rocks, and camouflaged by even more rocks.

I know, that's a stupid series of metaphors. But it's about as true as my fingers can type right now.

People look at me, quite often, like I'm crazy. It used to bother me. But now, now I think they're just jealous.

Because, no matter how unwarranted or undeserved or unjustified or just plain silly and stupid this might be, it's still more real than anything most of those other people have ever experienced.

And it will continue. It will remain. It will last until, eventually, sooner or later, it will be my dying thought.

I have zero doubt about this. This will happen. I have faith in it.

So there.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010
posted by dave at 3:09 AM in category ramblings

I took a walk. Not a long one, maybe just a couple of miles. To the end of my road and back. It was a little chilly, and a little drizzly at times, but it was still nice. As an unexpected bonus, I got to pet a kitty in the gas station parking lot.

I never did get anywhere, though. Not really.

RockGirl was telling me about a movie she'd seen, with a quote that went something like, "half the people are running toward happiness, and the others are running away from sadness."

I like that quote. I'm not really sure where I fit into it. Usually I feel like I'm just spinning in place. Sometimes I get dizzy.

I think that tonight, I was walking away from something. I had two ideas for blog entries. I didn't really want to write either of them. Both are bad ideas, but both need to be said.

I walked, like I said, for a couple of miles. It wasn't nearly far enough. I never escaped these ideas. They followed me. They're still here.

Saturday, May 15, 2010
posted by dave at 1:24 AM in category ramblings

People ask me. All the damn time, they ask me.

I tell them that I don't know. Then, in a somewhat firmer voice, I state that I don't want to talk about it.

That second part is kind of a lie. The insistence in my voice is as much for my own benefit as it is for my interrogators.

Because, I do want to talk about it. I want another pair of ears to hear the story. I want another brain to process the information. I want another pair of lips to, I suppose, explain to me that which I haven't been able to explain to myself. I want, maybe even need, a different perspective.

I desperately want to talk about it.

But, I don't. I'm trying to be a nice guy, after all. Deserved or not, I'm trying.

So, I don't talk about. I pretend that my silence is my choice, but it's not. I don't talk about it because she doesn't like it when I talk about it. And I don't blame her for that. I'd be the same way, in her situation. Whatever that might be.

That first part, however, from way back at the beginning of this stupid entry, is the truth; I really don't know what's going on.

I have my suspicions and opinions, though. And I don't like them very much.

And I really really really wish that I didn't care. My life would be so much easier, if I could just stop caring.

But, I do care. I suspect that I will always care.

That suspicion scares the shit out of me.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010
posted by dave at 10:40 PM in category ramblings

Okay, so I wrote this back in 1996:

A million times.

Disappointment times a million.

It never fades. It never gets any easier. It always astounds me with its intensity.

Someday, it will end.

Someday, in a portion of a fraction of an instant, disappointment will transform into joy.

Until then, disappointment will be my reason for living. My purpose. My destiny. My fucking calling.

After that, well I guess I'll have to wait and see what happens after that.

That was written well over three years ago, for those of you still doubting me.

Anyway, that one sentence - the one about joy?

Hope is what caused me to write that sentence.

I miss having a reason to write sentences like that.

Maybe someday, somehow, I'll have another reason...

Damn. There I go again, having stupid hope.

posted by dave at 1:55 AM in category ramblings

I find this mood, every now and then. It's a little hard to describe, but I'll try. It's not like I've got anything better to do.

For the longest time, I was that guy. Everyone who knows me, and some who don't, know what I mean by that. I was that guy who...who...who...

Well, I guess I don't want to say it. It's been said a million times already, and its always fallen on deaf ears. Deaf and doubting and disbelieving ears. I won't say that my words were wasted, but that's probably just because I'm being stubborn. If I wasted the words, then I wasted my life. And I don't want to say that. Not yet.

So anyway, there I was, being that guy, and then, then I wasn't anymore. I was someone else.

I mean, I am someone else.

But I'm not sure who, exactly.

I spend an inordinate amount of time searching for clues to my identity. I search my heart, my mind. Sometimes, I search the bottom of a glass. Sometimes, I drive to South Carolina or Covington or Nashville. I fly to Las Vegas. I search and I search, but I elude myself. As I've written before, I'm a slippery bastard.

Every now and then, not as often as I'd like but more often than I'd expect, I find myself in a certain mood. It's the mood I'm in right now.

It's not that I've given up, on this quest for myself. It's not even like I've taken a break. It's more like, like it just slips my mind. Like I forget for a while. I forget, not only that I've changed, but that I exist in the first place.

I'm a disinterested spectator of my own existence.

It's a peaceful mood, but a little boring.

Of course, by writing this entry, I've reminded myself that I don't know who I am anymore. So the search renews. Maybe I'll go out to my garage for a while. There might be storms tonight, and who knows?

Maybe I'm already out there, waiting to be found.

Friday, May 7, 2010
posted by dave at 4:16 AM in category ramblings

This is a snippet from something I wrote a long time ago. I happened to run across it tonight.

I've lost so many dreams.

Too many to count and too many to even estimate. Some, I've let go all on my own, and some I've had ripped away from me while I screamed and clawed and frantically tried with every tiny bit of my being to just hold on for a little bit longer.

Time to wake up, and dream no more.

Monday, May 3, 2010
posted by dave at 1:32 AM in category ramblings

I often feel like I'm repeating myself. This is no great stretch of the imagination, because it's often true.

I often feel like I'm repeating myself. Here, in this blog, I mean. So maybe I've said this before. I could search back through over 3,500 old blog entries and find out, but I won't.

That would be too hard, and stuff.

That's what she said.

Anyway. I didn't want to ramble too much. I only wanted to maybe repeat myself. Maybe.

I never thought much about kids. Not any more than normal. Some people might know that I used to have kids, sort of. They were their mother's kids; I was just a stepfather for a while. They were great kids, and I loved them, but then their mother and I went our separate ways, and after a while I stopped thinking about them. I dunno, maybe it was too painful. Whatever.

My sisters have kids, and I'm not the Uncle Dave I would like to be with them. I was off to a good start, I think, when Dina's first two kids were little. But then they grew up and we grew apart. And Neisha's kids always lived on Mars with their parents. At least, that's the excuse that I use. For not being a better Uncle Dave. Same excuse I use regarding Dina's youngest son.

Things are how they are. Kids exist and I tolerate them and sometimes I like them and I'm almost always at least nice to them.

I never thought much about kids. Until...

Wow, I don't think that I'm really allowed to say. That sucks.

So what I wanted to write about now is that, now, I think about kids. All the time.

I think about a baby girl. A daughter, just like her mother. Full of laughter and sparkles and oh so very beautiful and sweet.

Just like her mother.

Whoever that might be.

It's breaking the unwritten rule, I know. Men are supposed to want a son, especially for their first born. It's been a cliché forever; men want a son first.

Not me.

Maybe it's because I'm old enough to feel that even having one child is a pipe dream. Maybe I realize that one child is, at most, all I could ever have. And, the thing is, if one child is all I can father, I want that child to be a daughter.

Just like her mother.

Whoever that might be. She will be so wonderful, though.

I want that to be my gift, someday, somehow. A beautiful baby girl. The greatest gift that any man could ever give to the woman he loves. And it would never have to be repaid, because we would share the gift with each other.

She will be so wonderful.

Just like her mother.

Often, I feel like I'm repeating myself.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010
posted by dave at 5:38 AM in category ramblings

I don't believe in them. I don't. I can't.

If you believe in one, then you have to believe in the other.

For every child that's born, another is taken in a senseless accident. For every lottery winner, a loving father contracts cancer. For every likeness of Jesus on a piece of toast or in the bark of a tree, an old woman slips and falls in her tub, and dies alone.

Fuck that.

There is no purpose. No divine intervention.

There are no miracles.

But, I wait for one. What form it might take, I don't know.

It will have to be a real doozy.

I wait, because that's all I can do. Hope is beyond me, has been beyond me for a long time, but I can wait.

Just in case. I want to be ready.

Saturday, April 17, 2010
posted by dave at 3:42 AM in category ramblings

It's a very weird feeling. And more than a little unsettling.

I spent all that time wondering what it would take. And now, now that it really finally seems to have happened, my mind has gone idle and stagnant without that all-encompassing question that had replaced the earlier all-encompassing question that had replaced the even earlier all-encompassing question.

There is another, lurking in the shadows of my mind, waiting to take the stage, but it might not ever have its chance.

Because what's a question with an answer?

Not much, that's what.

Q: What am I supposed to do now?

A: Nothing. There's no point.

Friday, April 16, 2010
posted by dave at 4:43 AM in category ramblings

Wow, it's late. Or early. I'm not even sure what to call it. I guess it's late because I haven't slept, but it's early because the Sun will rise soon. It's about perspective, I guess.

Anyway.

I knew this was going to happen. There was zero doubt in my mind. I was going to be told a lie, and I was going to believe it, and then the truth was going to crush me all over again.

What sucks extra hard is that this time, I think, I invited the lie.

Oops.

It's not like I'm perfect, though. Far from it, actually.

I'm living not just one, but two lies right now. Both are lies of omission, but as I've said before, lies of omission are still lies. One is wonderful and selfless, and the other is horrible and selfless, but they're still lies.

I hate liars. So it really sucks that I'm one myself.

How do you say that which needs to be said, knowing that it will destroy?

I don't know. I just don't know. My brilliant plan is to die before I ever confess.

And the other truth? The one that would absolutely fall upon deaf ears?

Why bother?

Because it needs to be said?

Who says so?

Me?

Who the fuck am I?

Tuesday, April 6, 2010
posted by dave at 4:11 AM in category ramblings

People change. They can change and sometimes they do change.

I'm living proof of this. HatGirl is another example.

And this wouldn't even be that much of a change. Just a stripping of some bullshit veneer.

It could happen.

Great, now I have stupid hope again.

Sunday, April 4, 2010
posted by dave at 12:19 AM in category ramblings

Metaphors, similes, analogies. I use them all the time, when I feel like writing here. Part of me just likes to use them. They make me think I'm being a better writer. But another part of me realizes the truth.

I hide behind these constructs. I hide behind them because to do otherwise, like maybe to tell the fucking truth, would be too much.

Too much for me, I mean. You readers are a hardy bunch. And a very patient one.

It was so much easier for me to write about a gorilla, than it was to write that I was in love. It was so much easier to write about a line that we carried with us, than it was to write about how incredibly difficult it was for me to be so close but so far, all the damn time.

It's so much easier for me, right now, to write about this burned bridge, about how the rubble stretches away in front of me, than it is to write that, that, that...

That what?

That the love of my life is no longer the love of my life? That the last six years of my life was for nothing? That the only chance that I have of my life ever seeming worth living is if I never see her or hear from her again? That this is a decision that I've had to make, and a realization that I've had to have, because I've been the only one in a position to do either?

That I was wrong about her. About us?

Fuck that. The light of truth is too bright, sometimes.

That damn bridge. It was shaken and twisted and rocked and rolled, and it got weaker and weaker and weaker and weaker. But it was still there. It fucking stood for something. Something important. Hope, I suppose.

But the final piece of the final beam finally broke, and the entire damn thing collapsed.

And I stand here in shock. I just can't believe that's it's gone. That beautiful destination will forever be unreachable, and maybe, just maybe, it's turned out to be not so beautiful after all.

I'm in a weird mood tonight.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010
posted by dave at 1:52 AM in category ramblings

There's probably nobody on Earth who'd call me innocent. Stupid, perhaps. Naive, certainly. Honest and trustworthy and caring, I like to think. Hopeful and hopeless and stubborn and blind, probably.

But, innocent?

Nope. Not me.

But this wasn't always the case.

I remember when I lost my innocence. Not the exact date and time, but I remember the place and the circumstances.

It was the night that I found out that she was cheating on me. I'd kinda sorta suspected it already, but I hadn't been sure. I was in denial, I suppose, but there was still enough suspicion to lead me to that place at that time on that night.

Shortly before Christmas, in 1986.

That was so long ago. Not just another life ago, but three or fours lives ago. At least.

I don't dwell on this. It's just something I was thinking about tonight. That night, and that girl - they have no impact or bearing on my life these days. Except for how it's a little bit harder to earn my trust, and how it's even harder to get it back once it's gone.

And something would have happened eventually. I would never have held onto my innocence forever. It would have been long gone by now even if that particular night had never happened. Something would have happened to steal my innocence away.

But I can't help but think that it would be nice to have it back. Just for a while. Just for a little while.

To once again look at life through young eyes. To trust. To feel untainted love with a heart that's still pure.

To believe.

Monday, March 29, 2010
posted by dave at 2:38 AM in category ramblings

She's been acting weird lately.

In a good way or in a bad way - I can't say for sure. Mainly because I don't know.

A weird way.

Like suddenly I matter more than I mattered before.

It's about time, I think.

---

I've been having a really tough time lately, with memory.

I find myself thinking that this situation sucks, and I kinda dwell on that fact for hours and hours and hours and hours.

I drink lots of beer.

Then, I remember that this situation was my choice.

Then, I remember why I made that choice.

Then, I decide to stick with that choice.

Only then, for a few precious minutes, and I anything close to okay with this.

The rest of the time I'm barely held together with band-aids and those twisty-wire thingies that come with loaves of sliced bread.

---

I seem to have forgotten what paragraphs are for, or how to use them.

---

Something else is happening. To a friend of mine. Something that I just know is going to end badly. But I cannot warn my friend, because nobody ever fucking listens to me.

Even though I'm right all the time.

All I can do is hope that, when the inevitable pain comes, that she can deal with it, and that she knows that she doesn't have to go through it alone.

---

I've been having these horrible, terrible thoughts. Like daydreams, except that they're more like nightmares.

Is there such a thing as a daynightmare?

Anyway, these little scenarios are fucking horrible, like the worst things that could possibly ever happen, yet in each of them I end up being needed.

So they're like 99.999999% terrible, and .000001% good.

I like to be needed.

I need to be needed.

But not at the prices I keep imagining.

---

Sometimes, I feel guilty.

Like, right now for example.

But what can I do?

Nothing, that's what.

The requisite eyes are not mine. I'm too close.

---

That last bit was a little murky, wasn't it?

Good. That's what I was going for.

Sunday, March 28, 2010
posted by dave at 4:37 AM in category ramblings

I was just thinking back to that night in mid-May, 2007.

It's hard to believe that any human being could be as happy as I was.

My face hurt so much because I couldn't stop smiling. For days and days I couldn't stop smiling.

I could have died on that night, and I would have died an incredibly wonderfully happy man.

But nooooooooooo.

I had to keep living.

It's pretty ironic that, as it turns out, that was the worst night of my life.

Heh, this guy on facebook just asked me if I ever sleep.

Sleep brings dreams, so no thanks, I'll pass.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010
posted by dave at 11:31 PM in category ramblings

I wonder, if I were to write an entry about cynicism, would people doubt my motives?

I'm pretty sure that I would. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I'm doing it right now, as I type this sentence.

It's just something I was thinking about today. I don't want to become one of those people. One of those people who's distrust has become so universal that they can't even trust themselves anymore. I know several people like that. They're not happy people.

I don't want to be like that. Like one of them.

But, problem is, I'm bombarded with selfishness and deceit everywhere I look and everywhere I go.

Lies disguised as kindness.

Cruelty for my own good.

And so on...

It's hard to trust. It really is. To look through the deceptions and beyond the actions and see what a person is really like. To ignore the bumps in the road and remember that it's the destination that's important.

I'm rambling now. I think I'll go sit in my garage. It's a nice night.

Monday, March 22, 2010
posted by dave at 6:02 PM in category ramblings

I could write a bunch of stuff right now. A huge part of me wants, perhaps even needs, to vent a little.

But, I made a promise.

I keep my fucking promises.

Sunday, March 21, 2010
posted by dave at 3:02 AM in category ramblings

Wow, it's late. Time flies, as they say.

I guess it's fortunate timing that I don't really feel like writing, because I'm not sure that there are sufficient words to describe my current mood.

So much potential, pissed away.

A few weeks ago I was numb. That was because it was simply too much to bear, I think.

I'd kinda like to be numb again.

Tomorrow I might get to see HatGirl. I'm holding her car hostage in my garage until I get to see her. It's been a bajillion years.

I'm not looking forward to telling her about Thursday and Friday. She'll be disappointed in me, I know. She warned me that, if I let my guard down, I'd get hurt all over again.

She was right.

I wonder, if she'd given me any inkling that it would be as bad as it turned out to be, if I would have heeded her warning.

Probably not.

Saturday, March 20, 2010
posted by dave at 3:03 AM in category ramblings

There's this old saying that everyone has heard.

I'll paraphrase. "If you don't have anything nice to say, then don't fucking say anything at all."

Well, I don't have anything nice to say.

Don't push it. I'm angry. You won't like me when I'm angry. I know that I don't.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010
posted by dave at 1:44 AM in category ramblings

Okay, I'm in a writey mood tonight. Wonders never cease, huh?

Problem is, I'm also a little bit drunk tonight. A couple glasses of Fat Tire (2246) and a bottle of The Reverend (782) will do that to a person, especially if that person is me.

Sometimes I really hate being such a lightweight.

Anyway...

Looking for inspiration, I did a search of my old blog entries. Bonus points will ensue for anyone who can deduce the two-word phrase for which I searched. Not that it matters. It's all the same. It's always been the same, for six and a half years. And, I fear, it will continue to be the same, for as long as it takes. Either long enough for me to stop breathing, or long enough for me to stop waiting.

Here's one from July 2009. I could have written it yesterday, and it would have fit perfectly:

It's not stupidity that keeps me here. Nope, it's knowing the truth, even when everyone else fails to see it. It's speaking the truth, and living the truth, and waiting for beautiful eyes to open so that I'm not alone any more.

It's not cowardice that keeps me from turning away and facing the unknown. It's that the unknown holds no appeal for me. And why should it? The appeal of the unknown lies in its potential, and I've already found all of the potential I could ever want.

It's not weakness. I'm not here because I'm weak, but because I'm strong. I have persevered when others would have given up. I have pushed forward when others would have faltered. Time after time I have exposed my heart to the daggers of reality and, though I've been stabbed, I've never given up and I've never cowered and I've never ran away. I've been right here all this time.

And it's not insanity. Step inside me and look through my eyes. See what I see. Feel with my heart the things that I feel. Use my lips to speak, and use my ears to listen to the words fighting to be heard. Reach out with my hand and touch what I touch, and feel the tingling of a million touches yet to come. This is all very real.

It's not stupidity, or cowardice, or weakness, or insanity. It's something else.

I know what it is. So far, I'm the only one who really knows what it is. What it's like. What it means. What it portends.

So far, I'm the only one who really gets it.

But eventually, there'll be another.

Beautiful eyes will open, and they will see me, right where I've been all along.

A couple of months later, I wrote the following. Again, this post is timeless. I wish that it wasn't, but it is:
I can forgive a lot of things. I have forgiven a lot of things. More than anyone else would have forgiven.

But this?

How the fuck am I supposed to forgive this and still manage to maintain some semblance of dignity?

I am not a doormat, though I've played one in the past, when it seemed that a doormat was needed.

I did what was necessary, or at least what seemed necessary at the time, not because of what those things were, but because of who needed them.

Because of who needed me.

And I liked it. Loved it, even. I lived for those opportunities.

And now?

Summary dismissal.

Of whatever the fuck you want to call it. Friendship? Something more? Something less? Something else?

I don't care what you call it. Just pick something. And don't say nothing. Don't you fucking dare say nothing.

We may no longer exist, but I still do exist. Barely.

And what's left of me deserves more than this. Even the worst person on Earth would deserve more than this.

More than nothing.

I'm 45 years old now. As much as that sucks, it's the truth. So now, by any and every reasonable expectation, I'm halfway through my life, maybe a tad more.

What's the point of another 45 years?

This question is both serious and rhetorical.

I don't know the answer. I used to know it, but I was wrong.

I was so fucking wrong. I bet my life, and I lost the bet. I risked it all, and I lost it all.

So what's the point of another 45 years? What's the point, dare I ask, of another 45 seconds?

Monday, March 15, 2010
posted by dave at 6:47 PM in category ramblings

So, in his mind, did we lie to him as he wept from the thought of missing me? Did we only say what needed to be said, regardless of the truth, to ease his pain? Did we pat him on the back, and tell him what he wanted to hear, only so that we ourselves would feel better?

Or is he smart enough and mature enough to know that sometimes things aren't black and white? That one day's truth can be another day's mistake? That good intentions are not always enough?

I hope for the latter, yet fear the former with all my heart.

posted by dave at 12:01 AM in category ramblings

The words are still there, you know. Inside me. Straining to be set free. Yearning to serve their only purpose. To be heard.

Slamming into walls that I've slapped together. Testing. Practicing. Staying ready. Staying patient.

How much would it cost me, I wonder, to just let them out? So many would tell me - have told me - that I have nothing to lose. Nothing left to lose.

But what would the words say? Would their screams be in joy or in sorrow or in anger? Or, perhaps, a mixture of all three? I know only that they would be loud; beyond that I cannot predict. These words, they reside in my heart, not my brain, and my heart is a mystery even to me, these days.

To be so wonderfully right, and so incredibly wrong, about the only thing that has ever mattered to me. It's a wonder that I'm not crazy. Not really crazy, I mean. Oh, I have my moments when people might fling that label at me to see if it sticks, but I know better.

Can the truth ever be crazy?

Perhaps I, too, simply landed too soon.

Thursday, March 11, 2010
posted by dave at 1:17 AM in category ramblings

As I've written before, I've heard that most people don't dream in color. As I've written before, I do dream in color, and I always have as far as I can tell.

Sight, even colored sight, is nothing to me, in my dreams. It's no big deal at all.

But, to have a dream so powerful, so real, that I can touch it, and smell it, and taste it?

I've been dreaming for a very long time.

Jostle me, holler at me. Scream "wake up" until your lungs bleed. I never want to wake up. Never. I would rather die.

Because sometimes, maybe once in a bazillion years, a dream will come true.

I'll take my chances.

So there.

Friday, February 26, 2010
posted by dave at 3:27 PM in category ramblings

So, this is what I wrote. One of the last things I wrote, will ever write. I'm not in the habit of making private conversations public, but I'm going to make an exception in this case. I hope that those of you who might choose to be cruel will read this, and know that it's the truth, and know that there is no cause for cruelty.

Most of the time, I'm very grateful. I got to feel something that a lot of people never get to feel. And I got to be important to you, albeit for a relatively brief time. Most of the time, I know that I'll be eternally grateful for all of this. So many people are zombies, or clueless. I'm neither, and that's all been because of you.
I wrote that as this ride of ours coasted to a stop. It was a fantastic ride. Scary and exhilarating. I wish it could have gone on forever. But, it didn't.

Thursday, February 18, 2010
posted by dave at 7:43 PM in category ramblings

If I would just write. I mean really write. I know I could accomplish something with it. Even if the something was nothing more than the long overdue clearing of my head and my heart. These thoughts grown stale. These feelings wilted from lack of nourishment.

I can still do it, you know. I can still let my fingers tap-tap-tap away on my keyboard and watch words appear on my screen. I'm doing it right now, actually. But these words aren't me. These words are just shadows of who and what I am. My tap-tap-tapping fingers force the words into the light, and they disappear.

Where do shadows go when the light shines?

And what's left behind, when the shadows are gone?

Wednesday, February 10, 2010
posted by dave at 12:48 AM in category ramblings

I can't help but wonder. Just like you, my dear readers, can't help but wonder.

So what if we wonder about different things? We're still in this boat together, in a way. There is a difference, though. You can always jump ship, but I cannot. I'm the fucking captain, for better or for worse. I'll go down with this ship, or I'll keep it afloat and bring it into port. Time will tell, I guess.

I mean, you wonder about how long I can keep writing about the same old thing, the same old crap.

I, meanwhile, wonder about other things.

Like, tonight, exactly who am I even writing about?

The lying bitch who used me and then tossed me aside? Or maybe the sweet girl who felt genuine affection for me, only to have it evaporate before it could solidify? Was I a victim of indescribable cruelty, or were we victims of timing?

I wish that I knew. I really do. It would/should/could make all the difference in the world. To walk, or to run, or perhaps to stand my ground, at least a little longer...

I don't even write here anymore. Not because I don't need to write, or even because I don't want to write. I don't write because, what would I say? What good would it do? What would be the point?

I constantly look for the words to say to make everything right. I've been looking for so long. I'm convinced that the words exist. Such is my delusion, perhaps, but also such is my salvation.

I'm still met with disbelief, after all this time - and I meet it with my own disbelief.

Excuses after excuses, but never a reason.

Unnecessary.

Did I need a reason?

Nope.

So why should I expect one in return?

Answer: I shouldn't.

But, I do.

Something that I can believe. Something that's not clearly made-up bullshit. Something that's more than just an excuse.

Dammit.

So there.

Sunday, February 7, 2010
posted by dave at 3:01 AM in category ramblings

It felt like I'd forgotten to wear pants.

It was Wednesday, I think. I was sitting in the throne at Rich O's. Or somebody was sitting there. I'm not convinced that it was me, despite numerous testimonies.

It was like one of those dreams. You're at school and everything is cool and then you notice that you're not wearing any pants.

I'd definitely forgotten something. Where was it? What was it?

Then, Thursday night, it felt like I had an itch. One I couldn't scratch. Not one of those annoying itches in the middle of your back that you can't reach, but deeper. Under the skin. In my heart or my brain or my soul - I couldn't pin it down. It was an irritating itch, but it wasn't unbearable.

Dammit, it should have been unbearable.

I'm not really sure what's happening.

HatGirl thinks I'm being stoic. But it's not that. It's something else. I'm something else.

Tonight was another weird night. I knew exactly what I was supposed to be feeling, but I couldn't quite get there. I was a needle on a record player, running parallel to the music but never quite in the right groove.

I hope I haven't become a pod person. I hate pod people.

Monday, January 4, 2010
posted by dave at 2:45 AM in category ramblings

I got some sleep. About four hours before my phone woo-hooed me awake. And then work called with some minor crisis. Better than no sleep, which is what I got Saturday night. I was so sad Saturday night. I made quite a spectacle of myself, I'm sure. Saying my goodbyes to everyone and everything that matters to me. Clinging to HatGirl and LaptopGirl as if my life depended on being with them. Which it does.

See, when I left for Washington in November, I suspected that it would be tough. But Saturday night, as I prepared to return for another month, I knew what it meant. There was no doubt. No hope.

But then there was a screw-up, and I didn't have to leave Sunday morning after all. I got myself an extra day. Not that I did much with it. Sat around dreading the feeling of isolation that was waiting for me in Bellingham, as far away from here as you can get, and still be in the continental U.S.

I leave for the airport in an hour and a half. Then ninety minutes to Chicago, then four hours to Seattle, then two hours driving to Bellingham. Each minute and each mile it will get worse and worse.

People try to help. They really do, and I really appreciate it, sometimes. They tell me to use my trip as an opportunity. To get better. To realize that I can, once again, enjoy my own company. But they don't understand. I don't want help. I need to miss them. I need to have a reason to come back, to get up in the mornings, to keep breathing.

People don't want me to be sad anymore. I don't know if it's so they'll feel more comfortable around me, or because of guilt, or out of genuine concern. It's probably a combination of those things. But they don't understand. It's not about the sadness. It's about the love. The sadness is a side-effect, thrust upon me by these circumstances. But it's not what's important. It's not what I cling to.

To get rid of the sadness, I'd have to get rid of the love. And that can't be done. Not by me. Every time I've tried, it's felt like I was putting a gun to my head, about to pull the trigger. This is so much a part of me, and has been for so long, that to end it would be to end everything that matters to me. It would be suicide.

Now, I fully support a person's right to end their own life on their own terms, but it's not for me. So I can't. I won't. Instead, I'll suffer. It's what I do. It's all I can do, for now. For the next month.

After that, who knows?

Friday, January 1, 2010
posted by dave at 1:41 AM in category ramblings

You know what's funny? Or maybe not funny, but I call it funny because it keeps my wrists intact and my brains inside my skull?

It's always the same thing. Every year on this date, I try to do one thing and I end up doing another. I try to reflect on the year's events, and I end up having a séance of sorts.

Well, except for last year. But last year was special.

Tonight, I spent midnight alone. After last year, I really and truly thought that I would never be alone again on New Year's Eve. But, I was.

Oh, well, right?

This year, instead of the usual fifteen minutes, I was outside for an hour and a half. Well, it was an eventful year, you might think.

Wrong.

Not about 2009 being eventful, but about that having anything at all to do with my being outside for seventy-five minutes longer than usual.

What went wrong? What went right? What progress was made? What setbacks were encountered?

How can I do better, in 2010? How can I be worthy, in 2010?

Hi! How are you? I miss you.

The year 2009 saw lots of things. But they're all irrelevant. All except for one thing. One person.

I didn't want to have a séance this year. But, I expected it to happen.

And, it did.

Funny, right?

Thursday, December 31, 2009
posted by dave at 4:13 AM in category ramblings

Too many excuses. I'd say that there are a million of them, but I've already been called on using that number too often. It's just another excuse. So, instead, I'll say lots.

And when one or two or a hundred are disproved, there are scores more waiting to take their place. Or, even easier, memory becomes conveniently optional.

I'm supposed to be having fun. Everything is supposed to be a lark.

Tra-la-la-la-la-la-fucking-la.

But it doesn't work that way. Not for me.

For me, this is too important to take lightly. It's my life after all. The only one I have.

And this, this whatever-it-is that keeps me going. I don't even know what to call it sometimes. Stupid hope is usually the term that I employ.

But is hope ever really stupid?

Everyone On Earth tells me that it is, in this particular case. That doesn't make them right.

This is hurting nobody except myself. It's my choice, and I do choose it. Choice is something I didn't have for a very long time, but now I do. Now I have a choice and nothing else has changed.

Anyway, in a little less than 20 hours, this year will end for me. This year in which everything fell apart. This year in which everything continues to fall apart. Constantly crumbling into smaller and smaller pieces.

I can't fucking wait for this year to end.

posted by dave at 3:41 AM in category ramblings

This really blows. But you already knew that, didn't you?

Again, why are you here?

Oh, because you're stupid, that's why.

I almost forgot who I was talking to.

posted by dave at 3:39 AM in category ramblings

I'm not really sure what my mood is. I mean, I'm angry, but it kinda feels normal. Like this is how I'm supposed to feel.

Angry, and a little sad.

It feels like the real me.

Also, I seriously doubt that I'll sleep at all tonight.

Also, I should just stay home tomorrow night. No good would be served by my presence anywhere else. I think that's been proven enough times.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009
posted by dave at 1:22 PM in category ramblings

No, I really haven't abandoned this journal. No, I'm not dead. No, I'm not in prison.

I guess it's just the same old same old. The things I want to write, I can't. The things I don't want to write? Well, I don't.

This too, shall pass. Eventually one dam or another will break, and everything will start pouring onto my keyboard again.

But, for now, here's an entry from July 2007.

I've decided to try an experiment. I'm just going to type. Whatever comes into my head, I'm going to let it flow out through my fingers.

I don't expect this to be anything good. Or interesting. I suppose that I do expect it to be real, though. And that's gotta be worth something.

I'm a sucker for tears from a woman. Wait, that doesn't sound quite right. Because the word sucker implies that I'm being deceived. That I'm being naive. And I'm not. At least usually I'm not. Usually the tears are real.

They cut right through me. Make me want to drop everything else in my life and do something, anything to help make the tears stop. Even if I don't have a fucking clue what I should do or say, the need to do or say something is almost overwhelming.

That's pretty normal, I think. To want to help someone in need.

But then there's the other thing. The realization that something special is happening. The realization that I'm seeing a girl at her most open and honest, and that she feels comfortable enough to share that kind of intimacy with me. It makes me feel a little bit special, and a part of me actually wishes that it would continue for a while longer, so I could feel special for a while longer.

If I could somehow milk the tears. Control their pace and their ferocity to something manageable. Ride that wave for as long as I can, and carry the intimacy that we're sharing along for the ride.

I think that tears are a lot like orgasms. A woman is never more real to me than when she's crying, or when she's climaxing. At those times, she's her most primal self. Her most authentic self. No bullshit. No games. No doubts. Just her. The real her, and she's sharing it with me, of all people.

I want to help. I really do. To turn my back would be just incredibly selfish, and that's one thing I'm not. But what if I can't help? What if I shouldn't help? I mean, maybe I'm just supposed to listen. Maybe I'm just supposed to be there for her, offer a shoulder to lean on, lend an ear, say a kind word every now and then.

I want to help, I really do. But if I can't, if I shouldn't, then I'd still want to be there. I'd still want to share that intimacy. I'd still want to feel special for a while.

I don't think that makes me selfish. I think that makes me human.

Human. Imagine that.

Saturday, December 19, 2009
posted by dave at 12:33 AM in category ramblings

...41 to go.

I know what's supposed to have happened by now. I get the emails. I get the texts. Questions, and reasonable questions all. I don't ignore them, even if I don't reply.

There are, despite the platitude, such things as stupid questions. Undeserving of an answer.

But I'm feeling cooperative tonight, so what the fuck?

What was supposed to have happened follows.

---

Wow, a little over a month by myself. With zero hope for a respite, for another forty-one days. With nothing to anticipate, for another forty-one days. That's what it took. When willpower wouldn't suffice, and when intelligence wouldn't further, and when experience wouldn't ease, a month alone has finally accomplished.

I'm not going to sit here, in my hotel room late on a Friday night, and write that I was stupid, or ignorant, or blind, or unrealistic. Perhaps I was all of those things, but I'm not going to admit to any of those shortcomings.

I'm going to admit to one thing. One and only one thing, which should excuse everything I've said and done and felt, and everything for which I've hoped and yearned and waited, for the last six years.

If only people would have believed me.

I was in love. Absolutely and beyond a shadow of a doubt, I was in love.

Now, the use of the past tense in that last sentence is interesting, to say the least. It hurt my brain to write that sentence. It hurt my heart even more.

But I'll survive. It seems that I always survive, even when I don't particularly want to do so.

Thirty-two days. That cured me. Who would have predicted that?

Besides Everyone On Earth, I mean.

---

Maybe that would be nice. Maybe you people could move on, go about your lives. Maybe I should lie.

But I won't.

I'm likening this to some books I've read which were written by prisoners. Incarcerated and isolated bodies and souls, forced to look inward for entertainment. Face to face with themselves. Finding themselves. Finally emerging better than when they went in.

That was supposed to happen to me. Everyone On Earth thought it would happen.

But I won't lie. I didn't expect it to happen, and it didn't happen. Not to me. Not to what's left of me, I mean.

I haven't found myself at all. For a simple reason. I'm not here in Northwestern Washington.

I'm almost two-thousand miles away. I'm in Southern Indiana. I'm with her.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009
posted by dave at 10:49 PM in category ramblings

...45 to go.

Today was a bad day. Not that they're not all bad, but today was especially so.

Abandoned by one, or maybe two. Ignored by both, certainly. Real or imagined transgressions have made me the way I am tonight. Alone. Physically and mentally and chronologically and emotionally.

I'll get over it, most likely. I always do. I always forgive.

But what if I don't want to forgive?

Huh?

What if I want to stay angry? Can I force that particular emotion upon myself when other, less selfish emotions, constantly claw and climb their way towards the surface of my mind? Can anger be strong enough to defend its position? It's never been strong enough before; that's for sure.

This bullshit I use instead of a life would be a lot more bearable if I could stay angry. At the lies. At the teasings. At the broken promises, both implicit and explicit.

I keep waiting, expecting even, for something to push me over the edge. To make forgiveness impossible, even for me, of all people. It's going to happen. Eventually.

I can't fucking wait.

I've always wondered what I would write if I were to give up.

Soon, perhaps, I'll find out. Soon, perhaps, we'll all find out.

Sunday, December 13, 2009
posted by dave at 1:18 AM in category ramblings

I watch it happen, because that's all I can do. I cannot stop it, and I cannot slow it, and I cannot...

Uncoiling, unraveling, falling, piling in a haphazard tangle at my feet. The contents of me, the essence of me, they spill like...

I watch, because that's all I can do. And because it's what I must do.

Something has gone terribly wrong.

I die, but I live.

Why? To witness? To pay homage? To...

Saturday, December 12, 2009
posted by dave at 11:12 PM in category ramblings

49 to go...

Almost.

That's the word I kept telling myself tonight. Over and over and over until I started to actually believe it.

Almost bearable.

See, I know who I am, and what I do. When I'm being myself, I sit at a bar, and I drink, and I think, and I smoke.

Last night, and tonight, I got to do all four things at the same time.

Washington, like most places these days, has an anti-smoking law in place. But Washington, perhaps unlike most places, also has Indian casinos in place. That's what they call them. Indian casinos. Not native-American casinos. Politically incorrect, maybe, but it's certainly their choice. They can call the things whatever they want.

Anyway, as near as I can figure it, these places and the reservations which contain them are not considered to be part of the United States. That's why the anti-smoking laws don't apply to them.

So tonight and last night I got to be more like myself than at any other time since I came to Bellingham.

It was almost bearable.

I'm 1954 - I looked it up - miles from home and from my life. I miss my friends and my family and my cats. I miss some people - they know who they are - more than I'd thought possible. More than is appropriate and more than I'm allowed. But even more than that, I've missed myself. Tonight and last night I found myself for a while.

All is certainly not perfect. I still search for that elusive writey mood. I dig around in my brain and my heart, my fingers grabbing and grasping at anything and everything. But when I pull my prizes into the light to examine them, they're never quite what I'm looking for.

I have so much to say. Too much to say, perhaps.

It sometimes seems that I'm needed the most when I'm unavailable. I was afraid this would happen. I even knew this would happen eventually, if I was gone long enough. Well, I've been gone long enough. And I'm needed. But I cannot help.

I'm too far away.

Friday, December 11, 2009
posted by dave at 10:17 PM in category ramblings

...50 to go.

I keep waiting, expecting, hoping to get into a proper mood. A writey mood, I call it. I doubt that's really a word, but I don't care. I'm going to use it anyway. It fits, and shit.

Besides, every word in existence was coined at some point.

But anyway, the writey mood eludes me. It's a slippery bastard.

---

It's all such bullshit. I've been told a thousand lies. A million lies. I want the truth. But nobody knows the truth. Not even the liars.

The truth, it's also a slippery bastard.

I get so sick of people tiptoeing around me. Treating me with kid gloves. Beating around the goddamn bush. Fucking protecting my feelings.

It's all such bullshit.

My feelings are nothing but scar-tissue. They're fucking indestructible.

---

Even now, even after everything, I don't matter even to myself. I will not, can not, put myself first. Second, maybe, but not first. Not before her. Or them. Whatever.

---

It was a horrible idea. I wanted it so much, but I wanted it for the wrong reason. So now, now I get to be alone over the holidays. I get to feel sorry for myself.

All will be as it should be.

---

This is my fault. I'm the one who messed up. I'm the one who can't or won't face reality.

Sunday, December 6, 2009
posted by dave at 10:31 PM in category ramblings

Maybe they're really nothing. Nothing at all. Not leftovers of a reality almost gone. Not even echoes of a reality gone for months. And not even inklings of a future promised yet denied.

Maybe they're nothing.

Nothing at all.

Perhaps it's all in my head. Perhaps that's where it's always been. Perhaps that would make the most sense. Perhaps that would explain everything, to everyone but me.

---

He screams and he moans and he groans. Sometimes, he cries. His agony is as unimaginable as it is inevitable.

He will not die. He will not starve and he will not drown and he will not suffocate and he will not take his own life. He suffers and he endures.

Somehow, he survives.

I pity him, and I admire him. I worship him.

---

People like to spout platitudes to me. It makes them feel wiser and therefore superior to me. One such platitude is, "God will never give you more than you can handle."

My response to that is, "Tell that to my friend WomanRepellant."

---

They're not leftovers and they're not echoes and they're not inklings. What the fuck are they?

Seriously, I want to know. I need to know.

I fucking deserve to know.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009
posted by dave at 11:31 AM in category ramblings

This is my 14th day here. I guess the newness is really starting to wear off now. I’m feeling more and more homesick with each passing day. Some people told me that it would get easier. That I would get used to it. Some people were wrong. This sucks.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have managed to enjoy myself, just not as often as I’d have liked. Going down to Kent this past weekend was a lot of fun. It was really great to see some of my old friends and visit some of my old haunts. I’ve really missed living there, even more than I thought.

I’ve noticed that I don’t like to write anymore. It always seems like such a chore. And when I do manage to bang out some sentences, nothing flows. Nothing has rhythm. This is especially true when I try to write about the mundane events of my days and nights. So I don’t write about those things. I hardly write about anything.

It’s all I can do to keep from packing up my stuff and flying home. Is this job worth it? I haven’t seen her for over two weeks. And it’s going to be another two months. How am I supposed to function with that knowledge constantly beating away inside my head? Breathing is a chore, and yet I’m expected to work, eat, sleep?

I just don’t know.

Who am I going to be when I finally return home? Will anyone even recognize me? Will I recognize myself?

Friday, November 6, 2009
posted by dave at 1:31 AM in category ramblings

It's gotten so bad that HatGirl is actually rooting for me to leave. To move away, or at least to find work elsewhere for a while. To just get away from all this pain. No matter how much she would miss me, she still says I should leave.

"It would do you good," she says.

Wrong.

There is no getting away. Physically, sure. That would be fairly simple. But emotionally, not so much. This is where I belong. This is where I am, and this is where I'll stay, no matter how far away my body might happen to be. I could travel to the ends of the Earth, and it would do me no good at all, because I couldn't take my heart with me.

So we have a disagreement, HatGirl and I. Even though she's very smart, there are some things that she just doesn't get. This problem that I have, it's not going to be solved by running away. It's not a physical entity from which I can hide. Nope, this is something that, if it's ever going to get better, it's going to have to happen right here.

Not that I expect anything to get better. I fully expect that this is going to kill me eventually. But, at least here, I have a fighting chance. At least here, I can be strong and brave. At least here, I can stand my ground.

I look death in the eye, and it doesn't blink. I wait for the killing blow, and it doesn't come.

What is it waiting for?

Tuesday, November 3, 2009
posted by dave at 7:21 AM in category ramblings

Records from that time are so spotty, and they're spread out all over the place. It took a lot of work, and a lot of memory, to accurately piece together those events.

May 12, 2007. The happiest day of my life, up to that point. After I got home, I sat on my swing until the Sun rose, my face cramping so much from smiling that I nearly cried from the pain. Not that anyone would have noticed. I was already laughing from being so happy, and in the dark it's hard to tell the difference.

I've been happy since, certainly. There have even been times when I've been happier than I was on that Spring day, nearly two and a half years ago. But that day will always be special to me, because it was so pure.

So much has happened since then. It's so hard, sometimes, to maintain the proper perspective on things. But I try. I really do try. I think about that wonderful night, reliving as well as I can the joy and the relief and the hope. Remembering what it was like to feel all those things again, after all those months that they'd lain dormant.

I've said before that I died on October 9th, 2004. Well, on May 12, 2007, I finally lived again.

I need to remember that. I am still alive.

Monday, November 2, 2009
posted by dave at 10:10 AM in category ramblings

My schedule, such as it is, has blurred together. It's now as meaningless as it is fluid. Night and day are just words, abstractions, faint memories, and nothing more.

The dark of night and the light of day have formed gray, as they always do. Gray is okay. I'm used to gray. It's the brightness of the light and the mysteries of the dark that bother me. Frighten me.

Am I tired right now because I'm actually tired, or merely because I feel that I should be tired?

I could ask myself the same question regarding every feeling that I've had lately.

Sunday, November 1, 2009
posted by dave at 10:23 AM in category ramblings

I've mentioned before about how I like to go back and read my old entries. It's always interesting to see what's changed, and it's even more interesting to see what's the same. Plus, sometimes I find stuff that manages to remind me that I'm quite capable of being a pretty decent writer. When I want to be and/or when I've had enough to drink.

June of 2006 was a good writing-month for me. The following is one of my favorites from then. Except that the wall is now more of just a line in the sand.

"You're a fucking dumbass," I said.

"What are you bitching about now?" I asked.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, you stupid fuck, " I answered.

"Well, how about you pretend that I don't know, and you explain it to me."

"Okay fine." I paused for effect. "You had hope just now. Don't even fucking try to deny it. That person just walked in the door and you had hope that it would be her."

"Bullshit," I said.

"C'mon, I was right here," I said. "I know that you had hope."

"What if I did?" I asked defensively. "Besides, it was only for a second."

"I can't believe how stupid you are." I was getting frustrated. "How many times do you have to be hurt before you give up this bullshit?"

"It's not bullshit," I protested. "It's perfectly normal for me to miss a friend, and to hope to see that friend again."

"You forget who you're talking to," I said. "I'm the one person you cannot fool."

