Another fucking earthquake!

EVERYBODY PANIC!

This is starting to remind me of my days in Alaska. We'd have two or three of these things a week. I once heard a little kid tell his sister that, "The ground was shivering."

You know, because it was Alaska, and it was cold. I thought it was cute.

Hmmm, this looks to be the fifth one this morning, though only two have been strong enough for me to feel.

Maybe, if this keeps up, I'll get to fullfil my dream of owning beachfront property.

Did anyone else feel that?

It certainly woke my ass up.

Clicking the image takes you to the USGS page.

My email is messed-up tonight. Sometimes I can send, but not usually. I haven't been able to recieve since about 7:00.

I feel like a caveman must have felt.

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.

An email conversation I had tonight, paraphrased very slightly:

I already drink, or stuff like this would drive me to do so.

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:

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.

I got to Rich O's at 4:00 or so. That had been my plan all along. So when SassyGirl called at 3:00 to let me know she and JauntyGirl were back in town, and I told her I could meet her at 4:00, I didn't choose that time just to piss her off. Though I could somehow hear her face fall when I told her that. They had other plans, so they wouldn't be at Rich O's until later.

So, like I said, I got there at 4:00 or so. There were four strangers in the living room, but it looked like they were getting ready to leave, so I sat at the kiddie table and positioned myself to pounce onto the throne. I ordered a small pizza and an NABC Flat Tyre (839).

Once the stranger quartet had left, I moved my shit and sat on the throne. PearlGirl came in with her hot teacher friend, so that was nice of her. Even nicer was that my sister called to let me know that she was on her way to Rich O's. That was a nice surprise.

I used a variation of the word nice three times in that paragraph. I need a new thesaurus.

After my Flat Tyre, I had an NABC Cone Smoker (3397).

Dina and her husband Kenny came in and sat on the sofa, and we talked about various fluff for a while. Then SassyGirl and JauntyGirl came in and squeezed onto the sofa. It was all very nice and pleasant. SassyBoy joined us at one point.

At about 6:00, it was time for Dina and Kenny to be getting ready for bed, so they left. I think this was about when I switched to Diet Coke for a while.

The rest of the evening passed quickly enough. It mostly consisted of SassyGirl giving me shit for not dropping my tentative Saturday plans to see LaptopGirl, and hanging out with them instead. She gave me a lot of shit about that, and I asked her more than once to please stop. See, nobody understands. I would skip my own fucking funeral if there was even a slight chance that I might get to see LaptopGirl instead. I will not apologize for my priorities.

My next beer was a Delirium Tremens (1157), and it was the best-tasting beer I'd had in a long time.

Once SassyGirl and her posse left, I sat around for a few more minutes, then I came home at 9:30 or so.

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!

I'm working from home again today. Burning yet another day of vacation so I don't lose it completely at the end of the month. I'll have 36 hours left to use, after today. I might make it.

Anyway, so last night was a sort of virtual Friday for me, so I went to Rich O's. I got there a little before 9:00, and I was quite dismayed to see that not only were all the Thursday weirdoes still there, they had infested the entire living room area. I said hello to MusicalYuppieDude and TremensGirl, who were suffering on the sofa, and then I sat at the island and talked to some dude who needs to get a nickname.

I think I was expecting to be sad all night. I think I was even looking forward to it, at least a little bit, as it would be a chance to visit a version of myself that I haven't seen in a long time. Accordingly, I didn't fuck around when it came to my beer selection. I went straight for a bottle of Avery's The Reverend (547). It was yummy as always, and it's actually all I had there last night.

I never did become sad like I'd been expecting. WomanRepellant came and joined me for a while. I traded a couple of emails with LaptopGirl. OddlyFamiliarGirl came and sat with me. The two of us talked for at least two hours about various stuff. I had two Diet Cokes once my beer was gone.

It ended up being a much nicer night than I'd been expecting, so my reunion with my past self never happened.

When I came home I sat on my swing with a yummy Schlenkerla Marzen (3338), sent another email to LaptopGirl and a couple to RockGirl, and then watched the lightning until it started raining. Then I went to bed.

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.

---

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!