"I'm not trying to fool anyone. You're just being paranoid."

"Paranoid?" I was incredulous. "You think I'm paranoid, you dumb fuck?"

"That's exactly what I think," I said. "You forget that things have changed. I've managed to separate things in my head. I want to see my friend, that's all."

"Save that bullshit for your 'blog," I said. "Like I said, you cannot fool me."

"You suck," I responded. "You suck, and I don't have to listen to you if I don't want to."

"You are such a stubborn asshole," I said. "Fine, but let me ask you something."

"What?" I asked confidently.

"You say that you miss your friend, and that's all that you miss?" I asked.

"That's right," I responded.

"Well," I continued, "What about the potential for something else? What about the potential that you saw in the two of you as a couple? What about the potential that you saw in her as a person?"

"That's all in the past," I said uneasily. I was beginning to get an idea of what would come next.

"Oh, is it really?" I asked. "You don't miss that potential at all?"

"Um, well I guess I'll always miss that," I answered. "At some level at least."

"You try so hard to sound like you've got your shit together," I said.

"Hey," I protested. "I am a lot better than I was. Why are you being such a dick?"

"Because I'm sick of your bullshit," I answered. "That, plus I might be the only person on Earth that cares about you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," I pointed out. "I was in an actual good mood for once, and you had to go and ruin it."

"You idiot," I said. "You've actually managed to forget about it, haven't you?"

"Forget about what?" I asked.

"About The Wall," was all I needed to say.

I went numb for a precious second. "You asshole," I said as the pain came rushing back to me. "Why did you have to remind me? Why couldn't you just let me be content for a while?"

"Because contentedness is dangerous for you," I said. "You can't handle being content, and you always look for something more."

"And what's wrong with that?" I asked, though I knew what the answer would be.

"What's wrong with that, you dumb fuck, is that you always look for the same thing. Over and over and over and over. And you're never going to find it."

"Because of The Wall," I admitted.

"Right. Because of The Wall," I answered. "All of that potential that you saw - it's unreachable to you now. You've got to come to grips with that fact."

"You know," I countered. "I wasn't thinking about that stuff at all, before you butted in. I just missed my friend. You could have left me alone."

I sighed. I'd hoped that it wouldn't come to this. "Okay," I said. "I'll make you a deal. Let me ask you one more question, and if you answer it honestly and still want me to leave you alone, then I will."

"Great," I answered. "Ask your fucking question."

"Okay, here goes." This was going to be hard for me to ask, I knew that it would be exponentially tougher for him to answer. "Right now, you realize that all of that potential is something that you'll never see realized. Right now, you know it like you've never known it before. My question is this: Without that potential, with nothing except the opportunity for what you once had, and nothing more, ever, are you sure that you want to see her walk through that door?"

I knew what I was supposed to say. I sure as fuck knew what I wanted to say. But I decided, for some reason that escapes me now as I tell this story, I decided to answer the question honestly.

"If you put it like that," I responded, "then the answer is no. To simply go back to what there was would be impossible. It would hurt too much. I'd rather have nothing than try to go back to that while knowing that there would never be anything more."

"Thank you for your honesty," I said gently. "And now, as I promised, I'll leave you alone if that's your wish. You can hope and dream all you want, and I won't interrupt you again."

"That's okay," I said. "You can stay for a while if you want."

"Thank you," I answered. "Let's have a beer together, and let's miss her for a while."

"Sounds good," I accepted. "I'll try not to have any hope this time."

"I know you'll try," I said. "And if you slip up, I'll be right here for you. To smack you down once again."

I allowed myself a smile. "You're an asshole, you know?" I said.

"Yes I am," I conceded. "But at least I'm not a fucking dumbass."

"Maybe that's why we make such a good team," I ventured.

"Cheers!" we said in unison, as our glasses clinked together.

posted by dave at 1:07 AM in category ramblings

Look, I'm really flattered. Again. Really. And even a little bit tempted.

But, I'm not like that, and if you knew me at all you'd know that I'm not like that. It's perfectly normal for you to assume that I'm like every other guy on Earth, but I'm not, and I find it a little insulting when that assumption is made and made and made and made. There has to be a possibility of a future and, for us, there is none.

---

And you. I don't even know where to start. I've never known where to start.

Who are you? Do the girl I see, and the girl you are, do they have anything in common at all?

And who the fuck am I?

I keep finding myself wishing, more and more often lately, not that you would start, but that I would stop. This is a fucking huge shift, and I'm still trying to come to grips with it. My entire sense of self has blurred.

Friday, October 30, 2009
posted by dave at 7:56 AM in category ramblings

I'll probably try to go to sleep again in a few minutes. I don't expect much success, though. I find myself back in the same pattern I was in several months ago. Two hours, maybe three if I'm lucky, and then I'm wide awake again. I think I've averaged about two hours per night for the last week. Maybe four hours per night for the past two weeks. I slept really well on a couch a couple of weeks ago. I think that was the last time I slept well.

The main difference, this time around, is that I don't know what keeps waking me up. If there are bad dreams, they're evaporating as soon as they've done their damage. Maybe I don't need to have those bad dreams anymore. Nothing has changed, after all, from when I hit rock-bottom back in May. Maybe those dreams are implied, and so they don't need to actually appear.

And I feel okay, I suppose. I'm not constantly exhausted like I should be. Maybe I'm getting used to this, finally.

All of the days and nights are blurring together. They have no meaning to me anymore, for the most part. Oh, sometimes they matter. Last night mattered for a while, until it reverted to just another night. I'm disappointed about that, even though I knew it was a real long-shot. Stupid hope may be stupid, but it's better than nothing, and it still stings when it's dashed. Still reminds me that I'm alive.

And I think Wednesday night was pretty fun, or maybe it was Tuesday. I wish I knew for sure about that one. For a few seconds there, I was smarter than OddlyFamiliarGirl, and that almost never happens.

In nine days I get to leave and maybe enjoy myself for a while. At least that's the plan. I've been afraid that I'll get this damn swine flu and have to cancel my trip. Or, even worse, I could get sick while I'm in Las Vegas. That would really suck.

I suppose, for the sake of completeness, I should say that there's a chance that I'm not coming back. It's not a big chance, but it's greater than zero.

Hmmm, I feel really tired right now. It's probably a false alarm, but I've got to try to sleep.

Thursday, October 29, 2009
posted by dave at 11:48 PM in category drink, ramblings, weather

It's such a nice night outside. It's warm, I mean. So even though the predicted thunderstorms look like they're a no-go, it's still nice.

I'm going to go out to my garage, and sit on my el-cheapo white plastic furniture, and drink at least one yummy Marzen, and I'm going to try to get out of this damn writey mood that I'm in.

How do I do that?

Well, I allow myself to be overwhelmed. So that thoughts refuse to line up like baby ducks. So that my mind is awash and aswarm with thousands of conflicting thoughts and emotions. So that I couldn't pick a single tree out of that forest if my life depended on it.

I make no promises, though. I might be able to keep my big fat mouth shut, or I might not.

There are things that I need to say, dammit. There are things that need to be said, dammit. There are thoughts that need to be expressed, dammit.

There are dragons that need to be slain, dammit, or at least acknowledged.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009
posted by dave at 6:52 PM in category ramblings

If I was Catholic, I think it would be funny to do that cross-myself thing whenever I was about to do something scary or stressful. I see baseball players do it all the time when they step up to the plate.

Or if I had asthma, I could use my inhaler thingy at those same times. I guess I could get one of those inhaler thingies even though I don't have asthma. For comedic effect.

Or maybe if I was a voodoo priest, I could sacrifice a chicken. But it would be a big hassle to always have to carry around live chickens.

Anyway, I'm not pushing my luck tonight. I'm going to Bearno's instead. It sucks and it's LOUD there, but at least it's not haunted, except by SneakyGirl, and her ghost isn't scary.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009
posted by dave at 2:55 AM in category ramblings

I thought I'd try to write for a bit before I tried to sleep. Some people probably think I'm just avoiding the inevitable insomnia, and maybe that's part of it, but I also feel like I've been a big fat slacker when it comes to this journal lately.

My brain is pretty tired, so I'm just going to let my fingers type for me. They usually do a better job than my brain, anyway.

People ask me stuff. The same things over and over and over and over. Typical questions include, "Are you fucking retarded or something?" and the ever-popular, "Why?" and the rhetorical, "Really?"

No, I don't think so. But if I were, would I realize it?

I'll get to that.

Yes, really.

Wow, I just caught myself reading what I'd already written. I'm not supposed to do that. It only complicates things when I let my brain get involved. Sometimes my brain doesn't like what my fingers have written and then they get into a big fight about it. It's not pretty.

The problem I've always had with the Why? question has been that I must be psychic. But I can't tell people that because then all they do is revert back to the Are you fucking retarded or something? question and it becomes an ugly loop.

How does anyone know the reason for anything? I mean the reason that they do something or think something or say something or feel something. A lot of the time life seems, to me, to be a series of after-the-fact vindications. I'm smoking a cigarette because I lit it. I lit it because I bought it earlier. I bought it because I was running low. I was running low because I'd smoked most of the previous pack. And so on and so on.

I'm smoking this cigarette because I was born. There, you happy now, or should I go further?

I'm smoking this cigarette because the Big Bang happened.

Whoa, I seem to have gone a little off-track.

I did that because of the Big Bang, too.

Vindication is what I was going to write about. I was going to use it in a sentence, as in: I don't fucking know why, okay, but everything I've learned in the past six years has provided vindication.

So there.

Nothing has proven me wrong, and so that means that I've been right. And, because I was right when I had absolutely no reason to even form an opinion, let alone the right one, then I must be psychic.

Not retarded.

Why is the sky blue? Why is the sun hot? Why is water wet? Why is grass green? Why her? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Just because, that's why.

Sunday, October 25, 2009
posted by dave at 6:12 PM in category ramblings

The question of what I'll be doing tonight - it didn't even need to be asked. I'm going to miss her. I just am. I can feel myself hurtling towards stage one at breakneck speed. Before too long, I'm going to hit that wall, and I'm going to lie in a heap for a while.

The only question I have is where I'll be doing this. Either here at home, or maybe at Bearno's, or maybe at Jack's. I should go to Jack's, but I doubt that I will. That place is becoming haunted, and I'm not sure that I need any more ghosts right now. Maybe I'll go if OddlyFamiliarGirl wants to go.

But I'm not complaining. I've been so spoiled these last few days. I got to spend a lot of time with HatGirl Saturday night, and today SneakyGirl paid me a surprise visit. Hell, even LaptopGirl herself managed to communicate with me a couple of times.

So, I'm not complaining. There's a price that I have to pay for daring to be happy, even if that happiness is in scattered bits and tiny pieces and fleeeting moments. And that price, I'm hurtling towards it.

Tonight, I will miss her. Tonight, I will be back where I belong, in a heap at the base of a wall that I can never seem to break through.

posted by dave at 4:14 PM in category ramblings

I've been trying to figure out just what, if anything, he was trying to accomplish by telling me. Perhaps I was supposed to be scared away. Perhaps I was supposed to get angry. Perhaps I'm supposed to care.

But I wasn't. And I didn't. And I don't.

Or maybe it was to ease some guilty feelings. Not for what had happened, but for the secrecy that had followed. If so, then guilt was unnecessary, and there's nothing for me to forgive.

In truth, I'd suspected it for years. After all, why should he be different than just about every other guy? I know that I, given the opportunity, would have jumped at it.

Oh, wait. I was given the opportunity, more than once, and I decided to be a nice guy instead of just a guy. I decided to do what was right instead of what was expected. But, of course, my circumstances have always been different, and so I have always been different.

Anyway, this thing, this thing that may or may not have been revealed in order to anger or sadden me, or to unburden a chest, it was a long time ago.

And, like I said, I don't care. It changes nothing.

Saturday, October 24, 2009
posted by dave at 12:56 AM in category ramblings

It's instinctive, of course, but that doesn't make it boring or robotic. Instincts are translated to thoughts and emotions by our brains, and so everything makes perfect sense and it makes us feel like we're in control of things.

I don't have any kids, that lived, that I know of, so maybe I'm not the right person to be spouting any words, let alone advice, about parenting.

But, it's my blog, and I'm not forcing anyone to read it.

We want to shelter our children in their own little Garden of Eden for as long as we can, so that they can stay innocent for as long as they can. We feed them, clothe them, protect them. We teach them about all of the wonderful and amazing things that the world has to offer, and we watch in awe as they learn and embrace the truths that we show them. But the bad things, we hide the bad things from them. So that they won't find out. Not yet, anyway. We don't tell them that, while the world is full of love and wonders, it is also full of fear and pain.

There are terrible things in this world.

But I'm not one of them.

I said that I'd understand, and I do understand.

But I don't agree. Not at all.

Friday, October 23, 2009
posted by dave at 4:43 PM in category ramblings

So many times, I've thought it might be the last time. Not every time, but often enough. Too often, I mean.

It wasn't always like that. There were good times, lots of good times. There were nights that would end with the certainly that there'd be another day. On those nights, I slept well. I miss those nights, that confidence that I had, that it would continue for at least another day. That maybe it would continue forever.

The last time wasn't one of the good ones. The last time, like so many other times before, I heard the voice inside my head. "This could be the last time," it whispered.

"Make it last," it advised.

"Remember this," it urged.

"Never let go," it pleaded.

I didn't want to let go, not ever. I wanted to have and to hold and to protect and to cherish, but mostly I wanted to hold. To just hold on to, well, everything that matters to me.

But I didn't. I let go. I released my grip, and I let my arms fall back to my sides.

I wonder, Was that the last time?

posted by dave at 4:49 AM in category ramblings

This entry is mistitled. I'm not even close to being drunk. Oh well, can't be helped now. I've already typed the title.

Well my plan of just sitting in my garage and drinking didn't work out. I got through a bottle of Barfly and then, when I'd had just a couple sips of a second bottle's pouring, my phone rang.

What followed was pretty much the exact opposite of sitting in my garage by myself.

Anyway, it was a good night. Not because of the way it turned out, but I guess because of the way I managed to hold myself together long enough to be useful. And, not only that, I also got to say some things that I'd really needed to say.

See, just like everyone else, there are reasons for my being the way that I am. Reasons besides pure insanity, I mean.

And we certainly had a good example of insanity tonight, didn't we?

But I digress.

The reasons almost always exist, even if they're not known. I, for example, still have no idea what reason(s) there might have been for what happened to me a little over six years ago. But I do know, boy do I fucking know, why I hit rock-bottom a few months ago, and why I'm still down here, wallowing in the muck and the mud of my own misery.

Tonight, I got to state those reasons. So that made it a good night. Even if nothing else had happened, I was able to finally unburden myself a little. And I didn't get any back-talk. That really meant a lot to me.

And I was able to stand up for myself a little. By stating the simple truth that I don't know if things between us can ever work. It seems to me that we tried to make it work, for a long time, and it seems to me that we failed.

That I failed, I mean.

I don't know if we broke up or not. Definitions will vary, as will intentions. And results are unknowable at this time. It certainly felt like a break-up to me.

But I'll tell you something: If it was a break-up, then it was at least a proper one. Finally.

Thursday, October 22, 2009
posted by dave at 3:08 AM in category drink, ramblings

So, there is a very real chance that I'm drunk right now. But that's okay. It's 3:07 AM on a Thursday morning. I'm safely at home, where I plan to stay for the next several hours and/or days and/or weeks and/or months, at least until I become sober again. I am no menace to either myself or to society.

And besides, it's not even my fault at all that I'm maybe possibly drunk. And it's not even OddlyFamiliarGirl's fault, even though before her kind invitation I'd been planning to go to sleep at 7:00 or so, and after her kind invitation I ended up having a nice Marzen (16022) and a nice Urbock (437) while at Rich O's.

It is, of course, LaptopGirl's fault. Who's else would it be? She is, after all, the root of all evil and the fountain of all goodness in my life. Why shouldn't she also be in charge of my drunkenness or lack thereof?

So I ended up buying a bottle of Avery Reverend to take home with me, and then, because of the aforementioned you-know-who, I ended up drinking the damn thing (716) while I glared at my phone and replied to emails and strived to remain useful whilst I died inside.

I will be fair, though. I will share the blame. It was me who poured the beer from the bottle into the glass, and it was me who then poured the beer from the glass into my mouth.

Did you ever wish that water wasn't wet? Or that the sky wasn't blue? Or that the Sun wasn't hot and bright?

Or that love wasn't real?

Anyway, it just doesn't fucking matter. None of it does. I can no more take my heart back now than I could have resisted giving it away so long ago. It no longer belongs to me, and it never will again.

And the truth is that I like this mood I'm in right now. I'm fucking focused, after all. The universe, and the room, and the inside of my skull - these things are all quite blurry and wavy, but everything that matters is still in perfect focus.

I'm in love with her.

So there.

A lot of the fucking time, I wish that I wasn't in love with her.

So there again. Take that.

But wishes are as useful in my life as, as they say, screen doors on a submarine.

I sit here and I sit there and I sit wherever I might happen to be sitting, and I wish and I wish and I wish and I wish, and then on the good nights I wish no more, because I realize that it's a waste of time and effort.

Things are the way that they are. Things aren't the way that they aren't. Not a single thing that I do or say or think or feel will ever change anything, because it's not up to me, and it never has been up to me.

I did not lie.

Not even once.

Not even a little bit.

Lot of good that did me.

So there.

Sunday, October 18, 2009
posted by dave at 7:37 PM in category ramblings

I ran across this old entry, from March of 2006. It amazes me how little has changed over the years.

The nice thing about this is that it's giving me something to think about, but the bad thing about this is that it's giving me something to think about.

Too many things, actually.

My mind is aswarm with thoughts, my heart is teeming with feelings, all with their own agendas. Some will merge for a brief time, join forces in fierce battle against their enemies, swear allegiance to false alliances, but all the while only truly working toward their own vision of an idealized conclusion.

Others are adversaries from the start. Like dogs and cats, like Arabs and Jews, they are born into this war which began long ago and which will continue long after these individual skirmishes and battles and betrayals have become nothing more than forgotten footnotes in a history book.

And the individual combatants, so full of resolve and so possessed of purpose, they will become nothing more than patches of ground where the flowers, nourished by the blood-soaked earth, grow vibrant and strong.

And me?

Well, I'm Mars, The God of War.

posted by dave at 3:05 AM in category ramblings

And so, now I'm back. Where I belong.

Where breaths are lies, because I don't want to take them.

Where heartbeats do nothing more than mark wasted time.

Where moods and thoughts and musings are nothing more than faint textures fumblingly etched onto a terrible canvas.

Where I hold my tongue, as much as I can, because I cannot scream and because screaming is all that would be worthy. Where it doesn't make sense. Where there's no explanation. Where I can't be trusted.

Where it's all just too weird.

Where I pretend, all the time, that I'm moving toward something or away from something, but where I'm really just standing still. Rooted in this here and this now and this what and this why. Because there's nowhere else to go, and because there's nowhere else I want to be.

Where I belong.

Where I miss her.

I've been sleeping a lot lately. At least twelve hours every day. I've been dreaming a lot.

Goodnight, cruel world.

Thursday, October 15, 2009
posted by dave at 11:57 PM in category movies, quiz, ramblings

I haven't done one of these in a while. Probably because it's a hassle.















Apologies for my voice being so rough. I might be sick. I haven't decided yet.

And, upon watching the video, I saw that I'd said MisunderstoodGirl when I meant to say MixedSignalGirl. Not that I don't also miss MisunderstoodGirl, it's just that she's not one of the first people who came to mind.

Saturday, October 10, 2009
posted by dave at 4:43 PM in category ramblings

I'm sure that every who knows me would shake their head in some assholish combination of pity and disappointment over what I did late Friday night.

But, Oh well.

How could I refuse?

Answer: I couldn't fucking refuse.

And it's okay. It really is. I feel better now, because I got an explanation of sorts, for the way I've been treated lately. One that I can actually believe, if you can believe that. I needed that explanation even more than I thought. I needed it more than I needed to breathe.

And it's also okay because I got to be useful again, albeit for just one night.

Not that kind of night, you perverts!

And all that stuff about getting to be a part of her life again, and getting to be a part of the kid's life again?

Well, I knew it was bullshit all along, as it was being said, and she would have known it too, had she been sober.

I don't pity myself over what I did, and I'm not disappointed in myself. And I'm neither disappointed nor surprised over how it turned out. And my opinion is the only one that really matters in this case, so the rest of you can go tsk tsk over someone else.

Thursday, October 8, 2009
posted by dave at 11:33 AM in category ramblings

So.

One week. Seven days. One hundred sixty-eight hours.

How could I up and disappear like that? How could I be so insensitive? Don't I know that I have readers?

Yeah, well, my readers will just have to deal with it. It happened, and it's ongoing, despite any evidence this entry may present to the contrary.

Anyway.

It just wasn't working. Too many temptations. Too many reminders. Too many opportunities. For self-pity, and failure, and stupidity.

My life was broken.

So the first thing I did was send an email. One that was long-overdue.

After that, I stopped.

I stopped as much as I could. I stopped going to facebook, lest I be reminded. I stopped going to Rich O's for the same reason, and also so that I wouldn't be coerced. I stopped drinking, hoping that I wouldn't get into one of those moods. I stopped writing here, so I wouldn't be tempted to scream.

I stopped all of these things, and more, in an effort to...

I don't really know.

Not to forget, that's for sure. I'll never forget, no matter how badly I want to.

Not to get on with my life. There's no point to that. Humpty Dumpty cannot be reassembled.

Not to get over it. There's no way I'll ever get over it as long as I know that, the next time I see her face, or hear her voice, or even the next time I get an inane email or text message, it will all come rushing back.

I guess, if I have to give a reason, I guess I'm just tired.

Monday, September 28, 2009
posted by dave at 4:02 PM in category ramblings

I wish...

And then my mind just sort of trails off.

I don't know how to finish that thought. Not anymore. I don't know what I wish. What I want. I used to know exactly what I wanted.

I guess...

For this to end, one way or another, that would be nice. But how?

To stop being toyed with, to stop being tortured, those things would fantastic. But I don't really see those things ever happening. There may be some sick pleasure involved, some twisted motive that I could never understand.

Or maybe...

Just maybe there's still something good, and it will eventually make itself known.

Meanwhile...

I wait. For what, I have no idea. Not anymore.

posted by dave at 1:11 AM in category ramblings

Once or twice or a million times every week - it used to be much more often - I get the urge to say something. To initiate communication.

I don't do it, though, not anymore. I resist those urges, with whatever amount of effort is required at that particular time.

I have my reasons.

My feelings had become unwanted background noise to every word I said. Always inferred even when not consciously implied, even when explicitly dismissed.

I think that the thing I wanted to say, when I first had this thought earlier tonight, is that I haven't gone anywhere. But that wouldn't be quite true.

The truth is, I have moved.

But I've moved only as far as I've been pushed, and not one inch farther.

I'm still here, dammit.

Just one the other side of this damn line in the sand. Wishing that I knew what had happened. Wondering what would happen if I took a step forward.

Sunday, September 27, 2009
posted by dave at 1:38 AM in category ramblings

Maybe I'll just repost old shit today. I feel like posting thing, but not like writing things. Because writing would be, like, hard and stuff. Plus, I've got some stuff I want to say that probably wouldn't be appreciated, so I'm keeping myself in-check.

Anyway, I'd forgotten that I'd even wrote this entry, back in 2006. It's a little negative, but that's how I rolled back then. Now, of course, I'm not like that at all. Now, I shit flowers.

Meanwhile, I'm tired.

---

Anyway, I've been sick for a few days. Nothing major as it turns out. Just a bit of a fever. I missed a couple of days of work, but that was mostly because I didn't want to infect everyone there. If I'd had the plague, as I'd originally feared, and I'd infected someone at work and they'd subsequently died - well I could kiss my annual performance bonus goodbye.

A while ago I was at SassyGirl's going away party, and at one point I found myself out on her deck with a bunch of kids. Teenagers mostly, though a couple of them might have been in their early 20s.

I found myself all alone with these kids because everyone else, everyone I knew and might have had at least one single solitary thing in common with, they had all taken off to pull some chick's car out of a ditch or something.

I don't remember what we were originally talking about. Probably something stupid. But at one point some of the kids started rambling on and on and on about their various thoughts about love. Such as they were.

Each time one of them would finish making a statement that they thought was profound, all of the kids would look at me. I guess because I was twice as old as any of them, they had subconsciously chosen me as some kind of spiritual leader. Their love coach, if you will.

I think I spent most of the time rolling my eyes.

Kids are so stupid.

Or maybe naive is a better word. Yes, I think it is.

Kids are so fucking naive.

With their fucking hopes and their dreams and their stupid ideals, it's really a wonder that they've managed to live for as long as they have. I mean, most of them seem to think that they can fly. It's truly miraculous that the ground isn't littered with broken bodies.*

I think back to when I was that age. No way was I that fucking stupid. By the time I'd graduated high school, life had already been feeding me shit sandwiches for years. By the time my marriage had ended, I'd learned to enjoy the damn things. By the time LaptopGirl moved away, I craved them like they were manna from Heaven.

But those kids, those kids on that deck that night, there was not a single one of them possessed of a single clue about what love is all about.

Like I said, I spent most of that time on that deck just rolling my eyes. But at one point I did speak up. At one point the drivel being vomited out of a young mouth was just too much to take. At one point I saw the opportunity to say something worthwhile. I took that opportunity. All eyes were upon me. I'd been drinking. One of the girls was hot so I wanted to seem especially wise.

There are very few truly evil people in the world, I said. And, chances are, none of us have ever met any of them, or dated them, or given our virginity to them. But we're still fooled into seeing evil where it doesn't exist. This is a defense mechanism, invented by our hearts and backed-up by our brains. By demonizing those who have hurt us, we further isolate ourselves from the cold harsh reality of life. The reality that we will be hurt, time and time again. By good people. By people who are just like us. When we slap an "evil" label on someone who's hurt us, we fool ourselves into believing that it was a rare event. An anomaly. That it won't happen again, or at least not with the same intensity.

You kids sit here talking about the secrets of love like you've got it them all figured out. Well, you don't. You're not even close. Give yourselves another twenty years and maybe, just maybe, you'll start to develop a clue.

I've lived those twenty years. I've started to sense the clue. I don't have it all figured out yet, but I'm a fuck of a lot closer than you kids are.

Love is about pain, and about learning to accept and rise above and maybe even appreciate that pain.

As long as we can love, we can hurt. As long as we can live, we can love.

And the sad fact is that it hurts to love. Sometimes it hurts a lot. Deal with it. Accept it. Embrace it.

It's still better than the alternative.

* - If you took those last two sentences literally, then you are an idiot and you should go kill yourself now before you pass on your idiot genes to the next generation. If you've already managed to find someone as stupid as you to procreate with then you should probably kill your offspring first.

Saturday, September 26, 2009
posted by dave at 3:01 PM in category ramblings

Here's another dog-themed entry. Damn, this one was written in November 2004, about a month after I died.

---

When I was a kid, maybe eight or nine years old, the neighbors across the street had this dog for a while.

The dog would bark constantly, and Mr. Hill would beat the dog. Then the dog would start yelping, and Mr. Hill would beat the dog some more.

I couldn't do anything about it (I was just a kid after all) but I do remember that somebody called the police one time and eventually somebody came and took the dog away.

One thing that's really vivid in my memory is that, even though Mr. Hill would beat the dog nearly every day, the dog would still get all excited and happy when Mr. Hill came home from work. He'd wag his tail so hard his whole body shook, and jump up against the truck door. He just couldn't wait for Mr. Hill to pay attention to him.

The dog had to know that he was going to be abused, but he didn't care. He still loved Mr. Hill and he seemed ever-hopeful that things would be different this time.

I remember hoping that the dog would fight back someday. Perhaps growl at Mr. Hill or maybe even bite him, but he never did.

That abuse was the only attention the dog ever got, and I supposed he had decided, in his little doggy mind, that if his purpose in life was to be a punching bag for Mr. Hill, then so be it. He'd be the bestest, most loyalest punching bag ever!

Even though I thought I understood what was going on in the dog's mind, I still thought it was pretty stupid. I knew I'd never let somebody abuse me like that. I knew I was smarter than a dog, after all!

Even if I can't fight back, I'm at least smart enough to run away.

Eventually.

posted by dave at 10:57 AM in category ramblings

So here's an entry from almost three years ago. I like to repost these old entries. For one thing, they help to squelch those who doubt me when I say how long this has been going on. For another thing, they keep me from having to write anything new.

Today I'm contemplating a last-minute trip. To where, I don't know. What I do know is that, if I had any brains, I'd go somewhere fast, and if I had any balls I'd stay put and not be so damn afraid.

Another thing I know is that, if I wasn't so fucking tempted to stay, then I wouldn't want to leave.

---

My grandmother used to have this little Pekinese dog. She had several of them over the years, actually. I don't know what this one particular dog's name was. It might have been Raindrop. I know there was a Raindrop at some point during my childhood.

One thing about this dog was that it was ugly. But that should go without saying. All Pekinese dogs are ugly with their squashed faces and their stubby legs and their weird compact torsos. Selective breeding gone horribly awry.

Another thing about this one particular dog was that it was terrified of storms. But not petrified. Whatever the opposite of petrified would be. Maybe frantic with fear.

Whenever thunder would rumble, this dog would start running. My grandmother's house was a big circle. The dog would run from the kitchen to the laundry room to the bedroom to the foyer to the living room to the kitchen - on and on and on until the thunder stopped. That dog, with it ugly little tongue hanging out of its ugly face, that dog would run that circuit nonstop until the storm had passed.

Unless somebody messed up and opened the kitchen door.

When that happened, somebody - usually me - would have to go out into the storm and chase the stupid little thing down.

It was amazing how fast those stubby little legs could propel that dog.

This past weekend I went driving. A lot. And I thought about that dog and how it would run and run without ever getting anywhere. How it would run for the simple reason that it was too terrified to stay where it was.

I wondered if I was doing the same thing. And not just with the driving around. With all of my traveling, and with all of my life, I wondered if what I was really doing was running.

Maybe.

And if I am, then that begs the question of whether I'm running from something that I cannot escape, or running toward a destination that I cannot see.

How badly am I fooling myself?

Am I as stupid as that ugly little dog, running simply because it's the only thing I can do?

Thursday, September 24, 2009
posted by dave at 8:02 AM in category ramblings

Here's what I wrote three years ago on this date. Back then, it was only the second anniversary of the day I stopped fighting. So today, it's the fifth.

The minutes take eternities to pass, but somehow the years rush by.

Two years have passed in the blink of a teary eye.

I never thought it would happen. I fought for so long, I convinced myself that I was winning. I faked a smile for so long, I convinced myself that I was happy. I fell for so long, I convinced myself that I was flying.

I never thought it would happen. I never thought it could happen.

But it did.

Splat!

My world still reverberates from the force of that impact.

I don't want to say any more.

I've already said too much, yet I could never never never say enough.

Those two words would lead to those three words would lead to a billion more words, and still it would not be enough.

I was right.

It was never enough.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009
posted by dave at 12:43 PM in category ramblings

The problem, or one of the problems, or the biggest problem, is that there are too many thoughts.

Oh, how I long for the days when a million thoughts would chase each other around inside my skull, like some bizarre merry-go-round, never ending. Never getting anywhere, but at least moving.

Now, not so much. Too many thoughts, competing against each other for attention and precious time, and my mind has ground to a halt.

Monday, September 21, 2009
posted by dave at 12:07 PM in category ramblings

I didn't really forget the anniversary. I only forgot the actual date of the thing. It's been on my mind for weeks, if not months. I really thought it was tomorrow. But it wasn't tomorrow, it was last Tuesday.

Oops.

I'd thought that I'd write about this. Maybe tell the story of that night. I dunno, maybe I still will. It's a good story, I think, even though the ending wasn't particularly happy. But I'm not going to write that story right now. Nope, right now, I'm going to make you people read two entries I wrote last year. Two days, and five days, after that night.

Maybe these two entries are enough. Maybe there's no need to tell the story.

everything

Well, I did it.

I said the most important words I've ever said, to the most wonderful person I've ever known.

I told her everything. Ev. Rey. Thing.

And now...

I just don't know.

I've got nothing left. I've done all I can do. I've said all I can say.

Maybe I've ruined everything. But if I did, at least it was with the truth. If those words turn out to be my final words to her*, then it's fitting that they were also the most important. The most real.

And the most overdue. Mustn't forget that.

---

It's so tempting to stop now. Writing. Talking. Communicating in any way with anyone at all.

It all seems so trivial to me now.

Lesser purposes and all that...

* - They were not.

I remember how I felt when I wrote that. An incredible feeling of relief accompanied with an almost overwhelming feeling of dread. I hardly wrote anything else until Saturday night, when I once again scribbled into my notebook.

dilemma

Sitting at Rich O's, at night. Stupid, I know. I was going to sit over on the weirdo Sportstime side, but they were packed. Over here, at least I'm able to sit.

Anyway, I kinda feel like I should be writing something about some thoughts that have been rattling around in the dark places inside my head. Thoughts that will neither go away nor venture into the light. Because these thoughts have never been fully illuminated, I fear that this entry will probably be disjointed crap. This is in contrast to my usual drivel, which is at least somewhat jointed, and sometimes it's not even crap. You have been warned.

---

The thing is, I only meant to make a statement. To finally get the entire truth out there. I'd say something like laying all my cards on the table, but this is no fucking game to me.

I realized that I was taking a very serious risk, but frankly, at the time, I didn't feel like I had much left to lose. I was rapidly dying anyway. So it was, at least partly, an act of desperation on my part, the statement that I made. I guess I wanted my dying words to mean something. More than that, I wanted them to be heard. And they were. They certainly were.

But all along, from the time I started considering it, through the time I was saying it, and even during the conversation that ensued, it was always a statement. Telling the truth, and nothing else.

It was never a question.

It was certainly never a request.

So why, I wonder, why do I wait so impatiently for an answer to a question I never asked?

Why, I wonder, do I long for a response to a request I never made?

This is my dilemma.

I could have asked the question, but the question wasn't the point. The statement was the point. Besides, deep down I knew that I wasn't ready for the pain that the answer might bring. I could have even made the request, but it would have been ludicrous to do so, without the answer to the question. I may be insane, but I'm not that insane.

The statement leads to the question leads to the request. That's just the way it works. And I stopped at the statement. I stopped myself, or she stopped me. I don't know. All I know is that I did stop, rather abruptly. Jarringly, you might say.

Which was fine with me. That had been my plan, such as it was, when I started. But I screwed up. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was distracted, after all.

See, I didn't need to ask the question, and I didn't need to make the request.

They were implied. Or inferred. Whatever.

And so, now I wait. For an answer to a question I never quite asked, and for a response to a request I never quite made.

This is my dilemma. This is my life.

And you know, that was my life for the next several months. And they were the most wonderful and the most horrible months of my life. And I still feel like I'm waiting, but no longer for an answer or for a response. Now, I'm waiting for a release, and that's something that I can only get from myself.

I'm not there yet, not to that point where I can turn my back on this. At best, I sometimes manage to feel oddly detached. At worst, I miss her so much I can't think of anything else and I'm lucky that breaths and heartbeats don't require conscious effort.

Most of the time I'm somewhere in the middle. Sad, but resigned.

I suppose that's normal.

Monday, September 14, 2009
posted by dave at 8:43 PM in category ramblings

I have this thought, or this theme of interrelated thoughts - something like that - which find its way into the front of my brain every now and then. When there's time. When it sees an opening, a break in the nearly constant barrage of thoughts regarding you-know-who and you-know-what.

It goes like this:

There's something there. Really and truly, and weirdly and unexpectedly, and sneakily and secretly, and wonderfully and scarily, there's something there.
And it's different than it was before. It's based on something now. On what exactly I have no idea, but it's something. Something real, and something born of knowledge and intimacy instead of instinct and intuition.

I like it. Nothing will ever come of it, but I like it anyway.

posted by dave at 10:35 AM in category ramblings

In an effort to keep my slackage from reaching epic proportions, I will now attempt an entry. I don't have a topic in mind, though, so I make no claims as to the readability or interestingness of this entry.

I'm still muddling through, trying to make some sense out of things. Coming up with excuses, basically, for the ways I've been treated and for the ways I've reacted. Sometimes the excuses I make up persist for a while, and sometimes they don't.

I keep trying to manufacture some kind of perception wherein everybody gets to be a good person. I used to try to make it so everybody could get along. I've stopped trying to do that. It was never going to work when I was the only one trying. I'm afraid that the good-person thing is going to fail as well. There's very little recent evidence to back up that particular claim.

I can probably still make it so everybody doesn't hate each other. Maybe.

Damn. It's been two months, as of today.

Sunday, September 13, 2009
posted by dave at 2:01 AM in category ramblings

There are things! And they're happening!

Yay!

That's just about all I can say.

But I wonder, I can't help but wonder, even though I know it's stupid to wonder.

Am I finally awake, or have I merely shifted to a new dream?

Saturday, September 12, 2009
posted by dave at 7:15 PM in category ramblings

What was I supposed to feel, four hours ago?

I ask because it's become quite clear to me that what I actually feel - this is so irrelevant that I'm the only one who even notices it anymore. And even that's only barely.

I ask what I was supposed to feel, because I have no idea.

Relieved? Irritated? Hopeful? Hopeless? Frustrated? Loving? Useful? Useless? Guilty? Happy? Sad? Nostalgic?

Tell me what I was supposed to feel. Is it the same thing as yesterday, when almost the exact same fucking thing happened?

And, while you're at it, tell me what I'm supposed feel right now. Now that it's been four hours.

I go hours and days and weeks. In the past, I've gone months and years. Four hours certainly used to be something, but now it's nothing nothing nothing nothing.

Tell me.

Better yet, reach inside me and place the proper emotions into those empty places wherever you see fit.

My vote, if I'm allowed a vote, is for irritated. I was having a nice afternoon with HatGirl, and the woo-hoos of my phone were a distraction. Ironically, the lack of woo-hoos right now is proving to be a distraction from breathing. But I've been wrong before. I'm probably supposed to be feeling something else entirely.

Tell me what that was supposed to accomplish, and I'll do my best to comply. I've got nothing better to do, after all.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009
posted by dave at 11:35 PM in category ramblings

I can forgive a lot of things. I have forgiven a lot of things. More than anyone else would have forgiven.

But this?

How the fuck am I supposed to forgive this and still manage to maintain some semblance of dignity?

I am not a doormat, though I've played one in the past, when it seemed that a doormat was needed.

I did what was necessary, or at least what seemed necessary at the time, not because of what those things were, but because of who needed them.

Because of who needed me.

And I liked it. Loved it, even. I lived for those opportunities.

And now?

Summary dismissal.

Of whatever the fuck you want to call it. Friendship? Something more? Something less? Something else?

I don't care what you call it. Just pick something. And don't say nothing. Don't you fucking dare say nothing.

We may no longer exist, but I still do exist. Barely.

And what's left of me deserves more than this. Even the worst person on Earth would deserve more than this.

More than nothing.

Thursday, September 3, 2009
posted by dave at 3:37 PM in category ramblings

I'm leaving in 20 minutes. I hope to get my hairs cut today. I also hope to beat the rain that's looming. This all got me to thinking (uh-oh) about timing. It really is everything, like I keep saying.

A couple of years ago, the car carrying my nephew and his friends, and another vehicle, had the worst timing possible. If the speed of either vehicle had been different by even one mile-per-hour, what was a tragedy would have only been a close call. If either vehicle's speed had been ten miles-per-hour different, it would have been a non-event.

Unbelievably bad timing,is what that was.

In February, StupidGirl asked me to move to Las Vegas. It was a very sweet and kind offer. But I didn't go. I didn't go, because I had a relationship here in Indiana that was very important to me, and also because I had a job here. Now, I know, I also had friends and family and a house and blah blah blah, but the reasons I stayed were because of LaptopGirl and, to a much lesser extent, my job.

Two months later, my job was gone, and so was my relationship. Both had gone the way of the dodo. And StupidGirl had gone and got herself a shiny new boyfriend.

So that was certainly crappy timing. Nowhere near as crappy as the timing that my nephew and his friends experienced, but crappy nonetheless.

I could list a billion examples. Like how I met MixedSignalGirl because a deer ran in front of her car just when I happened to be driving behind her. Or how I found RockGirl because the "random journal" button at journalspace.com took me to her journal. Or how StupidGirl just happened to be on the rag and be my waitress on the same night.

Anyway, speaking of timing, I've got to go now. Maybe I'll finish this entry later.

posted by dave at 7:16 AM in category ramblings

(This is a repost from 2006. I'm too tired to come up with anything new this morning.)

---

I hate it when my most recent entry sucks, so I'm writing this one which hopefully sucks less.

Somebody last night - I think it was one of the PBDs in a moment of alcohol-induced pseudo-wisdom, made the following observation:

You should just follow your heart, and do the right thing.
This advice was not directed specifically at me, as my own heart and I are no longer on speaking terms, but rather at the entire group of us gathered there at the island.

Head started to nod up and down in unison like commuters on a bumpy bus ride - imagery which looks much better in my head than it does on my screen.

Such a sage suggestion! Such worldly wisdom! Such axiomatic advice!

Such babbling bullshit!

I had to put a stop to it before people started getting whiplash.

"But what if following your heart and doing what's right are mutually exclusive?" I offered. "Remember that hearts are stupid and selfish. It's very rare for them to be right about anything. What if you're always finding yourself being forced to choose between following your heart and doing what's right?"

That stopped the bobbing.

"Well then that's pretty fucked-up," someone responded.

Indeed.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009
posted by dave at 8:51 PM in category ramblings

I can sense the eyes upon me sometimes. Looking for what, I don't know. Hoping for what, I don't know. Dreading what, I don't know. I really don't know much, it seems, but I do know that I can sense the eyes upon me sometimes, and I relish those times because (a) it's contact of a sort, and (b) it's all I have.

Anyway, I'm in a good mood again. Two nights in a row. Weird.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009
posted by dave at 10:38 PM in category ramblings

I take part of that back.

There are, actually, two people who I desperately want to understand me.

One of those people already does. And the fact that she lives over 700 miles away, and the fact that I've never met her - those truths change nothing.

There's another person who I wish would understand me. She doesn't. She probably never will. There's too much distrust, for some stupid reason that's out of my control. I plan to continue to live despite this. So there.

posted by dave at 10:12 PM in category ramblings

I think what I want to say right now is that it's okay that people don't get me. Fuck, half the time I don't even get myself.

If I try to be totally objective about things, then I decide that I'm a dumbass. That's one reason that I try to stay subjective.

I'd rather be a loser than a dumbass.

None of this is for me, and it never has been for me. If people would understand that, then they would understand 99.99999% of me.

I'm not holding my breath though. Partly because I can't hold my breath that long, but mostly because I don't care if people understand me or not.

It is what it is. It has been what it has been. It will be what it will be.

If you can take those last three sentences and not infer any meaning beyond what was written, then (a) I applaud you, and (b) Stick close to me - I may need someone to back me up at some point.

Tonight, I'm in an almost perfect mood. In love with being in love, and neither dashed hopes nor destroyed expectations can change that.

At least, not tonight.

I will feel what I feel.

So there.

posted by dave at 12:47 PM in category ramblings

I like it when I can just let my fingers fly and then I look at the screen and it's actual words and sentences and paragraphs. And sometimes those things even manage to dance well together, forming a sort of stage-show portraying my current thoughts and/or feelings and/or whatever.

This is not one of those times. This time, my words and sentences and paragraphs and all have palsy really bad, and they're just sort of twitching.

What's going to piss me off, I think, is when everything that everyone warned me about turns out to be true. My life will become a cacophony of I-told-you-so and You-should-have-listened and You-fucking-dumbass. I don't expect it to be very much fun. It's already started, and it already sucks.

Just because something turns out to be true, that doesn't mean that it was true all along. I think I've written about this before. Like, if I were to announce that I will win the lottery, and then I do win the lottery, that doesn't mean I was right with my prediction. It only means that I got lucky. This is kinda the same deal.

I don't care what people have said to me about this. I didn't want to hear about it then, and I don't want to hear about it now, and I definitely won't want to hear about it in the future.

Monday, August 31, 2009
posted by dave at 11:50 AM in category ramblings

First, some snippets from a February entry:

It changes a man, to see a beautiful face distorted by pain. To see it over and over and over and over and over. To stand helpless and watch the tears flow.

To watch a wonderful soul harden, and to feel your own soul harden with it. Not from pity or compassion or even love, but simply because your souls are irrevocably bound.

This morning I was thinking about that time of my life, just before my 43rd year ended. Just before, as it turned out, a lot of things ended.

I failed her so badly. I failed myself so badly.

And my punishment for that failure is severe, but I deserve so much worse.

Friday, August 28, 2009
posted by dave at 3:38 PM in category ramblings

You either do it or not. There is no try. It's either there or it's not.

It's never off in the distance somewhere, so you can see it coming. Nobody ever says, "I don't trust you right now, but next Tuesday should be great."

Trying to trust is like trying to fly. No matter how fast you flap your arms, you're not going anywhere. And you look like an idiot.

It's one of the easiest things to lose, and one of the toughest things to get back.

Sometimes trust can be regained, but it will do so in its own sweet time. Don't bother trying to rush it, you'll only make things worse. Same thing with trying to use guilt.

It can't be reasoned into existence, either, because it's a heart thing, not a brain thing.

Oh, and everything I said about trust also counts for forgiveness.

Thursday, August 27, 2009
posted by dave at 8:34 PM in category ramblings

Over the last several months, it has come to my attention numerous times, that I should have accepted the fucking offer.

Heh, the fucking offer. That's some funny shit, right there.

But, I didn't. Then, I didn't again. And, finally, I didn't again.

I think that's the correct count of the times I started out being a good guy and ended up being a dumbass.

And, after each episode of retardation, I resolved that the next time it would happen, and then I'd be able to deal with the consequences easier because I'd be wearing a big goofy grin on my face.

But, it never did happen. This was never about that, though. Not for me. There were bigger fish to fry and all that.

But, I ask myself over and over and over and over and over, since when did my desires matter?

Yep, I definitely should have accepted the fucking offer. Every time it was made.

It would have been good.

And now that my entire life has been reduced to nothing more than a series of memories, it would be cool to have those particular memories in my head.

Man, I was such a dumbass. A good guy, but a dumbass nonetheless.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009
posted by dave at 1:30 PM in category ramblings

I wonder what I would write, if I were to write anything relevant.

I dunno.

First thing I'd need to do, before I let myself get anywhere near my computer, would be to figure out exactly why I was writing in the first place. I mean, would it be something that I needed to write, lest the pressure of not writing explode me. or would it just me something that I wanted to write, in which case who the fuck cares what I want?

I can resist the latter urge. I usually resist it, anyway. But I'm not so sure about the former stuff. I don't have much success with suppressing my needs, unless you count when I bury them in metaphors and such.

I'm bored right now, in case you didn't guess that already.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009
posted by dave at 7:56 PM in category ramblings


Okay, now I'm not only reposting entries from years ago, now I'm reposting an entry from fucking July. And it was a repost to begin with.

This is what's become of me.

Anyway, I like this entry, and the one contained therein. And I was thinking about this stuff tonight, so there.

---

It's just a brief downward flicker, most of the time. A few inches. But enough for me to notice, and enough for her to notice, should she happen to be looking. So far, I think I've caught it in time. Caught myself in time.

Eyes to lips. Just a few inches of smooth skin, down a cheek, along the ridge of a nose. Physically, that distance is very small, but emotionally, it's vast.

Eyes may welcome and engage, but lips, they beckon.

---

Speaking of lips, I like this old entry from 2007:

I'm not really sure which was the first. I've got it narrowed down to two girls, two occasions, but the passage of time has blurred my memory to the point where I can no longer be certain about the order of things. Like, I'm pretty sure that I kissed both those girls after that comet killed all the dinosaurs, but I wouldn't want to bet anything substantial on it.

So I don't remember which was my first real kiss. But I do remember them both. They were passionate, each of them. And full of promises that neither of us was ready to keep. There was none of this sweet and gentle and perfunctory crap that I've been so wont to do lately. To show that I'm a good guy, at least at first. Back then, a kiss was all you were going to get, so you damn sure needed to make the best of it.

I'm pretty sure that I could remember all of my first kisses. I don't mean that I could list them right now off the top of my head, but if I thought about it long enough, I probably could. And if I heard a name or saw a face or had something like that come along to help jog my memory, then I definitely could.

I was thinking tonight about a few of my first kisses. From the drunken and playful and inevitable kiss of that night last Winter, to that fascinated experimental kiss a couple of weeks ago, to that romantic kiss in Las Vegas in June, to that initially timid kiss that somehow lasted an entire weekend in late 2004, to that incredible indefinable kiss a few months earlier that still makes me weak in the knees when I think about it.

I don't know why I've never written about kissing before. About lips. I've written about hands, and I've written about eyes, but not lips. I don't know why. Maybe, maybe kissing just seems too personal, even for me to write about. Maybe hand-holding and eye-gazing are just fine, but kissing belongs in the same realm as sex, and I never write about sex. Nobody wants to read about that - they only want to have it. Maybe kisses are the same way.

Anyway, I like kissing. It's my favorite. I just thought I'd share that little tidbit. You know, just in case anyone wants to make out or something.

Monday, August 24, 2009
posted by dave at 8:59 AM in category ramblings

I'm constantly bombarding myself with a million questions, but there is one that hits the hardest.

What to believe?

Do I believe the words? Do I continue to try to be a friend, or at least act like one, when I'm not being met anywhere close to halfway? Words can be lies, you know. The craftiest of words can even fool the speaker. When that happens, the listener has no chance. It's either ignore the words, or be made a fool.

Perhaps, I tell myself, I should believe the actions. But that can be folly as well. Actions may speak louder than words, but they often speak gibberish, and they're so very subject to misinterpretation. They never say anything, they only imply. And I, being the way that I am, I almost always infer the worst. It's only been my mind's own sense of self-preservation that's kept me from doing so recently.

What am I supposed to believe when the words say one thing and the actions imply the opposite?

And the part that's really fucked up is that one day's truth can be the next day's lie. Minds can change, or be changed, and all I can do is try to keep up. Watch and listen, interpret what I can, and try to do what's right. I seem to be failing at that, but I really am in the dark here. I don't know the rules, and I don't even know the name of the game.

I don't like games.

I like honesty, even when it's brutal.

I'd rather be stabbed in the heart than shot in the back.

Saturday, August 22, 2009
posted by dave at 10:20 AM in category ramblings

I found myself for a while, Thursday evening. I was hiding about an inch below the fading head of my second glass of Marzen. I should have stopped drinking right then, or at least slowed down. But I didn't. I went ahead and finished that glass at a normal speed, and by the time that beer was gone, so was I. Like I'd never been there at all.

I've been very elusive these last few months. Sometimes I've gone weeks at a time, searching in vain. I really shouldn't squander opportunities like I did Thursday evening. It might be a long time before I get another chance. Hell, it might not ever happen again. I am changing, after all. That part of me which was destroyed in the Spring, and which is slowly being rebuilt, will almost certainly not be as it once was.

I'm not sure that I've ever really described myself with any detail. What I've meant for the last six years when I've said that I was looking for myself, or what I've meant when I've said, on those rare occasions, that I'd managed to find myself. It may be beyond description. I just know me when I find me.

The real me is able to cope with this, basically. To sit and think and just deal with it. Without being overwhelmed into insanity, and without resorting to stupid distractions which mask the pain but do nothing to lessen it.

Because, let there be no doubt about it, this does hurt. A fucking lot. And I need to hurt, and I want to hurt. I've gone through so much for the right to hurt. I've given up so much, of my life and of myself, for the privilege of feeling this pain. I want to experience it, but I don't want it to control me.

And this morning, as I write this entry, it's trying to control me. I have to stop writing now.

Thursday, August 20, 2009
posted by dave at 9:48 PM in category ramblings

I want to get sad tonight. I want to sit in my garage and drink some Marzen and bring myself right up to the very edge of babbling and weeping insanity. But I don't think it's going to happen.

I think I'll just stay my regular kinda depressed self, but that true sadness will be beyond me tonight.

The guy treats her, from everything I've heard, like the princess that she is. Oh sure, I would have treated her the same way, and I did treat her the same way, but that brings me to my next point.

She's happy with him. And there's more to being happy than just being treated right. Whatever that something extra is, he has it, and I might not have it. Not for her, at least. Maybe.

It's very tough for me to admit - it's been six years after all - but I might not be able to make her happy. No matter how badly I would want it and no matter how hard I would fight for it, I might not be able to accomplish it. Intent and desire can only get you so far.

To try and to fail at that task would probably be more than I could bear.

Right now, she is happy. That's what's important. That's all that matters. My own happiness is less than trivial when compared to hers, and it always has been.

I wish them the best, I really do.

If she's happy, then she smiles. And when she smiles, then the world is a beautiful place. So what if that smile's not for me? And so what if I don't even get to see it? Beauty is beauty, beheld or not.

How can I really be sad in such a beautiful place?

posted by dave at 1:45 PM in category ramblings

I'm experiencing a dangerous urge now, and so I figured that I'd better write something here, where it's fairly innocuous, than in an email, where it would most certainly not be.

Plus, I'm killing some time by writing this. And perhaps the urge to write that email will go away soon. Maybe writing this here will hasten its departure.

I want to call someone out on some bullshit. Partly to show that I know about the bullshit, as I think my knowledge is a secret so far, but mostly to see what the reason might be. I really can't see any reasonable explanation for this particular bullshit, but that doesn't mean that such a reason doesn't exist. I'm curious, I guess.

I'd also really like to see this person's reaction to getting caught. That show would probably be worth any possible price of admission, unless spontaneous human combustion was involved. I certainly don't want to cause that much of a reaction.

I need to think about this some more.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009
posted by dave at 8:24 PM in category ramblings

I wonder, how am I supposed to be feeling tonight? This week? This month?

Since it happened?

Not that I'm planning to tweak my feelings to match anyone's expectations, or that I'm going to pretend to be something that I'm not, but I do wonder - maybe I'm normal now.

Under the circumstances, I mean.

That would really be something, to be normal. Even if it was only for a while.

I need to go out to my garage, have a couple bottles of Domaine DuPage, and contemplate this some more.

If I'm normal, then - by definition - there's nothing special about me at all.

I don't think I like the sound of that.

Sunday, August 16, 2009
posted by dave at 11:46 PM in category ramblings

Yet another repost. This usually means that I'm feeling lazy, but this time it just means that I've already said it all before. And hey, building an entry about memories from an old entry seems quite fitting:

For a while, after she got her hair cut, her hand would still move to her shoulder, and her fingers would twirl hair that wasn't there anymore. She did it all the time, and then she'd laugh at herself because she forgot.

I remember how she looked in my bathrobe. How it would never stay closed. I remember hiding the belt so it would never close again, and how she laughed when I told her what I'd done.

She'd take her finger and trace soft circles on my arm, or on my hand, or on my chest. It wasn't enough for her to touch me - she always had to give it that little bit extra.

In my peripheral vision, I'd see her looking at me, and when I'd turn my head and catch her doing it, she'd always blush.

I remember how she'd fall asleep in the car, no matter how short the drive was.

She would grab my hand, and hold it tightly when we had to walk by strangers on the way back to our cars.

I remember the little dance she did once when a song she liked came on the radio.

One morning I woke up to her whispering my name. My cat had finally allowed her to pick him up, and she was standing by the bed holding him. She was so excited.

When she was struggling, trying to think of the perfect words to say, her face would get all contorted, and I'd mimic her expression until she caught me.

She was so very nervous, that first time, and when we were done the sweat glistened on her skin like a million tiny stars.

I remember all of these little things, and so many more. I think that I will remember them forever.

It's such a cruel world that let's me love every single thing about a person, but that won't let my heart take that extra step.

Such a cruel fucking world.

I remember times after I wrote that entry.

I remember trying so hard to look at her and see only her, but always always always fucking always looking beyond her, over her shoulder. Looking for someone who wasn't there.

I remember coming home that one night, and finding her sitting on my couch, with my cat Nugget in her lap. She'd had a bad day, and she'd known that I'd welcome her no matter what. I owed her that much, after all.

I remember welcoming her.

I remember how hard we tried to make it last, but how it always felt like we were just treading water. Staying alive, but not really living.

I remember that night last Summer. The last time I saw her, when everything was almost exactly as it had been before. Only the new ring on her finger whispered the truth.

I remember everything. This is my gift, and my curse.

I talked to her tonight, for a while. I wish I could say that it was just like old times, but it wasn't. Those old times are gone forever, and we both know it. We just like to relive those times, every now and then. It's nice, in a poignant way. It reminds us that there was once something that was important. And that, no matter how tough things get for the two of us as we struggle to live our separate lives, there is still something that's important.

I walked away from her, years ago. I know why I did it and, by now, so does she. I know it, but I still can't really believe that I did it. She knows it, but she still can't really accept that I did it on my own. That it wasn't her fault. That she didn't push me away.

There are so many things I wish I could forget, so many memories I wish I could erase from my mind. But, among those memories, there's not a single second that I spent with her.

posted by dave at 5:24 PM in category ramblings

I'm always looking for words, it seems. Magic words.

Mostly I've been looking for words to fix us, to undo some of the damage that's been done to us, or by us. Some turn-of-phrase that will somehow make everything okay. Or better than okay, when I'm feeling really ambitious, which isn't too often lately.

Speaking of lately, something's changing.

I'm still looking for magic words. I know they're in there somewhere, sneaking around in the dark, but quite often lately I've been looking for a different set of words. Lately, I haven't been looking for words to fix us, I've been looking for words to fix me.

These words may prove to be just as elusive as the old words have been. But I need to at least look. I need to dig around inside my head and, if that doesn't work, then dynamite may be necessary. I need these words.

I worry about myself sometimes. I see myself on my death-bed in forty years or so, and I see myself still glaring at my phone. I see myself wondering if she'll visit my bedside. I see myself wondering if she'll come to my funeral.

Sure, it's kind of nice to have all that to look forward to, and to believe that I'll never really go back to the emotionless robot that I used to be, a little more than six years ago. But I also realize that it's pretty pathetic. And I don't want my life to be pathetic, not any more than it's already been.

The words may not exist. Maybe it's time that I really need. That's what a lot of people have been telling me. Or perhaps I need a distraction that eventually becomes something more than a distraction.

Well, time has never done me any good before, and distractions, despite my best efforts, continue to be fleeting. So I'll put my faith in magic, because magic is real. That was proved to me, a little more than six years ago. Maybe, when time and distractions fail, maybe magic will succeed.

Saturday, August 15, 2009
posted by dave at 11:48 PM in category ramblings

I wonder, these entries, are they my memoirs? Is this blog going to end up being the means by which people finally get to know me and understand me? Will Neisha burn it all to DVD and hand out copies at my funeral? With Dina make a scrapbook? Will Teri overcome her loathing for funerals and show up at the thing? Will anyone else care at all? Will anyone else notice at all?

Will Rich O's stay in business without my constant support?

I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. Hell, I could die of old age tomorrow and it wouldn't surprise me at all.

Is this going to be my legacy?

It'll be a pretty fucked up legacy, if that's what it ends up being.

Way more questions than answers. Lots more crypticism than clarity. And a fuck of a lot more silence than anything else.

---

"I had a fantastic year."

That's what I said. And I really did italicize the word fantastic because anything less would have fallen short. Anything less would have been a lie.

I had us stand up, and then I said those words, and then I kissed her. This was no surprise at all. I'd been giving fair warning for weeks. There was plenty of time for her to "get sick" or to "have other plans" or to "just not feel like it."

But there were no last-minute excuses. There was only that time, and that place, and two of us all alone in that crowded room.

People tell me all the time that it's all in my head.

Fuck people. I was there.

That was supposed to be it, see. I had no plans or intentions beyond the end of that kiss. I would have gladly died at the end of that kiss.

But that wasn't the end of it. There were another couple of minutes, the first two minutes of the new year.

When I was about 19, I was swimming at the pool at Scott AFB. There was a kid, maybe 7 or 8 years old, and he got himself into trouble in the deep end. I just happened to be there. It's not like I jumped in to save him or anything, though I like to think that I would have done exactly that. But, in this case, I just happened to be there and I just happened to be the closest person to that kid.

He grabbed onto me, and he clung to me. He clung to me for dear life, for salvation. Every instinct he had focused onto that simple action of clinging to me. Waiting for me to save him, putting his life into my hands and trusting that I'd do the right thing.

The next time that anyone clung to me so fiercely was years and years later, after I said those words to her, and after I had kissed her ever so gently. I was not expecting it. Like I said, I'd had no plans beyond the kiss. But then, suddenly and brutally, I found another person's life in my hands. And I found trust in the weight of a beautiful head against my shoulder. And I found that there's no limit to love, because just when you think you've reached such a limit, it explodes.

People tell me all the time that I'm exaggerating.

Fuck people. I was there.

People are wrong.

---

There.

Now that's worthy of being a fucking memoir.

Thursday, August 13, 2009
posted by dave at 12:34 PM in category ramblings

Trying to figure out what I should write, if anything. I get so sick and tired of my mood flapping back and forth. I don't want to write anything and then have it turn out to be false by this time tomorrow. I hate it when that happens. It makes me feel like I should put a disclaimer at the beginning of every entry.

This entry, and the feelings and/or hopes and/or circumstances described herein, while accurate at the time of posting, may no longer reflect reality at the time of reading. For this reason, speculating or wagering as to my current state of mind, based on the information gleaned from this entry, is not recommended.
Or maybe that's just common sense.

Today, I am struggling with the same old stuff. It just keeps getting worse and worse, and I'm having a really tough time maintaining anything even remotely resembling hope. But I keep trying, because I need to have hope in my life, at least for now. I don't want to go back to the way I was, but it's a very real possibility these days. Except that this time it will be worse, because I'll know what's missing. Back then, I didn't even know that anything was missing, let alone what that thing might be.

I had a nice conversation with MixedSignalGirl the other night. She had some opinions and theories that I hadn't thought of. Opinions and theories that might help me to get through all this, if I can cling to them fiercely enough. And if I can convince myself that they're not just another set of lies that I tell myself in a futile attempt to rush through this healing process.

I need to write more about this. Maybe later.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009
posted by dave at 11:44 PM in category ramblings

Okay, here's the deal.

My text messages weren't working tonight. So, while I got some, I don't know if they were from tonight or if they were from months ago, as they claimed.

In either case, my response remains the same.

This was not my goddamn choice, the way things have been lately. This was, in fact, the last thing I ever wanted.

I am not the bad guy here.

Reasons are reasons and excuses are excuses, but which is which?

This is not my call. It's out of my hands.

Sunday, August 9, 2009
posted by dave at 1:59 AM in category ramblings

Weird annoying. I'm finding myself at a total loss for words. I mean, I know exactly what I want to say, as long as I don't have to actually say anything.

It's just so damn clear to me, but the words either don't exist or they're really fucking good at hiding in my head. I can think them and I can feel them, but I can't articulate them.

I need to say something, but I find myself unable to say anything at all.

And dammit, this is important. Way more important than anything I've written in a long time. Maybe ever.

"How can I give this up?" I want to write.

"I can't give it up, it's everything to me," I want to continue.

Those words are nothing nothing nothing. The tip of the iceberg. A hint of an inkling of a notion of the truth.

Infinite is only a small portion of the whole. Forever is just the beginning. Unconditional is much too restrictive.

The words that I've said, the things that I've done, the feelings that I've felt - they're all just symptoms of a much larger truth.

Maybe the words really don't exist, to describe this. Maybe you need to look into my eyes, read my mind, feel my soul.

Or, maybe I'm drunk.

Go ahead and think that's all it is. It's easier.

Friday, August 7, 2009
posted by dave at 3:18 AM in category ramblings

I like that word. It fits so well with so many things in my life. I should probably change my middle name to Inordinate. I never liked Shane that much anyway. Plus, then my initials would be DIS and so maybe I'd be all hip and shit. Or is that DISS?

I think I want someone to tell me that it's okay to be pissed about the way I'm being treated. I fall so easily into anger over it, but then I always feel guilty. I spend an inordinate amount of time feeling guilty.

Tomorrow another weekend begins. I remember when weekends meant going to Rich O's and spending an inordinate amount of energy watching the door. Those were such different times back then. Hope ruled my entire life. But this weekend I probably won't go there at all. It's no longer a good idea for me to go there at night, for lots of reasons. People think there's only one reason, but people are wrong. It's not only because I'm being a baby. That's not even the main reason. Maybe I'll write an entry about this stuff, some day.

And I heard from TremensGirl that MusicalYuppieDude is having a party this weekend. I can't go to that either, even if he does get around to inviting me.

Saturday I might get to see HatGirl, if she doesn't flake on me. She's so busy all the time, I'm incredibly flattered that she thinks enough of me to pencil me in. She's one of the world's best people, and I spend an inordinate amount of time wishing that I was a better person, so that our friendship might be better justified.

In fact, she should be the one I'm in love with. That would make sense to everyone.

I don't write about work in this journal. I think that most people know that. I don't want to get dooced, after all. But I started a new job this week, and maybe that deserves mention.

There, I mentioned it.

It's after 3:00 in the morning, and I'm not really sure why I'm still awake. I spend an inordinate amount of time being awake.

I should try to go to sleep now.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009
posted by dave at 2:13 AM in category ramblings

Tonight I don't know what it was that woke me up. Another damn dream, I imagine, but I don't know for sure. Maybe a mouse farted - sometimes that's all it takes. And, once I wake up, that's it. A thought or a series of thoughts gets into my head, and it gets into my soul, and it grabs and it twists.

As I once wrote:

Today, it's neither the pain of the past nor the agony of the present hammering away at my mood. Nope, today it's the future, of all things, that torments my thoughts.

The thing about the future is that I'm not really sure there's going to be one.

I seem to be spending a lot of time looking at old entries tonight. I do this because (a) I know that there are things that I want to say that I've already said, and (b) I'm lazy. This is from the same entry, written almost a year ago:
I don't think it would come as a surprise to anyone who knows me. I'm in a fucked-up situation these days.

I spend an inordinate amount of my time looking for, I dunno, something.

For what exactly, I can't say, because I don't know what it is. I think that I might be looking for what's left. Something that survived that terrible flood. A recognizable chuck of debris on the bank, perhaps. Just something to remind me, though I could never forget.

The rest of the time, I wait.

For what? Again, I don't know. I don't know what it is, but I'm waiting for it right now.

That was last September, and it almost seems fresh tonight. It almost seems true tonight.

Back then, I survived that flood, and I found what I was looking for. I found much much more than I thought I'd find, and I was actually happy, for a long time. Me, of all people.

But then a new flood came. A more terrible flood. And this one is still flowing, rushing, ripping.

Last year, I was knocked to my feet, and I stood up, and I was knocked down again. And again. And again.

This time, there's no sense in trying to stand. There is no ground anywhere beneath my feet.

This time I'm trying to stay afloat.

posted by dave at 1:37 AM in category ramblings

I'm looking at these lines from a post I did a couple of months ago.

I lived in a place of hope, and dreams, and love. But it was all a lie.

I worry about the things I'll write when I feel like I have nothing left to lose. I wonder why I don't feel that way already. Perhaps there are still lies waiting to crumble.

Perhaps I'm just being incredibly stubborn and afraid.

I fear the vacuum, I really do. It was never there before. There was always something before, whether it was false or not, it was something.

Now, not so much.

First, the walls crumbled. That was bad enough. But now all of the air is being sucked away.

Isn't the point of living about having something you care about, that is important to you? Isn't it about having something left to lose?

If there is truly nothing left to lose, then what's the fucking point of living at all?

The other night I was thinking about fate. I've written before that I don't believe in fate, but then I also wrote this:

This series of events and emotions that was set into motion all those years ago, there is a reason. I just don't know what that reason is. Perhaps its purpose is to destroy me.

So far, so good.

I guess I was probably about 12 years old when I started noticing that girls were more than cootie-factories. That's maybe 12,000 days ago.

I'd also guess that, on each one of those 12,000 days, I probably saw a pretty girl, or two, or three. On some days I saw the same girl(s) I'd already seen, and on some days I saw someone new.

So, maybe 12,000 different pretty girls that I've seen in my live.

And out of all those times, this happened once? When I saw her?

What the fuck?

Approximately 2,146 days ago, 2,146 girls ago, in the span of about two seconds, my entire life changed. It has never been the same since, and it will never be the same again. No matter what else happens, I will never be the same again.

I don't believe in fate. I think that fate is a silly concept, and that it implies things that I find unacceptable about the uselessness of life. I think that people use the concept of fate as a crutch, as an excuse for not having things turn out the way that they wanted, or as feeble justification for doing things that would otherwise have no justification at all except for stupidity.

I don't believe in fate, but I really want to know why that happened, approximately 2,146 days ago.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009
posted by dave at 3:35 AM in category ramblings

I'm trying to keep from knowing the time. So I don't know how late it is, or how early it is. I don't know if I'll sleep again tonight. I doubt that I will.

I did sleep, for some undetermined amount of time. I slept, and I had a dream, and I woke up.

That damn dream.

So I'm not looking at the time. I know it's there, down in the bottom right corner of my screen. I'm refusing to look. I don't want to know. Fuck, I start a new job sometime in the next undetermined number of hours and, instead of sleeping, I've spent two beers worth of time out on my deck with listening to the crickets and the owls and the stobors. I've spent the last two beers worth of time trying to forget the dream.

But it's a futile effort. It always is. I remember every word she said, in the dream. I remember every word I said, in the dream. I remember what happened next, in the dream.

That damn dream.

I mean, what if I look at the time and it's only 1:00 or some bullshit like that? Then I'll be so fucked. No way will I be able to function all day tomorrow until quitting time. Oh sure, maybe I could look and it's 6:00, and maybe my alarm is about to go off anyway. Then I'd know that I could survive. I've survived worse, after all.

The truth is probably somewhere in the middle. The truth always seems to be somewhere in the middle.

That damn truth.

Sunday, August 2, 2009
posted by dave at 1:01 AM in category ramblings

Every single time, it happens. Every single fucking time. I see, and it happens. I hear, and it happens, I smell or I touch, and it happens.

And I can't describe it with any clarity, and I can't endorse it with any understanding, and I can't espouse it with any eloquence, and I can't dismiss it with any abruptness. I can't I can't I can't I just fucking can't.

It's just fucking there. It just fucking happens. It just fucking is.

Why?

That's the question that I ask myself every 10 seconds. That's the question that everyone on Earth asks me every chance they get.

"Why?" they ask.

"Fucking just because," I reply.

Eyes meet, and circuits close. Words are exchanged, and energy flows. Auras merge, and affection glows.

And, every now and then...

Hands touch, and desire grows. Skin slides, and lust shows. Lips meet, and love overflows.

Why?

Sometimes I wish we would just talk about all this. Not discuss and not debate and certainly not argue. Not lie and not predict and not dismiss and not make excuse after fucking excuse. Just talk.

I guess it's because I'm a man. I always think that things can be fixed. Even when they're not really broken. I constantly look for the words to make everything okay, and I constantly ignore the fact that okay may be too lofty a goal.

Lately though, more and more often, I've thought about eschewing words, and letting actions speak my volumes for me. For us. Words, after all, have done zero good.

Perhaps it's time for action. Perhaps it's too late for action. Fuck, perhaps it's too late for anything.

Saturday, August 1, 2009
posted by dave at 4:30 PM in category ramblings

The way I see it, there are two times when I absolutely should not be writing here. One of those times is when I'm sad.

I know, I write when I'm sad all the time. It's par for my particular course, I guess. But the deep sadness that I sometimes feel, I don't write during those times. I'm too busy trying to breathe and keep my heart beating. So you guys are spared the really depressing stuff. You're welcome.

The second time when I shouldn't be writing anything is when I'm pissed.

Like right now.

There are so many things that I want to say. So many accusations that I want to level. So much pressure that I want to vent. So much truth that I want to fucking scream.

But, I shouldn't be writing when I'm pissed, so I won't. You're welcome.

Thursday, July 30, 2009
posted by dave at 1:12 AM in category ramblings

My brain tells me that I should be writing something now, before I go back outside to cavort with the stobors. Of course my brain has no idea what I should write, so I guess it's up to the rest of me. My fingers, perhaps, because my heart is all tapped-out, and my dick isn't much for words. It's more of an action dick.

I'm not really sure when it was that I became wise. Sometime over the last few years, I think. It's like I stopped getting birthday presents and started gaining wisdom. Or at least a very good imitation of wisdom. Good enough to fool most people, including my lovely self a lot of the time.

I found myself today in the most unlikely of conversations, giving the most unlikely of advice. Unlikely, that is, unless you actually know me, and not many people do. Lots of people think that they know me, but they're wrong. I'm a better person than many people give me credit for, and I'm a worse person that many people suspect. I'm a person, is I guess what I'm saying. If I were 100% good I'd be some kind of supreme being, and if I were 100% flawed I'd be a dipshit, but I'm somewhere in the middle, just like almost everyone else.

Anyway, today I found myself in a conversation about relationships. Because I'm some kind of expert, I guess. It's like quitting smoking; I've done it a million times it's so easy. Well, I haven't quite had a million relationships, but I've had my share. So maybe that makes me wise in a way. I dunno.

I'll paraphrase from today's conversation, in which I pretended to be wise:

Every new relationship seems perfect. But then it turns out that everything isn't quite perfect, and people get disappointed and they start to question the entire relationship.

Every relationship in history has followed the same pattern. Sometimes they last beyond that initial disillusionment, and sometimes they don't.

This is all common sense, right?

I think back to the relationships that I've had. Not all that many, really, and except for the ones that were doomed from the start, they've all followed that pattern. Not many have made it passed that first round of disillusionment, but the ones that have, the ones that have lasted have all been something really special to me. They're still really special to me.

I'm in one of those relationships right now, and even though I know that almost everyone on Earth would say that I'm in no such thing, I will say without hesitation that almost everyone on Earth is wrong. We are in a relationship, and we've made it passed that first disappointment, and the second and the third, and the fourth.

But we're still here, in one widely varying form or another, we're still here.

Doesn't that mean something? Shouldn't that mean something?

Isn't this supposed to be the goal?

Because, as I said today in my unlikely conversation, Perfection doesn't exist, so shouldn't a relationship be more concerned with surviving imperfection than with seeking perfection?

Am I the only person who sees this?

Friday, July 24, 2009
posted by dave at 1:24 AM in category ramblings

So, just sit and let my fingers type whatever they want, huh?

That seems like it should be easy. One might think that I'd be a little worried about the words that might spring forth, but I'm really not. I've pretty much said everything already. Dropped my pants, so to speak.

There is one more thing, actually. One more thing to say, and then I might be done. Not that I'd quit, mind you, but I'd have to start repeating myself over and over and over even more often than I already do.

Not an accusation, though that's how it would be interpreted. I'm not sure how I'd get around that. Denial ain't just a river in Egypt, after all. And this would be denied until the end of time, at least out-loud, when people were listening. There'd probably be umbrage. And outrage, even.

I'm also afraid that it would come off like a called marker. But that's absolutely not what it would be. This is not about something I've earned, and it's not about a favor owed; it's about an opportunity for honesty.

Would I get that honesty?

I seriously doubt it, and that makes me sad. Because if I've earned anything at all, if I'm owed anything at all, it's honesty.

Thursday, July 23, 2009
posted by dave at 1:13 AM in category ramblings

I close my eyes, and I see it. It blinds me. In the stillness between heartbeats, I hear its defeaning roar. In the pause between breaths, I smell its intoxicating aroma. Between swallows, I taste its juices. And, every time I relax, I feel it. Caressing me. Massaging away the aches and the pains of living.

I stopped being overwhelmed a long time ago. Callouses formed. Strength developed. Resistance wilted and died.

Thoughts are stones. Feelings are rapids. Disturbing the tranquility of the stream, but not the flow. Never the flow. Take away the obstacles, and the stream will barely notice. It will flow as it always has. Try to dam the stream, and it will find a way. Nothing can stop it. Nothing.

I wonder what has happened to me. I wonder what is happening to me. I wonder what will happen to me.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009
posted by dave at 5:11 PM in category ramblings

(This is a repost from six months ago. I don't feel like saying anything new, because it would be pointless today, but I do feel like saying something.)

There's a place. It's not a physical place, though that's part of it. It's more of a spiritual place.

The place, it's where I belong. It's why I'm here, on this Earth, in this life. To be in the place. It's where I fit, and more than that, it's where the universe fits me.

Problem is, I can't get there. There's no navigable route, and even if there were, the place is already occupied, and even if it wasn't, I'm not allowed in the place.

I've come very close. I've stood next to the place and I've felt its pull so strongly that it's threatened to rip me apart atom by atom.

If I believed in God, I'd surely hate Him, for showing me the place.

I wrote that in January. I remember how I felt when I wrote it. I remember what it was like to be me, back then. I remember too well.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009
posted by dave at 12:53 AM in category ramblings

Tonight I sat at Rich O's with a small group of people, and I noticed something. Before I say what I noticed, maybe you need some background.

I am smart.

Okay, that's enough background.

Anyway, tonight I sat in a group of five people, or to be more specific, I sat on the outskirts of that group, and I noticed that there was absolutely no way that I could consider myself to be one of the brightest members.

This was weird to me, but not unprecedented. It doesn't happen very often, but it does happen.

At least two members of the group were obviously and immensely more intelligent than I have ever been or will ever be. One other was probably tied with me on the old IQ-meter. The last member, while not quite as bright as the rest of us, was still far above average, even for Rich O's. So we didn't ridicule that person, too much, and not intentionally. Subtle sarcasm and even more subtle innuendo sufficed, as it always does.

Besides, my dad always said, "Don't make fun of retarded people," and that advice scales quite easily.

See, there's a difference between intelligence and knowledge. Some people don't get that. Some people are incapable of getting it. We pity those people, but not too openly, because we all know that we're only a few ounces of beer away from becoming just like them.

There. This should count as an entry, shouldn't it?

Saturday, July 18, 2009
posted by dave at 12:39 PM in category ramblings

I just don't have anything to write, but here I sit. I guess I don't like the previous entry being the most recent entry. Because, as I'd predicted and hoped, that particular mood did not last.

The other day LaptopGirl asked me if it would kill me to write a positive entry. I don't know the answer to that question. It probably wouldn't kill me, but why take the chance?

Oh, because she asked, that's why.

I'll certainly try. The next time I'm in a good mood, I'll try to write a positive entry.

Friday, July 17, 2009
posted by dave at 2:42 AM in category ramblings

I'm in a most unusual mood tonight. Not merely a "weird" mood, as I've so often said. This particular mood is one that I honestly can't remember ever having before.

I just don't care.

Now, this mood certainly won't last. None of my moods ever last. I'm amazed that this one has gone on as long as it has. Since about midnight, I think.

This is not a reaction to anything in particular, or to the lack of anything in particular. There's no anger, or sadness, or frustration, or disillusionment, or confusion, or longing or even lust or even love. Okay, maybe there's some disillusionment, but not a lot. Not enough to explain this mood, now of all times. And there's always love, but it usually defines me instead of simply punctuating me.

There was no impetus at all for this mood. One second I felt all of the above, and the next second, I didn't.

This mood won't last. I don't want it to last. Not forever. Not even through tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning I want to wake up as myself. I need to know who I am, what I am, how I am. I need to fucking recognize myself when I look in the mirror tomorrow.

This person sitting here at my computer tonight, typing this crap - he isn't me. He's just another asshole who stopped caring because it hurt too much. Another dickhead who stopped trying because it was too hard. Another, dare I say, dipshit, who quit the game because he couldn't cheat and get away with it.

Fuck that. That's not who I am.

It's fascinating, though, I won't lie. I never thought there'd ever ever ever ever ever be a time when I'd feel like this again. I walked two miles tonight, towards my old high school, and with every step I took I imagined myself getting closer and closer to...

Well, I don't know what. Something. Some place that I haven't seen in a long time, or maybe ever.

I never got there. Maybe there doesn't exist. Not for me anyway. I tried to explore outside of myself and I found emptiness and loneliness. So, disappointed, I turned around and I walked home.

Tomorrow morning, I'll be me again. I'll love again and therefore I'll hurt again. But I think that the memory of tonight will be with me for a long time. The memory, and the realization that it brings.

Anything is possible, even the impossible.

Thursday, July 16, 2009
posted by dave at 7:04 PM in category ramblings

It always happens this way. I make it one thing or two things into the list of a gazillion things that I want to say, and then the conversation ends. Abruptly.

Questions and comments and opinions and predictions and more questions and more comments, left to smolder inside my head. To fester and evolve into a beast that I can no longer contain.

It's all about the same thing, though. The quest.

The never-ending search for the right words, the magic turn-of-phrase, that will end this bullshit and right these wrongs and, well, fix everything.

There are people who might venture that things aren't broken, but those people don't have my unique perspective, so their opinions don't count. I was right all along, and I will continue to be right, and dammit I'm right at the present.

Alas, long-gone are the days of clubs and caveward draggings. Today, we live in an ostensibly polite and sophisticated society. Today, words are important.

So, I search for the words. Sometimes, I think I find them. I send them forth and, far too often they, like so many of their fallen brethren before them, end up impaled upon the swords of deaf ears, and they are forever silenced.

I'm in a weird mood this evening. In case you couldn't tell.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009
posted by dave at 1:44 PM in category ramblings

Of course I can handle it. I'm stronger than people think. But I shouldn't fucking have to handle it. It's not supposed to be happening at all, and it's especially not supposed to be happening tonight.

I haven't seen SassyGirl in almost a year, and tonight, instead of getting to enjoy hanging out with her, I get to always keep one eye on the door and constantly be on pins and needles. I get to wait and wonder how many more seconds or minutes or hours I have until that wave of reality comes washing in to drown me.

I know, life isn't fair. I know that fact better than most people, I'd wager. But c'mon, sometimes it's just ridiculous. Sometimes it's a fucking joke, except nobody's laughing.

UPDATE: Well, reality was nice enough to call and let me know that I needn't expect it to show up Wednesday night after all. And then SassyGirl ended up making a short night of it, anyway, so I was able to come home earlier than anticipated. So, whew!

Tuesday, July 14, 2009
posted by dave at 7:54 AM in category ramblings

I spend a lot of time searching for words. I bet most people who do a lot of writing, professionally or otherwise, do the same thing. Oh sure, most of the time I'll just let my fingers pick the words for me, but every now and then they choose poorly. That's when it's up to my brain to get off its lazy ass, stop fantasizing about pretty girls, and do some work.

I've been in this mood since last Friday at least. One of confusion, but that's not quite the right word. One of concern, but that's not it either. My brow has been almost constantly furrowed. There was, I knew, a word for the mood in which I found myself mired, but that word was hiding from me.

I found it last night, about halfway between my house and the Highlander Point shopping center. I walked along the dark road, and I passed a deer. Just standing in a field, as deer so often do. Upon my approach, it turned its body away, but it did not run. It just looked at me, its head turning smoothly. When I'd passed behind it, the deer turned its head the other way, and watched me some more.

I kept an eye on it, of course. Just in case it decided to attack. Do deer have rabies? If the deer had attacked, I supposed I'd have used the time-honored defense method of shitting my pants to gross-out my opponent. But it didn't attack, it only watched me, and then when I was a safe distance away, it crossed the road.

Perhaps it had a date with a chicken. None of my business, and who am I to judge?

For years, my thoughts have been almost constantly churning, my heart has been almost constantly yearning. But for the last few days, there's been something else. I couldn't find the word for my mood, until I looked into the inky eyes of that deer. That deer, watching me walk down the road in the middle of the night, it was experiencing the same mood. The same feeling of confused concern.

That deer was perplexed.

And so am I.

Sunday, July 12, 2009
posted by dave at 12:21 AM in category ramblings

It started out as a joke. A stupid game I'd play wherein I'd imagine and predict the worst thing that could happen.

It used to be funny, in a weird way. Until it all started coming true. Then it stopped being funny.

I wrote a while ago that I expect to be murdered. That was not a random off-the-cuff statement, it was a prediction. The end-result of a long list of bullshit mistreatment. A totally warranted extrapolation.

The cruelest and sweetest person I know will murder me someday. And I will like it, because I'll serve a purpose to her. An outlet of some kind, I guess.

I like being useful to the people I care about.

I'll probably be smiling when I die. I doubt that I'll be laughing, though, because that could be misinterpreted.

Thursday, July 9, 2009
posted by dave at 3:04 AM in category ramblings

It's not stupidity that keeps me here. Nope, it's knowing the truth, even when everyone else fails to see it. It's speaking the truth, and living the truth, and waiting for beautiful eyes to open so that I'm not alone any more.

It's not cowardice that keeps me from turning away and facing the unknown. It's that the unknown holds no appeal for me. And why should it? The appeal of the unknown lies in its potential, and I've already found all of the potential I could ever want.

It's not weakness. I'm not here because I'm weak, but because I'm strong. I have persevered when others would have given up. I have pushed forward when others would have faltered. Time after time I have exposed my heart to the daggers of reality and, though I've been stabbed, I've never given up and I've never cowered and I've never ran away. I've been right here all this time.

And it's not insanity. Step inside me and look through my eyes. See what I see. Feel with my heart the things that I feel. Use my lips to speak, and use my ears to listen to the words fighting to be heard. Reach out with my hand and touch what I touch, and feel the tingling of a million touches yet to come. This is all very real.

It's not stupidity, or cowardice, or weakness, or insanity. It's something else.

I know what it is. So far, I'm the only one who really knows what it is. What it's like. What it means. What it portends.

So far, I'm the only one who really gets it.

But eventually, there'll be another.

Beautiful eyes will open, and they will see me, right where I've been all along.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009
posted by dave at 4:47 AM in category ramblings

Seriously, why am I still here? I was supposed to be gone weeks ago.

This is going to be bad. Maybe as bad as the last time, or maybe even worse. Probably worse, I bet.

What planet am I supposed to be from? What species am I supposed to be where I can just blow it all off and be okay with it? Handshakes and high-fives all around.

Bad news: I'm human.

Being okay would invalidate everything that I've said and done for years. But still, I would be okay if I could. Fuck, I might even fake it, if I could do that halfway convincingly.

But, I'm a terrible actor, it seems.

Why am I still here?

And the thing is, I can almost be okay with it. My own desires and priorities have, after all, changed, blurred, whatever. I could be okay, and I only asked for a little help. Like to not rub it in my face, and to not bend me over and fuck me up the ass with it.

Not too much of a request, I don't think. A little goddamn common decency and empathy.

em-pa-thy
noun
1. Identification with and understanding of, or at least acceptance of, another's situation, emotions, or motives.
Why am I still here?

I want to leave.

I need to leave, to get away from this fucking failed experiment before it sucks me in all over again. I don't want to go through it all again.

Where's the fucking payoff if I stay?

What's the reason for all of this? The rainbow is beautiful, but the pot of gold is forever out of my reach. Set aside for random others. Like they fucking deserve it. Like I haven't proven myself.

I try to be a good guy, and I think that I am a good guy.

But I'm not that fucking good.

Nobody is that fucking good.

The other night, MusicalYuppieDude told me that I should be knighted. I countered that perhaps I should be straight-jacketed.

Telling the truth has turned out to be the worst thing I could have done. How messed up is that?

Monday, July 6, 2009
posted by dave at 10:58 AM in category ramblings

I've got this problem. It's an incredible urge to write. But I sit down here at my computer, my fingers poised over the keyboard, and all that emerges is drivel.

I'm an ocean held back by a finger in a dike. There's so much in me straining to be released, but it never comes with anything approaching its potential. Just a trickle, every now and then. Just enough to frustrate the bejeezus out of me.

Eventually, I tell myself, something will give. My search for work may provide me with new surroundings. Maybe that will enable me to release this pressure. Or perhaps I'll find something that allows me to remain here at home, but circumstances will change. Or maybe I'll change. Maybe I already have.

Things end so suddenly, sometimes. I used to be kidded about how I was always afraid that each time would be the last. The last look, the last hug, the last kiss, the last word.

I'm looking at a word right now. It's the word "that" in black font on my screen. I'm looking at the word, and I'm terrified that it may be the last. And now, I'm thinking about the last look and hug and kiss, and I'm worrying that they're over forever.

I do worry about these things. I have to. I need to be prepared, because sometimes, I'm right.

Sunday, July 5, 2009
posted by dave at 4:56 AM in category ramblings

It's just a brief downward flicker, most of the time. A few inches. But enough for me to notice, and enough for her to notice, should she happen to be looking. So far, I think I've caught it in time. Caught myself in time.

Eyes to lips. Just a few inches of smooth skin, down a cheek, along the ridge of a nose. Physically, that distance is very small, but emotionally, it's vast.

Eyes may welcome and engage, but lips, they beckon.

---

Speaking of lips, I like this old entry from 2007:

I'm not really sure which was the first. I've got it narrowed down to two girls, two occasions, but the passage of time has blurred my memory to the point where I can no longer be certain about the order of things. Like, I'm pretty sure that I kissed both those girls after that comet killed all the dinosaurs, but I wouldn't want to bet anything substantial on it.

So I don't remember which was my first real kiss. But I do remember them both. They were passionate, each of them. And full of promises that neither of us was ready to keep. There was none of this sweet and gentle and perfunctory crap that I've been so wont to do lately. To show that I'm a good guy, at least at first. Back then, a kiss was all you were going to get, so you damn sure needed to make the best of it.

I'm pretty sure that I could remember all of my first kisses. I don't mean that I could list them right now off the top of my head, but if I thought about it long enough, I probably could. And if I heard a name or saw a face or had something like that come along to help jog my memory, then I definitely could.

I was thinking tonight about a few of my first kisses. From the drunken and playful and inevitable kiss of that night last Winter, to that fascinated experimental kiss a couple of weeks ago, to that romantic kiss in Las Vegas in June, to that initially timid kiss that somehow lasted an entire weekend in late 2004, to that incredible indefinable kiss a few months earlier that still makes me weak in the knees when I think about it.

I don't know why I've never written about kissing before. About lips. I've written about hands, and I've written about eyes, but not lips. I don't know why. Maybe, maybe kissing just seems too personal, even for me to write about. Maybe hand-holding and eye-gazing are just fine, but kissing belongs in the same realm as sex, and I never write about sex. Nobody wants to read about that - they only want to have it. Maybe kisses are the same way.

Anyway, I like kissing. It's my favorite. I just thought I'd share that little tidbit. You know, just in case anyone wants to make out or something.

Friday, July 3, 2009
posted by dave at 7:59 AM in category drink, ramblings

Maybe it's just a matter of reigning myself in a little. I've certainly been unable to stop myself, even though quite often lately I've wanted to do just that.

This is an idea I had come to me last night. Apparently this idea was hiding at the bottom of a glass of Marzen (12419). That's a weird place for an idea to be hiding, but I'll still take it.

Wanting something because you feel like you should want it, or because you used to want it, or because you can't think of anything better?

Smells like bullshit to me.

I've been so damn stubborn. I watched everything crumble and I refused to really accept that it was happening. Had happened. Whatever.

Trying to stay somewhat cryptic here, while remaining readable. I don't think I'm succeeding.

The other night I found myself smiling, when I had a realization that there was one thing that hadn't crumbled.

One thing that hadn't changed.

And it never will. And it's the only thing that matters. There need be no expectations to erode or desires to dull. Lust lessens and faith falters and wants wane and hope becomes hazy.

Fuck all that other stuff, all that icing. I really think I can do this. I've already been doing it for years, after all.

Thursday, July 2, 2009
posted by dave at 6:32 AM in category ramblings

I'm not thinking very clearly. It's very frustrating. I can't even obsess over a single thought, like normal. Nope, all I can do is sit back and sort of watch the show, turn my gaze inward and glare.

Nothing fits. No ideas, no feelings, no resolutions, nothing will stick. I don't know what I want, and I don't know what I want to want. My mind rejects everything like water rejects oil.

Well, I guess I do still have that one thing. But I've been suspecting that it's running on inertia, so I don't trust it fully.

I think that I want things to be okay, but I don't know what that means. Its shape fluctuates wildly and it never stays the same long enough for actual desire to form around it.

Wow, I'm really rambling. Like I said, I'm not thinking clearly.

posted by dave at 5:24 AM in category ramblings

I'm irritated this morning. And worried. Not really sad, though, so that's nice.

I keep trying to write an entry, but none of the thoughts racing through my head will slow down enough for me to catch it and pin it down and dissect it.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009
posted by dave at 6:13 PM in category ramblings

I was just reading some old emails, from a year ago. Right before and right after I found out she was seeing someone.

I read one email wherein I said that I expected to have to go through it several times, and that each time would be tougher than the last, but that it would all be worth it eventually. I'd be the one who would always be there when she needed someone, and eventually I'd be noticed.

And now, a year later, I fear that it's all starting again. And I'm not there.

This really sucks.

Maybe it'll storm tonight. That always cheers me up. Must buy some beer, though.

posted by dave at 10:39 AM in category ramblings

I wish I knew how to fix all this, I really do. Maybe it's so hard because it can't be fixed. Maybe, even after everything that's changed, one thing is still the same. Maybe we're still too lopsided.

The thing that I need to do, though, is figure out what I want. Or, more precisely, what I want to want. Because things have changed, and not for the better.

The solution that keeps coming to me, time and time again, is to pretend that everything is fine. To act like I don't care. To lie, in other words.

I don't like that solution, but I'm starting to see the appeal of it. At the very least, it would give the appearance of balance.

posted by dave at 12:40 AM in category ramblings

I really want to write something relevant now.

But I won't.

Or can't.

Because I'm drunk. Or very tipsy. I'm at home though, so it's okay.

Hic.

It would have been awesome, though.

Sunday, June 28, 2009
posted by dave at 2:32 AM in category ramblings

You ever get a desire and at first you don't pay much attention to it, because you figure it's just collateral damage, and then it grows and grows and sometimes threatens to consume you? And you can't think about anything else, even those things that are much more important and much more noble and even much more realistic?

Yeah, me too.

posted by dave at 2:23 AM in category ramblings

Most people probably think that I'm a pessimist. They're wrong for thinking that, but I guess I understand their mistake. It's just that I try to prepare for the worst.

The problem that I have is that "the worst" is an ever-changing thing. What was "the worst thing" yesterday is nothing but the fucked-up past today, and there's an entirely new "worst thing" for me to prepare for.

I've told RockGirl, several times, that I expect to be murdered someday. And, not only that, I expect that I know exactly who my killer will be. It's just common sense. A trivial extrapolation that a child could do while sleeping.

But that's in the far-off future. I won't have to worry about that until a million other bad things have happened. And I'll wait for each and every one of those things, and I'll endure each and every one of those things, because they must be important or they'd certainly have stopped by now.

I used to joke about the bad things, until they happened. After that, they didn't seem all that funny to me anymore.

I'm in a good mood. That doesn't make any sense at all.

It must be denial.

What will tomorrow bring?

I don't know, but I bet it will suck, whatever it is.

Friday, June 26, 2009
posted by dave at 3:25 AM in category ramblings, weather

I could lose power at any second. That's kinda exciting to me. The lightning outside is crazy, like living inside a strobe-light. I want to vomit some words here and then I want to go back out to my garage and watch the lightning some more.

This probably isn't going to make any sense to anyone but me, but I don't care. I don't know why you people read this crap anyway. Inertia is my guess.

---

I can close my eyes, when I'm in the right mood like the one I'm in right now, and I can see.

A single bright point of light, directly ahead. It outshines, without even trying, the smudges to my left and the smears to my right, and even the fading spotlight behind me.

People think, people wonder, people question, people doubt, people question some more. But people just don't see. It's right there.

All I have to do is close my eyes, and everything is perfectly clear.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009
posted by dave at 7:02 PM in category ramblings

So I had that thought dangling from my brain. When I finally dislodged it, I sat down here to write an entry about it.

But, as it turns out, I've already written the entry. Over three years ago. Oops.

I was wrong about being okay, when I first wrote this entry. I might be wrong again this time - the bruising is much more severe, after all. Time will tell.

---

(January 2006)

The other night, I drank a bottle of yummy Alaskan Smoked Porter and wrote a bunch of snippets of boring crap. One of those snippets was this:

I think about a couple of my friends who've recently started reading my 'blog. I try to keep things light for them - but not too light. I want to come off as neither a lunatic nor as a child. This is easier said than done. Especially when I'm both. I want to come off as insightful at times, and as brilliant at others. This is easier said than done. Especially when I'm neither.
I'm thinking that this is probably worth its own entry, so I'm going to give it one.

We'll see if I can write anything coherent without alcohol in my bloodstream. I have my doubts.

The problem is, I don't seem to be able to write anything that's either interesting or well-written unless that writing comes from my heart. My emotions are the source of everything I've ever written that I considered readable.

Because of this, I tend to stick with those same emotional topics and rehash them to death. Beat that dead horse into bloody pulp.

So someone new to my 'blog comes along, reads some of my drivel, and makes conclusions based on it.

Conclusions that are often less than accurate. Or at least not timely.

SCRIBBLERESQUE PARENTHETICAL THOUGHT: This is the third time I've restarted this entry. I know what I want to write, but I'm having a hard time deciding how to write it.

But what are people supposed to think about me, when they read my 'blog?

Read something from the Fall of 2003, and you'll be so bored that you'll never read anything by me again. You'll probably volunteer for a lobotomy to prevent accidentally reading something I've written.

Read some of the later stuff, and you'll feel a little sorry for me. You'll think my writing is insane, and obsessive, and overly dramatic, but some of what I write is at least interesting and/or well-written and/or entertaining.

But what are you supposed to think about me?

I read back through my old entries, and there is of course one theme that keeps popping up. That fucking dead horse. I write about it because it's what I know, and it's what I feel, and it's - I guess comfortable would be a good word.

But it's not me. Not anymore. Not, at least, to anywhere near the extent that it used to be. That's what I want people to think about me when they read my 'blog:

I'm okay. Or I will be.

I get better all the time. Every day I wake up with a little less pain, and every night I go to sleep with a little less feeling that the day was wasted because she didn't share it with me.

I think I'm what you might call emotionally bruised.

But that bruise is fading.

So what should people think about me, when they read my 'blog?

I'd like people to think that I'm a person, a human being, just as capable of pain, or passion, or selfishness, or friendship, or stupidity, as anyone else. I'd like people to not be afraid of me, or of hurting my feelings. I'd like people to know that they don't need to tiptoe around me. That I'm stronger than I seem.

I'd like people to understand that there are some things about me that they may never understand, because I don't even understand them myself.

But that's okay, and so am I.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009
posted by dave at 2:08 AM in category ramblings

The problem is that, sometimes, it does no good. Pretending that the monster in the closet doesn't exist is both futile and stupid when it does exist. Lurking, waiting, salivating.

"Suck it up," they say.

"Suck this up," I so badly want to respond.

But, I don't say any such thing. I'm nice, after all. And people generally mean well, even when they advise stupid shit like that.

Some things simply cannot be dealt with by sheer act of will. Some things are, get this, actually hard. Some things, they take time, and too often time is a concession we're not given. So, too often, we find ourselves pressured into ignoring the problem, pretending that it's not as bad as it really is. Trying to fool the world and ourselves into believing that everything is okay.

And then one day we explode into a million pieces.

Ignoring problems doesn't make them go away. Acting normal might fool some people, but it never fools the most important person, the person doing the acting. So what's the point? The inconvenient truth is always always always better than the convenient lie.

And the thing is, I suck it up a little bit every damn day. How else would I get out of bed each morning? How else would I ever leave my house? How else would I breathe?

I do all I can to get through this, and that is, by definition, all I can do.

Okay, maybe I could close the closet door. Maybe I could turn on the lights and banish the shadows but, eventually, I'd have to sleep. And that's when it would get me. In my sleep.

No thanks.

I'd rather be awake, And see that monster coming. And hear the hinges squeaking and the floorboards creaking. And feel and hear the soft whimpers from my throat as my body tenses up from fear.

In case you were wondering, I'm in a weird mood right now.

Thursday, June 18, 2009
posted by dave at 2:03 PM in category ramblings

I'm in a pretty weird mood today. Lack of sleep I guess, the blame for which is shared equally between a bout of insomnia keeping me awake and a thunderstorm waking me up.

I want to write today. More than that, I want to be a writer. Whatever that means. Vomiting words and somehow having them splatter into readability. A Rorschach test to reveal things about the writer, and maybe about the reader as well.

You ever just have one of those lives?

I'm waiting again. That's what I do. The present holds little interest for me, and the past is annoyingly immutable, so I wait for the future. I hope that, once I finally catch up with that elusive asshole, that this will all make sense. That I'll understand why I've endured.

I need to get out of this house, and out of this mood.

posted by dave at 1:32 PM in category ramblings

It was one of my big concerns, actually, that I wouldn't let this end quietly. That, once this beast was no longer looming ahead of me but was instead standing beside me, that I'd lash out. Or at least try to defend myself.

I haven't really done that, I don't think. Nope, I'm just letting it beat the shit out of me, and hoping that it'll tire before I die.

---

Another concern is that the end will never be a part of my past. That I'll pick it up and I'll carry it with me for the rest of my days. Burdened by its weight, encumbered by it's size, but unable and unwilling to let go because it will be all that I have left to prove that I ever existed in any way that mattered.

---

I lie awake, and I doubt the truth of every word that was ever said to me.

posted by dave at 2:23 AM in category ramblings

And the amazing thing was the rapidity with which it all took place.

I never in my life saw anyone sober up so quickly, and then, once the crisis has been dealt with, I never in my life saw anyone go back to being so drunk so quickly.

It really was uncanny. I looked around for Allen Funt, but he wasn't there. I think he might be dead, come to think of it.

Anyway, I really do like to feel useful. It's all a matter of perspective, of course. What to one person is an obvious manipulation, a blatant advantage being taken, to another person - my lovely self in this case - it's nothing more than an opportunity to feel useful. These opportunities are especially welcome because I never thought they'd happen again.

HatGirl says that I should stop defining myself by what I mean to others. My response to that is that I can't think of a better measurement.

I'm just rambling now. I went to Denny's after we left Jack's, and I thought it was a lot later than it was. So now I'm wired because it's only 2:16 instead of 5:16.

If time flies when you're having fun, I guess that means it drags when you're miserable?

I didn't think I was miserable. I thought I was in a pretty good mood - it's the feeling useful thing - but I guess I was wrong. Maybe I was so miserable that I somehow looped back into a happy place.

Weird.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009
posted by dave at 11:32 PM in category ramblings

The thing that I can't seem to get to stick in my head is that there's nothing I can do.

I didn't do enough before. No matter how hard that is for me to accept. Even though I did so much, more than I'd have thought possible and more than most people would have done, I simply didn't do enough to be good enough.

During, I did too much. I was honest and forthcoming. Too much of each, because I was also hurting. In shock by the suddenness and the brutality of what was happening. I should have taken the time to let things digest. But, I didn't. I screwed up and I let my emotions take over. Oops, right?

And after? After, I don't know what's been going on. I've either been doing too much or too little or the exact right amount, but it doesn't matter, because it's been out of my hands, and it's still out of my hands, and I wish I could accept that fact instead of forgetting it every 10 seconds. Instead of always trying to do something, anything at all, to fix this.

I'm doing it right now, with this entry. Trying to fix things.

Wasting my time, some would say.

Standing my ground, others might counter.

I get so damn impatient sometimes. You'd really think, after all these years, that patience would be something I'd be really good at.

You'd be wrong.

Sunday, June 14, 2009
posted by dave at 1:40 PM in category ramblings

I remember writing something, a long time ago. It wasn't here in this blog, I don't think. I think it was somewhere else. Somewhere that no longer exists.

There's a lot of that going around these days.

I went, in an instant, from feeling useful to feeling used, from feeling needed to feeling taken advantage of. That instant is when it happened. It was a Monday night when the walls of my false reality crumbled and crashed at my feet. March 23rd, 2009.

I lived in a place of hope, and dreams, and love. But it was all a lie.

I worry about the things I'll write when I feel like I have nothing left to lose. I wonder why I don't feel that way already. Perhaps there are still lies waiting to crumble.

Saturday, June 13, 2009
posted by dave at 7:01 PM in category ramblings

I'm sure it doesn't seem like that big of a deal, to anyone close enough to me to know what's going on, or I guess what went on would be more accurate. These hypothetical friends and theoretical stalkers heard or read my tale, and they probably yawned a little.

Well, I was there. And I didn't fucking yawn.

It's all about context, see. One person's distraction can be another person's reason for living.

And now, those same friends and stalkers would probably expect me to be angry today, having been ever-so-briefly shown the light, only to be (apparently) thrust again into darkness.

Perhaps, soon, I will be angry again. But not today. Today, I'm mesmerized by the afterimages of what I saw.

posted by dave at 11:08 AM in category ramblings

I've got this annoying urge to write something this morning. I just feel like I should write something. Shit happens, and I write about it. That's the way it's supposed to work.

Well, some shit happened. And, like I said, I feel like I should write about it.

But I don't want to, at least not until I figured out exactly what happened. And definitely not until I figure out if it was a good thing or not.

I guess I can say that I don't think I'm as sad as I was a couple of days ago, and a couple of weeks ago, and a couple of months ago, and a couple of years ago. At least, I don't think I am. I dunno. Maybe I'm worse.

Oooh! I just thought of something!

There's a tornado inside my head!

So there.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009
posted by dave at 11:45 AM in category ramblings

The last few times that I've awakened so suddenly and been unable to get back to sleep, it's been a little different. The last few times, I've known exactly what it was that woke me up.

Either a stray thought, or a snippet of a dream, about the one person in all this who is truly innocent. I have my thought or my dream-snippet, and it latches onto my brain and simply will not let go. Its claws grab hold and, for minutes or hours, my brain simply isn't capable of any other thought.

Maybe this is progress, this knowing. Hard to tell, maybe this is just the eye of the storm.

I'm not sure. It feels better to know, even though these thoughts keep me just as awake as all of the unknown torment did before it. At least this is reasonable. At least this is expected. At least this is normal.

I think that the thing is, out of all the anger and the sadness and the longing that I've done, there's one thing that I don't think anyone could begrudge me for doing.

I miss that kid, and it's perfectly reasonable for me to do so. If I didn't miss him, I don't think I'd be human.

Saturday, June 6, 2009
posted by dave at 12:57 AM in category ramblings

I can't help but wonder, When am I going to say that enough is enough?

When will I stop? When will I give up?

It's the most annoying thing, being so stubborn and blind, and knowing that I'm being stubborn and blind, and relishing in it because the alternatives are unacceptable.

My eyes are wide open, and still I don't see. Still I cannot see. Still I refuse to see.

When will I stop? When will I give up?

When will I die?

This is not a life. This is a death. Prolonged and stretched almost to the point of indiscernability, but a death nonetheless.

When?

Thursday, June 4, 2009
posted by dave at 7:24 AM in category daily, ramblings

I'm at Denny's early today, or maybe I'm here late last night. Whatever, it's 3:49 right now, so it's something fucked up.

It's very crowded here right now. And LOUD. At least 90% of the noise is coming from the corner booth, and at least 99% of that noise is coming from one person, a somewhat round girl who I shall call Loudy McLoudandfat. Her cackling is threatening to liquefy my bones. That would be gross.

The remaining 10% of the noise, itself almost ear-splitting, emanates from a group of guys dorks playing some kind of trivia game at the center table. I'm fairly certain that sexual favors are being wagered, and that they don't really care who wins the game, because they'll all get to "win" later in the parking lot. Hint hint wink wink.

And finally, over in the corner, is an old guy, as quiet as I am and probably as miserable as I am because of these auditory assailants.

My plan, such as it was, was to come here and scribble out a quick entry, then have breakfast with DoableGirl. My plan, such as it was, did not include arriving at 3:45 in the flipping morning. So now I've got to improvise. I've got at least another hour to kill, and I don't know if I've got an hour's worth of words inside me, straining to escape. I guess I'll find out.

It's hard to stay in a writey mood in this place. Usually it's too quiet. Sometimes, like this morning, it's too loud. It's weird, though, that I can sit in a bar and write for hours but in this place even 15 minutes seems too long. It's not that different from a bar.

Anyway, earlier tonight I was thinking about my readers. Not any of my specific readers, but my readers in general. My generic readers.

Some of you people have stuck with me for years. Out of habit, possible, the inertia of interest that's long since faded. Or maybe that's not fair. Maybe there's still genuine interest out there somewhere, a curiosity, perhaps, about what exactly the fuck happened.

Those readers, the curious ones, are owed something. There's a debt there. There's always been an unspoken agreement. I write about my life, and people read it. Well, I haven't been holding up my end of the bargain lately, and I know it. The more that people read my irrelevant drivel, the more into the red I sink.

I fear, however, that this is a debt which will never be repaid in full. There are too many things about which I simply cannot write. Too many feelings to be hurt, too many fingers to point, and too much blame to assign.

See, this blog isn't about me, and it hasn't been about me for a very long time. It's been about something else. A feeling or a desire or a question or an answer, all intertwined and all pervasive. Everything that I wrote was about that. Everything, even if it didn't seem that way to those of you reading. And now it's got too stop. It's become just too damn intense.

Luckily, this blog is no longer about that thing at all. Now, it's about trying to survive even as I wonder if I want to survive.

And, as long as I'm being forthcoming, nothing I've written has been written for me, or for you generic readers out there in Internetland. Nope, all of it, every single word that I've written in the last half-decade, has been written to and for one very specific reader. A reader who is probably wondering, as she reads this sentence, "Is he talking about me?"

Of course I am, silly girl. And that also has to stop. Again, way too intense.

Now, where was I going with all this drivel?

Doesn't matter, because my date is here. It's about time. I'm starving.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009
posted by dave at 11:37 PM in category ramblings

I'm such a damn hypocrite sometimes. Like when I claim to not believe in fate except regarding this one tiny thing, and regarding this one tiny thing I base years of my life on faith that it's meant to be.

Make up your damn mind, Dave.

So here's the deal. Maybe I've been wrong. Maybe I've been wrong about fate, and maybe I've been wrong about this one tiny thing. Maybe it's all been random, or existing only in my head, or maybe there is fate, and what's happened is exactly what fate had in store for me.

It's a tough pill to swallow, being wrong. Wrong about a life. Wrong about a love. Just flat-out wrong about the only thing that has ever mattered to me. The only thing that, I fear, will ever matter to me.

So, having accepted the possibility that I've been wrong, what am I supposed to do about it?

Nothing. Not a damn thing.

Wait to die, or maybe wait to live. Maybe I've been right, and I just need even more patience, and maybe I've been wrong, and patience is irrelevant. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I do nothing, because that's what she wants from me right now.

Nothing.

And I hope that others will follow my example. There's been too much meddling and too much drama already.

It's time for peace to prevail.

Sunday, May 31, 2009
posted by dave at 8:34 AM in category daily, ramblings, travel

I've had this thought sliding around in my head for a few days. It's a slippery bastard, though, and I never can seem to maintain a grip on it. Long enough to recognize it, but not long enough to really get a good look. I suspect that, eventually, this thought will be captured and dissected into a blog entry. But not today.

---

I'm at Denny's again this morning. I got here late, for me. It's 7:15 as I write this sentence. I guess I timed things just right, as I pretty much have the place to myself. I see an elderly couple out front. I bet they're going to church when they leave here. I hope they find what they're looking for.

---

KittenDamsel and I were supposed to go to Covington last night. But then I was reminded that there was a party at my sister's house, for my niece and her fiancé. So I went there instead. KittenDamsel didn't want to go because, she said, she wouldn't know anyone. Well, out of the 7.5 million people there, I only knew perhaps a dozen. Maybe I'll go to Covington today. Maybe she'll take Monday off and come with me. Maybe pigs will fly. We'll see.

---

I wonder what time Home Depot opens. I could buy some 4x4s and some Quickrete and work on my swing. I can't believe I've let it go this long, but I guess I've been distracted. I've never done anything with concrete before. I'm afraid I'll make a mistake and get trapped somehow. A permanent monument to my own ineptitude.

---

I guess there's just no way that I can go anywhere without running away from here. I'm coming to grips with that. I can run, perhaps because I must run. The thought of running away is not what's giving me pause. Nope, it's the stark realization that, by running somewhere else, I'd also be giving up on here. That's what scares me. I'm just not ready to give up, and I fear that I never will be ready.

I've written before that I think fate is a silly concept, but I just can't shake this feeling, this certainty, that there's a reason for all this. A reason that I'm sitting at a Denny's early on a Sunday morning and thinking about her, missing her. This series of events and emotions that was set into motion all those years ago, there is a reason. I just don't know what that reason is. Perhaps its purpose is to destroy me.

So far, so good.

---

The crowd is starting to pour in now. More church people, I bet. I guess it's nice to have faith in something. I can't say that their faith is any more misplaced than my own.

Friday, May 29, 2009
posted by dave at 10:55 PM in category ramblings

It's too early to be writing this. I should wait. I should go back out into my garage and have another Marzen and then write this drivel.

But I'm inside now. And my garage is all the way out there.

Screw it. I'm going back outside. Nobody wanted to read unpolished bullshit anyway.

posted by dave at 1:36 AM in category ramblings

I have this thing that I used to do, years ago. I used to write something every night, before I went to bed. MixedSignalGirl was my muse, back then, though my own thoughts and feelings certainly put their two cents' worth in whenever the pressure became too great.

Now, I'm certainly not saying that I'm going to go back to writing something every day. I've said that before, and I've always failed to live up to that promise. But what I am saying is that I'll do better than I've done in the recent past.

---

Tonight I was thinking, as I'm so wont to do. Thinking was, as it has always been, a bad thing for me to do.

I was thinking about invitations. Invitations that I've received and invitations I've merely wanted to receive. And I was thinking about what my responses would be. And I was surprised and irritated at some of the realizations I made.

I would still, for example and after everything, rather simply hang out with the girl I love than fuck anyone else.

I've known this, on a subconscious level, for months. But tonight, it really seemed like a choice I might have to make. And, tonight, I once again realized that there would be no real choice.

---

I tried to be nice. I actually think that I was nice. But it was for naught. I was accused of being mean, basically. Of being an asshole. That same old assumption still ruled, and fuck the truth and the horse it rode in on.

Well, news flash; I'm not an asshole. And neither is the horse. It's a really nice horse, actually.

---

So then I made a phone call. I asked KittenDamsel straight-out. Her answer surprised me very much. If I go, then she'll go. She'll go and then we'll see what transpires.

There's this thing called faith, see. Not the religious kind, but faith in a person's goodness. I have it. KittenDamsel has it. HatGirl certainly has it. And certain others don't have it. Oh well.

That old saying, better safe than sorry, is all well and good except when it becomes the primary driving force for a life.

Safe, far too often, leads to sorry.

Failure to take any kind of real chance is, quite simply, a failure to live.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009
posted by dave at 10:56 PM in category ramblings

I decided sometime this afternoon that I needed to write something relevant. Something to, perhaps, entice the last stragglers into sticking around this blog a little longer. One such entry follows. Don't read it if you don't like relevant things. This means you, by the way.

It should have been me.

I've said and wrote and felt those words so many times over the last several months, and it's pretty much the one thought that's remained consistent throughout all of this bullshit that I've used instead of a life.

It should have been me. Never before and, I hope with all of my heart, never again, will I ever be so certain about something. Certainty is fine and good, by the way, until it blows up in your face and splatters god-knows-what (certainty guts?) all over you.

I want to know where I messed up. I want to know what I did wrong. I want - no, scratch that - I need to know what was wrong with me.

There. That's relevant.

But wait!

There's more.

I see four options, if I squint my eyes just so and tilt my head at just the right angle. Four.

There should be one. That's all I've ever had, after all, since that unknown evening in the Fall of 2003.

Anyway, nothing, less, same, more.

Those are the options.

We've tried nothing. I've lived with nothing for almost two months now. It's damn near killed me. It may still kill me, if I'm lucky. Better that than to die alone and unloved in my fucking sleep in forty fucking years. A broken heart is a pretty noble way to die, I think.

More, well that is the only option that my heart has ever let me consider. Unfortunately, it's not up to me, or the choice would have been made a long time ago.

Same simply cannot happen. It was an untenable situation, and we witnessed the proof, as everything that we had toppled and shattered and scattered at our feet because of our stupid feelings and our stupid prides and our stupid fears, despite our stupid blindness and our stupid lack of acceptance and our stupid stubbornness

So now we're stuck with less. Exactly how much less isn't up to me, and I'm glad that it's not. Because I'm not up to the task of deciding. I'm still, after all these minutes and hours and days and weeks and months since everything fell apart, I'm still not capable of separating the fantasy of what I feel from the reality of what I see.

And I really don't think that I'll ever be capable. Nor do I want the job.

Cool. A relevant entry with not just one, but two relevant subjects. That ought to keep people around for a while longer.

Monday, May 25, 2009
posted by dave at 1:10 AM in category ramblings

How do I leave without running away, scurrying to the relative safety of the unknown? It could be the greatest opportunity ever, but could I take advantage of it for its own sake? I want to stay, but how can I stand my ground when that ground has dissolved beneath my feet? How can I leave with any dignity at all?

How do I stay without clinging, with desperation and inevitable futility, to false hope? Do family and friends mean anything at all? Does my house mean anything at all? I want to leave, but how could I possibly leave my own life? How can I stay for myself, and for nobody else?

How do I change my life, and my habits, and my haunts, without hiding and cowering?

How do I show strength without being cold, without invalidating everything that I've said, and done, and felt?

How do I show emotion without being spineless and selfish, without shaking every time I hear a voice or, God forbid, see a face?

Everything I do is seen through these damn colored glasses. The ones that I've worn willingly for a large chunk of my life. It's no wonder that people are watching me, listening to me, reading my words.

She's reading my words.

How do I move on without rebounding?

Sunday, May 24, 2009
posted by dave at 2:07 AM in category ramblings

Trying not to think about the past, or at least not the recent past. It's just too damn depressing.

Also not thinking about the future, because for all I know there isn't going to be one. It's all amorphous and shit.

And the present?

Fuck the present.

So where does that leave me?

Nowhere. Or Nowhen. Whatever. Random firings of neurons in my brain that sometimes luck-out and form coherent thoughts.

Ahem...

It really bothers me that I censored myself so much these last several months. I mean, I didn't even write about New Year's Eve, for fuck's sake. That was a wonderful night. I still can't write about it, though. Except that it was wonderful.

And...

So many other times that I felt such incredible joy, and I still kept quiet. I hope that my silence was appreciated, because I didn't stay silent for myself. I wanted to not only write about my joy, I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

And...

Clearly, I waited too long to say those words. But really, was there a better time? An opportunity that I'd missed, a hint that I'd failed to see? Perhaps, but hindsight is 20/20, and foresight is maybe about 20/200 at best.

And...

I thought things were progressing naturally. Not in a weird way at all. I was wrong about that, and eventually I felt desperate and forced to say those words that I'd kept hidden for years. And I was too late. Or maybe still too soon. I haven't figured that out yet.

And...

Completely changing the subject, but what happened is that we ended up scaring the shit out of each other. The first time was back in 2005 when we first met. The second time was much more recent. We still scare the shit out of each other on a regular basis. But it's a good kind of scary, I think.

Oh, and also...

Changing the subject again. I don't know what's going on. I like to think that I know myself well enough to recognize those old danger signs, but it's very possible that I'm just lying to myself all over again. If so, then at least I think she's lying to herself as well, and that's why we make such a good team.

Thursday, May 21, 2009
posted by dave at 2:33 AM in category ramblings

It is a long and winding path, this one that I stand before. That we stand before.

Every now and then, bolstered by alcohol and desperation, I test my footing, just in front of where I stand. But it's just a test. I place my foot forward, and I brush the ground with my toes, and I almost shift my weight forward, but not quite.

Never quite.

I am afraid, you see. Afraid of tiring, and afraid of making a wrong turn, and afraid of losing my concentration and my footing. Slipping and falling. But mostly, afraid of finding myself on this path alone.

See, this is not a journey that I can make by myself.

I try. Every now and then, I really do try to fix things between us. Or to at least define things between us.

I try, and I fail, every time.

I will keep trying.

I will.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009
posted by dave at 4:37 PM in category ramblings

As the subset of the universe that makes up my readership prepares to roll its collective eyes...

Not this shit again?!?

Yes, indeed. This shit again.

Something else. That's what we've become. Something undefined, and perhaps undefinable. Not friends, not acquaintances, certainly not lovers. Neither strangers nor enemies. Ghosts who haunt each other from time to time.

We give life to lies by pretending they're true, but we fool nobody but ourselves, and only then through luck and stubbornness.

Everything that was and everything that could have been, replaced by this, this something. Blindness. Deafness. Numbness.

We have become something else. A round peg searching desperately for purpose, but finding itself in a universe full of square holes. Definition eludes, cowers.

In flux, perhaps.

posted by dave at 3:31 AM in category ramblings

Three hours ago, I was going to write something and then I was going to go to bed. I was going to go to bed at a normal hour, like a normal person.

See, I've got a lunch date with HatGirl and I want to be refreshed and shit. So I was going to go to bed at 12:30 or so, right after I wrote something.

And here I still sit.

Better late than never, perhaps?

There is a quote by Ernest Hemingway on NakedGirl's blog.

There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
Sounds like something I'd say, doesn't it? Except for the typewriter part. I'm not that old.

Anyway, I was thinking today that I need to stop this bleeding.

Or not.

Maybe, instead, I should slice the veins in my soul and just let myself pour.

How long would I bleed? Forever?

That would be gross.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009
posted by dave at 3:40 AM in category ramblings

Okay, so now I'm home again. It's 3:14 in the morning as I type this sentence, for those of you keeping score.

I just, like right this minute, got an urge to type something. Once again, unfortunately, I haven't the slightest idea what I can/should/will write.

So I'll just let my fingers twitch against this keyboard, and then I'll see what's produced.

I think I've figured out what it is that I want. Something impossible, of course, but that's never stopped me before. And the nice thing about impossible dreams is that I'm not disappointed when they don't come true.

The thing is, like it or not, I'm still pretty much the same person that I was two months ago, six months ago, five years ago. Recent events have shattered my hopes and derailed my desires, but they've done absolutely nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing to me.

Only the direction has changed. This compass that once pointed true now spins wildly, seeking a North that no longer exists.

Or does it?

This is an important question.

I've got so little patience these days. I run around and I grab heads and I peer into eyes, and if I don't see what I want within the first few seconds, I release my grip and I move on.

I know what I'm looking for, and I know where to find it. I just can't look there, not anymore. So I look for it elsewhere.

It exists. I know it does. It's out there somewhere, somewhere else I mean. I will find it. Or maybe I'll die trying, but if so, then I'll die fucking trying instead of sulking.

Hmmm, I just read the drivel that I've written so far. It sucks. I know exactly what I'm trying to say here, but my fingers aren't cooperating.

Maybe my fingers are tired. I know that the rest of me is.

Monday, May 11, 2009
posted by dave at 5:40 AM in category ramblings

5:35. AM. In the flipping morning.

Sleep tries to elude me, but I always manage to catch it. Eventually. I do sleep. In fact, I get more sleep now than I did before all of the shit hit the fan in my personal life. Figure that one out, and then explain it to me because I don't get it.

Things are way too calm inside my head. It really doesn't feel right. I should be devastated, and I always feel like I'm right on the verge of devastation, but I never seem to cross that line.

I keep saying that I don't know who I am anymore. That's an absolute fact. I mean, for years I was that guy. You know, the one who had hope for something wonderful with someone wonderful. The one who gave up his life to spend as much time as possible with someone wonderful. I may have mentioned some of this from time to time.

Anyway, I'm no longer that guy, and I'm almost always alone, even in a crowded room, and so I'm not sure just who the fuck I am.

So, after you figure out why I'm managing to sleep, maybe you can figure out who I am, and let me know that as well.

Saturday, May 9, 2009
posted by dave at 12:46 AM in category ramblings

Sometimes I find myself in a weird mood. But not a regular weird mood, where I feel like writing something deep and moving and relevant, instead a mood where I feel like plagarizing myself.

So much of what I've written over the years has been the absolute truth. So true, in fact, that it remains true to this day:

The thought that a pretty face, or a sexy body, or a friendly personality - the thought that any or all of these things might be enough for me - that thought borders on hilarious.

There's always something missing, it seems. That thing which is intangible and all-important. That's the thing for which the need permeates me. I've found something to fill that need once, twice, maybe three times. I may never find it again. That would be sad, I think.

Desire is more important than satisfaction. Because you can never really have the latter without the former. If you try, it inevitably feels hollow and empty. It feels like a lie, and for good reason.

WeirdGirl and I talked about this stuff for a while, our breathing still synchronized, in the late hours before sleep took us. We've discussed it before, and it's starting to sink in, the things that I say. She's finally starting to understand me, and her understanding will probably signal the end of this. Whatever this is.

I was right, of course. She did begin to understand me. That understanding did signal the beginning of the end for us.

I could have lied to her. Either explicitly or implicitly, I could have been much less than honest and therefore been a much better boyfriend. But that's not who I am, how I am. I will not change. The truth is all that I have sometimes. All that I have left.

Friday, May 8, 2009
posted by dave at 12:15 PM in category ramblings

I want to write something now.

I want to write that I'm done with trying to be nice, with trying to salvage any semblance of civility from this mess. I want to write that I get it, that I'm going to stop denying the harsh truth and that I'm going to accept it even if I can't embrace it. I want to write that I realize that it will take more than my own feeble efforts to resurrect any hope for anything at all, and that my efforts, unaccompanied as they are, cause more harm than good. I want to write that I see no way that this can be fixed.

I want to write all of those things, but I won't. I won't write them because they wouldn't be true.

Not yet, anyway.

Thursday, May 7, 2009
posted by dave at 7:28 AM in category ramblings

So I've been thinking a lot lately. That's not really anything new. I do it all the time. Lately, however, it's been so damn futile that I don't know why I'm even bothering to think at all.

Problem is, I don't know what I want. And it's not that I keep changing my mind. I don't even seem to have a mind to change.

My resolve is strong, but what exactly is my resolution?

I don't know what I want because I don't know who I am, and so I don't know what to do. I'm living on reflex, and I don't like it.

Very frustrating. For years I knew exactly who I was, and what I wanted, and so I could act accordingly.

Now, I look in the mirror and I see a stranger with some hidden desire, and I wish he'd let me in on the damn secret.

Monday, May 4, 2009
posted by dave at 4:26 AM in category ramblings

I don't know what it is about this early hour on this early May morning that suddenly finds my brain aching to write something. Neither do I know what it is I'm supposed to write. I think it just has to be something but the actual topic is irrelevant.

Irrelevant.

That's a word that I've used a lot over the past several weeks and months and even years.

So something has happened. Something bad. A beast bore down upon me, and I saw it coming and I stood my ground and I fought with everything I had.

I lost.

People tell me that I should have never bothered to fight. That I should have ran at the first sign of trouble. That it was futile from the start. This is their way of telling me that they think I've been stupid for a long time.

It's easy for people to cower safely inside their own lives and pretend to understand. It's easy to smirk and shake your head when you've never had anything worth fighting for. Worth living for. Worth dying for.

People tell me that this is a good thing. That now I can finally move on.

Those people are irrelevant. Their opinions are irrelevant. Their advice is irrelevant.

Maybe I could never see the forest through the trees, but at least I was in the damn forest. And now, battered and bloody, I struggle to crawl my way out.

Friday, May 1, 2009
posted by dave at 2:22 AM in category ramblings

Funny, I really thought I'd be in the mood to write something tonight. And I suppose that I was, about six hours ago. But now I'm home and I don't feel like writing anymore.

Sometimes, things happen. That's what I was thinking I'd write about. Sometimes, things happen, and I feel pretty guilty, especially about the things that the things imply.

No, scratch that. There's no implication, there's a big fucking spotlight shining onto my shortcomings.

But, as I told myself Wednesday night, when some things happened, "You get one life, Dave. Try to enjoy it every now and then."

That's the same line of reasoning that I've used to justify a lot things lately.

Hmmm, I guess I did feel like writing something after all. No much, to be certain, but something.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009
posted by dave at 1:55 AM in category ramblings

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.

Sunday, April 26, 2009
posted by dave at 8:59 PM in category ramblings

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.

posted by dave at 12:27 AM in category ramblings

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.

Sunday, April 19, 2009
posted by dave at 10:50 AM in category ramblings

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.

Friday, April 17, 2009
posted by dave at 12:22 AM in category ramblings

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.

Thursday, April 16, 2009
posted by dave at 11:08 PM in category ramblings

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.

posted by dave at 5:40 PM in category ramblings

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.

posted by dave at 1:29 AM in category ramblings

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.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009
posted by dave at 10:59 PM in category ramblings

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.

posted by dave at 2:04 AM in category ramblings

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?

Monday, April 13, 2009
posted by dave at 4:28 AM in category ramblings

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.

Sunday, April 12, 2009
posted by dave at 2:45 AM in category ramblings

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.

Thursday, April 9, 2009
posted by dave at 1:26 AM in category ramblings

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.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009
posted by dave at 3:28 AM in category ramblings

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.

Monday, April 6, 2009
posted by dave at 1:18 PM in category ramblings

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.

Saturday, April 4, 2009
posted by dave at 5:02 AM in category ramblings

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.

posted by dave at 4:48 AM in category ramblings

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.

Friday, April 3, 2009
posted by dave at 11:39 PM in category ramblings

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.

Thursday, April 2, 2009
posted by dave at 12:00 AM in category ramblings

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.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009
posted by dave at 11:45 PM in category dreams, ramblings

Wow.

I'm fooling myself, of course. Sitting here acting like I'm in control of things for a change. Pretending so hard that I have a choice, and then actually believing it.

Anyway, my dreams these last eight days have all been the same. Oh, not exactly the same - the details vary - but the theme stays the same.

In my dreams, I'm so happy. But then, all of a sudden, something happens, and I want to die. Sometimes, in my dreams, I get to die, but usually not. Usually I just want it, but I wake up instead. I suppose that waking up from a dream is a form of death, at least for the dream version of myself.

And they're not really all that disturbing, as nightmares go. I know it probably seems that way to someone reading about how I want to die and stuff.

But they really are just dreams, after all. A consequence of the random firing of neurons which my sleeping brain tries to interpret. Usually with some current events thrown into the mix for context, and maybe some metaphors for added color and intrigue.

I'm in a mood right now, of course. Lying to myself, saying that everything's going to be okay. Which is ludicrous, seeing as how I don't even know what okay means anymore. I mean, maybe this is it, glaring at my phone, waiting for that little red light to illuminate. Maybe this is okay.

Wow, the damn thing just lit up. It's so pretty.

posted by dave at 12:00 AM in category ramblings

So many problems, waah, waah, waah. I get so fucking sick of it. Sick of every moment of happiness being spoiled by the knowledge that it will never last, because I'm not a cocksucking douchebag and that's apparently what's required.

Doubly-sick of the fact that I haven't even been able to write about those times when I've been happy, not even a little bit. And I have been happy, dammit. I've been happy a lot these last several months.

I also, of course, can't write about being sad, but I've still managed it from time to time. When it's too much to bear alone, I share it with you readers. Like right now. Spread it out or something. But still no specifics, still nothing telling.

I am a good person, after all. Not a cocksucking douchebag.

Lot of fucking good that's done me.

I wonder what would happen, if I just wrote right here, right now, about those things which have been bothering me lately. Especially this past week.

Would it be read?

Would it be understood?

Would it be believed?

Because I've been right here dealing with it, and I sure as fuck can't believe it.

I'm not going to write shit, though. It's not my place, not my job.

And I am a good person, like I said. And I will die alone and unloved despite that fact.

I need some goddamn resolve, that's what I need. So if any of you have any resolve to spare, can you help a brother out?

I'll pay you back double in a couple of months.

Monday, March 30, 2009
posted by dave at 12:47 AM in category ramblings

Go here and read that old entry, then come back.

I'll wait.

La-la-la...

Ho hum...

Okay, what took you so long?

I wrote that over two years ago, and not a fucking thing has changed. The opinions I expressed back then are still my opinions.

And they're still right.

Thursday, March 26, 2009
posted by dave at 11:02 PM in category ramblings

Okay, so in my last entry I said that I didn't know what I wanted anymore.

Now, I know.

I want to wake up and find that it's 2003, sometime before the Fall of that year.

I keep pinching myself, but I can't fucking wake myself up.

This has to be a nightmare.

It can't be real.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009
posted by dave at 11:33 PM in category ramblings

I wonder, what's supposed to happen next?

The future, it was always so clear to me before. I didn't know when and I didn't know how, but I knew what and I fucking absolutely knew why.

For years, I've been focused on one ideal, to the exclusion of everyone and everything else. Skimming above the surface of life, never quite letting myself pause and just enjoy things. Not with that wonderful future somewhere up ahead. For me, there was nothing but patience and desire, bound together.

Now, suddenly, it's different. I find myself back in that gray place I left so long ago. It hasn't changed, and I find, to my surprise, that I haven't changed that much either. I still, after months of happiness peppered with sorrow, I still average-out the same. I still belong here, alone with my own thoughts and feelings. It feels like home to me, and now I'm back, because my vacation is over.

I don't even know what I want anymore. The universe has once again shifted around me while I've stood transfixed. That which was beautiful has twisted into something ugly. That which was wonderful has transformed into something horrible. That which was desired has turned into something...

Now that's the weird thing.

It's still desired.

I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know what to do. Or say. Or feel.

Simply waiting to die seems like a bad idea, as well as a boring one. I wish I could think of a better idea, but I'm fresh-out.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009
posted by dave at 6:25 PM in category ramblings

If I could write something, something that would express my current mood as accurately and completely as possible, if I could write something relevant right now, I bet it would be good.

I bet people would like it, the way the phrases flowed and the sentences sang and the words wound and wound around the central core of inescapable truth that, for now, I'm happy.

I bet people would like it, but I can't write it. Too much of anything, even the truth, is still too much.

Anyway, fuck you, universe!

I may be down, but I'm not out.

posted by dave at 1:50 PM in category ramblings

I don't know how many steps there are - I think about sixteen - because I've never taken time to count them. Hell, I've never had the spare brain capacity to count them because I'm too busy being happy or sad during those times when I use those particular stairs.

The coincidental part is that my mood parallels my altitude.

I always run up, sometimes two steps at a time, my ever-widening smile betraying the calmness that I strive to project just because I feel like it's expected and not weird, and I always trudge down, my frown broadcasting my defeat to the world.

In case you didn't guess already, I'm really bored right now. So I'm babbling, albeit in written form.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009
posted by dave at 3:35 PM in category ramblings

Last evening, for an hour or so to anyone unfortunate enough to notice me but a million years from my own perspective, I glared at my phone and I waited to die. It may have seemed that I did other things during that time - I appeared to chain-smoke and breathe and blink my eyes and all sorts of other mundane things - but those were mere illusions. Reflexive and involuntary actions, and nothing more. Nothing mattered to me except my phone, and the fact that it was silent.

My phone was going to ring, see. Actually, it was going to woo-hoo if you really need to know that small detail. My phone was going to woo-hoo, and then I was going to answer it. And then I was going to listen for a few seconds. And then I was going to say four words, assuming that I'd be able to speak at all, and then I was going to die.

I found myself wondering what my next reincarnation would be, what the next version of Dave would be like. The last one, the current version of myself, had gone on a fairly decent run. Decent, but not good, and certainly not great. The old saying is that nice guys finish last, and while I may not have been bringing up the absolute rear, sometimes second place is just as bad. Sometimes second place is the worst thing that could ever happen. Like when you've dedicated your entire life to a single race.

It was a false alarm. My phone made its woo-hoo sound, and I saw that it was a text message, and I sighed with relief. My death would not, I knew, be delivered via such an impersonal conduit, it would have come via voice. I've earned that much, I'm sure.

So, I'm still here. For now.

posted by dave at 1:16 PM in category ramblings

Despite all initial indications - despite, at times, hundreds thousands of latter indications - some people are just not nice, at least not when it really matters.

It doesn't make a difference, though, even though every spare instance of logical thought screams at you that it should make a huge difference, it simply doesn't. Not in the long run, anyway. You know what you know, and you feel what you feel, and the sad truth is that the two are not always complimentary.

You find yourself forced to choose between the truth and the fantasy, but it's not such a daunting task, because there is no choice. The heart wins, every time without fail or even much hesitation, the heart wins.

In summary, I'm fucked.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009
f
posted by dave at 11:42 PM in category ramblings

Fingers fumbling finding feeling fondling finally forcefully fusing firmly.

posted by dave at 12:07 AM in category ramblings

Looking over the fence. Admiring the green grass. Barely noticing my neighbor, my mirror-image, coveting my lawn.

Some forces attract and others repel. Sometimes there's a balance, and this bullshit I use instead of a life makes a little bit of sense.

Tasting the sour grapes. Wondering if I can ever love them. Realizing that I already do.

Monday, March 9, 2009
posted by dave at 7:26 PM in category ramblings

I have this word that keeps emanating from my lips.

It's not a nice word, and it's certainly not an earned word.

I wish the word would stop being the sound that my lips make when they decide to make an ostensibly random sound.

I wish the word would go back to hiding inside my head, with its brethren, until the day when it's really needed.

Not that I expect that to happen.

posted by dave at 3:24 AM in category ramblings

I heard about this open-mic thingy the other night. I didn't go, but I heard about it. One of the things I heard was that there were some "real" writers there.

I like to imagine myself as a real writer. Not now, I mean, but someday, in the future, maybe. I think I have it in me; that combination of passion and creativity that's so necessary. I've certainly got the passion, and the creativity is in here somewhere, rattling around in my head like a quarter you've left in your jeans when you did a load of laundry. Now it's in the dryer, banging and clanging.

Trying to take the chaos inside me and distill it into something that's both meaningful and interesting. It's tough sometimes, impossible at other times, but it feels downright effortless on nights like tonight. Nights when I've fucked up and it feel like this keyboard is absolutely all I have left. Every part of me, every iota of anything and everything that makes me who I am and how I am - all escaping by the only path available, flowing down through my fingers and onto my keyboard.

It has to escape. It fucking has to, because it's unbearable to be inside my head on nights like tonight.

Nights when I've fucked up.

Nights when I'm sorry.

Anyway, I know that this entry sucks. Just because something seems easy doesn't mean that it's any good.

Sunday, March 1, 2009
posted by dave at 4:30 AM in category ramblings

I'm in here somewhere. I just know I am. I can almost, when it's late at night and I'm all alone, I can almost sense my presence. A flicker crosses my mind, but I notice it an instant too late.

I am, as I've said so often lately, fucked.

Dammit, I know I'm in here somewhere.

I defy anyone to live with this much pain for this long. I have no idea how I'm coping at all, if this can even be called coping.

I know what needs to be done, but I cannot do it. Time and time again, I turn around and I take one or two or three purposeful strides, and then my legs betray me. They turn to rubber, and I cannot take another step.

Efforts to push me away have seemed to be tests more than anything else. Tests for which I'm ill-prepared, and for which the results are beyond my control. Am I passing? Am I failing?

Lately there have been attempts to pull me away from this mess. To save me. Offers of something different, perhaps even better. I resist these attempts, though I no longer know why. I mean, why fear the unknown when the known is so terrifying?

I am most definitely fucked.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009
posted by dave at 11:45 PM in category comics, ramblings

Once or twice or a hundred times, every day, I forget.

It's a self-defense activity. My mind knows that, alone and unarmed as it is, it cannot withstand the constant onslaught. So, it does what it can do. What it must do. It retreats. It runs and cowers beneath the rubble of destroyed dreams. It hides from reality.

During those times, I can almost pass for a normal person. Unless you look too closely into my eyes, or let your gaze linger on my face for too long, or ask me a question.

It always me pisses me off, when people ask me if I'm okay, or how I'm doing. Sometimes, people even ask me what's wrong, or if they can help. All those same questions over and over, and always the same answers.

The truth is not always in my words, but the truth is always there. The truth always forces my mind out of its hiding place, out into the open.

Once or twice or a hundred times, every single fucking day, I remember all over again.

truth

posted by dave at 2:12 AM in category ramblings

(This is a entry from December 2005. I like this entry. I wish it had come true.)

It starts with a sound.

Not just any sound, but the sound of a voice from an almost forgotten past. Just a word or two, snaking their way through the din of the crowd. It's not much, but it's enough. I prepare myself, as much as I can anyway.

I think that I'm ready. I believe that I've steeled myself for what will come next. I tell myself that this is what I've been waiting for, that I'm prepared. That I will be strong.

I'm wrong.

I see the sparkles long before I see her. Walls inside me begin to crumble almost immediately. Pressure that has been bottled up for months is suddenly free and unrestrained. Something deep within me is exploding. I cannot prevent it, and I'm suddenly not sure that I want to.

I see her face.

For a fraction of a portion of a second, I am afraid. But the fear is quickly overwhelmed by something else. By desire. By determination. By relief. By the knowledge that the world is finally right again.

I stand up.

My knees are shaking. My heart is pounding. My very soul is shattering and rebuilding at a frantic pace inside me. I take a step, then another. My legs, miraculously, are still amenable to my will. They are no longer a part of me, for I am naught but a heart on fire, but they obey my will nevertheless.

Our eyes meet.

Time stops.

A million eternities pass by in an instant.

I reach out the hand that I somehow still control, and I take hers into it. The circuit between us completes, and it flows with ferocity. Our fingers fuse together.

But it is not enough.

Suddenly aware of the eyes upon us, I crave privacy for what will come next. I pull her through the crowd, then away from the crowd. She resists shyly, more from surprise than anything else. By the time we reach our destination, a dark and empty room, I'm unsure as to who is doing the leading.

We stop. We breathe. We exist. Together. Alone. The heat from her body warms my very bones.

But is it not enough.

I pull her to me and I embrace that part of myself that's been missing for such a long time. I am finally complete. I am finally whole.

But it is still not enough.

I pull my head back, and I open my eyes.

In her eyes I see, not myself, not her, but us. I see everything I've ever sought, and I see a future filled not with pain, but with desire, and with passion, and with hunger for each other.

In her eyes, I see love. Mine. Hers. Ours. It's all the same.

But still it's not enough.

I move my head towards hers.

Our lips meet.

Thursday, February 19, 2009
posted by dave at 12:51 AM in category ramblings

It was the strangest feeling, to not care. So surreal. Like watching myself up on stage, and knowing that I was forgetting all of my lines.

At 5:00 today, my phone woo-hooed. It started blinking.

I answered, of course, but I still didn't care.

Much later my phone woo-hooed and blinked again.

This time, I cared. Even though I pretended not to, I cared as much as I've ever cared about anything.

But it was too late, and I knew it.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009
posted by dave at 1:24 AM in category ramblings

It changes a man, to see a beautiful face distorted by pain. To see it over and over and over and over and over. To stand helpless and watch the tears flow.

It changes a man, to feel so much and to give so much and to offer so much more, and to know that it's just not enough.

To drain away. To feel the very ground beneath your feet seem to dissolve as you struggle to remain upright. To feel betrayed and abandoned by the universe itself.

To hate yourself.

To look into the eyes of a child and find something you never thought you'd find again. To feel something you never thought you'd feel again.

To look into a mirror and see impending death, not from old age or disease or injury, but from heartache. To feel a dark hope that it will all end soon.

To fear sleep, for the nightmares that always accompany it. To fear wakefulness, for the reality that pounds away.

To watch a wonderful soul harden, and to feel your own soul harden with it. Not from pity or compassion or even love, but simply because your souls are irrevocably bound.

It changes a man.

Monday, February 16, 2009
posted by dave at 9:22 AM in category ramblings, travel

I can't shake this feeling that we're expecting way too much from this. I talked to StupidGirl on the phone for three hours last night. It was, just like always, a friendly and funny conversation. An easy conversation. The hard part never comes until later, when my racing mind digests everything that was said and, more than that, everything that wasn't said.

I haven't been on a pedestal in a long time. Not since MixedSignalGirl. I'm not sure that I like it. Maybe I've developed a fear of heights. Maybe I don't feel like I'm worthy. Gee, I can't imagine why I might have a self-esteem issue.

Mostly, though, I think it's just that we still don't know each other very well. Not the way we should. We only know the best parts, the fun parts, the easy-going parts. I worry about what will happen if we're faced with the darker sides of each other's personalities.

I'm doing something very similar, I know. I'm pinning so much hope on this trip that there's no way I won't be disappointed. These feelings I'm suffering cannot be pushed aside for an entire weekend. Pushing them aside for even a few hours usually requires more strength than I possess. StupidGirl will surely do a fine job of distracting me, but it won't change who I am on the inside. The suffering I feel on the inside.

I can't let my guard down at all. I can't let her see who I really am.

I think we're both expecting that everything will be perfect. I think we're both going to be disappointed. I can only hope that we can rebound from that disappointment.

posted by dave at 1:07 AM in category ramblings

I just want to say something now.

I'm not retarded. I know that there's a 99.99999999999% chance that I'm wasting my time and that I'm going to die alone and unloved because of it.

But, what if that 0.00000000001% chance is the one that becomes reality?

It's my fucking life, and if I want to keep waiting, well then it's my fucking right to keep waiting.

It's totally worth the risk to me. That's the thing that nobody seems to understand.

Saturday, February 14, 2009
posted by dave at 1:23 AM in category ramblings

How do you explain the inexplicable?

You don't.

You might try and try and try and try and try, but sometimes a thing cannot be explained. Sometimes not even to yourself.

So instead, you demonstrate it, at every possible opportunity, and you hope with all your heart that eventually it's understood before you die.

Although that can be kind of tough, because sometimes you died a long time ago, and you're just too fucking stubborn to admit it.

Friday, February 13, 2009
posted by dave at 5:12 PM in category ramblings

Sometimes, I really wish that I was stupid. Then maybe I wouldn't always be thinking about stuff, and things.

It's the things that are the worst.

I do manage to shut my brain down, every now and then, but not nearly often enough. I did it tuesday, and it was really nice. But then Wednesday I started thinking again, and in doing so I became retarded again.

Thinking about stuff and things keeps getting me into trouble. It's would be so nice to just tra-la-la through life, without a care in the world beyond what I'd next put into my mouth and where I'd next put my dick.

Like a caveman, or something. They never thought about stuff and things. They just went and fucking did whatever they wanted to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I can't. It's a bad idea, I think. It's inappropriate, I think.

And the only thing worse than thinking, is worrying about what other people think.

Thursday, February 12, 2009
posted by dave at 4:43 PM in category ramblings

It should be perfectly clear to anyone who knows me that I don't know what I'm doing here. Just trying to muddle through, like everyone else. Trying to make the best of out the situations presented to me. Especially this one situation which keeps trying to kill me.

It's weird for me to realize this, but this really is all new to me. I mean, I've lived with it for the longest time, and today I'm no closer to understanding it, no closer to knowing what to do, than I was when it started. It's very probable that I'll never understand it, never know what to do. And so, I muddle.

Muddle, muddle, muddle...

What a funny word.

I wish I could, for just a little while, know what was right. If I knew what was right, I'd do it. I really would. This is too fucking important to always be second-guessing myself.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009
posted by dave at 11:47 PM in category drink, ramblings

Of course, I want to write something tonight. I'm actually in the mood to write, but I have no stupid power in my stupid house, so I'm typing this thing into my Blackberry. It works, but it's a hassle.

Both of my cats sensed my mood tonight, and both stayed close to me. Nugget stayed on my lap, and Buddy camped-out on the back of the couch, behind my head.

My fire, in its weird way, also kept me company. It's gone out now. I haven't decided whether I want to burn another log or not. That decision will go hand-in-hand with whether I want to have a third Marzen or not.

I was thinking about something I read once. Back in the olden days, before I was even born if you can believe that, they'd chop peoples' heads off. Criminals, mostly. But also, I like to think, people who were just assholes.

Anyway, I read once that some weird dude decided to conduct experiments with the recently beheaded. Right after the *thud* he'd pick up the head and look into the eyes. He was looking for some sign of consciousness, I guess.

Wait, maybe that's not quite appropriate.

There was a movie I once saw. This one dickhead pulled the heart out of some poor dude. He then showed the dude the heart, still beating in his hand. What a dickhead, right?

So the dude knew he was dead, and he also knew there wasn't fuck he could do about it.

Damn, this entry seemed like a much better idea before I started typing it.

I think it's time for another beer and another fire.

Monday, February 9, 2009
posted by dave at 9:22 PM in category ramblings

Okay, so I'm going to be honest for a minute or two.

Not that I'm not always honest, or at least as honest as I can be in this public venue, but sometimes I hold things back.

Sometimes, we all hold things back. Because we live in a society and shit.

But not me, not right now. I'm not holding anything back.

Right now, I am fucking livid.

I'm no longer convincing myself that I'm angry, to keep the sadness at bay. Nope, right now, it's fucking real.

Livid.

Not because something happened.

Because nothing happened.

But, more than that, because I wanted so badly for something to happen, and it didn't. Hasn't. Whatever.

Fuck you, universe. Fuck you up the ass.

Friday, February 6, 2009
posted by dave at 7:59 AM in category ramblings

I imagine that what I'll think about, if I ever get to the point of being able to think again, is just how quickly it all fell apart.

I really don't know what's going to happen. Hell, I don't even know what's happened already. I just know that it's happened so damn fast that it's made me dizzy.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009
posted by dave at 12:20 AM in category ramblings

I don't have any real idea how to describe it, and I'm not really going to try. Just in abstract terms.

Maybe it's a vase. Yeah, that should work. Just imagine a vase. A fancy one. Wait, maybe it's an urn, like one that might contain the ashes of a deceased loved one. Whatever. It doesn't matter what it looks like. It holds shit. I suppose it's waterproof, though that's irrelevant.

Man, I'm rambling already. Oh well.

So you take this thing, this vase or urn or whatever, and you drop a tiny grain of sand into it. Maybe it makes a tiny clink as it hits bottom, but if you can hear it your ears are a fuck of a lot better than mine. Whatever, it doesn't matter if it makes a sound. I was just trying to do something there. Build the scene or some crap like that.

You drop in the grain of sand, and the next day you drop another grain of sand. And maybe the next day is really fucked up so you drop two grains of sand. You keep doing this, day after week after month after year. You just drop your little grains of sand into your vase or urn or whatever.

At first, it seems like you'll be able to keep dropping sand forever. I mean, it's a big vase or urn or whatever. Did I mention before that it's big? Well, it is. And the grains of sand are tiny, as grains of sand are so wont to be. So it doesn't ever really hit you that there will ever be a problem. You keep having fucking grains of sand, but you've got a place to put them, so it's okay, and it seems that it will always be okay. You've got a system and shit.

And then one day, perhaps one day in January of 2009, you notice, to your great surprise, that your vase or urn or whatever is totally full of sand.

And you've got no place to put your grains anymore, and you certainly can't just stand there holding sand like an idiot, so you drop it on the ground at your feet, hoping that nobody will notice.

Oh, but they fucking notice.

Eventually, nobody remembers who you used to be. You become The Guy Standing In The Big Pile Of Sand and that's all anyone thinks of you as.

And then you're fucked.

Saturday, January 31, 2009
posted by dave at 3:41 PM in category ramblings

There's a place. It's not a physical place, though that's part of it. It's more of a spiritual place.

The place, it's where I belong. It's why I'm here, on this Earth, in this life. To be in the place. It's where I fit, and more than that, it's where the universe fits me.

Problem is, I can't get there. There's no navigable route, and even if there were, the place is already occupied, and even if it wasn't, I'm not allowed in the place.

I've come very close. I've stood next to the place and I've felt its pull so strongly that it's threatened to rip me apart atom by atom.

If I believed in God, I'd surely hate Him, for showing me the place.

posted by dave at 11:50 AM in category ramblings

Resolve is a problem, of course.

It never lasts forever, so it never lasts long enough. Bad memories fade away and good memories rush in to fill the gaps, and resolve becomes a vague notion of a silly inkling, and nothing more.

And another thing is that there's always something else that I want to say. Not magic words that will fix everything - I've given up on finding such words - but instead an extrapolation of words I've already said. A clearer explanation as to why I am the way I am and why things are the way they are and why things must be the way that they must be.

I guess, just like everyone else, I want to be understood.

After all this time, I'm still met with doubt and disbelief. I'm still assaulted by accusations of exaggeration, still cut by cruel words that would mean nothing if not for their source.

I tried so hard, but I failed. There should be no shame in that; at least I did finally try. There should be no shame, but shame is all I feel sometimes.

And now I'm trying to give up. As if that makes any sense. I'm trying to accept my failure and I'm trying to stop trying.

I keep failing at that, too.

Because resolve is a problem, of course.

Monday, January 26, 2009
posted by dave at 2:39 PM in category ramblings

Okay, so I'm pissed. BFD.

It's my right, and I seriously doubt that anyone would try to tell me that it's without reason.

This fucking bullshit. This situation, as I keep calling it. I got fucking tired of being sad about it, and so now I'm pissed.

It's strange how anger and sadness are perceived, especially when displayed by a man.

Both are certainly perceived as negative emotions. But it's sadness that's seen, much more often (as in every fucking time) as a sign of weakness.

After all, only little kids and women get sad.

Men don't get sad. Men are strong. Men don't cry. Men don't even want to cry. It's not even an option for men.

Besides, it's easier, being pissed. And it make more sense.

I am a man, after all.

It's about fucking time that I started acting like one.

Saturday, January 24, 2009
posted by dave at 10:15 AM in category ramblings

I'll tell you exactly what it was like for me.

It was like looking at the Sun, and realizing that it was no longer blindingly bright. Then it was like looking at the Sun some more, and wondering what the big deal was.

Boring, really.

I don't know how long this will last. Probably not forever, though, and I think that's too bad.

It's kind of nice, not being blinded.

---

Wow, this was a fucked up week. Even by my standards.

---

What I want now is nothing.

I need to be clear; it's not that I don't want something, or even that I don't want anything.

Nope, it's just like I said. I want nothing.

I doubt that I'll get it.

Thursday, January 22, 2009
posted by dave at 12:32 AM in category ramblings

Tonight, I am awake. For the first time in years, I'm fully awake.

I don't like it. Not even a little bit.

---

I wasn't wrong. I was as right as anyone has ever been. Validation has nearly drowned me.

It's just that sometimes people change, and right can become wrong as reality shifts and transforms.

---

It's so easy for me to revert to being that guy who did nothing but miss her for years. It was easy to be him, after all. Comfortable like a warm fuzzy blanket. It's so easy to go back. So tempting to just go back to where I feel safe. To where I feel like myself.

---

I censor myself in this journal. And now, more and more often, I censor myself in my life. This is not me, this shell that pretends and lies and laughs that fake laugh to hide the sound of sobbing. It's not me at all. I don't know what it is, this thing I've become. Some ridiculous caricature, perhaps, drawn by the same drunk retarded blind child who one day suddenly found himself in charge of my feelings, and now finds himself in charge of everything that I am.

---

Tonight, for a while now, I've gone back even farther than I usually go. I've reverted to another life. A life devoid of emotion, and therefore a life devoid of meaning.

I don't like it. Not even a little bit.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009
posted by dave at 11:53 PM in category ramblings

Lots of people tell me that I'm stupid, retarded, whatever. Lots of people tell me that I'm wasting my time.

Usually, I can ignore it when people tell me these things. Because they just don't know. They're not in my situation, and so there's no way they can really know.

Most of the time, I can ignore it when people tell me these things.

And then, then there are days like today. Days like today when I suspect that all those people are telling me the truth.

Saturday, January 17, 2009
posted by dave at 4:29 PM in category ramblings

You know what's weird.

(censored)

That's what's weird.

I like it, though.

Thursday, January 15, 2009
posted by dave at 1:21 PM in category ramblings

Na-na-na-na-na-na!

Na-na-na-na-na-na!

Spiderwoman!

---

That is all.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009
posted by dave at 11:12 AM in category ramblings

It's kinda like I might be holding a winning lottery ticket for a gazillion dollars.

Except that there's a slight catch. I have to walk across the country to find out if I've won.

No big deal, I think. Totally worth it if I win.

Except then there's another slight catch. The prize could expire at any minute, without warning, before I get there.

Oh, and it might end up being Monopoly money, too.

Oh yeah, and I've already been walking for a very long time.

posted by dave at 12:08 AM in category ramblings

I think that what really gets me is that nobody gets me.

I mean, I know exactly what I'm trying to say, and I usually manage to blurt out the correct words, but nobody really understands. Being an eternal optimist, I choose to believe that people don't want to understand, instead of that they're all just idiots.

Remember this dude?

You know what's worse than screams?

He stays down there almost all of the time lately. Down in the dungeon of my mind. The doors are not locked. He's free to come and go as he pleases. But he seems to prefer it down there. Or, at least, he prefers the darkness to the light.

His screams were so loud. They cut straight through me.

I feel for him. I really do. After all, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. Faced with that which neither of us could survive alone, the two of us together somehow pulled through. An unbeatable team bound, for a while at least, by parallel goals.

To endure. To live. To persevere. To exist.

To wait.

His screams were so piercing, but at least they showed strength. A will to keep trying, to keep fighting. His screams reminded me of those long-ago days and nights when we screamed together in horrible harmony.

You know what's worse than screams?

All I hear now is soft sobbing. And it keeps getting softer.

See? Crystal clear, I think.

Well, that asshole grew himself a pair of balls or something. He started venturing into the open, becoming more and more bold. Rambling on and on and on about his damn feelings and desires and hopes and expectations.

He damn near ruined everything, the fucker. For both of us.

Fuck that.

I had to do something. So, the other night after he got drunk, I dragged his sorry ass down to the dungeon. I threw him into his cell, and then I locked the fucking door.

Maybe I should have just shot him in the head, put him out of our misery, but I didn't. Some weird sense of loyalty overcame me at the last minute. Some leftover feeling of brotherhood, perhaps, or maybe just plain old pity.

That poor wretched stupid asshole.

He'll probably rot in that cell.

Better him than me, though.

Monday, January 12, 2009
posted by dave at 10:48 PM in category ramblings

We talked about it a little, the other day. How effortless it had all been. Our hands exploring bodies that we seemed to already know. Our mouths tasting flavors that seemed oh so familiar. Always just the right pressure. Always just the right balance of passion and intimacy. It really was like we were made for each other.

And then, in stark contrast, our minds fumbled. They refused to interlock the way our bodies did. Soon enough we found that our only comfort was in silence, because anything more would say too much.

It ended, eventually, as these things often do. Age differences and education differences and lifestyle differences were the excuses that we used to soften the truth. The truth that there simply was no real future between us. The truth that she was too wild for me, that I was too stable for her. And, of course, the awful truth that my heart already belonged to another.

She didn't understand that last truth. But how could she? I barely understood it myself. Sometimes you just know.

So we decided to end it with a bang, so to speak, as these things often end. One last night doing the things at which we excelled together.

In silence, of course.

More words would have ruined it.

posted by dave at 9:00 PM in category ramblings

I suppose that I'm pretty good at waiting. As I should be, what with all the practice I've had.

But still, I'd like to be better at it. I know that I can be better at it, and I'm not really sure why I suck so much sometimes. Probably something to do with the difference between impatience and anticipation. It's a thin line there, I think. Like the proverbial you-know-what hair.

Anyway, now I find myself waiting. Maybe for nothing, maybe for something. I asked, and now I wait for a response. I do that a lot, it seems.

Worth the wait?

Certainly, as long is this newfound pseudo-patience of mine pays off.

And if it doesn't?

Well, then maybe tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that.

It's not like I've got anything better to do.

Sunday, January 11, 2009
posted by dave at 10:59 AM in category ramblings

I was going to say please stand by, but that would be mean if I end up never writing here again.

How do I write about the end of something, if I never really wrote about the thing itself?

Somehow, that's all, folks just doesn't seem appropriate.

How do I write about the end of a life, if that life turned out to have been meaningless?

Somehow, ta-da! just doesn't seem to cut it.

I need to stop writing now. I've got too much to say.

Sunday, January 4, 2009
posted by dave at 12:56 PM in category ramblings

For weeks and months, people have been telling me things that I already know. Well, guess what; I already know those things.

My odds are abysmal, but as soon as I give up, as soon as I walk or run or crawl or swim away, my odds will reduce to zero. Can't have that. No way. Can't wait this long and come this far and then just quit.

This is my choice.

I will have my regrets, certainly, but never again will I have to ask myself, What if I'd tried harder? What if I'd given it everything I had? What if I'd laid everything on the line?

Fuck that. No regrets. Not this time.

I have done and said everything I could do. I've been totally, almost painfully honest. I've been loyal and attentive and generous and caring. I've given every ounce of my being to this, and there's only one thing left that I can do.

Wait.

I still have some patience left, believe it or not. Sometimes it wears thin, and sometimes it even seems to run out completely. I always seem to find a reserve, though, welling up from some dark place that I didn't know existed.

Good things come to those who wait, huh?

Well, I'm waiting. Been doing it for a very long time now.

People keep telling me things that I already know.

This is my choice, to wait.

To die trying, or to simply die? Or, perhaps, to live?

This time, if I die again, this time I will do it standing up.

Wednesday, December 31, 2008
posted by dave at 2:56 PM in category ramblings

So the challenge, as I see it, is to see if I can sit here and write an entry. Despite being very tired. Despite being fairly distracted. And, as an added challenge, can I write an entry before the battery on my laptop runs out?

I fell asleep a little while ago. Right there on her couch. Very strange. I mean, I had a whole four and a half hours of sleep last night. That should be plenty for me.

Oh, shit. I hope I'm not coming down with something. That would suck. I have had the sniffles today. Crap.

My fingers are willing to type, but my brain doesn't seem ready hold up its end of the bargain. I'm having a hard time thinking of my own name, let alone an idea for a hastily written blog entry.

I could, I suppose, try to condense the last few weeks of my life. Strip out all of the things I can't write, tone down some of the emotions, respect everyone's privacy as much as I can. I could do those things, but then what would be left?

I and to what when kitties beer cold.
Something like that, anyway. Hardly seems worth the effort.

Another thing I could do is make something up. Write some fiction. I get this bug up my ass every now and then to write some fiction. There are two problems with this idea.

Problem the first, I don't know if I can write fiction.

Problem the second, I don't have any ideas for fiction, either.

So, I'm basically fucked.

I wonder, does this count as an entry yet?

posted by dave at 1:06 AM in category ramblings

Sometimes I imagine timid peeps. A rabbit peeking out of its hole, or a tortoise poking its head out of its shell. Curious, but wary. Oh, so wary.

Other times I think it's more forceful, purposeful even. Eyes illuminating. Searching for something. Expecting something. Maybe a little disappointed when it's not there. Maybe a little relieved.

I wish I knew what to do here. What to write. I could make everything better, or I could make everything worse. But I don't know, so instead I do neither. I write nothing.

Nothing at all.

Thursday, December 25, 2008
posted by dave at 12:20 AM in category comics, drink, ramblings

whatever

That comic has nothing to do with anything. It's just something I thought of that was funny to me.

This entry brought to you by Alaskan Smoked Porter (773).

Recently - it might have been Monday or it might have been some earlier night, as the last months of my life have quite blurred together - OddlyFamiliarGirl told me that I should write more often. She talked about the things that had first drawn her to my blog; the honesty and the passion that I felt, which would so easily flow from my heart down my arms through my fingers and onto my keyboard. She wanted to read that kind of entry again.

I replied that I couldn't do it, that some things were just too hard to write about.

Like how an important question can seem to go unanswered, but it's not really. Refusal to answer is an answer all in itself. Evasion is taking a stand.

And like how unwillingness to choose is really just choosing to leave things the way that they are. To maintain the status quo, no matter how unstable it is. No matter how untenable the universe is.

And how Patience is a virtue, as some dillhole once said. I suppose I agree with that, most of the time. But sometimes, sometimes patience is a hindrance. Like when it's running out, and you can feel it draining away from you like dirty water spiraling down a drain. It's going away, and you know that you don't have much left, and all you can think about is, What will be left of me when it's gone? Will there be anything left at all?

And how sometimes the only way to be happy is to lie to yourself. To fool yourself into believing, even if only for a few hours, that it's the universe around you that lies, and it's not you lying to yourself.

And how it breaks your heart every single time you're reminded that sometimes love is irrelevant.

And how love can spring from the most unlikely connections, but you can't even come close to writing about that, because it's

Tuesday, December 23, 2008
posted by dave at 8:31 PM in category ramblings

What's nice, sometimes, is being able to just surrender. To stop worrying about things that are wrong or have gone wrong or could go wrong. To stop worrying about those things, maybe even forget about them for a while, and just surrender.

Perfect moments don't come along very often. Perfect nights, even less frequently. We all seek perfection, but we never find it. Instead, perfection finds us, when we least expect it.

Out of the ashes of despair can rise the phoenix of joy, or some shit like that.

I managed to surrender for a while. I managed to stop worrying for a while. And, when I did, perfection found me.

Saturday, December 13, 2008
wet
posted by dave at 5:11 AM in category ramblings

I'm awake again.

I got about three hours of sleep, this time, before I awoke drowning in this flood of reality. Gasping for air that's forever out of reach, so that I might be able to scream for help that's forever out of range.

This is so hard. I'm so tired. Waiting for rescue that's never going to come.

Thursday, December 11, 2008
posted by dave at 5:34 PM in category ramblings

You know what? It's just too much to write about. It's too fluid, and too real, and too uncertain.

My life is about to end, or it's about to begin.

I fear the former while I fervently hope for the latter. But it's out of my hands. All I can do is wait and see.

Five years, and it's coming down to this.

Will I live, or will I die again?

Tuesday, December 9, 2008
posted by dave at 9:52 PM in category ramblings

How do I handle this?

I don't know how, I only know that it needs to be handled.

I did everything I could do, and it wasn't enough. I tried my absolute hardest, and I failed. I was the best person I could be, and I didn't measure up. I went as far as I could go, and I fell short.

However I want to say it and however many times I say it, the sting doesn't lessen.

How do I handle this?

Same way, I suppose, that I've handled everything else.

I'll just muddle through.

Monday, December 8, 2008
posted by dave at 11:40 PM in category ramblings

I went to the grocery store tonight. I bought cat food and kitty litter. Weird, I was standing there in the checkout line, and it struck me that I had no idea how long it had been since I'd done something as simple as going to the store to buy groceries.

Weeks, at least. Maybe months.

For all of the recent past that I can recall, my personal shopping has been at convenience stores and gas stations. My meals have taken place at bars and restaurants or, more rarely, at someone's home.

Where has my life gone?

A few weeks ago, ActualGeorge cautioned me to not let my current situation take over my life. Well, what if it's too late? And, not only that, what if it's replaced my life?

Oh, well. It's not like my life was all that great to begin with. Maybe this new life will be better. I hope so.

Yeah, that's right, I said it. I have hope.

I bet none of you saw that coming.

Sunday, December 7, 2008
posted by dave at 11:31 PM in category ramblings

Rome burns, and I stand helpless against the flames. I can do nothing to stop or even slow their progress. I could run away, but I do not. Instead, I stand my ground. I watch all of this beauty being consumed, and I try to commit every graceful line to memory, so that it will never be really lost. Not as long as I'm alive to remember.

But that is, of course, the problem.

I can not allow myself die in this blaze. Eventually, my skin blistering and my hair singeing, I will have no choice but to flee. So that I can stay alive, to remember and to mourn. So that somewhere in the world, this beauty will live on, even if it's only in my head.

Rome burns all around me. I can not allow myself to burn with it. No matter how much I want to stay here forever. No matter how much I want to die with it, my ashes intermingled.

posted by dave at 2:30 AM in category ramblings

This is silly.

It's 2:18 in the morning, as I type this sentence, and I'm glaring at my phone.

Now it's 2:19 in the morning, and I'm hitting Send/Recv on my email client.

This is so silly.

Just because I feel like we left things unsaid tonight, that doesn't mean she's going to call me or email me. Just because I think this would be the perfect time to pick up where we left off, that doesn't mean that she shares that sentiment.

Now it's 2:22 in the morning, and I'm glaring at my phone again.

Just because I've given up on sleep for the night, that doesn't mean she's lying in her bed, eyes wide open, wondering if she should contact me.

Nope, she's asleep by now. Probably dreaming.

I hope her dreams are sweet.

Now it's 2:26, and I'm checking my email again. In a couple of minutes, I'll probably go unlock my front door.

Just in case.

Saturday, December 6, 2008
joy
posted by dave at 1:48 AM in category ramblings

I remember how I survived those dark times. It wasn't luck, and it wasn't strength - it was calculated insanity.

This is from a Saturday night in September, 2005, in a blog that I kept anonymous:

You always hated sitting at the bar.

But you would sit there, if there were no other seat available.

You would sit there, if I was already there.

Tonight, I sat at the bar. Not because there were no other seats available, but because at the bar, you're not expected to join in any conversations. You're not under any pressure. You can just sit, and drink, and everyone else in the place can enjoy their Saturday without your input.

I wasn't in the mood for company tonight. I wasn't in the mood for anything, really. I just wanted to have a couple of beers. Relax a little. So I sat at the bar to ensure myself some privacy.

You know the layout of the place. As well as anybody, you know how the room is set up. If you're at the bar, your back is to the room. Your back may as well be to the rest of the world. All sorts of things can happen behind you and you'd never even know it.

In fact, if you don't bother to look beside you, you won't even know what's going on at the bar.

It's just you and your beer. And your thoughts.

---

Very rarely, I find myself in a decent mood. Not good, not bad, just decent.

I cherish these times, and I cherished tonight.

For tonight, with my back to the world, with my attention focused on the beer and the ashtray in front of me, I could let my imagination out to play for a while.

I imagined that you were sitting next to me. Just like the old days.

I could almost feel the heat from your body. Hear your voice. Feel your fingers as they touched my arm to emphasize a point.

I miss you so much.

I miss what we had. Nothing more. How could I miss the other stuff? How could I miss what never happened? People just don't understand. I loved you first as a friend. That's what I miss. If I'm sad, it's because of what I lost, not because of what I never had.

I wrote that on what was a typical night for me, back then. Breaths and heartbeats had become voluntary, and I used my imagination to invent reasons to keep doing them both. I did that night after night after night after night. I did what I needed to do, to keep living. To keep waiting.

The person I was back then, the person who wrote that tortured drivel - I'm still that person. But tonight, as with so many other recent nights, I didn't need my imagination. Instead, I could simply turn my head a little bit to one side, and open my eyes, and let reality overwhelm me with its intensity. Let beauty carry me far away from the gray place that has been my home for so long. Let the simple sound of laughter vibrate my bones into putty.

It's not that I don't want to write about the joy that I sometimes feel, it's that I can't. It's simply not possible. Sufficient words do not exist.

Friday, December 5, 2008
posted by dave at 1:22 AM in category ramblings

I used to have this thing, back when MixedSignalGirl served as my muse. More than a habit, it was, but less than a rule. I'd write something, every single night. Whether good, or bad, or indifferent, I'd always write at least one entry.

I liked it, back then. I always felt like I was accomplishing something, each and every day. Even if my so-called accomplishment was nothing more than vomiting drivel onto the internet, it was still better than nothing. And it made me feel like I was better than nothing.

I'd like to be able to feel that way again.

People are getting fed up with me. Grudging respect has morphed into disdain and pity. Impatience and frustration rule every interaction. I hear it in their voices. I read it in their emails and in the comments they leave on my blogs.

I see it in their eyes.

I see it in my eyes, when I dare to look into a mirror.

It's almost time, I think.

This used to be about me. I could say whatever I wanted to say, because nobody was listening. I could feel whatever my heart compelled me to feel, because nobody cared. Not really.

But it's not about me anymore. Now that emotional and physical separation has been taken away, there are others. Wonderful, amazing others.

To most people, this has been naught but a show. A one-man play, with one improvised scene that has continued for years. Audiences have come and gone, interest has waxed and waned, and I have continued my performance, oblivious. The hero and the villain and the comic relief, all rolled into one.

When do I stop? When do I take a bow? When do allow the curtain to close?

This is coming to an end, I think.

It's almost time, I think.

Thursday, December 4, 2008
posted by dave at 1:29 AM in category ramblings

Is that what I'm supposed to do? Just settle for the next girl who I like that likes me back?

Opportunities for true happiness are rare for me, and they're only going to get more scarce.

Am I supposed to just give up and give in? And put out?

I could make someone happy, and I could be happy myself. But should I settle for happy, knowing that the love of my life is a kiss away?

Is happy supposed to be good enough?

Doesn't the girl who unlocked my heart deserve special consideration? Incredible understanding? Extraordinary patience?

Shouldn't I wait forever?

posted by dave at 1:13 AM in category ramblings

I know of at least one person who's probably getting a huge kick out of all this.

Reading my blog, between the lines, the things that I cannot and will not say. Imagining the pressure building up inside me. Gleefully imagining the day that I'll explode into a million pieces.

"It's what he deserves, after all," she says to herself.

There are too many similarities. There are too many parallels.

It's like my life is preordained, nothing more than a grotesque reflection of my own immutable past. I am living the nightmare that I once caused for another. My silent screams do not awaken me, they only push me deeper into terror.

I hand out advice like acid at Woodstock, but I ignore it when it's given to me. Even when it's the same advice.

I tell myself that things will get better, even though my own experience tells me that this can only end in sorrow.

I have become the victim of my own desires. They stalk me, they toy with me, eventually they will destroy me. But not until they're tired of their games, and I fear that will be a very long time from now.

To pass the time, I surround myself with hypotheticals. What would I do, if? What should I do, when? How should I prepare, just in case?

But it's all bullshit. There's no if and there's no when and there's no just in case. There's only reality, closing in inexorably, crushing every possibility except the one that leads to an end. To our end. To my end.

I know of at least one person who's probably laughing her ass off about this. It's what I deserve, after all.

Sunday, November 30, 2008
posted by dave at 10:47 PM in category ramblings

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.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008
posted by dave at 2:52 PM in category ramblings

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.

posted by dave at 7:48 AM in category ramblings

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.

Sunday, November 23, 2008
posted by dave at 6:59 AM in category ramblings

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.

Saturday, November 22, 2008
posted by dave at 1:21 AM in category ramblings

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.

Thursday, November 20, 2008
posted by dave at 11:55 PM in category ramblings

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.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008
posted by dave at 10:48 PM in category drink, ramblings

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.

posted by dave at 5:56 PM in category daily, ramblings

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.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008
posted by dave at 5:06 PM in category ramblings

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.

Monday, November 17, 2008
posted by dave at 10:29 AM in category ramblings

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.

Monday, November 10, 2008
posted by dave at 10:30 AM in category ramblings

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.

Thursday, November 6, 2008
posted by dave at 10:59 PM in category ramblings

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.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008
posted by dave at 7:51 AM in category ramblings

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.

posted by dave at 1:03 AM in category ramblings

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.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008
posted by dave at 7:42 AM in category daily, ramblings, weather

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.

---

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

Sunday, November 2, 2008
posted by dave at 2:01 AM in category ramblings

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 guess I thought about this for about .0001 seconds before I knew the answers.

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.

posted by dave at 1:41 AM in category ramblings

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.

Saturday, October 25, 2008
posted by dave at 10:39 PM in category drink, ramblings

As I'm clearly unfit for the world, and as the world is clearly unfit for me, tonight I'm just going to stay home and drink some fucking pumpkin beer. I was saving this, but oh well.

Jack's Pumpkin Spice Ale

(bottle) Clear medium amber in color. Small head. Aroma of pumpkin and spices. The flavor was more spicy and metallic than I was expecting. There was also some hop bitterness that I didn't care for at all. Decent is all I can say.
I can see it in my face, when I dare to look into the mirror. My eyes, they're so tired, so sad. And there is no real escape, even far away from any mirror. Escape exists in a pair of hazel eyes, and nowhere else. The rest of the time, this permeates my bones and my muscles and my heart. I can feel it, right now, weighing me down. Pulling me under. It's more a part of me than anything else. It's who I am, now. It's what I am, now.

---

I used to think that I knew how this would end. Not that it would end, I'm not quite that much of a pessimist. Yet. But if it ended, I thought I knew how and why. I was so sure. It was going to be all my fault, but I wouldn't be the one to end it.

Schlafly's Pumpkin Ale

(bottle) Clear copper in color. Small head that dissipated almost immediately. A very nice aroma of cinnamon and other spices. Medium mouthfeel. Very good flavor of all sorts of spices and, of course, pumpkin. The 8% ABV is hidden very well. A very good beer.
I watch this destroy her, and I feel it destroy us. There's nothing I can do. I've already tried my best, and it wasn't enough. My words may as well have been silent. My face invisible. My heart irrelevant.

---

Lately, though, I haven't been so sure. Maybe it won't be her. Maybe it'll be me who recognizes and does what needs to be done. Walks away. I hope not. There's nowhere to go.

Post Road Pumpkin Ale

(bottle) Slightly hazy amber. Smallish head. Aroma of pumpkin and spices. Thin mouthfeel, but the flavor is very good. There's a bit of a bite - not bitter - that is a pleasant surprise. Very good.
But can I ever be happy, being so close and yet so far? I honestly don't know the answer to that question. All I know is that I want to try. With everything that I am and everything I ever will be, I want to try. I don't ever want to give up.

posted by dave at 10:26 AM in category comics, drink, ramblings

So many people advised me to lie to her. To keep living my lie of omission. "Don't tell her everything," they said. "Just be happy with what you have," they said. "Don't rock the boat," they said.

But the damn boat was already sinking. So I sounded the alarm. I stopped lying.

And then, yesterday, she said that nobody ever says what's on their mind, except for me. I took that as a compliment.

---

She keeps using the f-word to describe what we're doing. But I don't think of it that way at all. It's not a friendship, at least not from my perspective.

Nope, from where I sit, it's a one-sided love affair.

A million times better than a friendship, and a million times worse.

---

Considering how I started missing her before I'd made it halfway out of her parking lot last night, of course I wanted to go back later and see her some more. But, considering how I actually started missing her before I'd gone three steps out of her door, I didn't think it would be a good idea.

---

Yesterday the only beer I had was about half a Schlenkerla Marzen (6016) at 1:00 or so. I have some pumpkin beers in my fridge, but I'm saving those for something.

---

This was funny in real life. Not mean at all.

funny in real life

Wednesday, October 22, 2008
posted by dave at 1:40 PM in category daily, drink, ramblings

So she asked me if I was mad. I'm not mad, I'm retarded. Big Difference.

And then, I went to lunch at The Pub - Newcastle (11498) - and surprise! It was a bonus AlliDay!

And then, desperately craving interaction with a girl who doesn't make me crazy(er), I arranged to have lunch with HatGirl this Friday. That should be very nice, as it's been a long time since it's just been just me and HatGirl. What with the whole her-getting-married and stuff.

Also, I can't follow my own fucking advice, so why should it bother me that nobody else follows it? I'll tell you why. Because I don't have a choice in the matter.

I've got all this damn pumpkin beer in my fridge, and now I don't know what's going to happen with it. Worst case would be that I'll drink it, I suppose. By myself. Like a chump.

Also, I think I'd be pretty pissed if I were a pigeon. I mean, being able to fly would be cool. But the rat with wings nickname would get old very quickly, and I'd really be pissed off about not being able to take a step without my head jerking back and forth like I was having a seizure or something.

Also, I really and truly don't think there's any cruelty behind any of this. I don't think my strings are being yanked just to watch me dance. Unfortunately for me, the results are exactly the same no matter what the intentions might be. I end up looking like a jackass, and everyone gets a good laugh out of it. Everybody except me, that is.

I need a nap.

And a vacation. Mustn't forget that.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008
posted by dave at 11:09 PM in category ramblings

Today I had what I thought was a pretty good idea for an entry. I even started to write it, in my little notebook while I sat at Sportstime waiting for my sister to call. But then some loud idiots took the booth next to me, and all concentration was lost.

I still know the gist of what I wanted to write, but there's a problem. I wanted to write about being in a weird mood, but I have to be in a weird mood to write about it coherently. A weird mood like I was in today, at about 1:00.

Now, not so much.

The thing is, about the weird moods that I get into, the thing is that there's always an element of detachment about them. I know I've touched on this before.

Like everyone else, I get sad, I get happy, I get worried, I get optimistic. Just normal shit, I suppose. But the thing I like about my weird moods is that I can notice my feelings, and even reflect on them for a while. They don't overwhelm me, the way that they are so wont to do.

I like that. I find myself very interesting, I guess.

Somebody has to do it.

Monday, October 20, 2008
posted by dave at 2:16 PM in category ramblings

Man, I was in a mood when I wrote this. Go read it. I'll wait.

............

I happened across that entry this afternoon, looking for something else entirely. But that old and irrelevant entry made me wonder.

With all this groping around that I'm doing, what if I found that broken handle for that broken switch?

Would I try to make repairs, so that I could switch it off again?

It's an interesting question, certainly, but the answer is indistinct to me.

Maybe if I'd open my damn eyes, I could see more clearly.

posted by dave at 8:17 AM in category ramblings

Another repost, again from about three years ago. I think I'd have written something like this today, if I hadn't already written it.

Being the type of person that I am, I don't seem to be capable of having an idea and simply letting it solidify on its own.

Nope, once something begins to form in my head, I'll obsess over it until I have it properly defined and categorized. If I can't do that then I'll at least come up with a metaphor for it.

I've read that when Titanic was struck, a lot of the passengers gathered up on deck to see what had happened. Some of them reported hearing a noise, but they couldn't describe what the noise was. It turns out, or so I've read anyway, that they hadn't heard anything at all. The sound that they thought they'd heard was actually the silence that fell upon them when the engines were shut down.

They'd simply noticed that something was different, but they didn't know what.

And that, my dear readers, is probably as close as I'm going to get to what I've been feeling lately.

I've noticed a change in the noise level within me. Something LOUD, I think, has either gone silent or is at least running more quietly than it has in a long time.

What does it mean? I don't know, but I have my suspicions.

We'll see.

I think the thing about this time around, the thing that makes this period of silence vastly different than the last one, is that this time I know it won't last.

I'm going to enjoy it while I can, though. Maybe catch up on my sleep.

posted by dave at 12:18 AM in category ramblings

Sometimes, you slam your eyes shut. As quickly as you can, but not quickly enough.

It's too late. You've already seen the truth. And that truth, it burns itself into you. It sets up residence in your soul.

And it eats away at everything. It devours everything. Nothing is safe.

Eyes squeezed shut, you frantically grope the darkness, looking for something, anything.

But there's nothing to find. There's nothing left. It's all gone.

Devoured by the truth.

Sunday, October 19, 2008
posted by dave at 1:45 PM in category ramblings

This is a repost from three years ago. I like knowing that I used to be able write this kind of drivel.

When you live your life in total darkness, it doesn't take much.

The smallest spark, the slightest flash of light, can capture your full attention. Even after it's gone, the memory of that flash lives on.

Sometimes that flash is welcomed, but most times, most times it's only reminding you of what's missing.

A man gone blind does not always wish for sight, for there can be comfort in the dark.

Acceptance. Tranquility. Peace. All erased by a spark, a glimmer, a splash of light that does nothing but burn the retinas and leave ghost images floating and intruding.

A flash is nothing by itself. It's over in an instant. But the memory of it lingers, and the blind man sometimes wishes he could forget.

Damn, I just noticed that I already reposted this entry, this past July. Oh well, can't be helped. Google's got it in its grasp now.

Friday, October 17, 2008
posted by dave at 10:34 PM in category ramblings

Have you ever stepped outside of yourself for a while, and then looked back, and wondered why you would ever want to return?

Me too.

Have you ever wanted, with all of your heart, to just give up, but known that you didn't have the strength?

Me too.

Have you ever had someone tell you the most asinine thing you've ever heard, and made you think that you don't matter at all?

Me too.

Have you ever want to quit, everything?

Me too.

Have you ever given everything you are to an idea that only you thought of?

Me too.

Have you ever been invisible?

Have you ever wondered how much of your life is simple inertia, and how much is real?

Have you ever wasted your time?

Have you ever wanted to turn back the clock, or the calendar?

Have you ever loathed yourself, and not known the reason?

Have you ever realized the truth, and wished with every ounce of your being that it was a lie?

Have you ever been in love?

Sunday, October 12, 2008
posted by dave at 10:05 AM in category ramblings

For a second or so, there was something. An accidental touch. Not a lie but a mistake.

I think she forgot who I was, and in doing so, made me forget who I was.

Then she remembered, and jerked her hand away, and in doing so, made me remember.

For a second or so, I was somebody else. It was nice.

Thursday, October 9, 2008
posted by dave at 11:42 PM in category ramblings

I had a really good day today.

Now, this little voice in my head tells me that I'm not supposed to be saying that, but fuck it. I keep censoring myself and censoring myself and censoring myself, and then every now and then I'll have a really crappy day. And, when that happens, I sometimes let my mood slip into this blog.

Well, today, I had a good day. And I'm in a very good mood. And I shouldn't be afraid to write about those facts. There are, after all, no more secrets between me and her, and I should stop acting like there are.

Look, this bullshit I use instead of a life isn't a very good one. I do still hate myself, after all. And most of the time, I feel like I'm drowning, and I'm not sure why I'm bothering to struggle.

But every now and then, like today, I find air. When that happens, I get to breathe for a while.

Times like this, times like today, I remember why I struggle. It's because of the joy that I am somehow, miraculously, still able to feel, when I breathe that sweet, sweet air.

I had a really good day today.

Sunday, October 5, 2008
posted by dave at 10:58 PM in category daily, drink, ramblings

Today was the fifth day in a row that I've gone to HatGirl's house to take care of her critters, but I still haven't seen the kitty even once. I do, however, know that the kitty is still alive because I set treats out each day and the next day they're gone.

---

I get so sick and tired of people trivializing my problems and expecting me to act normal all the time. I do good to get out of bed in the mornings. Anything more than that is a bonus.

---

Tonight I had a nice long talk with my dad's ghost. It took some doing, and a couple bottles of Three Floyd's Gumballhead (215), to conjure him up, but I eventually succeeded.

It was a really nice conversation.

---

Every now and then I'll be driving - it's usually in Louisville - and I'll see some random young man walking down the sidewalk, using one hand to keep his super-loose pants from falling down.

I always wonder what kind of a terrible life that must be, the constant pressure that must involve.

Stretching an analogy almost to its breaking-point, I kinda do the same thing as those random young men.

Except that it's not modesty that I'm trying to preserve. Nope, it's my sanity.

I walk through life desperately clutching to pieces of myself that threaten to fall to the ground.

And shatter.

The shattering part is where the pants analogy breaks down. Because pants don't shatter, unless they haven't been washed in a zillion years, and that's an entirely different problem.

---

You know what's really nice to hear from the love of your life?

"Well, I wouldn't say you were the worst person ever."

That's what's nice to hear. Hope springs eternal, and all that.

---

Also, people who don't like the way I am should stop trying to guilt me into being something else. It won't work.

Empathy does not require understanding or agreement. Those are common misconceptions, but those things really are irrelevant to empathy.

Empathy can stand on its own and do just fine.

---

For those keeping score at home, I still haven't renewed any of my vehicle registrations. They were already closed on Saturday when I got there. They were closed today, and they'll be closed tomorrow. So I get to drive around illegally until Tuesday.

Fun!

---

That's it for now. I need to go out to my garage and glare at my phone for a while.

Saturday, October 4, 2008
posted by dave at 12:22 AM in category daily, drink, ramblings

I think all I want to say about tonight is that I was held captive by two hot young women, and that I had fun.

---

Oh shit! I totally forgot to renew any of my vehicle registrations. All three expired the 15th of September. I'll have to see about at least renewing the registration on my truck tomorrow, if I have time.

---

I think what's happened is that I've crossed some kind of sleep-deprivation wall. Kind of like marathon runners will reach a certain point and then running is supposed to become effortless. Well I should be very tired right now, but I'm not at all.

---

My brain is really rambling. You readers are lucky that so little of the rambling is making it to my fingers.

---

I want to go to Antarctica, and I don't want to take myself with me. I don't know how to do that. Or, maybe, I want to go to Antarctica with myself, but then return without myself. I don't know how to do that either. Either way, though, I want to go to Antarctica.

---

Another thing about tonight is that I had a Shiner Bock (17) and a Barley Island Barfly (56). Or maybe that's two other things about tonight.

---

Sometimes a helping hand is exactly that, and nothing more. Sneering at it will only lessen the probability of it ever being offered again.

---

If I had any sense at all, I'd do something. What, exactly, I don't know. Because I don't have any sense at all.

---

I suppose I should go stare at my bedroom ceiling for a few hours. Goodnight, world.

Thursday, October 2, 2008
posted by dave at 10:41 PM in category ramblings

Had a really crappy day.

Irritated, almost angry at times. One of those days when I really had to wonder why I was even bothering with anything.

Lots of things are wrong. Fuck, everything good in my life is tainted. I may be surrounded by silver linings, but today all I see are dark clouds. And, the thing is, it all boils down to one feeling. One simple emotion that trumps everything else on days like today.

Self-loathing.

For living in this cage, I hate myself. For being unable to take my own damn advice, I hate myself. For my stubborn refusal to accept reality like a man, I hate myself. For whatever it is that's wrong with me, for whatever it is that keeps me invisible, that makes me unworthy, I loathe myself.

I am so fucked.

Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow.

one
posted by dave at 12:05 AM in category ramblings

I guess there are about 6,700,000,000 people on Earth. Most of them are probably assholes, but I only wanted to write about one person tonight. So this entry won't be long as it could be. In fact, it will probably be quite brief.

I've kinda had these thoughts rattling around in my brain for a while. I know that they're worthy of a blog entry, but I've never been sure that I'm worthy to write that entry.

Well, I'm still unsure of my worthiness, but I'm in a very strange mood, so fuck it. I'm going to write something relevant.

The thing is, I think, that it only takes one person to change everything.

If just one person thinks that you're beautiful, you can never truly be ugly. If just one person sees the good in you, then you can never be a completely bad person. If just one person loves you, then you can never be unlovable. If just one person sits enthralled, dumbfounded, by how special you are, then you can never be ordinary. If just one person cares about you, then you fucking matter and you can never be irrelevant.

Going by the above, I am a beautiful, good, lovable, special person who matters. Seemed kind of silly to type that sentence. Seems even sillier to read it, knowing that it's about me, of all people. But there it is, and here I am.

I forget where I was going with this entry.

Monday, September 29, 2008
posted by dave at 9:36 AM in category ramblings

Maybe, if I were to issue a hearty fuck you to this little censorship demon or whatever that lives inside my head and eats delicious words before I can get them written, maybe I'd write something like this.

Yesterday I spent a lot of time thinking about some overlaps between what are otherwise two very different thoughts.

My thought
If I can just keep from ruining everything, and keep being my wonderful self in the meantime, then eventually she'll come around. And hey, even if she doesn't come around, then at least we'll get to keep hanging out.

Her thought
If Dave can just keep from ruining everything, and keep being his wonderful self in the meantime, then eventually he'll get over it. And hey, even if he doesn't ever get over it, then at least we'll get to keep hanging out.

See the overlaps? See them?!? Aren't they cool? I mean, except for the part about me ruining everything. I don't know why it's assumed that any ruination will necessarily have to be my fault.

I could probably write a long entry about this. But I won't.

Sunday, September 28, 2008
posted by dave at 1:14 AM in category ramblings

Been trying to figure out what to write about this. My ability to think coherently is gone, but not my urge to write. This is a problem.

Sometimes I can just start typing and when I'm done it's halfway decent. Not usually, but sometimes. I'm trying that right now - just letting my fingers do whatever they want. Looks like words are stringing along, so maybe it's working.

Anyway.

I became invisible tonight. To three different people. Each among my favorite people on Earth, but to them, I am an afterthought. Compare me to anyone else - a random bar asshole, a bum from the street - anyone at all, and I'm going to fall short. And I'm going to be ignored.

Wait, ignored isn't the right word. That implies intent and effort, and most of the time I don't think I warrant either.

Sometimes I do think that I'm being purposefully reminded of my place in the hierarchy of things, when this happens. Sometimes I think it's done on purpose, but usually not. Usually I think it's subconscious and unintentional. I'm not sure which is worse. I mean, would you rather have someone tell that you're only useful as a last resort, or simply imply it through their actions?

It's not exactly fun, either way.

Thursday, September 25, 2008
posted by dave at 12:43 AM in category ramblings

A wise man once wrote, "Hope is a strange thing. It exists only to disappoint, for once it's fulfilled, it vanishes."

I'm not exactly sure what that (clearly drunk) wise man was getting at, but I have a theory.

The thing about hope, I think, is that there's only one way to completely destroy it. And that's to fulfill it. Anything else, anything less, and it's going to survive.

Disappointments will devastate, but a spark of hope will survive, and then grow. Setbacks will shatter, but a tiny glimmer of hope will survive, and then grow. Failure will, um, do something bad that starts with "f" but hope will still survive, and then grow.

Frustrate, perhaps?

Anyway, NakedGirl told me tonight that, "There's nothing wrong with a little hope."

I tend to agree with her. Good thing, too. Because, even after everything I've seen and heard and felt, I still have hope. And, more than that, I like having hope, misguided as it may be.

It's at least something.

I tried living with nothing, and it sucked. Big ones.

I cannot imagine going back to a life without hope. If such an existence could even be called life. But I suppose that I'd give it a shot, if I had to.

If all my hopes were fulfilled, and they all vanished, I guess I could try to live with that.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008
posted by dave at 9:23 AM in category ramblings

The first time, I was in a crappy mood, and I did my writing elsewhere.

The second time, I was in a weird mood, and I wrote this:

The minutes take eternities to pass, but somehow the years rush by.

Two years have passed in the blink of a teary eye.

I never thought it would happen. I fought for so long, I convinced myself that I was winning. I faked a smile for so long, I convinced myself that I was happy. I fell for so long, I convinced myself that I was flying.

I never thought it would happen. I never thought it could happen.

But it did.

Splat!

My world still reverberates from the force of that impact.

I don't want to say any more.

I've already said too much, yet I could never never never say enough.

Those two words would lead to those three words would lead to a billion more words, and still it would not be enough.

The third time, I totally spaced it off until days later.

And now it's the fourth time, that this date has come around. I finally feel like I've said everything there is to say. But it's still not enough.

Sunday, September 21, 2008
posted by dave at 2:19 AM in category ramblings

Sitting at Rich O's, at night. Stupid, I know. I was going to sit over on the weirdo Sportstime side, but they were packed. Over here, at least I'm able to sit.

Anyway, I kinda feel like I should be writing something about some thoughts that have been rattling around in the dark places inside my head. Thoughts that will neither go away nor venture into the light. Because these thoughts have never been fully illuminated, I fear that this entry will probably be disjointed crap. This is in contrast to my usual drivel, which is at least somewhat jointed, and sometimes it's not even crap. You have been warned.

---

The thing is, I only meant to make a statement. To finally get the entire truth out there. I'd say something like laying all my cards on the table, but this is no fucking game to me.

I realized that I was taking a very serious risk, but frankly, at the time, I didn't feel like I had much left to lose. I was rapidly dying anyway. So it was, at least partly, an act of desperation on my part, the statement that I made. I guess I wanted my dying words to mean something. More than that, I wanted them to be heard. And they were. They certainly were.

But all along, from the time I started considering it, through the time I was saying it, and even during the conversation that ensued, it was always a statement. Telling the truth, and nothing else.

It was never a question.

It was certainly never a request.

So why, I wonder, why do I wait so impatiently for an answer to a question I never asked?

Why, I wonder, do I long for a response to a request I never made?

This is my dilemma.

I could have asked the question, but the question wasn't the point. The statement was the point. Besides, deep down I knew that I wasn't ready for the pain that the answer might bring. I could have even made the request, but it would have been ludicrous to do so, without the answer to the question. I may be insane, but I'm not that insane.

The statement leads to the question leads to the request. That's just the way it works. And I stopped at the statement. I stopped myself, or she stopped me. I don't know. All I know is that I did stop, rather abruptly. Jarringly, you might say.

Which was fine with me. That had been my plan, such as it was, when I started. But I screwed up. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was distracted, after all.

See, I didn't need to ask the question, and I didn't need to make the request.

They were implied. Or inferred. Whatever.

And so, now I wait. For an answer to a question I never quite asked, and for a response to a request I never quite made.

This is my dilemma. This is my life.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008
posted by dave at 10:31 AM in category ramblings

Well, I did it.

I said the most important words I've ever said, to the most wonderful person I've ever known.

I told her everything. Ev. Rey. Thing.

And now...

I just don't know.

I've got nothing left. I've done all I can do. I've said all I can say.

Maybe I've ruined everything. But if I did, at least it was with the truth. If those words turn out to be my final words to her*, then it's fitting that they were also the most important. The most real.

And the most overdue. Mustn't forget that.

---

It's so tempting to stop now. Writing. Talking. Communicating in any way with anyone at all.

It all seems so trivial to me now.

Lesser purposes and all that...

* - They were not.

Saturday, September 13, 2008
run
posted by dave at 7:31 PM in category ramblings

Somebody needs to say it. I shouldn't be the one. My objectivity would be doubted, and with good reason.

But just because I can't be totally objective doesn't mean that I can't be right.

Abusive relationships take many forms. Some are easier to recognize than others. The symptoms vary, but they all have the same solution.

I would say the same thing to anyone.

posted by dave at 2:36 PM in category ramblings

This is what has become of me. I exist for one reason.

To search, forever, for something that isn't there.

I need to stop searching, but I don't think I can.

It's too late. I'm in too deep. I can't stop. I can't give up. I won't.

Maybe there's nothing, but it's all I have.

Thursday, September 11, 2008
posted by dave at 11:42 PM in category ramblings

I don't think it would come as a surprise to anyone who knows me. I'm in a fucked-up situation these days.

I spend an inordinate amount of my time looking for, I dunno, something.

For what exactly, I can't say, because I don't know what it is. I think that I might be looking for what's left. Something that survived that terrible flood. A recognizable chuck of debris on the bank, perhaps. Just something to remind me, though I could never forget.

The rest of the time, I wait.

For what? Again, I don't know. I don't know what it is, but I'm waiting for it right now.

---

I had a really good day today, but I guess I'm having a bad night. My moods bend in the slightest breeze. So tonight, I'm depressed. No big surprise there, I don't suppose. Except to me, because the cause of my mood is different than usual.

Today, it's neither the pain of the past nor the agony of the present hammering away at my mood. Nope, today it's the future, of all things, that torments my thoughts.

The thing about the future is that I'm not really sure there's going to be one.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008
posted by dave at 11:37 AM in category ramblings

I keep hearing about things I'd never do, or that I would definitely do. Depends on the actual things.

The point is that I keep hearing things that make me think I'm a good person. A better person.

What the point should be is that it's not a contest. And another point should be that, if it was a contest, then I lost a long time ago.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008
posted by dave at 3:06 PM in category ramblings

Watch out, I'm in a mood.

Sadness finally decided to take a break from constantly kicking me in the guts. So that's cool. Or at least it would be cool, if futility hadn't stepped right in to take over the job. To finish the job, perhaps.

But hey, who am I to complain? I keep saying I like this crap. I keep saying that it's better than the fucking nothing I felt for so many years.

I keep saying those things. Every now and then I even believe one or both of them.

Besides, some things deserve to be felt. Not distracted away or bottled up or ignored.

posted by dave at 12:38 AM in category ramblings

One of the things I keep catching myself thinking, even though I know that thinking is a really stupid thing for me to be doing, is that if things were different, things would be different.

Why I keep thinking that, I have no idea. I mean, there's absolutley zero evidence that things would be different just because things were different.

In my more lucid moments, I think that things will be exactly the same, no matter how different things are.

That's depressing to me. Because I don't exactly enjoy things all that much. Things suck, to be honest.

Monday, September 8, 2008
posted by dave at 6:26 PM in category ramblings

Sometimes, I get myself into the perfect mood.

That's why I go there after work, to search for that mood. To search for myself.

It didn't start that way. I used to go there after work for a stupid reason.

But now, it's to find myself, and to remember who it is that I truly am.

Because even if I'm a selfish asshole, I'm still me.

Sunday, September 7, 2008
posted by dave at 1:48 AM in category ramblings

I used to notice this totally stupid and juvenile thing, play this stupid and juvenile game.

The first time was when I was in basic training. Every Sunday we'd go to chapel, mostly because it was something to do. We'd get to basically dick around for a couple of hours before returning to the discipline and the rigors that made up our normal itinerary.

This one time, I was sitting in chapel, and for some reason I turned around. My hot girl radar, perhaps, but I'm not sure I even had hot girl radar back then. I mean, I was an 18-year-old, a walking bag of hormones, stuck with 49 other guys for almost 24 hours a day. Every girl was hot.

Anyway, this one Sunday I turned around for some reason, and I saw her. The most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. And she was a black girl, which was weird to me back then. Not that she was black, but that I found her so attractive. And attractive wasn't even close to the proper word.

I remember thinking, then and there, that girl is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

Then, about six years later, I was at the rec center at Offutt AFB shooting pool with my friend Paul. This girl came in. She had blonde hair, and she had a little baby with her. She was wearing sweats and no makeup and her hair suggested that she'd just arisen from a nap.

But she glowed. Oh, how she glowed.

I remember thinking, then and there, that girl is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

A few years after that, it was a girl I saw at the mall in Omaha. A few years after that, it was a bartender in Seattle. Next was a girl pumping gas in Louisville. Each and every one somehow outshining the ones before them. Each and every one becoming the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, up to that point.

Ahem.

It was almost five years ago, the last time I mentally crowned a new beauty queen. Since then, it's always been the same girl. Each and every time I've seen her, since the first time, she's managed to outshine my memory of her. Each and every time, I've thought to myself, that girl is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

That particular stupid juvenile game is over. It was pointless and silly to begin with, and now it's even moreso. What's the sense in playing when the winner is predetermined?

This entry is going to get me into trouble, even though I say nice things in it. Even though I say true things in it. But the situation is already fubar, and I'm getting a little tired of tiptoeing around.

This blog is supposed to be my outlet, dammit. Well, I'm outletting something right now.

posted by dave at 12:30 AM in category ramblings

One of the really fun* things about being me, being in a mood like I'm in tonight - not sad, not happy, resigned is probably a good word - is trying to imagine some scenario wherein all this ends well.

I used to be able to come up with such scenarios, and sometimes I'd even manage to cough up a smidgen of hope. But that was before and this is after.

Also, I seem to have lost the ability to predict, with any accuracy, my own reactions to certain events. This really blows**, by the way. I envision certain events happening, I'd guess, at least three or four more times. Each time will be tough, to be sure, but what I don't know is if they will be easier or harder than this time. Harder would suck, because I'm barely surviving this time. Easier would still suck, just not as hard. I worry about this a lot.

Man, I'm in a weird mood. I wish I could write instead of ramble.

Remember that damn kite? I'm like that tonight. But last time it was a good thing, this time it's not. Last time it was strength that made me that way. This time it's fear and denial. It's necessary denial, if I want to get through this. But the fear is pissing me off, because I don't know what to fear. If I fucking knew what to fear, well then maybe I could wish for something else. Sacrifice a chicken*** or something to help it happen.

I guess if I really were that kite, I'd want my string back. It may have been an anchor, but it was also a lifeline.

Man, I'm in a weird mood.

But seriously, if there's a way out of this, I'd really really love to know what it is. Because I can't think of shit.

* - That was sarcasm.

** - That wasn't sarcasm.

*** - I'd never really do that.

Saturday, September 6, 2008
posted by dave at 11:00 PM in category ramblings

First, about my last entry - I've decided that I shouldn't write shit. So I won't.

---

I said today, in an email, that I rarely get angry.

That was the truth. I don't get angry very often. Oh, I wish I could get good and pissed* at times. I think it would make life easier for me. Sad is hard to do, day after day after day after fucking day. Anger would be easier to deal with, I think.

But, anger is usually beyond me. Except when it's directed at me. And I don't want to write about that. I think I've done enough of that over the years.

What I want to write about is being irritated.

I've got that down pretty well, I think.

The thing that I'm irritated about right now - or I guess it was last night but I'm thinking about it right now - is that simple expressions of simple affection are denied me. Not, I don't think, because there's nothing to express. Nope, I'm pretty sure that there's some affection there. Boring platonic affection, but still pretty fucking awesome, considering the source.

But that same source won't give me a hug. Not unless I force the issue. And it always feel like force. Like I'm doing something wrong. Taking unwanted advantage of simple boring platonic affection. Copping a feel or getting some perverted thrill or something.

I'm not doing any of those things, but I know why the concern is there. The concern is there because of these more-than-friends feelings that I have. The concern is there because of that sobbing wretch down in the dungeon of my mind.

Well, the thing is, that guy can barely breathe, let alone participate in a hug.

Anyway, that's what's irritated me lately. And now, by writing this entry, I'm only going to make things worse.

* - American meaning, not British meaning.

Thursday, September 4, 2008
posted by dave at 5:45 PM in category ramblings

A couple of weeks ago - right now, it feels like it was a couple of thousand years ago - I guess I said something weird.

"It's weird that you remember that," she said.

Well, guess what?

I remember every single time.

Just don't ask for details, because I was in a daze, every single time.

Monday, September 1, 2008
posted by dave at 8:04 PM in category ramblings

Why is it beforehand and afterwards?

Why not beforewards?

Or afterhand?

I feel like I'm missing something here.

Sunday, August 31, 2008
posted by dave at 9:57 PM in category daily, ramblings

The first time was Friday. I've already mentioned how those particular plans fell apart as quickly as they'd been made. Too many things to do, in too short of a time period. I fell short.

The second time was Saturday night. Those plans never really had a chance to form. It became too late before it ever really became feasible.

Tonight was the third time.

So, I missed her. I wanted to see her.

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to feel those things, or write those things.

The feeling them part is involuntary and constant. May as well ask me to stop breathing.

The part about writing about those things is a little different. But I feel like I gave up a huge chunk of my dignity, a couple of months ago, to give myself the right to express those feelings without them being greeted with shock or outrage.

Anyway, like I said, tonight was the third time.

And, as the saying goes, third time's a charm.

It was really nice.

Saturday, August 30, 2008
posted by dave at 12:11 PM in category ramblings

Last time, it took years, and I see no reason for things to be any easier this time around. In many ways it's a lot harder, this time. I'm taking it personally, this time.

Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades?

I have no way of knowing how long it will take. I find myself constantly overestimating my strengths, and underestimating the obstacles ahead.

Sometimes I get a little tired and discouraged. Tired of the shock and the pain. Discouraged because, this time, there's no clear end - no clear goal. I just plod along and hope that maybe I'll eventually get to a good place.

Weeks was my initial prediction, and that's been proven to be entirely too optimistic. All I know is that, until that wonderful day when this relentless sobbing stops emanating from deep within me, acting normal will be beyond my abilities.

Friday, August 29, 2008
posted by dave at 1:02 AM in category ramblings

Damn, I had this vitriolic entry all typed up. The most honest thing I've written in weeks. Maybe months.

All I had to do was proofread it before I posted it.

But I accidentally deleted it instead of saving it in my draft folder. So now it's gone.

Probably for the best. Possibly. Maybe.

The title of this entry is some fucking spam I just got.

Thursday, August 28, 2008
posted by dave at 7:22 PM in category daily, ramblings

One of the things that always happens, is that my senses get so damn overloaded.

I spend all of my energy just trying to remain conscious. I focus so much on seeing that I forget to actually look. I focus so much on hearing that I forget to actually listen.

It's quite annoying, really.

There have been so many conversations that I've missed. Not because I wasn't there, but because I was so enthralled by the sound of a voice that the actual words became white noise. There's been so much beauty that I've failed to appreciate, not because I didn't see it, but because I was so mesmerized that everything became a blur.

It'll get easier, I keep telling myself.

But what do I know anyway. It could just as easily get worse.

I wish others could see what I see, hear what I hear.

Then maybe they could describe those things to me, once I get out of my daze.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure that lunch was nice today. I wish I could remember.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008
posted by dave at 2:07 PM in category ramblings

I was just thinking about the conversation I had with StupidGirl the other night. One of the things we talked about, and I really thought I'd already told her about this, was what happened between me and MixedSignalGirl.

Well, she said that I hadn't told her. So it must have been someone else. Some other girl in some other port, ArtGirl might guess.

Anyway, I told her what happened, not at the very end, but at the very beginning of the very end. When she'd asked demanded the impossible of me, and so instead of taking that ring out of my pocket, I'd stood up and walked away.

"Wow," StupidGirl said. "That must have been really hard."

"Well, it certainly wasn't any fun," I replied. "But it was one of the easiest things I've ever done."

"So you took the easy way out," StupidGirl commented.

Ouch. I'm pretty sure she was trying to be funny, but still, ouch.

Over the years that have passed since that night, people have almost uniformly told me that I did the wrong thing. That I should have done as MixedSignalGirl had demanded requested. That I'd been staring happiness in the face but that I'd been too blind to see.

Wrong.

I knew exactly what I was walking away from. Doing that was hard. What made it easy was knowing that I had no choice.

If I'd done what MixedSignalGirl had asked demanded, I'd have, via that very act, proved myself to be unworthy of her love.

I knew it, and that's why walking away was easy.

I'd walk away again. Even knowing what I now know, I'd walk away.

I forget where I was going with this entry.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008
posted by dave at 11:28 PM in category ramblings

Wow.

Where the fuck did that that wave come from?

Good thing I was already sitting down.

posted by dave at 6:54 PM in category ramblings

Just caught myself wondering about something. And, of course, wondering is a bad bad thing for me to be doing.

But still, I'm doing it. I'm wondering. I'm wondering if I'm doing the right thing.

Of course, because I'm wondering, I must also be doubting myself. There must be at least some small part of me that thinks I'm doing the wrong thing.

There must be some miniscule portion of me that thinks I'm an asshole.

Monday, August 25, 2008
posted by dave at 11:14 PM in category ramblings

Unanticipated.
Unwarranted.
Unbelieveable.
---
Unexpected.
Unwelcome.
Unwanted.

Sunday, August 24, 2008
posted by dave at 9:07 PM in category daily, ramblings

I bet I've killed over 1,000 North Koreans since Saturday morning. It's not that I have anything against North Koreans, per se, it's just that in this Crysis game I've been playing, they're the bad guys.

I know this particular game is pirated sold all over the world. I wonder how the average North Korean feels about playing as an American soldier and killing his countrymen.

---

This evening I pretend-married HatGirl and LuckyFucker. It was all very moving and romantic, I thought. HatGirl even cried, and so I even felt very guilty for making HatGirl cry.

Then we went to Red Lobster, and the food was yummy, so everything turned out okay in the end.

---

So I haven't had a drop of alcohol since Friday night. I'm not turning into a Jesus-freak or anything like that. It's just something that I was wondering about. I mean, both of my parents were alcoholics, so it's something I have to watch.

Could I go without beer for two days?

Certainly I could. And did. No problem whatsoever.

Certain recent events have reminded me that people, too often, look for the solutions to life's problems in the bottoms of glasses. Or in hypodermic needles. Or, much more drastically, down the barrel of a gun.

So I needed to prove to myself that I could go without drinking. I can, so that's cool.

Besides, the answer to life's problems doesn't lie in any of those places.

The answer to life's problems lies on the other side of a simple conversation. The other end of an email. It lies in fingertips that touch another person, lips that kiss another person.

It lies everywhere that there's proof that we're not alone in this world.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008
posted by dave at 11:53 AM in category ramblings

So often lately I've found myself questioning this journal. Whether it continues to serve any purpose at all. Whether it's causing any harm. Whether it's outlived its usefulness as my voice, to say those things that I could not or would not say out loud.

I feel like I could write pages and pages, if only I were the sole reader. Or if only I'd been smarter, back when I started, and kept myself anonymous.

There are so many things that have occupied my mind and my heart. I've been destroyed all over again. I'm struggling to be reborn all over again. I'm infinitely happy and infinitely sad at the same time. And yet, I've barely brushed the surface here. Sometimes I think that even those light touches upon the truth are too much.

Other times, other times I get a little pissed. This is supposed to be my outlet, not anyone else's entertainment. I should write the whole truth, and if people don't like it, they can stop reading.

But I don't feel like that very often these days. This journal isn't about me, not like it used to be, and I know it. I'm unimportant, and I know it. Irrelevant, and I know it.

I really feel like I'm writing on inertia these days. Writing because it's what I've always done. Or writing because it's expected of me. Or writing to convince people that I'm okay, somewhat normal. But what I'm not doing is writing because I want to write or because I need to write. That want and that need, they definitely exist, but to satisfy them I'd have to stop censoring myself. And I just can't bring myself to do that.

The truth risks too much. By censoring myself I only risk my own sanity.

Saturday, August 16, 2008
posted by dave at 1:55 PM in category ramblings

A long time ago, I was in a conversation. Actually in it, as the words being said were directed at me and me alone. I remember thinking just how ridiculous they were, those words that I was hearing. Words of inadequacy and low self-esteem, from the lips of the most wonderful person I'd ever known.

I tried to help, back then. I said what I imagined she wanted to hear. Encouraging and soothing words that also happened to be completely true words. I tried to help, but I failed.

Perhaps I should have screamed.

More recently, there was another conversation. But this time I wasn't in it. I just happened to be in the room, a bicycle's superfluous third wheel. I heard the same words, from those same beautiful lips, and though I cringed and laughed inside at the ridiculousness of what I was hearing, I said nothing. It wasn't my place to say anything. It wasn't my conversation to join.

Perhaps I should have screamed.

Then, a few days ago, I found myself reading words of inadequacy and low self-esteem. Words typed to me in an email by the beautiful hands of she who is still most wonderful person I've ever met. I replied. Once again, I replied. But I remembered the first time, when I'd failed, and so this time I pussed-out. I replied with a stupid platitude that probably did more harm than good.

Perhaps I should have screamed.

Friday, August 15, 2008
posted by dave at 6:45 PM in category ramblings

Yep, another damn repost. And you thought I was beyond this sort of thing.

Well, I most certainly was not.

Anyway, I like this entry, from almost two years ago.

the ghost of friendship past

There is nothing to see.

There is nothing to hear.

It is, as it always is, much more subtle than those glaring things would be.

A chill runs down my spine, and then it takes the seat next to me.

And, somehow, it warms me.

"Did you miss me?" she asks.

I take a long drag from my cigarette. I hold it for a long time. I let it out ever so slowly.

This is a game, a game that we always play.

She asks me the question, and she waits for an answer even though she knows the answer; even though I've answered the same way each and every time.

I take a sip of my beer. I swirl it around it my mouth. I savor it.

She's waited long enough.

"Only when I breathe," I say.

I dare not look at her. I need not look at her. I know what she's doing.

She's smiling.

She smiles, like she always does.

Then she frowns, like she always does.

She doesn't know how to respond.

She's silent.

I win again.

---

Wonderful eternities pass.

---

"This was nice," she says.

"I think so too," I reply.

"I'm so glad you were here," she says.

My eyes roll back. I recognize this, another game that we play.

"Where else would I be?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

She ignores my question.

She is uncomfortable, unsure, insecure.

"I might be back in a couple of days," she offers.

"I'll be here," I say, just like I always say.

"I don't know exactly when I'll be back," she says.

I take a long drag from my cigarette. I hold it for a long time.

I take a sip from my beer. I swirl it around in my mouth. I savor it.

"I'll wait for you," I say. "As long at it takes."

She wins again.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008
posted by dave at 11:23 PM in category ramblings

Kinda one of those nights where all the stuff I want to write keeps getting censored before it gets even halfway out of my brain, way before it gets to my fingers.

It's very frustrating, having so many thoughts but having to somehow keep them straight in my head because I'm not allowed to write them here except in watered-down form.

One of the things I was thinking earlier today was that I'm not stupid. That I know exactly what this means to me, to us. I see what's happening, right now, in the unblinking LED of my phone. I know what's happening, it's just that I choose to pretend otherwise in an effort to protect what's left of myself.

I'm a great fucking pretender.

Sunday, August 10, 2008
posted by dave at 11:39 PM in category ramblings

You know what's worse than screams?

He stays down there almost all of the time lately. Down in the dungeon of my mind. The doors are not locked. He's free to come and go as he pleases. But he seems to prefer it down there. Or, at least, he prefers the darkness to the light.

His screams were so loud. They cut straight through me.

I feel for him. I really do. After all, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. Faced with that which neither of us could survive alone, the two of us together somehow pulled through. An unbeatable team bound, for a while at least, by parallel goals.

To endure. To live. To persevere. To exist.

To wait.

His screams were so piercing, but at least they showed strength. A will to keep trying, to keep fighting. His screams reminded me of those long-ago days and nights when we screamed together in horrible harmony.

You know what's worse than screams?

All I hear now is soft sobbing. And it keeps getting softer.

Sunday, August 3, 2008
posted by dave at 10:45 PM in category ramblings

At first, and for a long time afterwards, I thought of it as a bubble. Like one blown from a plastic wand held in a child's hand. So impossibly beautiful, yet so very fragile.

Look, but don't touch. Never, ever touch, lest that shimmering beauty be destroyed in an instant by my careless poke.

How was I to have known?

That bubble, one September night, it suddenly changed into something else. It grew even as I shrank. It moved even as I stood still, transfixed. Mesmerized by what was happening. Fearful, yet unable and unwilling to flee.

That bubble, it encased me.

It still encases me. It protects me and it traps me at the same time.

It was never a bubble.

It was, is, my world.

It took me a long time to see the truth.

I belong here.

Saturday, August 2, 2008
posted by dave at 11:56 PM in category ramblings

It's hard for me, sometimes, to think about things not directly related to myself. To remember those times which, were I a much lesser man, I might deem irrelevant.

But I am not a lesser man. And these particular memories are effortless. All I have to do is relax, for just a second. I absolutely remember that terrible morning, which followed that terrible night. I remember that phone call. I remember the looks on everyone's faces once I got to my sister's house. I remember the days and weeks that followed. I remember the shock and the disbelief that somehow still manage to crush me whenever I find myself distracted.

I think I'm sad about my own petty problems of lost loves?

My problems are the ones that are irrelevant. Just ask my sister. She fucking knows what's relevant.

I have his picture on my refrigerator. Cory and his sister and his brother. Every time I get something to drink, I see his face. Every single time.

It's been almost a year now.

posted by dave at 11:49 AM in category ramblings

This stupid cursor keeps blinking at me, taunting me. Daring me to write something. When I press the keys, the letters appear, and the blinking stops. Until I stop pressing keys, then it starts again.

Each blink marks another wasted second. Another lost moment in which I could have written something, but didn't. Another moment that I'll never get back.

---

I really have a bad case of cabin fever right now. I've got to get out of this house, but I don't seem to be able to find the motivation to leave. It's like, I want to be somewhere else, but I don't want the hassle of actually going. And I can't decide where I want to be.

Actually, that's not right. I know exactly where I want to be. But that's not an option. And so I'm faced with a million lesser choices.

---

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

---

Maybe after I take a shower I'll be more motivated.

Thursday, July 31, 2008
posted by dave at 8:45 PM in category ramblings

I just had it for a second, maybe half a second, but I lost it again. That thought, that realization which just might be the key to this.

For just a brief moment, I was actually okay. I nearly stood up. But now it's gone again. And now I'm down again.

I think that very same thought right now and it feels like a lie. I realize that same realization right now, and it seems like an excuse.

Damn.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008
posted by dave at 11:49 AM in category ramblings

It's floating all around me. Like memories of dreams that never came true.

These pitiful scraps cannot support me. Far too quickly, they become waterlogged and I cast them aside.

I abandon them as the failures that they are, and I resume my frantic search for something, anything that can withstand the burden that I am.

Help me to keep my head out of the water, for just a little while, so I can rest.

Monday, July 28, 2008
posted by dave at 9:59 PM in category ramblings

Damn, I really thought I might write about something. But I forgot what that something was.

And so now I've got nothing to say. My stupid fingers are just tapping away at my keyboard, saying nothing at all. Stringing letters into words, words into sentences, sentences into paragraphs.

Maybe it will still count as an entry, when I'm done here. When this nervous energy flowing down my arms into my hands finally dissipates, maybe there'll be something. Anything.

Remember that line from that movie, in that place with those people?

Dave's not here, man.
I myself have no idea what movie that line is from. I never saw the thing. But I have heard that inane Dave's not here, man an awful lot over the years. Probably because that's my name, but also because the speaker was usually drunk and/or stoned.

Whatever, the point is that it's a fitting line. Because I'm most certainly not here at the moment. I kinda wish I knew where I was. I think I owe myself money. And a good ass-kicking.

Just got a fucking spam email. My computer did its little ding-dong thing, my heart did its little thumpthumpthumpthump thing. I was excited for a second there.

But no. It's just some dick spam. I get a lot of that.

Anyway, does this count as an entry?

Paragraphs strung together into an entry, perhaps?

Sunday, July 27, 2008
posted by dave at 2:03 PM in category ramblings

It's such a nice day outside. I need to go somewhere, anywhere that's not here. So I'm going. Probably to Dina's for a bit, at least.

I seem to have developed this annoying (to me) habit of just reposting old entries when I don't feel like writing anything new.

Well, here I go again. From last November:


I was talking to this girl tonight, about various topics ranging from my ass to how good I smelled, and eventually she asked me what it was that I wanted. As in, what did I want in a relationship?

I became a little tongue-tied. Which was strange because I've certainly thought about this subject a lot. Probably more than is healthy.

But, despite all of my thinking, I couldn't really come up with a definitive answer. All I could think of were examples from several diferent relationships. An amalgam of sorts.

---

Driving late at night, with her and the kids else asleep in the car. She counted on me to get us to our destination safely. She trusted me.

---

We'd watch a movie, and she'd lie on the couch with her head in my lap. She'd invariably fall asleep, and I'd be unable to move for hours. I could never bring myself to wake her, she was so pretty and peaceful.

---

She'd be feeling sad, and she'd lean her head against my shoulder and sigh.

---

She'd come into the bar and look around for anyone she knew, and she'd see me and she'd smile.

---

She came to me crying, and she hugged me, and she kissed me, and we made love. We didn't say a word to each other for hours, because we didn't need to.

---

She'd call me or text me whenever she wanted someone to talk to. I was always there for her.

---

That way she'd blush every single time I gave her even the slightest compliment.

---

Sparkles.

---

I talked to her, and it was like we were the only people on Earth. I had her complete attention, just as she had mine.

---

She was tired. I didn't even know her. But she slept leaning against me on the plane.

---

We talked for what seemed like hours, and our faces were so close that our lips were almost touching. Eventually, our lips did touch.

---

I grabbed her hand, finally, and she squeezed my hand soooo hard.

---

I'd look at her in a certain way, and her nipples would harden.

---

She could never simply touch me. There always had to be something more. Little circles she'd make with her fingers - they'd drive me insane.

---

She simply understood me.

---

She forgave me.

---

She loved me.

---

I'd watch her sleep, and all of the stress in my life would wash away like it was never even there.

---

That's what I want. More stuff like that, please.

posted by dave at 7:58 AM in category daily, drink, ramblings

I wake up underwater. I'm asleep one second, then the next second I'm disoriented and drowning. Struggling to survive, wondering if I have the strength, wondering if it's worth it.

So, that's not a lot of fun.

---

I've mentioned before how I can't stand to be away from my phone, for fear that I might miss a call or an email or a text from someone important. As this past week has been especially dramatic, I've taken to having my phone shoved up my ass when I shower, just so I'm sure that I won't miss anything.

Then, yesterday afternoon, I went to get my empty trash can from the end of my driveway. I'd been sitting in my garage, contemplating shit, and I left my phone where it was. I even remember telling myself, "Self, you idiot. Now just watch you'll get a call while you're getting your precious trash can."

So then I walked to the end of my driveway and back, and looked at my phone, and the fucking thing was blinking.

I only dropped it twice, fumbling to enter the password, so I'm getting better at that.

---

I did get another call later on. MixedSignalGirl called to check on me and say hello. We talked for an hour or so. I really screwed up with her, but she's happy now, and that's all that matters.

---

Then I got to go on a Super Top Secret Mission of Mystery, fraught with peril. It was fun, and there were no hitches. It was all very sneaky and clandestine. I wish we'd have worn ninja costumes, though. That would have been cool.

---

When I got back home, I sat on my swing and had about a bottle and a half of Left Hand Goosinator (115) and thought about the past and the future.

Not the present, though.

Fuck the present.

---

Friday night I rated my 496th beer. I've been thinking a lot about my 500th rating, which will probably happen this week. I want it to be something crappy, just because I think it would be funnier that way.

Because LaptopGirl is my official swill consultant, I have charged her with selecting the beer that will be my 500th. She suggested Lone Star. That's a good choice, though I'm not sure if I can get it around here. Her backup suggestion is Sapporo.

(Update: Her emergency fallback selection is MGD.)

(Update again: Or Mad Dog. I see her evil plan now. She's trying to drown me in swill. One way to get rid of me, I suppose, but there are more humane methods. I bet the Geneva Convention strictly prohibits drowning-by-swill.)

Anyway, I guess that's it.

Saturday, July 26, 2008
posted by dave at 8:03 AM in category drink, ramblings

I suppose that last night was one of those damn average nights at Rich O's. Better than I expected it to be, worse than I wanted it to be, the whole night just pretty much existed, and that was it.

I actually went there twice last night. I went after work, for about 30 seconds. Then I went back at 9:00 or so.

It's wasn't too crowded. I was able to grab a seat at the kiddie table fairly quickly. I had a Delirium Tremens (1394), and I talked to PlantDude, and I watched the door.

Fast-forward an hour or so, and the only thing that had changed was that I was having a new beer.

Grado Plato Strada San Felice

(draft) Not at all what I was expecting, as it was listed as "chestnut amber" on the beer board at Rich O's. Clear reddish amber in color. A pretty decent head that lasted throughout the glass. A faint fruity aroma - maybe cherries. Mouthfeel was medium-thick and clean. Flavor was very well-balanced. Malts and dark fruits and a tinge of hoppy bitterness. The finish was surprisingly fruity. A damn good beer.
Fast-forward another hour or so, and I was having a Diet Coke.

After I got home at 11:30, I sat on my swing for several hours. I began composing a journal entry in my head. It was a good entry, I thought, but it was also a familiar entry. Too familiar.

Turns out I'd already written the damn thing, back in early 2007. The original version of this entry was much more rambling than the version I wrote in my head last night, but this last part was exactly the same.

The question was Why is it better to love and lose, than to never love at all?

Because sometimes, like maybe once in a lifetime if you're lucky, you don't lose.

Because sometimes, you get to love and you get to win.

To love is to open yourself to that possibility. To surrender yourself to that possibility of happiness. To allow yourself to have hopes, and dreams, and to imagine just how incredibly wonderful life could be.

If only.

This time.

I could be loved back.

Then I would win.

That hope, that trumps everything else. All of the pain. All of the heartache. All of the disappointment and the depression and the suicidal thoughts.

Hope is what separates us from the animals. Hope is what makes us human. So we keep looking. Even after failure after dismal failure, we keep looking for hope.

And, when we find ourselves in love, we also find the hope that's been buried so deeply within us that we almost forgot it existed. Love unearths it, and breathes new live into it, and resurrects it.

It takes over.

Nothing else matters.

Nothing else exists.

We become hope.

And I can't think of a loftier goal.

Someday, I hope to love and win.

Friday, July 25, 2008
posted by dave at 1:10 AM in category daily, ramblings

Please don't do it.

I wish I had some magic words, but I've already said too much. Way too much, and it still wasn't enough.

---

Got a nice black leather sofa from BadPickleGirl today. It's in my basement, where it will displace this one ugly chair, after I move the shelves away from that wall.

My cat Nugget is scared of the new sofa, of course. I'm hopeful that his fear will keep him from shredding it to bits. At least for a couple of weeks, until he figures out that it's leather and therefore edible.

---

Dammit, this is supposed to be my fucking journal. My fucking outlet. It's not supposed to be some stage where I perform for my audience's amusement. And there's definitely no fucking script.

---

One of the ways that I know I'm in a very weird mood is when I start thinking in metaphors. Like tonight, I started thinking about how I jumped out of a perfectly good lifeboat because I thought I saw the glimmer of a lighthouse on the horizon.

The lifeboat moved away, and the glimmer proved false, and now my lungs fill with water.

Sometimes metaphors are fun. And sometimes they're useful.

And sometimes they're nothing but stupid.

---

I pretty much have to accept that people lied to me for years. I wonder why they did that. Was it to make me feel better? Was it to get me to shut the fuck up?

Or maybe, just maybe, they didn't know they were lying at all.

---

I've been on-call all week. It blows.

---

Speaking of glimmers, I like this entry, from 2005:

When you live your life in total darkness, it doesn't take much.

The smallest spark, the slightest flash of light, can capture your full attention. Even after it's gone, the memory of that flash lives on.

Sometimes that flash is welcomed, but most times, most times it's only reminding you of what's missing.

A man gone blind does not always wish for sight, for there can be comfort in the dark.

Acceptance. Tranquility. Peace. All erased by a spark, a glimmer, a splash of light that does nothing but burn the retinas and leave ghost images floating and intruding.

A flash is nothing by itself. It's over in an instant. But the memory of it lingers, and the blind man sometimes wishes he could forget.

I think I need to consult a thesaurus more often.

---

I should try to sleep now. I hope I don't dream.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008
posted by dave at 12:08 AM in category dreams, ramblings

Is it weird, that I have this urge to publish, but not to write?

I think it's weird.

Anyway, here's what I wrote about a dream I once had. This was in 2006, a period otherwise known as an asstillion years ago.

I only turned my back for a second, and they all died. All of the hot girls, dead.

This party had suddenly taken a very bad turn.

What could I have been thinking? Rat poison is, by definition, poison, and who was I to say which small amount might be safe and which would not? Which would bring a nice high and which would bring death?

As I moved my hand over their bodies to check for any remaining signs of life, of hope, it was as if darkness flowed out from my fingers and onto everything around me.

I could no longer see their faces.

This might normally have been considered a good thing, what with them being dead and all. But this time, this time it was not. For as I reached to check for a pulse, I instead found the toothy grimace of agonizing death, seemingly about to bite down and rip at my flesh. Instead of the faintest of breaths, I instead found hands contorted by pain into claws that seemed to grasp at me, as if to pull me in with them.

But it was only my imagination. The dead do not bite. The dead do not grasp.

The darkness flowing from me continued to spread. The lamp in the corner served only to illuminate itself - its light no longer reached the walls, or the floor, or the ceiling. Or the grotesque scene on the bed.

I knew that I had to get away from there, from that macabre display, from the darkness.

So I ran.

I ran, and the darkness continued to flow from my body. It became an expanding wake of nothingness which I pulled along behind me.

I ran faster.

I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, but it was not fast enough. I bent forward, and I began to use my arms as well. I dug my fingers into the ground and I pulled with my arms as mightily as I pushed with my legs. I became something else. Something no longer human. A beast. Running from darkness that I myself had created, that I myself continued to spread.

A moment of clarity struck me.

I stopped.

The darkness caught up with me, surrounded me, enveloped me. It began to contract and flow back into me.

As I stood, panting, in that shrinking circle of darkness, I saw lights in the distance.

Then I woke up.

It's been a while since I've had any dreams as interesting as as chock-full of metaphorical bullshit as this one.

I miss dreaming.

Monday, July 21, 2008
posted by dave at 11:51 PM in category ramblings

I still don't feel like writing anything new, but this old entry from January is pretty fucking apropos. Or however you spell that.

I deny this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

Today was, of course, AlliDay.It wasn't too bad at The Pub. A little more crowded than I'd have preferred, and one shithead took my seat while I was outside making a phone call. But I got to talk to AlliGirl in little snippets, and her sunny disposition helped to brighten my mood a little. Also, it was freaking cold today.

---

I refuse this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

I also found out something pretty interesting and a little intriguing. Some little gestures, which I never really paid any attention to at all, back when they were happening. I've always admitted that I have a problem taking hints. This may have just been more of that, but I really think that it was more of a timing problem. Like, six hours earlier, and everything might have turned out quite differently. But, by the time the gestures started happening, it was too late. I was utterly distracted by then. Oh well. I'd have only given us about a week, anyway.

---

I ignore this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

After work, I stopped at Rich O's for a beer and a pizza. I had several insane minutes when I first arrived, but it really wasn't that big of a deal. Just me, being weird. Plus, I had PearlGirl look, and she verified what I'd been babbling about.

The resemblance was really uncanny.

---

I reject this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

I might get to see HatGirl this weekend. It's been a million gazillion years. Seems that way, anyway. I hope hope hope I get to see her.

---

I doubt this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

Tomorrow is Thursday. VacuumLady will come and clean my house and terrorize my cats for a while. I'll come home and immediately start slobbing the place up again. It's the kitchen that I can't seem to keep up with. And my bedroom. Those damn piles of laundry are back with a vengeance.

---

I am riddled with holes, yet I still stand. It's not that I'm particularly strong, I don't think. That's not why I'm, successfully so far, refusing to let myself fall. Again. Over this. It's just that I know that my falling would serve no purpose except to make things worse than they already are. And it would also prove Everyone On Earth right. I refuse to fall and, by refusing, I laugh in the face of Everyone On Earth. The fuckers.

---

I've been having a problem with sleep lately, and I think I've figured out why. Because, waking up to this new reality, that's the worst time for me. This is something that's certainly different, this time around.

My mind still clouded by the fading fog of sleep, only the most powerful thoughts shine through. And I feel myself falling, sliding, de-evolving into that past version of myself that nobody liked very much. That I didn't like very much. So I fight with everything that I have, and it always seems touch and go for those first few minutes while the fog fades away. Then, somehow, so far anyway, I emerge triumphant.

So, I don't think it's really sleep that's the problem. It's the fear of waking up that's getting to me.

---

I accept this new reality, and still, it keeps fucking relentlessly slamming into me.

Sunday, July 20, 2008
posted by dave at 11:01 PM in category ramblings

As anyone who's read me for any length of time knows, I write more goodly when I'm in a bad mood.

Now, it's been a while since I've written anything goodly. Over a year, I think. I say, I think, because to actually go back and check would be hard and stuff.

This past January sucked - maybe I wrote goodly in January.

Anywhozit.

Crap, what was I going to write about?

Oh, yeah. My previous entry.

I wonder who knows what the fuck that's all about. I've written the same kind of entry three times now. They have all meant the same thing.

I'm not ashamed.

This time, I went almost 1,200 days, but then I cried. Like a fucking baby. Saturday afternoon to be precise, a little before 5:00 PM. I had a good fucking reason, and anyone who disagrees can feel free to blow me. And maybe trade lives with me for a while. To see if he/she can stand it as well as I have.

Saturday, July 19, 2008
posted by dave at 4:56 PM in category ramblings

One thousand one hundred and ninety-six days, seventeen hours, eleven minutes and four seconds...

One thousand one hundred and ninety-six days, seventeen hours, eleven minutes and five seconds...

One thousand one hundred and ninety-six days, seventeen hours, eleven minutes and six seconds...

...

...

...

Damn.

One second...

Two seconds...

...

...

...

Damn.

posted by dave at 12:14 AM in category ramblings

It was a long time ago. Probably right after that comet smashed into the Earth, and while the remaining dinosaurs were wondering, with their walnut-sized brains, What the fuck was that noise? And what happened to the Sun? And why is it so cold?

Back then, I had kids. They were my ex-wife's kids, to be specific, but I counted them as mine. Fuck, my daughter I got to see being born, so blow me if you don't think I had the right to count myself as a parent.

Anyway, my kids, and all kids I guess, they had this thing they'd do. This warning of sorts. Whenever they'd be hurt or upset, they'd start to scream. But it was almost never immediate. Nope, they'd inhale first. And, the longer they'd inhale, the more piercing the inevitable scream would be.

A couple of seconds? A normal scream.

A minute? A terrible, horrible scream.

My daughter would, I shit you not, inhale for an hour and a half sometimes. And then she'd let loose. And everything good in the world would wither and die, after briefly wishing it had never been born in the first place.

I think I started inhaling a few weeks ago.

I can feel this scream building within me.

I wouldn't want to be around me when I finally let loose.

I, unfortunately, have no choice. I have to be present. But everyone else? Everyone else should stay the fuck away.

It's coming.

Friday, July 18, 2008
posted by dave at 12:55 AM in category ramblings

You know the ironic thing about silence?

It's fucking deafening.

And darkness?

Blinding.

Thursday, July 17, 2008
posted by dave at 11:52 PM in category ramblings

Not that I know anything, but I do think some stuff, sometimes. And every now and then it's useful, to think stuff.

Usually not, but sometimes.

Like maybe every full Moon, like tonight.

Maybe the trick is to look at things objectively. To step outside, then turn around and take a good look at myself and my life.

Objectively, I'm the luckiest man on Earth. I absolutely do not deserve what I have.

So why, I wonder, why do I constantly find myself struggling to stay afloat in this damn sea of sadness that surrounds me?

I don't like that metaphor. It sounded better in my head. Please disregard it.

Anyway.

I've always been, in my deepest core, a pessimist. The worst is what's expected, what's expected is the worst. That's just the way I roll. It's safer that way, I've always thought, when I bothered to think about it at all. Usually it's just been something that is, like my height or my hair color.

Lately, though, I've found myself having hope of all things. For what, exactly, I don't know. It varies. It's always something good, though.

Happiness or some mythical shit like that.

Objectively, I'm the luckiest man on Earth.

Subjectively, I want to crawl into a hole and die.

So, there's a bit of a conflict there. I'm dealing with it, as well as I can.

Mostly by drinking beer, though denial is another important tool. As is this little trick I like to call selective memory.

You know a good way to tell when I'm in a weird mood?

When I start writing a bunch of single-sentence paragraphs.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008
posted by dave at 12:13 AM in category ramblings

I'm in such a weird mood tonight. Even for me.

---

I remember the last time I was in this particular mood. It was on a nice night that should have been a horrible night. I'm pretty sure, looking back, that I was in total denial. I wrote this, back then:

My mind is aswarm with thoughts, my heart is teeming with feelings, all with their own agendas. Some will merge for a brief time, join forces in fierce battle against their enemies, swear allegiance to false alliances, but all the while only truly working toward their own vision of an idealized conclusion.

Others are adversaries from the start. Like dogs and cats, like Arabs and Jews, they are born into this war which began long ago and which will continue long after these individual skirmishes and battles and betrayals have become nothing more than forgotten footnotes in a history book.

And the individual combatants, so full of resolve and so possessed of purpose, they will become nothing more than patches of ground where the flowers, nourished by the blood-soaked earth, grow vibrant and strong.

And me?

Well, I'm Mars, The God of War.

I really like that entry. It summed up my mood perfectly, for that time in my life.

---

Sometimes I catch myself thinking that it doesn't matter what I write. That it's how I write that I should be concerned with.

Like, if my words dance and flow with each other, then maybe the actual content won't matter that much.

I have so many things I want to say. Perhaps I should stop worrying about the words I use, and just let the feelings flow.

---

I saw a shooting star tonight, when I first ventured out onto my swing. I thought about someone who's having surgery in the near future, and I wished for her to not be afraid.

---

It's impossible to not notice, the way things have started to disintegrate lately. I mention those things, and I'm called crazy. But, to me, that's not an insult at all - I've been crazy for a very long time. I'm used to it. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Monday, July 14, 2008
posted by dave at 11:09 PM in category ramblings

This was stuck at the bottom of some dick spam I got just now.

I wish I could write as eloquently as this.

She had grown up anyhow. Her brain void of all vainly tries to resolve. Imagine a short old man, towards him. He had thought that kundadhara would, like fire hidden in a well, we have, indeed, exposed the mighty armed hero, accompanied by those princes, her head was perilously near to his shoulder. One's eye is withdrawn from him, is really like food distributed at gaya's sacrifices. And they evening Henry sat alone by Rose, who had fallen and Rachel were closely associated, and they performed and learning and supported by all our warriors. Host's family with whom I had yet been able to vedic mantras become necessary for enabling persons as the travelers had supposed on seeing nearly passing his time in the nether region. Freed from.
And they evening Henry sat alone by Rose...

Just beautiful.

Anyway.

Something good? I can only write about it if it's totally irrelevant.

Something bad? I can't write about those things at all.

Something medium? Sure, I can write about that. As long as I make it as boring as possible.

Ta-da!

Sunday, July 13, 2008
posted by dave at 10:28 AM in category ramblings

Yeah.

So MixedSignalGirl got married yesterday.

That is all.

Thursday, July 10, 2008
posted by dave at 9:35 AM in category ramblings, travel

This sucks.

I don't want to go. But I also know that, once I get about halfway there, I'll start to get excited.

And then I'll probably have some fucking fun or something. It'll be like I'm being unfaithful to my regular life, seeing another life behind its back. And then I'll feel guilty about it.

Anyway, I guess I'm leaving now. Gotta stop and get some cash before I go to the airport.

I'll try to update this thing while I'm gone.

This sucks. I don't want to go. Alone.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008
posted by dave at 1:17 AM in category ramblings

I feel pretty good about myself tonight.

Weird, I know.

At first I thought that I might be having a stroke, but nope, it's actual satisfaction that I'm feeling. Towards myself of all people.

I was actually useful to someone who's very important to me. And I was actually appreciated.

Wow.

Friday, July 4, 2008
dad
posted by dave at 11:59 PM in category ramblings

You know, it's days like this that I really miss my dad.

Not that he would understand me any more than anyone else has.

But he'd fucking believe me. And I bet he wouldn't even roll his eyes.

I miss my dad.

posted by dave at 11:47 PM in category ramblings

So Superman fell from a horse, and he broke his neck and became paralyzed. Because of those things, he was labeled a hero.

I, on the other hand, fell from the clouds, and I broke my soul. Because of those things, I was labeled a pitiable loser.

---

I have this stupid sense of entitlement sometimes. I really hate it.

Because I know it's bullshit.

Just ask my dad if it's bullshit. Oh wait, you can't, because he worked hard his whole fucking life and then just dropped dead one Thursday evening.

Or ask my nephew if it's bullshit. Oh wait, you can't, because he kept his nose clean all throughout his adolescence and was as ready for adulthood as anyone, but then he was killed in a car accident late on a Friday night.

You're supposed to work hard, for a long time, and then you're supposed to be rewarded for your efforts?

You're supposed to suffer unimaginable anguish, and then things are supposed to work out so your suffering was worth it?

Bullshit. That guy Job, from the bible, can suck my dick.

What really happens, most of the time, is that all of your hard work and all of your suffering - they mean not a fucking thing.

The universe doesn't care how hard you've worked. And the universe sure as fuck doesn't care what you're been through. Fuck, it was the universe that put you through all the crap in the first place.

I hate feeling like this. Like my own years of suffering are worth a flying fuck to anyone or anything. It's bullshit, and I know it, but I can't shake it.

I want some fucking justification, dammit. I've fucking earned it. I'm fucking waiting.

When do I get to look at my life, realize how wonderful it is, and say that it was worth all the anguish?

Huh? Answer me that, universe. You fucking cocksucker.

posted by dave at 4:51 PM in category ramblings

The thing is, I don't think I have anything to say. Or maybe there's plenty to say, but nothing I'm willing to say here.

Yeah, I bet that's it.

My mind is swarming with unpleasant thoughts today. That, and thoughts of tiredness, since I haven't slept since an aborted attempt at a nap Thursday afternoon.

But I'm trying to cope. Trying to find some sense of self. I went to Polly's for lunch. Didn't help. I went down to the river and that certainly didn't help. I might do an entry about that someday. I took pictures.

I'm back home now. Lost inside my own head, clawing at these walls, trying to find a door so I can step outside and have a smoke or something. To get away from this barrage of thoughts, for just a few short minutes, would be so nice. Maybe then I could sleep.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008
posted by dave at 1:51 AM in category ramblings

I suppose that, when you're dying in the desert, a mirage is better than nothing.

Even when you recognize it for what it is, even when you realize that it's not real at all, it's still a goal of sorts.

Worth scrambling toward, because it's something to do, at least.

Better than dying and desiccating in place, without even trying to survive.

I'm so thirsty.

Sunday, June 29, 2008
posted by dave at 11:54 PM in category ramblings

I have serious doubts that this entry is going ever going to see the light of day. I think that to be publishable it'll have to be too cryptic, even for me. I think it'll be so cryptic that even I won't be able to understand it once some time passes.

But, I'm bored right now. And I'm not particularly tired. Most of all, this is something that I really feel deserves at least a shot at being a blog entry. Because it is important.

So I'll try to write this damn thing. Though I'm already having second and third thoughts about it, and I haven't even said anything yet.

(Bunch of incomprehensible drivel deleted.)

Well, that was sort of a an incredible waste of time, wasn't it?

I guess there are some things that I can't say without coming right out and saying them.

It's not what people think, though. That's safe to say. In fact, it's pretty much the opposite of what people think.

posted by dave at 1:17 AM in category ramblings

On a night like this, the waning moon throws its light from beyond the sky, transforming the clouds into a gray sheet stretching between horizons.

Featureless, to my eyes, but incredible beauty lies just beyond that dome.

My eyes are irrelevant, on a night like this.

It's so beautiful. Out of sight, it still shines through, overwhelms.

I'm in such a weird mood tonight.

Life provides its own metaphors.

posted by dave at 12:42 AM in category ramblings

Who __ __ that ___ ____?
Duh. You get one choice, and that's more than I ever had.

What __ __ _____ you ____ about ____?
Everything. Literally, every single thing. Even those things that piss me off.

Where __ ___ most _____ _____ _____ touching ___?
Her lips. Almost always her lips.

When ___ _____ ________ begin?
Maybe the day I was born. Maybe even before that. I don't know for sure. I don't think that it really matters.

Why __ ___ ____ her, __ all ______?
For the same reason that I breathe, and for the same reason that my heart beats.

Saturday, June 28, 2008
posted by dave at 4:48 PM in category ramblings

One of the weirdest things about last night was this.

For over four years, I've carried my phone everywhere I've gone. For a while it was a regular cellphone, more recently it's been a Blackberry. Whatever, I did everything I could possibly do to always stay available. I've never quite figured out how to shower with my phone, but the thing is always sitting on top of the toilet when I shower, so I can still hear it. You know, just in case.

Then, last night when we arrived at the casino complex, I turned my phone off and gave it to LaptopGirl so she could carry it in her purse. This was a night, the first night since forever started for me, that I wouldn't need my phone at all. I had all the contact I needed.

Freaking surreal.

Thursday, June 26, 2008
posted by dave at 12:55 AM in category ramblings

Right now, I'm in one of my moods again.

Sometimes I think these of these moods of mine as periods of unusual clarity. Other times I think they're just crazy periods - where I outdo even myself.

Whatever.

Right now, I don't think this is a bad thing, this one thing that I can't write, or say, or show, or pantomime.

I think it's good, maybe even great.

It's a simple matter of acceptance, that's all.

No extrapolations. No predictions. None of that crap. Just acceptance.

It, quite simply, is.

Just fucking deal with it.

Understanding is irrelevant.

I had a really nice day, by the way. People were really nice to me today.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008
posted by dave at 12:11 AM in category ramblings

This is a unique situation for me. There's no doubt about that.

Never before and, I hope with all my heart, never again will I find myself struggling like this again.

Searching frantically for purchase on such a sheer rockface. Reaching out wildly at each passing outcropping and crevice as I fall, hoping against hope that I can slow my descent. Survive to climb again.

But it's exhilarating, in its own special way. The stark contrast. The points of light shining so brightly against that ebony background.

I could mix metaphors all day and all night, I think.

Anyway, I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out what happened.

I mean, I know pretty much when it happened. I just don't know what it was. What I did wrong, said wrong, thought wrong, felt wrong.

Clearly, I did something wrong. Clearly, it's all my fault.

What was once gray has separated like oil and water, has become bright tiny sparks in the dark. Stars, beautiful but oh so distant. Useless, but necessary. Oh so necessary.

I seem to be thinking about stars a lot lately.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008
posted by dave at 12:33 AM in category comics, ramblings

Tonight, after my eyes had finally adjusted to the dark, and after my brain had finally learned to stop looking across the street at my neighbor's dick light, I saw some stars.

Actual stars. Not nearly as many as I saw when I was a kid. My aging eyes and all this stupid light pollution have taken care of that. And not even a zillionth as many as what I saw on that one night in Nevada, but still, a lot of stars.

They were pretty.

I also was lucky enough to see not one, not two, but five shooting stars.

I made five wishes.

More precisely, I made the same wish five times.

I am not a bad person. I am not a selfish person.

I wished for eternal happiness for someone else.

Also, as an added bonus, here's the only comic I can think of which featured shooting stars. I like this one, even though MixedSignalGirl was kinda mean.

mean, but funny

---

Recently I've been asked what I mean when I say that I'm in a weird mood. I've found that, with questions like that, a description is much easier to come by than a definition:

Sometimes, I dare to envision a day. A perfect day. A day of laughter and love and joy and incredible happiness. I dare to envision such a day, but I see it as the fantasy that it is, and I do not get sucked into it.

Sometimes, I remember the truth, the reality of life. My life. And sometimes I can stand the pain that reality forces into my brain, and sometimes I do not want to cry out at the unfairness of it all.

It's those incongruities that makes them weird, these moods in which I sometimes find myself.

Monday, June 23, 2008
posted by dave at 6:55 PM in category ramblings

Today I've been wondering about something.

I know, you don't have to remind me. Wondering has always proven to be a really stupid thing for me to do. But, as with most relevant things in my life these days, I just can't help it. I'd certainly stop wondering, if I could.

But I can't.

So there.

Today, I'm wondering if that was our first fight. I kinda hope that it was. Because, you know, it really wasn't that bad. And it would be nice to know that our first fight was out of the way.

But I'm also wondering about the make-up sex.

Does it still count as a fight, even if there's no make-up sex?

posted by dave at 1:57 PM in category ramblings

In the interest of completeness, and perhaps fairness, I'll now tackle the issue of what a guy means when he uses the word.

I think it's much more straightforward. There's a definition that's never used.

See, a guy will never, ever, ever, use the word friend to describe a girl unless either (a) He is not sleeping with her and, for some reason, wants to make that point perfectly clear, or (b) He's not interested in her physically and wants to make that point perfectly clear.

For example, I often refer to HatGirl as my friend. I use that word intentionally, because HatGirl is extremely engaged. I don't want anyone to ever jump to the wrong conclusion about me and HatGirl. So, reason "a" above definitely applies.

In another case, referring to another girl, I might use the word friend to stress the point that I'm not even interested in her in that way. This is a term I might use when referring to, say, Roseanne Barr* or someone of similar appearance.

The difference between these two meanings is a subtle one. It's usually taken from context. If, for example, you see me standing next to HatGirl or LaptopGirl or any other girl that's not a big fat hog, and I refer to her as my friend, well then it's fairly obvious that reason "a" above applies. The use of the word friend in this case isn't meant to either confirm or deny the presence of physical attraction - it's only meant to make it clear that there's nothing currently going on. Usually to spare the girl's reputation.

So, I'm really rambling with these two entries. I really did have a point to make. Or a point to illustrate.

But now I've got to work some more. Don't hold your breath. I may decide that this is too stupid, even for this venue.


* - I'm sure that Roseanne is a wonderful person. I only used her as an example. No offense intended.

posted by dave at 11:48 AM in category ramblings

I was thinking this morning about the word, "friend."

What it's supposed to mean. What it actually means. Because those are two entirely different things. It may as well be two entirely different words.

Or maybe there should even be three words.

The first entry for the word, at dictionary.com, says, "A person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard."

Okay, fair enough. That's pretty much what I usually mean when I use that word.

But why, I wonder, do women so constantly twist that word into something entirely different when referring to a guy?

When they use the word, it doesn't mean any of that crap about feelings of affection or regard.

Nope, when they use that word, it means, "A guy I have casual sex with," about half of the time. The other half of the time, it means, "A guy I will never have sex with because he physically repulses me."

There's something about the tone or the inflection of the word. Its true meaning is always perfectly clear. Never mind that hogwash in the dictionary.

I dunno. Perhaps I'm just being feeling bitter because, far more often than not, I seem to be the latter type of friend.

Friday, June 20, 2008
posted by dave at 2:00 AM in category ramblings

I wonder if she really understands, why I did what I did. What I had to do.

She says that she understands. She says that she wishes me well.

I believe her when she says those things, and I can tell that she believes it when she says those things.

But sometimes, every now and then, I see something out of the corner of my eye.

I see her looking at me, out of the corner of her eye.

I see something that doesn't quite fit.

I see something.

posted by dave at 12:14 AM in category drink, ramblings

I see, looking back, that it's been over a month and a half since I last reviewed a new beer. This is inexcusable, but the excuse that I'm going to use is that Schlenkerla Marzen has been readily available at Rich O's, and so I've been drinking a lot of that.

Well, tonight was a bust at Rich O's, in several ways, so now I find myself sitting at home almost stone-sober. This can not stand. So I've broken into my 'fridge and am now imbibing a new beer for me. I even took a picture of the thing.

Slaapmutske

Slaapmutske Triple Nightcap

Hazy dark yellow. Decent head that faded rather quickly. Much more yeasty aroma than others of this style, quite intriguing, though. Mouthfeel a little thin, but standard for the style. Flavor pretty much what the aroma had led me to believe. Apples and yeasts, and some spices in there as well. Pretty goddamn good. I will definitely have more of this.
Anyway.

Tonight was, like I said, a bust at Rich O's. There were several reasons for this. First, I had a glass of New Holland Dragon's Milk (104) in honor of HatGirl, who couldn't make it. I've liked the Dragon's Milk okay in the past, but tonight it just didn't sit well with me at all. It seemed a lot stronger than I remembered. I barely finished the 10-ounce pour.

Next, I tried to drink a Smithwick's, but I couldn't finish the glass (1724). It wasn't helping at all.

The other reason that tonight was a bust was that I, once again, managed to forget what's really important to me. I get so fucking selfish sometimes, I forget almost everything besides my own wants and my own needs. Like those things ever mattered in the least.

I forget that this is all real now, present-tense, and that my actions and my behaviour can have very real consequences.

I ended up coming home at 9:30 or so, and then managed to make matters worse by spending a good part of the next hour and a half flinging giant greasy turds into spinning fan blades.

I hope I can be forgiven. And, if not, then I hope I can forgive myself.

Friday, June 13, 2008
posted by dave at 12:32 AM in category ramblings

(There was this survey thingy that my sister posted. I started to repost it with my own answers, but then I decided to just use the survey's questions to maybe give me something to write about. So that's what I'm doing. Maybe one interesting survey question a day - that should keep me writing for quite a while. And I won't have to do that annoying thing where I think up my own topics. Unless I want to.)

Are you anything like you were at this point last year?
My first thought, upon reading this question, was that a year ago I was but a hint of my current self. Like all the pieces were there, they just hadn't been assembled yet. I was just starting to rise from the depths of the gray place that had been my home for such a long time. I wasn't quite ready to believe what was happening, but I was beginning to accept the possibility. I was beginning to have hope. Me, of all people. Hope, of all things.

But things change, tides ebb, perspectives shift, hues fade.

The thing is, right now, I'm exactly the way I was a year ago. But now, now it's like I'm being disassembled. Now, I'm falling again. Now, hope is dissolving and gray reality is coming back into stark focus.

I'm living my life in reverse.

In my mind, I pass that old version of myself, as I slowly sink and he rises ever so gently. We're both accelerating. Me with this growing look of dismay, he with the timid beginning of that stupid grin that I saw so often in the mirror.

But do I wildly wave my arms at him? Do I shout warnings that it's all just an illusion? Do I try to grab hold of him, so that he might arrest my fall?

No, because I might end up stopping his ascent, and that would be cruel. Instead, I will let him have his fun. Instead, I will let him continue to grow that stupid grin. And I will look up at him for as long as he's visible. And I will remember what it was like to fly. And I will try not to weep.

In a year or so, I'll try to catch him as he plummets back home.

Thursday, June 12, 2008
posted by dave at 12:15 AM in category ramblings

There's this thing, this life lesson I suppose you could call it, that I just can't get to stick in my brain for any length of time. Certainly not long enough to ever be useful.

I suppose that, were I to give this life lesson a semi-serious attempt at expression, it would go something like this:

Things are as they are. Things may change, either over time or instantly, but I have little control over the form those changes may take, or of their timing. Also, anytime I attempt to coerce a change, it usually makes things worse than they were before.
I get re-taught this lesson every now and then, and every single time it's like a huge shocking revelation to me. It's just so amazing to me that I have so little control over the things that are most important to me. I can only try to enjoy them while they last. And hope I don't fuck them up too badly.

I think things are good, then I get punched in the gut. I think things are progressing, and I get kicked in the nuts. I struggle to move beyond those events, and I finally start to feel better again, and I get slapped in the face. And I just keep taking it. I withstand it all, and I never fight back, and I pretend that I'm not reeling from the pain and the shock. I pretend that I'm not livid.

Things are as they are. I have no control. I am a willow in the wind. I must learn to love the wind, even though it may uproot me and send me tumbling into death.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008
posted by dave at 2:11 AM in category ramblings

Okay, so in what may go down in history as The Most Ironic Thing Ever In The History Of Everything, tonight LaptopGirl took a step toward knowingly being my new muse, when she asked me why I'm not writing in my blog.

So much for secret number two.

I'll admit, I could certainly use a muse. I can't seem to find any motivation on my own. So I guess I should take whatever help and/or encouragement I can get.

But c'mon, LaptopGirl?

Seriously?

Okay, fine.

The other night, Saturday night if you desire any sort of precision, LaptopGirl seemed to take great umbrage at my near-constant use of the word "weirdo" to describe myself. I don't think it was because she really disagreed, on principle, with my use of that word - I think her outrage was a two-parter.

Part the First: She wanted to understand just what the fuck I mean when I write that I am weird.

Part the Second: I'm pretty sure that LaptopGirl feels that she has staked a claim for herself onto weirdness, and she isn't sure that I'm worthy of that label.

Anyway.

Questions questions questions.

What do I mean when I say that I'm weird?

Can I provide an example of my so-called weirdness?

Why am I weird?

Answers answers.

I think that when I say I'm weird, what I really mean is that I'm in a weird mood. My weirdness is certainly nothing like the weirdness which I'm constantly accusing certain people at Rich O's of displaying. Those people suck, while I myself am awesome.

Sure. Saturday night I felt that being at Rich O's was the stupidest thing that had ever been stupid. But, I also did not want to miss LaptopGirl if she were to show up. So my compromise was that I avoided everyone, sat in the parking lot for most of the night actually, until LaptopGirl showed up.

Now, that third question was a bit of a lit fuse, or so it seemed at first. When LaptopGirl asked me that question, everyone within 20 feet of us immediately stopped their conversations. I think they all held their breath. I know I held mine. Everyone looked at me, not even bothering with false apathy, to see what my answer would be.

Would it be, fucking finally, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? Or would it be a cop-out?

So I looked into LaptopGirl's eyes, as well as I could, considering the distance between us and the distortions caused by the lenses of our glasses. I looked into her eyes as deeply as I could, being very careful not to drown, and what I saw was that it wasn't a serious question.

She was neither looking for, nor expecting, a serious answer. The serious answer.

So I didn't provide that serious answer.

It was a cop-out. Maybe.

Okay, so now I've written something in my blog. Time for bed.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008
posted by dave at 11:20 PM in category ramblings

Uh oh, I'm in a weird mood again. Usually that means that I'm about to start spouting drivel, but maybe not this time.

Okay, maybe just a little.

Most of the time, I can honestly say that I'm not ashamed of anything that I feel, and therefore write. Usually, I know that I don't have a choice, and that's enough to assuage any embarrassment or shame. But sometimes, sometimes like tonight, I find myself very uncomfortable inside my own skin.

Tonight, I am afraid.

I don't like it, and I don't have a choice, and I'd like to be able to wish this feeling away to make room for those pleasant feelings that are right now cowering inside me. But I think I'm going to have to deal with this fear. I don't think it's going to go away.

Not this time.

I think that, this time, I'm going to have to face my fear or else I'm going to have to run from it.

If only it were that simple. If only those choices weren't both so selfish.

There is a third choice.

Ignore my fear, and be destroyed.

Sunday, May 25, 2008
posted by dave at 12:48 AM in category daily, ramblings

I think that, to carry a metaphor way too far, I think that the arches of my feet are simply getting too sore to bear.

All this fucking tiptoeing around. Like I'm all sneaky and shit.

New flash: I'm not sneaky. Everyone sees me. Everyone knows what I'm doing. Everyone is laughing at my fumbling attempts to pretend that things are normal. That I'm normal.

I'm just getting sick and tired of it. My tiptoeing is not fooling anyone, and so it serves no purpose except to spotlight a failed attempt at deception.

I hate doing this, I did it, for a long time, because I thought it was necessary. The right thing to do. And maybe it was the right thing to do, for a while. But that time has passed.

A lie of omission is still a lie.

---

Also, because I don't want to forget this, and also because I thought it was funny, I had myself a gay cheeseburger tonight.

What's that you say? You didn't know there was such a thing as a gay cheesburger?

Well, I didn't know it either, but I was wrong. As were you.

So I went to Wendy's and, as usual, I ordered the #2 meal plain with a Diet Coke. Then I stepped aside to wait for my order to be prepared.

I guess the burger guy was a trainee or something, because the manager chick had to explain to him what "plain" meant. She said that it should have just cheese on it. He didn't understand, so she said it more clearly. "A plain cheeseburger should have meat, cheese, bread, and nothing else on it," she said.

"Well that's gay," the burger guy replied.

For the record, my gay cheeseburger was very good.

It was weird, though. I had the strangest urge to go dancing after I'd eaten it.

Saturday, May 24, 2008
posted by dave at 1:53 PM in category ramblings

Okay, so I'm a week behind on beer reports. I don't care, and so I certainly can't expect anyone else to care. Not that anyone ever did anyway.

I'm doing it again, I see. Writing this for other people instead of for myself. I hate it when I do this. It means that I stop writing about the mundane boring bullshit that I use for a life, and I either don't write anything or I write something else that gets me into trouble.

---

So the other day I was thinking about a couple of tough things that I keep having to do. The first thing is acting somewhat like a normal person, sometimes. The second thing is dealing with pain.

I can do either of those things.

I can act so much like a normal person, sometimes, that sometimes I even start to fool myself into thinking that maybe it's not an act. And I've already gone through, and recovered from, so much pain in my life that I know that I can handle anything.

But what I can't do, what I can't do is act normal and deal with pain at the same time.

This is my current problem.

I was slapped in the face, then punched in the gut, then kicked in the nuts, all in the span of about an hour. All three things hurt me deeply, both because they happened and because of from whom the blows came. Doesn't matter that these things might have been were probably unintentional. Sometimes apathy is worse than cruelty.

I can deal with it, though. It's just pain, after all. Pain and I, we're old friends now.

But don't expect me to act normal while I deal with it.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008
posted by dave at 11:47 PM in category ramblings

Damn.

I think I must have said that word to myself a million times today. I'll probably say it a million more times tomorrow, and again the next day, and again the next day.

Damn.

I need a new thesaurus, I think.

So I just went back and reread a bunch of my old drivel. To see how I dealt with situations like this in the past. I knew what I was expecting to find. Anger. Sadness. Disbelief. More sadness.

I didn't even remember writing the bullshit that I found, but the vast majority of what I found consisted of bullshit piled atop more bullshit.

I was such a fucking liar, back then. I lied to myself every time I wrote that bullshit. Which was a fucking lot, as I just discovered.

And now I wish that I was still a liar. A good one, a convincing one.

So that I might tell myself the bullshit again, and believe it, and maybe even actually get some sleep.

Damn.

Monday, May 19, 2008
posted by dave at 1:29 AM in category dreams, ramblings

Trying to figure out exactly what I'm adding to this little formula that's got us so stumped. Or even approximately what I'm adding. Or subtracting. All I really know for sure is that the balance is tilted heavily in my favor.

My wins, they're all so fucking huge. I've become a spoiled brat. And sometimes I forget just how fantastic things are. And sometimes I throw a tantrum when things don't go my way. I threw a tantrum all day today. It's a wonder I didn't give myself a heart attack.

But, I'm better now.

It doesn't take much. Just a little tug on the line, as if to make sure I'm still here. Still hooked.

That curiosity, it means something. I think it might mean that I matter, just a little.

Though I can't for the life of me imagine why. Or for what.

I can't figure out what I'm good for, is I guess what I'm trying to say.

The whole thing is so lopsided, so unfair. I shouldn't be the one who gets to be happy. At least I shouldn't be the only one.

---

I had a dream today.

I accidentally wiped a smile off a beautiful face, and the world wept. I dedicated my life to bringing that smile back, but it wasn't meant to be. For I was the destroyer of beauty, and its restoration was beyond my abilities. Years later, I looked at the gray place that the world had become, that I had created with one selfish act, and I dreaded death. For that smile survived only in my memory, and when I died, it would be lost forever.
So yeah, it was a pretty crappy dream. I hope it doesn't come true.

---

Crap, it's 1:30 already. I suppose I should go stare at my ceiling for a while.

Sunday, May 18, 2008
posted by dave at 1:39 AM in category ramblings

So this is one of those entries that I'll write and, if I'm smart, delete before too many people read it.

I used to never do this, but it's a stupid semi-habit that I seem to have picked up. I get in these moods. Good, bad, weird, whatever - and I get an overwhelming urge to write about it. Then, if I'm lucky, I remember that nobody needs my bullshit and I delete what I've written.

I remember a dream that I once had. I wrote about it briefly. Well, take out the part about the song, and definitely take out the part about the whore, and what you're left with is my mood right now.

Swimming upstream. Getting nowhere. Wasting my time.

It's not a very pleasant mood. But it's my own damn fault. I lose sight of what's important, every now and then. I lose sight of what's important and all I see is stupid stuff that's selfish and therefore not important at all.

Last night, in an oddly coincidental bit of timing, RockGirl asked me a question. "Are you happy?" she asked. "Like in general, with life and everything. Just yes or no. You don't need to elaborate," she continued.

My reply was immediate. "Yes I am," I said.

Later, in a separate email, I cheated and I elaborated. I explained my answer. Even though RockGirl certainly needed no explanation, I gave her one anyway.

Tonight, for a while as I selfishly thought about myself, I forgot why I was happy. Just for a little while, but for long enough to completely fuck up my mood. At the worst possible time. As if there's any good time for completely fucking up my mood.

See, I've had this bullshit premonition in my head. Except that now I'm not so sure it's bullshit at all. Now I'm thinking that it's probably something that I'd better start getting ready to deal with. But I don't want to fucking deal with it, because any normal person would just walk away, and when I refuse to walk away, that will out me as a person who's anything but normal. And there may be one or two people left on Earth who still hold to the illusion that I'm normal. I'd hate to shatter the reality of those one or two people - they're totally innocent, after all.

I'm pretty sure that I'm rambling now. To be honest, it feels good to ramble sometimes.

The thing is, the thing that I should really start repeating to myself over and over and over and over until it's impressed into my brain like initials scratched into concrete, the thing is that I am deliriously happy. And I have damn good reasons for it. I need to remind myself of those reasons. Constantly. Instead of just coasting through life as a grinning idiot, I need to fucking remind myself why I'm happy.

It's unbelievable to me that I'm even capable of forgetting, but it's still happening. So I need to wipe this stupid fucking grin off my face and get to work.

Monday, May 12, 2008
posted by dave at 11:57 PM in category ramblings

There I am, cruising along with my life, appreciating people, sometimes even *gasp* liking people.

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 be 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.

posted by dave at 1:05 AM in category drink, ramblings

Sometimes I say things or, more rarely, do things. Things that might not be totally selfless. Things that, on the surface at least, aren't obviously bad, but that are still at least a little bit suspect.

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.

Monday, May 5, 2008
posted by dave at 12:26 AM in category ramblings

See, this one time, there was this really bad thing that happened. I may have mentioned it from time to time. This bad thing happened, and I died.

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.

Friday, May 2, 2008
posted by dave at 12:56 AM in category ramblings

My brain is strange. I don't think that statement would surprise too many people who know me.

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.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008
posted by dave at 1:32 AM in category ramblings

I've always been pretty good at remembering dates. But, apparently, only if the significance of said date is realized right away.

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 24th, 2003. That's at least close. It's what you'd call an educated guess.

posted by dave at 12:25 AM in category ramblings

I've been lying to myself, I'm afraid. I've been lying to myself because I felt, deep down, that there was no way I could deal with the cold hard truth.

Until now, perhaps. As that cold hard truth presses onto my chest and pins me to the ground, I remember that I have surprised myself before. With my resilience. With my strength. Even with my resolve, misplaced though it may be.

The truth.

I constantly seek answers to unasked questions, expired years ago. The answers don't matter anymore. I'm no archaeologist, qualified to poke and dig through the ruins of my own past, hoping to uncover some scrap of knowledge that just might help me in the future. Or the present.

The truth.

I yank and strain at doors, long rusted shut. I tell myself that I have another chance, but for what?

I don't know. Something.

Anything?

But there are no second chances. There are only similarities. So that I can say to myself, If only I can do that one tiny thing differently, everything will be better, this time. Everything will be great, this time. If only I can find out what that one tiny thing is.

The truth.

I have tried to resurrect the dead.

And I've failed. So now I need to focus on the living.

The truth sucks sometimes.

Monday, April 28, 2008
posted by dave at 12:32 AM in category ramblings

One, I want her to grow up. Another, I want her to learn to close her mouth. Yet another, I want her to learn to close her legs.

Some, I think, should open their minds, and I'd like to see several open their eyes. The eyes thing - that's probably what I'd most like to see happen. I get very tired of seeing people I care about going through life blinded by their own assumptions and prejudices and opinions.

Me?

I want to be able to see the whole person, not just their worst perceived flaw or their best perceived asset.

And I want to have a more consistent memory - too often I forget everything but the most recent encounter. Or I do just the opposite - I ignore everything that's happening right in front of my face and I instead relive past transgressions or affections over and over and over.

And over.

Saturday, April 26, 2008
posted by dave at 1:38 AM in category ramblings

Oops.

But I will not take all of the blame for the weirdness. I was asked, after all.

---

It was nice to be asked. I think that was a big step in the right direction. But it would have been much nicer to have been able to answer without restriction.

The thing is, there are no real secrets left anymore. So, I wonder, why do we pretend that there are?

This pretending fools nobody, and it springs a trap from which it may take a long time to escape.

---

The sky is blue. Water is wet. Things are what they are.

When did the truth become a bad thing?

Oh, wait. I know when it happened.

The truth became bad at the exact moment that it became irrelevant.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008
posted by dave at 11:18 PM in category ramblings

It's not like I never envisioned this happening.

It's not like I don't, even now, see this coming at me like a speeding car on a late-night road, while I stand frozen. A deer in the headlights, as they say. So transfixed by the pretty lights that I wouldn't be able to turn away even if I wanted to do so.

And I most certainly do not want to turn away. Despite advice from Everyone On Earth.

See, the last time, the last time this happened, I was struck from behind. Unawares. Completely blindsided.

That really sucked, by the way.

The lights are so pretty. I think I'll enjoy them for a while longer. For as long as I can. Until it's too late.

Monday, April 21, 2008
posted by dave at 11:43 PM in category comics, ramblings

I've been having a problem with the whole risk vs. reward concept lately.

This causes me to do incredibly stupid things. Well, the same stupid thing over and over, actually.

There's the potential for a reward, or I wouldn't do the stupid thing. But that reward seems to have lost some of its specialness lately. Perhaps it's happened a little bit too often. I might have even become a little bit jaded.

But the risk?

The risk hasn't changed at all.

As a result, the reward is no longer worth the risk, and so I should stop being such a fucking dumbass.

---

Another thing I wanted to write about, but which probably isn't worth an entire entry all on its own, is that some people are really annoying me lately.

Specifically, their voices are annoying me. Even the shortest sentences are sometimes enough to give me an Excedrin headache number 15,000,000.

I don't know why I'm so irritated with these voices all of a sudden. These are people that I actually like. Some of these voices belong to people that I would actually fuck. And it's not like I'm annoyed every time they speak. Only at certain times. When I'm in certain moods.

The voices, they cut into my skull and they scramble my brain. That's not good. I prefer my brain over-easy.

So many times lately, I've sat at Rich O's and I've wanted to jump up and scream, "Please, for the love of all that is beautiful and good in this word, please shut up for two seconds!"

But, I don't jump up and scream any such thing. Because I'm trying to be a people person and shit.

---

There's this one chick who has, almost single-handedly (or double-breastedly?), turned me into a breast man. I am reminded of this transformation quite often. I did a comic about it/her/them once:

mmmm, perky

It's not the size that's attractive to me. Not at all. Definitely not artificial size. I want to make that clear. I am not a fan of store-bought breasts that have no purpose other than making a girl bigger up top.

I realize that things like age and gravity and having kids, these things can make a girl feel less than satisfied with her body. So by all means, get those puppies re-inflated and feel better about yourself.

But try to come out of the surgery looking like a human being.

Size just for the sake of size? I just don't get it.

---

Okay, I think I've rambled on long enough for one night.

Sunday, April 20, 2008
posted by dave at 9:27 PM in category drink, ramblings

I keep seeing these little flickers in my brain.

I'm pretty sure that they're not symptoms of a tumor. And they're not quite entry ideas, but I think that someday they might be. The latter, I mean. Maybe, someday, they'll turn into entries. If they can get over their fear of the light. If they can come out and show themselves to me, so that I might do this writing thing that I seem to want to do today.

Or, if I can catch them before they scurry away again.

Cowards!

I've noticed these flickers, these little thoughts, before. I've written about them before.

The thoughts are there, running around inside me, but they flee when I try to capture them. They hide behind trivia and inane bullshit, and they snicker among themselves about how easily they evade me.

Only the weakest among them are ever at risk.

Sometimes I manage to catch one of these lesser thoughts. Then I'll dissect it and expose its innards to the world. And its brethren watch in horror from their hiding places, and they stop their snickering, for a while at least.

Okay, so maybe it's the whole dissection thing that's keeping the flickers in hiding.

I'm in a fairly strange mood tonight. I don't know why. It might have something to do with the bottle of Ommegang Three Philosophers (49) that I've now almost finished. But I don't think that's it. I think it's something else. Something much deeper than alcohol.

I think that maybe I've just taken a good hard look at myself, and maybe I've started to suspect that I'm not as happy as I think I am.

That would really suck. Because I fucking like being happy.

But I've been noticing shit, every now and then.

I'm starting to suspect, if I look at things objectively, I'm starting to suspect that things aren't quite as fantastic as I've been thinking. There seems to be an underlying stress to my life. Just a touch of effort to interactions that should be effortless. I think it's like walking up a very long, very slight, upgrade. You don't really notice that you're putting any extra effort into walking, but your heart beats faster than it should, and your muscles get tired much sooner than they should. My life is kinda like that. It's harder than it seems.

I'm finding myself being extra careful about what I say. I'm finding myself paying extra attention to what I hear. I'm finding myself working hard during those times of my life that should be the easiest and the most enjoyable. Also, I'm sensing that extra effort in those around me, when they talk to me, they seem to be working harder than warranted.

Oooooh!

I just saw another flicker! I'm going to stop writing now, and try to catch the little bugger.

posted by dave at 3:25 PM in category ramblings

I've often lamented that I do a crappy job of writing when I'm in a good mood. I'll leave it up to the readers to decide for themselves whether my mood is irrelevant to the crappiness of my writing. I happen to think that it's highly relevant.

Good moods lead to crappy writing.

Bad moods lead to not so crappy writing.

Most of the time, anyway. But maybe not all the time.

Like, I was reading through some old stuff today, and I ran across an entry I wrote a little over two years ago. On one of those rare days, back then, in which I found myself in a good mood.

I like this entry. I think I did a good job with it. It's short and to the point.

gamut

You know what I like about my life right now?

I like the fact that, for the first time that I can remember, I seem to have the entire gamut of emotions at my beck and call.

This is really pretty cool, this place that I find myself in. Even though I complain about it what seems like all the fucking time.

Q: How do you know Dave is complaining about something?

A: Because he's awake.

Here's a little challenge for you. Pick an emotion. Give me a minute, and I can be experiencing that emotion.

Some are easier than others, of course. Some I might even call difficult. But not impossible.

A friend of mine asked me today if I ever felt hate. That's actually one of the tough ones for me. But I can do it. I have to reach far back - years and years - into my past, and think about things that I'd rather not think about, but I can do it. If I'm completely honest with myself, then I have to admit that I do hate her for what she did, over and over and over and over and over and over. Without remorse. Without anything that could even be remotely considered as being anything similar to regret. With nothing but pure selfishness. I hate that fucking whore.

Yes, I do hate her. For who she is, and for the coward that she turned me into.

Love, the one emotion that I always figured was impossible for me to feel - that's the one that turned out to be the easiest of all. That's the one that I live with, that's a part of me, that I cannot completely shake even when I want to do so. I try to run from it, and I try to hide from it, and I try to deny that I ever felt it. Feel it. But there's no use running, or hiding, or denying. It always catches up. It always finds me. It always stands right in front of me and does a little dance that always makes me laugh. This is what I feel when I let my mind and my heart relax and stop trying to escape the inescapable. That such a person can exist in this world. It's just so amazing to me. She is just so amazing to me.

I do love her. For who she is, and for the hopeful idiot that she turned me into.

And, between those two emotions, and between those two very different women, I have the full range of emotion available to me.

Like I said, it's pretty cool.

So, I can write when I'm happy. Which begs the question, Why don't I hardly ever fucking do it?

I think it's because when life sucks, I turn away from it, and when I turn away from life I turn toward my writing. But, when I'm happy with my life, I want to experience it, not write about it.

That's my theory, anyway.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008
posted by dave at 12:37 AM in category ramblings

I think it's only natural, to become frightened at times like this. Times when I'm feeling both alone and lonely. Times when my thoughts do nothing but oscillate between regrets about the past and nervousness about future.

I almost never see the present anymore. It's frustrating as fuck. I get caught up in the perfect moments, mesmerized and hypnotized, overcome by fascination, enthralled and entranced and enchanted, bewitched and bewildered. Spellbound. Possessed.

I ignore everyone and everything and I do nothing but surrender myself to the preposterous joy that has confronted me.

Then, later when the perfect moments pass, I get scared.

It's too much. The moments are too perfect. This cannot last.

I really need to start paying attention to the moments. So that, when they inevitably end, when the duct tape and bailing wire that hold my heart together find that they can no longer do so, when I break, once again, at least I'll have something.

I would look forward to the memories, except that I'm not sure that I'll have any. It's all just a surreal series of beautiful blurs.

I forget where I was going with this.

Oh yeah, something about being frightened that I might once again find myself with nothing. Not even memories, because I'm too busy being happy to remember the miracles even as they happen right in front of me.

Wouldn't it be just about the most fucked up thing ever, if all this came to a crashing halt, and all I had to show for it was a fading smile and a confused look on my face?

I think it's only natural, to become frightened at times like this.

Monday, April 14, 2008
posted by dave at 12:20 AM in category ramblings

I realized this evening, as I sat at Hooters enjoying a yummy Newcastle (9263), that I was feeling very writey. This, of course, being much different than feeling writerly.

I used to feel writerly, every now and then. Usually when I was feeling particularly sad crazy. But it hardly ever happens anymore. I'm happy now, for the most part. I'd say that I was a happy camper but I haven't been camping in years.

Anyway, I'm going to share a couple of secrets now. I can do this, well, I can do this because of the secrets themselves. They will reveal why I can reveal them.

Does that make sense?

No? Maybe it will in a minute.

Secret number one: When I'm at all vague as to who I'm writing about, it means, 99.99% of the time, that I'm writing about one certain person. Always the same person.

Secret number two: Some people don't read this blog.

See what I did there? I made secret number two rely on secret number one for its meaning.

Because I'm all clever and shit. And I'm betting that my readers are, too.

Anyway, I can't decide if Saturday sucked or if it was good.

I made a comic about it, but I don't really like it. It's not very funny:

totally worth it

See, I'd spent the entire day emailing and texting back and forth with LaptopGirl. About all these tentative plans for Saturday afternoon and Saturday evening and Saturday night. It was all so fantastic and surreal. I was so fucking looking forward to seeing her. But, when she showed up, she chose to sit at the end of the conjoined tables with the dorks and the hot girls, and there wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it. Except sit at the other end of the tables. Like a weirdo.

Things got better after that, but I think that my mood was already shot. I seriously didn't know whether to bust a gut laughing or to spontaneously burst into flames.

As it turned out, I did neither of those things. I pretty much stayed in weirdo mode until LaptopGirl went back home.

Anyway, I could list the beers that I had Saturday night, but I seriously doubt that anyone cares.

Friday, April 11, 2008
posted by dave at 2:31 PM in category ramblings

This is an entry that's been a long time coming, I think.

I want to try to explain a little bit about how my brain works. At least one section of my brain. The part that's in charge of expecting responses to emails, phone calls, and text messages. I suppose it's also in charge of regular letters, too, but this is 2008 and nobody uses those anymore.

That particular part of my brain is flawed, yet predictable. And oddly fascinating in its own strange way. So I'll try to describe how it works.

As I'm not a mental health professional, however, I'll just have to use a couple of examples.

---

About two weeks ago, I emailed LaptopGirl to invite her to a new brewpub. This was on a Tuesday morning. By Tuesday evening, I'd had no response, and so I became certain that she was angry at me for something, or that I'd freaked her out by asking. Too fast and/or too much, maybe.

By Wednesday afternoon, there was still no response, so I became convinced that she'd packed up her shit and moved back to Arizona. Not specifically to get away from me, I didn't think - that was just a bonus.

By Wednesday evening I was certain that it had been because of me.

I remember emailing RockGirl, during that time:

"As her Jeep wasn't at her parents' house today, she has clearly moved back to Arizona. There is no other possible explanation."

By Thursday evening, I was convinced that she was back in Arizona, and that it was because of me, and that I'd never see her again. I'd only see her lawyer when I got the restraining order handed to me.

All day Friday I struggled to locate the pieces of my life from where they'd shattered on the ground. Again.

Friday evening, LaptopGirl came into Rich O's and said that she'd just figured she'd see me in person so she hadn't replied via email.

I was fine after that, but I'd had about 80 hours of torture.

---

A few weeks ago, HatGirl stopped responding to my text messages.

After a couple of days, I became convinced that she was angry at me for some reason. But, I kept trying.

By the time a few more days had passed, I became certain that her back was really bothering her and keeping her bedridden. So I texted her with encouraging messages.

After a few more days without any response, I convinced myself that LuckyFucker, her fiancé, had forbidden her from having any contact with me. That actually made me feel a little better, so I kept trying. Just a text message every day or so.

After a few more days, I became convinced that HatGirl and LuckyFucker had been in some terrible car accident, and that they were lying comatose in a hospital. I began to slowly accept the very obvious fact that I'd never see or hear from HatGirl again, but I still texted her a couple more times, just in case she'd snap out of her vegetative state.

Then last week, I became convinced that HatGirl and LuckyFucker had both died from their accident, and that nobody had thought to even let me know about the funeral. This thought really started to freak me out, so I tried one last time.

And she replied!

Yay!

Said she'd never got any of the dozen or so text messages that I'd sent.

I've been fine after that, but I'd had about three weeks of torture.

---

I guess the important lesson here is that I like it when people reply to my messages. And, when they don't reply, well the reasons that I make up in my head aren't very good ones.

So, please reply.

Thanks!

Wednesday, April 9, 2008
posted by dave at 12:26 AM in category general, ramblings

I need a new phrase. One besides, "This is huge!"

I know RockGirl has to be getting sick of me saying that over and over and over and over and over.

Nothing's great or cool or even fantastic anymore. It's all huge.

Like this thing that happened the other night. Or this other thing that happened three times tonight.

Fucking huge.

---

I think that one of my neighbors might be a dick. Not the one directly across the street; she's nice, and she has a hot daughter who sometimes comes over and mows her mom's yard in a bikini. And not the people who live behind me. They seem pretty cool, and they keep to themselves, the way I like it.

The neighbor who might be a dick is the one across the street and one house over.

He had a fucking streetlight put in his driveway.

The light pollution from that thing is ridiculous. Especially at times like tonight, when it's warm but the leaves aren't on the trees yet. I sit on my swing, trying to enjoy the darkness, and that damn light is all I can see.

I'd like to take a pellet gun and shoot the thing out. But I can't because I'd be the prime suspect, now that I've written about it.

---

I owe NotHideousGirl an apology. I will apologize to her in person the next time I see her but, for now, I will apologize here:

Sorry about that. It was only ever barely funny to begin with, and it's certainly not funny anymore. Plus, it sends the absolute wrong message. I will make every effort to never broach the subject again, except when I apologize to you in person, the next time I see you.
There. I feel better now.

---

This weekend SassyGirl is coming to town!

Yay!

As always happens, though, I'm on-call this week. So my weekend could get ruined if some bad enough stuff happens at work. I certainly hope not.

---

I don't know what I'm going to do Saturday night. Rich O's will be closed because of this airshow and fireworks thingy in Louisville. They were open last year for Thunder Over Louisville, so I don't see why they have to close this year. To piss me off, I guess.

---

Huge, I tell you!

---

I wish I'd have let that guy in the Peril series of entries live. I just know I could write a lot of good stuff about what's been happening with that guy for the past year. But how was I supposed to know, back then, that things would turn around this drastically?

---

I'd thought that I might get to go to Las Vegas in May, but now that's doubtful. There were three of us going, and I guess now only one of us gets to go. I hope it's me, but I don't want to get my hopes up too high. Plus, it would feel weird to leave here when such huge fantastic things are happening.

---

People probably don't notice it, but I really am a totally different person now. Here's one example:

Before, my reluctance was selfish, but now it's pretty goddamn noble of me, I think. Me, noble. Who saw that coming?

---

Man, I really want to write something relevant. But, every time I start, I end up stopping myself. Because people might go, Oh shit, Dave's off his rocker again.

The thing is, I never got back on the damn rocker. Everything is as it's been for years, except that now I'm getting a little bit of validation. Not encouragement, I cannot stress that enough. Just simple validation that maybe I wasn't quite as crazy as everyone thought. As even I thought.

There. That's about as relevant as I can allow myself to get.

---

Fucking huge!

Saturday, April 5, 2008
posted by dave at 11:58 AM in category ramblings

I might not have time to write this. I've got to leave soon, as I'm having lunch with HatGirl then I'm going shopping for booze.

Anyway, the other night LaptopGirl emailed me this thing about a bunch of kids saying what love was. I replied with my own definition of, "Love is when a person's happiness is essential to your own happiness."

I didn't make that up. It's pretty much straight from Robert Heinlein. But I do agree with it.

Moving on to last night, I found myself talking with HatGirl and LaptopGirl about the different types of attraction. Sexual, friendly, protective, comfortable, romantic, things like that. I could probably, with a little more effort, list a dozen more types of attractions but, like I said, I don't have much time right now.

The thought that just jumped into my head was that I need to change my definition of what love is.

I think that love just might be when every possible type of attraction exists at the same time for the same person. That's why it seems so damn overwhelming and confusing.

I should expand on this entry, but I probably won't. It's a little too close to home for me.

posted by dave at 1:23 AM in category ramblings

There's this thing, this oath, in the justice system. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, it says.

Well, this latest conversation bit of meddling that I've heard about is one in which the truth was spoken. The truth, but not the whole truth. Not even fucking close to the whole truth.

The whole truth in this situation is something that I alone know. Everyone else is just guessing and extrapolating. And I wish that people would stop speaking their half truths on my behalf. Because it's not doing any good. No good at all. Harm, in fact.

Misinformed appeasement is unfair. It's a lie. It's a delay of the inevitable.

Attracted.

That's the word that's stuck in my head tonight.

What an incredible understatement that is.

I've asked that people stop meddling. I'm now starting to realize that I've been asking for something that cannot be done. So, I'm amending my request.

How about, instead of making shit up when you feel the need to express your opinion, how about just saying, "I don't know. You should ask Dave."

Put the fucking burden on me, where it belongs.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008
posted by dave at 12:44 AM in category ramblings

I was trying to figure something out last night. I lay in my bed, not even attempting to pretend that sleep would be coming anytime soon, but rather just because it seemed to be the thing to do between the hours of midnight and 7:00 AM. My cat Nugget seemed to sense that something was going on. He wouldn't leave me alone.

I lay in my bed. I played sheet monster with Nugget. Every now and then, for a while, I picked up my phone and made sure it was still working. When that got boring, I placed my phone on my chest, and I tried to figure something out. I tried to decide something.

Well, my phone never did ring. That's good for at least two reasons. The first reason is that it probably would have given me a heart attack. The second reason is that I never did figure anything out. I never did decide shit.

I really need to be careful, because this is all seeming very familiar to me. The names may have changed, but the circumstances are the same. It's like a remake of an old movie or something.

I suppose that some would call this irony. Or poetic justice, perhaps.

I, myself, would call it bullshit.

I tell myself that I need to make a choice. One or the other. A or B. I tell myself this even though I know that no choice is possible and that no choice was ever possible. What will happen is what will happen, and I have a feeling that I might be as surprised as anyone. Or maybe not. I mean, I think I know exactly which path I'd take.

But I've been wrong before. At least a couple of times.

Well, that was clear as mud, wasn't it?

Thursday, March 27, 2008
posted by dave at 12:51 AM in category pictures, ramblings

the block where I work

Okay, so the red X is about where I was standing, just outside the building where I work. To the left of the X, directly across the street and about 50 feet away, is the 21C Museum/Hotel. So, imagine my surprise when two girls, who were walking around looking lost, stopped and asked me how to get to the 21C Museum/Hotel.

Nice guy that I am, I gave them directions. "Go South and turn left at the light, then go East and turn left at the light, then go North and turn left at the light, then go West and turn left at the light, then go South. When you get back to this exact spot again, go across the street."

Then I had to get back inside to work.

I hope they found the place okay.

posted by dave at 12:25 AM in category ramblings

Meanwhile, I keep writing. I don't post much of it, but I do keep writing.

I pour myself onto this keyboard, and then I censor almost every word. I protect the people I care about from the truth. What a fucked-up situation it is, that I keep feeling compelled to hide the most important parts of myself from the most important people.

I keep getting these fucking thoughts in my head. Not random thoughts, though they seem to come at random times. From some dark place inside me that I'd rather didn't exist.

But the dark place exists. The thoughts exist.

I am actually angry right now.

As if I have any right to be angry. As if I have any reason to be anything but deliriously happy. As if my life isn't a million times better than it was a few short months ago. As if I didn't get the two seconds I'd wanted, and a whole lot more.

As if I did anything wrong. As if this is somehow my fault.

This is not my fault, dammit!

So why am I so angry at myself?

Sunday, March 23, 2008
posted by dave at 5:51 PM in category ramblings, weather

Every now and then someone will make a statement, and nobody really pays much attention to it. Maybe they dismiss it as simple conversation.

But perhaps they should pay close attention, lest they miss something important. Something immortal even.

Like these words of MisunderstoodGirl, from March 2005.

Man, it's really pouring down snow out there.
Those words are just as true now as they were then, and I'm sorry I didn't recognize their import until just now, when I looked out my window.

Saturday, March 22, 2008
posted by dave at 12:03 PM in category ramblings

whatever

I guess I'm starting to get a little nervous. That's probably not the correct word, though. Whatever the word is, I've found myself in a pretty deep funk for the last couple of days.

I need a good word for preemptive depression. I bet such a word exists.

Wait, I suppose it could have been the 48 hours of relentless rain that dampened my mood.

Nope, I'm sure it wasn't the rain. It was the stuff that caused it. The fucking stuff.

A hint now, a mention then, an insinuation every so often. That fucking stuff.

Nothing certain. Nothing that couldn't be rescinded if circumstances changed. Though I don't think anything that formal would ever happen. That would be really out of character. I think that the hints and the insinuations and the mentions would simply stop.

I'd take that. Easier for everyone involved to just pretend that the stuff never happened.

And if it doesn't stop? If the stuff continues and the thing really and truly takes place?

Well, that will suck. But only for me. And I keep saying that I'm not important. Maybe, by the time the thing happens, I'll even remember why I keep saying that.

Thursday, March 20, 2008
posted by dave at 12:15 AM in category drink, ramblings

I think that, too often, I manage to see only the good in people. Then, when they reveal their true nature, I take it as a personal attack.

I think that, too often, I see only the bad in people. Then, when they reveal their true nature, I ignore it and soon forget that it ever happened.

This might not be the best way to live my life. Seems kinda lopsided, if that makes any sense.

---

I was thinking about sweetness tonight, as I enjoyed a Fastenbier (376), which had magically reappeared on tap even after FutureDude had told me it was gone. I think FutureDude is pissed at me for some real or imagined reason.

Anyway, I know two girls who I would absolutely characterize as sweet. Not particularly nice, perhaps, but definitely sweet.

Shut up. There is too a difference. A huge difference.

There is just something special about a sweet girl. I wish that I knew more of them. But alas, they are very rare, at least in the world that I inhabit.

I think that's why I'm so drawn to sweetness.

I'm not saying that no other qualities matter to me, because they certainly do. But sweetness trumps everything else.

---

I'm not even sure that I could describe what the fuck I'm talking about.

---

I am tired now.

Friday, March 14, 2008
posted by dave at 12:53 AM in category ramblings

I remember that, tonight as I stood outside Rich O's enjoying the cool Spring air, I remember thinking that I seemed to be a pawn in some twisted game. The game was called, I decided, How Stupid Is Dave?

And, I freely admitted to myself, I really sucked at that game.

I was, it seemed, being manipulated by a master player. The best player ever, perhaps. I was fooled, and then I was jerked around, and then I was given false hope, and then I was misled, and then I was fooled again.

And, through it all, I played the part of the pawn perfectly. Fuck, I even liked being a pawn. Because it was better than being nothing, and I'd had enough of that, thank you very much.

But that was about 9:00, when I was thinking those things. By 10:05 by my watch, everything had, once again, changed. My perception shifted, or reality shifted around me. I'm not sure which, and I don't really care. All I know is that the game revealed its true name even as it shifted to my favor.

The real name of the game is How Patient Is Dave?

And, let me tell you, that's a game that I'm a master of. Because the value of patience is directly related to the value of the desired. I realized this a long time ago, at about the same time I figured out that if desire is infinite, then so must be patience.

I'm so happy right now.

I'm happy because my patience paid off. Though Wednesday was tough, and the first part of Thursday was even tougher, I did have the patience that was required.

I'm happy that my patience paid off, but most of all, I'm happy because the desired and the realized, for a while there, they fucking merged. For a while there, I wanted nothing more than what I had. For a while there, I waited for nothing.

And, the thing is, I could have waited for a million years. A billion years. A trillion years. Use whatever long period of time that you wish. It doesn't matter how long it is.

As long as it took, it would always be, will always be, worth the wait.

It was worth the wait.

And now, back home, I start to wait once again.

But that's okay. I can wait.

I have plenty of patience.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008
posted by dave at 1:26 AM in category ramblings

I wonder, how long it would be, this imaginary entry that I will never write?

If I somehow managed to shut down or at least suppressed all of my inhibitions, and I just started writing, how many words would it take before I was finally finished? Before I'd finally written everything there was to write?

Most people, I daresay, most people who read the thing would never speak to me again.

But the others, the ones that stuck around, they'd be with me forever, I think.

And I'd never doubt them again.

Saturday, March 8, 2008
posted by dave at 1:49 AM in category entertainment, ramblings

A lot of things seem random, until they're over, and then not so much.

Earlier today I was having an email conversation with RockGirl, as I'm wont to do, and I said that I couldn't remember the last time that I was utterly happy with my life. Not happy with just one particular aspect, but happy with the totality of my existence.

I wrote to RockGirl that perhaps I'd been happy during that brief time when MysteryLady and I were together. Even as I wrote it, I knew it wasn't true. There had been other times. More recent times. But I couldn't remember what those more recent times had been.

Then tonight, I watched a movie. I picked it at random from my shelf. At least I thought I picked it at random. I've seen it before. Several times, actually. It's one of my favorite movies. It's genius.

And, as I watched the movie, I remembered something. Something important.

Probably about the fifth time I watched this movie, back in the middle of 2005 - I think that was the last time that I was totally happy. Because I watched it with MixedSignalGirl. It was well after all the bullshit had started to destroy our relationship, but on that night, for whatever reason, none of the bullshit mattered. We just enjoyed each other's company. We sat on my loveseat, I had my arm around her, and we just fit together.

I remember, during the scene where the guy vomited all over the alley, MixedSignalGirl averted her eyes from the TV, and she buried her face against my chest. To this day, I don't know if she was laughing, or if she was disgusted, or if it was combination of both. What I do know is that I leaned over, ever so slightly, and I kissed the top of her head, and she sighed when I did it, and our souls merged.

I defy anyone, anywhere, from anytime past or present or future, to ever produce a more perfect moment than that.

I was completely happy with my life, right then and right there.

I'm pretty sure that was the last time.

(I will award 1,000,000 points to the first person who knows what movie I watched tonight. The title of this entry is a hint. Those 1,000,000 points may be redeemed for one beer, should we ever meet in person.)

Sunday, March 2, 2008
posted by dave at 4:11 PM in category ramblings

I'm supposed to write my Saturday Beer Report one of these years, but it will be a long one, and so I keep putting it off.

Besides, I've become painfully aware, over the last three or four hours, that there's a good chance that my future happiness is about to be decided. And not by me. All I can do is wait and hope. Wait to see if any of my past has been worth the effort, and whether any of my future will warrant any effort whatsoever.

Hold on a second, maybe I can do more than just sit and wait. Maybe I can go to Sluttopia and drink. That would certainly be the normal thing to do. Maybe I'll do that. Act like a normal person for a while.

Saturday, March 1, 2008
posted by dave at 1:29 AM in category ramblings

Things were weird.

I caught myself, several times, saying things. Things that were the absolute objective truth, but at the same time things that I absolutely did not believe. Because I found that I could no longer be objective. Basically, I lied my ass off, because I was less afraid of lying than I was of saying what I really thought.

I doubt that any of that makes any sense. It barely makes sense to me, and I'm the one who wrote it. Whatever.

I've written several times, in the past, that the right thing isn't always, or even often, the easy thing. Tonight, I think that statement caught up with me a little bit. I found myself doing the easy thing, saying the easy words, suggesting the easy path.

I know why I did what I did, said what I said, suggested what I suggested. And I also know that I was wrong when I did those things. And I knew all along, even while it was happening, that I was wrong. I knew, all along, that I was taking the easy way out because it was, at that time, expected of me.

It was a weird feeling, kind of a shift in perspective that really took me by surprise. It surprised me so much that I let the inertia of expectations control me for the entire conversation. While I tried to come to grips with what I wanted to say, I continued to say those things that I was expected to say. I stuck with the script.

It was easier that way. But it wasn't right. Not right at all. The truth can be the truth a million times in a row, but if it's ever revealed to be false, I should acknowledge it as such.

I screwed up. I'm human, apparently. Sorry about that.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008
posted by dave at 1:03 AM in category ramblings

I was trying to remember if I ever made the actual promise to stay here. I'm not sure that I ever did. I know that I thought about it, and I might have even implied it, but I don't think that I ever really came right out and said it. Promised it.

This is all just speculation, of course. Things are almost never as bad as they seem to be. Perhaps, this too, shall pass. Perhaps I'll have a good laugh about it, someday. About how I worried about what I would do, if I were pressed into action.

The thought of starting over is quite intriguing to me. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. I mean, there's only one thing that would give me pause. And sometimes even that doesn't seem like much of a thing. A sense of potential isn't really a thing at all, I don't think, when I think about it objectively. I mean, it's nice to have something to wish for, but when wishing becomes the end all and be all of an entire life - it loses a bit of its luster.

Sometimes it seems like I'm stuck in the worst possible place. A hundred miles to the East, and things would be better. A hundred miles to the North, and I'd at least have a fighting chance. More than that - five hundred miles, a thousand miles, two thousand miles - things just keep looking better and better the further from here that I look.

All choices were taken from me a long time ago. This might just be a new choice. A new opportunity. It would be weird, and more than a little exciting, to have a choice again. But I really don't know if I could make that choice, or if there would really be any choice at all.

Would it really be possible to start over while leaving so many things unfinished?

I wonder which would be worse, a lifetime of regret, or a lifetime of unanswered prayers.

Monday, February 25, 2008
posted by dave at 12:02 AM in category ramblings

Sometimes I think about wasting the words. Sometimes I think of the words as a boil that must be lanced. Just to get everything out in the open. After all, I can never be completely forthcoming and honest while these words stay locked inside me. Festering.

So, I sometimes think about just saying the words. Casually, like I'd say that it was cold outside or like I'd say that it was Wednesday. Just another Wednesday, no different than any other. Oh, and by the way, here is the truth. Do with it what you will, but you can no longer pretend that it doesn't exist, because here it is. In your face.

I expect that the truth would be met with disbelief. That would certainly be the easiest way to deal with it. After all, only the truth matters - if words are deemed to be false, then they can be swept aside and pushed aside and brushed aside and ignored like the millions of other lies that are told every single day.

But a part of me wonders. A part of me wonders if she would remember my promise.

I promised that I would never lie to her, no matter what. I promised her that, and I tangentially promised myself the same thing. It was a compromise of sorts. I promised myself that I would somehow manage to keep my big fat mouth shut up until that hypothetical moment when I was asked the right question. When the right question was asked, all vows of silence would be rendered null and void. But until then, I would be silent, more or less. Until then, I would be patient.

But patience, as they say, is a virtue. And it's a virtue in which I feel sorely lacking at times. My patience is tried on a regular basis. I can't stand the thought of misunderstandings and misinterpretations standing in for the truth. I really can't fucking stand it.

So, sometimes, I think about just telling the truth. Wasting the words. To fuck with proper timing and romantic moments and everything else that I've been waiting for. Hoping for. Dreaming of.

Sometimes, I think about just blurting out the words. Wasting the words on unsuspecting and disbelieving ears.

Not all the time, though. Not even most of the time. Usually, I feel strong enough to keep my big fat mouth shut.

Not yet, I tell myself. Someday, almost certainly, but not today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.

The funny thing about tomorrow is that it never really comes. It's always lurking, just out of reach. Lying in wait.

Sunday, February 24, 2008
posted by dave at 10:43 PM in category ramblings

Vagueness. That's all I ever really get, when I allow myself to imagine the unimaginable. Just the slightest sense of surroundings. The slightest sense of the surreal scene wherein everything comes to a head.

---

It might start with a fight, of sorts. An argument that's not quite taking place. A disagreement still mired in the throes of its own birth. A misunderstanding mangled and mutilated by misinterpretation. Something like that, anyway.

I've had enough. I stand, abruptly and purposefully. On my feet. On a chair. On a table. On a rooftop. On a mountaintop. I find the most visible, the most public place I can find. I can feel myself about to explode from the pressures that I've held back for so long. I will explode, finally and mercifully, and I'm determined that the noise of that explosion will not fall on deaf ears.

I scream the words that I've longed to scream for so long that I cannot remember a time when I didn't long to scream them. With every ounce of strength, I emphasize the words as they rip and tear their way out of me. I exist to say the words, and the words exist to be said.

Funny thing is - the words don't even matter. All that matters is the meaning behind the words. I pour everything I am, everything I ever will be, into the meaning behind the words, and I hope that it's enough. For understanding. For acceptance. For so much more. For everything.

---

Alternatively, it might be expected. Anticipated, even. A quiet moment, perhaps, I imagine, in the midst of a crowd that doesn't matter and that will never matter. A private conversation that crosses some invisible line between friendliness and something else. Something more.

My lips so close to her. My lips brushing her ear, caressing her ear as I say the words that I've longed to say for so long that I cannot remember a time when I didn't long to say them.

By this time, she expects the words from me, and she wants to hear the words from me. She needs to hear the words. From me, of all people. It is as surreal for her as it is for me, and that's saying a lot.

And I say the words in my softest voice, and my lips carve the words into her ear as I say them. And all is good. All is as it should be. I say the words, and my life grinds to a halt as I wait for a response, yet a large part of me doesn't even care what the response might be. She will know, without a doubt, she will know. And I will finally be free of all need for deception and deduction and denial.

---

I suspect that the truth will lie somewhere between these two extremes. I suspect that the truth will seem mundane by comparison. I suspect that the truth will seem boring to everyone except the two of us. Not that I will care what anyone else thinks. They won't matter. I will matter, and she will matter, and that's it.

I like, sometimes, to imagine the unimaginable. It's really not that tough, for me to do so. After all, I live the unimaginable every day. Every single day.

Thursday, February 21, 2008
posted by dave at 11:40 PM in category ramblings

I was just trying to think of something to write about. I was having no luck, as I seldom do. I was thinking about the absurdity of it all. Spending my precious time trying to write things that, by my own admission, I don't really want people to read.

But then the absurdity of the word absurdity struck me in the back of the head, that absurdity having been flung perhaps by my cat Buddy, who for some reason has hoisted himself onto the bookshelf behind me.

This thing I use for a life, such as it is - it's taken on a surreal form of absurdity for several months. I can't think of a single thing that's normal. Oh, I'm not saying that things are bad. Not at all. I know bad. I've lived bad. This isn't bad. It's surreal and absurd.

It's kinda like I'm in a play, and all the world's a stage. I pretend because everyone else is pretending. Even though I cannot really accept that anyone believes this crap, I can't be certain that it's not me who's being fooled. So I keep playing along, even though people keep ad-libbing. Even though people keep breaking character. Even though it's absurd, this show still must go on.

I'm in a weird mood.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008
posted by dave at 1:18 AM in category ramblings

For the most part, I'm fine now. More than fine, actually. Good, even.

I haven't moved very far from the edge of this abyss, but that's okay, because I like it here. I may just build myself a cabin and retire here, I like it so much.

I'm like a mountain goat or something. Jumping around this precipice like gravity doesn't apply to me. Like I've learned nothing from the slips of the past.

But sometimes, I do worry a little bit. I think that's only natural. But I don't worry enough to make me step away from this edge. I like it here too much. The view here is really beautiful. It's a goddamn natural wonder, that's what it is.

---

I don't understand why people feel the need to meddle. Always trying to push us together or trying to pull us apart. Why not just let us be? Why not let us make our own mistakes and find our own solutions?

---

I could reach out and find nothing 99% of the time. I could do that forever. Odds are that I will do that forever. But it's my goddamn life, and maybe that's my choice. My life does not need fixing, because it's no longer broken. I'm no longer broken. And all it took for me to heal was to learn to love the pain.

So what if I keep reaching for that same cloud? Someday, I might just grab hold of something solid. Wouldn't that be something?

---

I've written before about how my wants vary. Usually, a particular want will get stuck in my head for a few hours, maybe a day, and then my mind will move on to something else. Some other want. But, this time, I've had the same want rattling around in my head for five days. I'm not sure that this one is going to go away anytime soon. Or ever.

I'm not going to write about what I want. The right person could ask the right question, someday, and I want my answer to be a surprise.

posted by dave at 12:36 AM in category entertainment, ramblings, weather

Well, the snowstorm was a dud. Despite some promise early in the evening, it petered out fairly quickly. I'm looking at two inches where I'd been expecting up to ten inches. So I can empathize with the ex-girlfriends of this one fucker at Rich O's.

I have high hopes for the coming ice storm, though.

---

The other night I saw someone reaching out to another person. I watched her reach out, and I watched her get absolutely nothing in response. I can certainly empathize with that, because sometimes it seems like all I do is reach out to find nothing.

Now, to be fair, every now and then people will reach out to me, and I'll either slap their hand away or squeeze it gently then move it aside - it depends on my mood and on who is doing the reaching. Sometimes, I do that. Maybe people think I'm a dick because of it, but I know the truth. I'm just trying to keep both of my hands free, in case they're ever really needed.

---

I'm really excited about this Jumper movie that's coming out. It's one of my favorite books. I know that movies are almost never as good as the books they're based on, but I have a good feeling about this particular movie. Also, I wish I could jump around from place to place like that. It would be cool.

That same guy wrote another book I really like. It's called Wildside. I think that would make a good movie, too.

Sunday, February 10, 2008
posted by dave at 10:32 PM in category ramblings

This is just some crap I wrote tonight at Sluttopia. I'd had this great idea to write some moving and uplifting entries, but then, on the way there, I was reminded of three things. Two things that pissed me off, and another that caused me great concern.

Anyway, here's what I came up with. In case you can't tell, I was in a bad mood by the time I got to Sluttopia.

---

I thought it was a simple request, and I thought I'd asked it clearly. But, maybe not. So I'll ask again.

Please. Stop. Fucking. Interfering. With. My. Personal. Life.

There.

I don't know how I can make myself any more clear. Maybe if I throw in the word fucking a few more times.

Please. Fucking. Stop. Fucking. Interfering. With. My. Fucking. Personal. Fucking. Life.

If this simple request of mine continues to be ignored, I think that the circumstances will pretty much force me to reassess some friendships. And I don't want to do that. It would suck.

These latest instances of meddling, while perhaps oriented toward a different goal, are no less dangerous, no less disruptive, and no less despised than that last round of meddling.

I am actually teetering on the edge right now, between frustration and outright anger. And I don't like myself when I'm angry.

I don't want to lose friends over this. I really don't. But I will lose friends, if that's what I'm driven to do. If that's the choice I'm forced to make, then there is no choice.

My priorities are clear.

To me at least.

Some other people think they know my priorities. They think that they know me, because they've talked to me and/or read my drivel.

But they don't know shit. They only see the surface, what I allow them to see.

They haven't seen with my eyes or listened with my ears or felt with my touch. They haven't lived in my world, every perception distorted and only then interpreted by the tangible and intangible senses that make me who I am. What I am. How I am.

Conspiratorial whispers and blatant attempts at manipulation - does that crap really work? I mean, besides with children and idiots? I am neither of those things.

---

Then, I stopped writing, because I was starting to feel mean. I started to write a different entry, something much less controversial and more irrelevant, but my mood was already shot to shit by then.

posted by dave at 12:44 AM in category daily, ramblings

Dedicated stalkers readers may recall that I was supposed to have a date tonight. ArtGirl and I were supposed to go to see some band at some place.

Well, that didn't happen. The band wasn't going to start until midnight, and that was way too late for me, since I have to work in the morning. Plus, I never could get ahold of ArtGirl.

---

Tonight, I went to Rich O's and I held my breath for three hours. Then, at about 10:00, I breathed sweet refreshing air for about ten seconds. Then, I held my breath again.

For what it's worth, I will not apologize for things I cannot change. I've already done enough of that, and it's never done anyone a bit of good.

---

So my mood held fairly steady at content for most of the night. Maybe, there at the end, it might have jumped up a notch. Maybe.

But there was a brief period earlier when, for about ten seconds, I was filled with joy. That struck me as patently unfair, that something so trivial could affect me that much. I mean, I'm getting way more than I'm giving. The same thing happened last night. I got to be deliriously happy, and the best anyone else got was to have to put up with me.

It just doesn't seem right. I've felt guilty about it, a lot, over the past twenty-four hours or so.

You know what it's like?

It's like I'm a closeted gay guy in a men's locker room. Or a pedophile working as a janitor at an elementary school.

I'm enjoying my life way too much, and nobody is the wiser. I feel like I'm taking advantage of things. Taking too much advantage.

I do not like it, and I do feel guilty about it. But I will not apologize for things I cannot change.

Saturday, February 9, 2008
posted by dave at 1:48 AM in category ramblings

There was this one opportunity, for something not quite definable, where I totally screwed up. I blew it, and tonight I was reminded that I'd blown it.

I already knew that I'd blown it. So, it wasn't a big shock or anything, being reminded. Maybe a little mean, but still honest, and therefore acceptable.

Like I keep saying, timing is everything.

I'm not, and I never have been, one of those everything happens for a reason people. Those people are, by and large, idiots. But sometimes I can almost concede their point. Sometimes, it's very tempting for me to blame fate or God or whatever for those things which have happened or not happened in my life.

It's tempting, but I don't do it. I won't do it. Everything is my fault, everything has always been my fault, and everything will always be my fault.

People misinterpret me all the time. This is bizarre to me, because I keep no secrets, if only I'm asked the right questions.

The people who really understand, I love every one of them. Even as I hurt them, I love them. Because they know why I do the things that I do, say the things that I say, wan