I was about 40 minutes late, but I did have my little year-end ceremony séance tonight. It took place in my garage, because standing outside in that damn wind would have been suicide.

This year, I wasn't nearly as eloquent as I've been in the past. This year, it was too fucking cold, and I was too fucking pissed.

So I basically griped for eight minutes or so before I finally got to the good stuff. The relevant stuff. And, by then, my adrenaline was flowing too strongly for me to speak coherently. So I quit.

Oh, well. Maybe next year.

I was in such a dangerous mood tonight. A stupid mood.

But now, now it's later. I'm more sober than I was back then, at like 10:00 PM.

Sometimes I lose sight of this one particular very important fact. The most important fact.

At times like that, times like 10:00 PM tonight, I can sometimes feel that fact slipping away. And all I can do is get a tight grip on it, and hope that my grip is strong enough. So that, while I might forget from time to time, the truth will always be there with me, in case I need it.

And I pretty much always need it.

I think I got lucky tonight. I loosened my grip, and the truth fell into my lap.

I'm real. She's real. It's real. This is not some game, or some movie drama, or some story told to little girls while they sit wide-eyed and imagine the stories that might be told about them someday, maybe, if they're lucky.

---

I think that this could all be boiled down to a couple of simple questions. One from each of us. With a corresponding answer from each of us.

My answer is, "Yes."

Everyone knows my answer. It's no surprise to anyone. The only surprise may be that I've waited so long for the question to be asked. The only surprise may be that I'm still waiting, my answer pressed against my lips, ready to burst forth at the proper moment.

It will be explosive, I think, when I give my answer.

It may be my dying word. I certainly hope not, but I'm ready, just in case.

I was doing just fine, for probably twenty years. I forgot the damn song even existed.

Then they played it on the stupid radio last night, and now I can't get it out of my stupid head.

And I can't even say the title of the stupid song, because the title is fucking everything, and it would expose everything that I've, for some stupid reason, kept hidden away inside me.

But the title isn't the real problem I'm having with this song, this song for which I just scoured the Internet for a copy. The real problem is the damn lyrics.

The point of the lyrics, as near as I can tell, is to make me want to kill myself with their mocking.

See, the entire song is about saying things that I'll never say, and doing things I'll never do. I can't even mouth the words to myself as the song plays, because every vow, when it leaves my lips, becomes a broken promise.

Stupid song.

I didn't write about this before, mainly because I feared that the mounds of colorful panties thrown into my yard by passing groupies would detract from my neighbors' fancy Christmas displays, but I have an electric guitar now.

I've actually had it for over a month. Back before I went to Las Vegas, I went to a music store. I needed to buy a new beginner's book. So, of course, I walked out of that store with a new beginner's book, a new guitar, amp, cord, gig bag, stand, strap, tuner thingy, and a bunch of picks. Good thing the place didn't have a tattoo artist on-staff, or I'd probably have gotten one of those, too. Maybe a demon wailing away on a flaming guitar, or something like that.

Anyway, I bought all this stuff, and right from the start I could tell that something was horribly wrong. The amp would constantly emit a loud buzz - so loud that it would drown out most notes. Every note on the guitar also tended to sound exactly the same, because of having to merge with that damn buzzing.

So I've been nagging my friend MusicalYuppieDude to check out my stuff and see if he can figure out what the problem is. Because he's been busy, raking up panties from his own groupies no doubt, we didn't get together until yesterday afternoon.

I packed up my guitar and my amp and went over to his house. I successfully negotiated the Stairs Of Death and made it into his basement.

The first thing he tried was his own fancy "V" guitar plugged into my el-cheapo amplifier. Everything sounded great. There was no buzzing, just sweet music.

Next, he plugged my guitar into my amp. Same thing, no buzzing. He said it sounded good, and I believed him. I was right there, after all.

The only thing left to try was my cord, so we tried that. Still, no buzzing. Still, just sweet music.

By this time a new theory had started to develop in my head. The new theory being that the buzzing might be caused by the electricity in my house.

So we dicked around for a few more minutes, while I marveled that my guitar and amp were capable of producing distinctly different sounds, depending on which strings I strummed and which chords I formed, and then I brought all of my shit back home. I was excited by the chance to finally be a rock god.

My amp had only been plugged into two different outlets. One in my basement and one in my living room. I started trying different outlets.

One on the other side of the living room? The buzz was there.

One in my office? Buzzzzzz.

My bedroom? Buzzzzz.

I took everything down to my basement, and tried an outlet on the opposite side of the house from where I'd tried before.

No buzz. Just a very slight hum, hinting at the awesome rock fury straining to be unleashed.

Yay!

So now I have an electric guitar and amp that are actually useful to me, instead of just looking cool. I've only got a few little things to work on:

1. I cannot pick.
2. I cannot strum.
3. I cannot change chords.
4. I cannot count to four.

And then, then once I get those trivial problems solved, I need to figure out what's the deal with notes.

I don't understand how there can be two strings on the guitar that allegedly play an E note. They don't sound even remotely similar to me. One is low, and one is high. But people tell me that they're the same note. I don't understand, and I fear that the rain of panties will never happen until I do understand.

1. Trevor
2. Cocksucker
3. Cumguzzler
4. Hogarth
5. Blaine
6. Buttpirate
7. Lance
8. Anything with an apostrophe in it - i.e. J'on
9. Anything intentionally misspelled - i.e. Travys
10. Englebert

Keep this handy guide with you at all times.

Being concerned, yet unable to express my concern lest I seem creepy. Sometimes, concern is just concern. This is one of those times, but nobody would ever believe it.

---

Wanting to wish someone a happy new year, but being unable to do so because (a) I deleted her from my phone, and (b) She'd assign some sinister motive to whatever I might say, anyway.

---

Missing someone for all of the right reasons, but knowing that it's useless to say so, because the wrong reasons are all that are ever expected or seen.

---

Being unable to make up my damn mind, about a choice that should be obvious.

We talked for a while, later, about reasons and excuses and justifications. For what we were doing. For what we'd done. For what we would, in all likelihood, do again before sleep took us. But mostly, we didn't really talk. She spoke while I listened, or I spoke while she listened. It was more like a debate than anything else. And our debate had no judge keeping score, except maybe my cat Buddy, who watched us lazily from the top of the chifarobe. I didn't see him taking any notes, though. I'll call it a tie.

This always happens to me. I can never just let myself enjoy simple pleasures. I always have to analyze them, until they're no longer simple, and they're no longer pleasures. My mind tries to jump to the future, but there's nothing there. And I know that I'm on a dead-end road, and I wonder why I'm even bothering.

For WeirdGirl, it's all about the road itself. She gives only passing thought to where it might lead. Wondering and worrying is neither fun nor productive, so she simply doesn't do those things.

Sometimes, I wish I shared her outlook. But I don't. I can't. That's not who I am. I need a destination. Even if it's so far away that I can never reach it in my lifetime, I need to know that it's there. I need to know that there's a point to living.

I forget where I was going with this entry. Probably nowhere. That would be fitting, I suppose.

Yesterday was a pretty good day. I took a late lunch, and went to see AlliGirl for a while. For some reason I didn't eat anything, I just had some Newcastle (8533). Then, on the way home, I suddenly got hungry. I was near White Castle, so I went there. It's been months since I went there.

So I ordered my food, and I was standing back waiting for it to be ready, and I felt a tingling. It was my hot girl radar, pinging loudly and clearly. I turned to my left and saw a little blue car leaving the drive-thru.

Driving that little blue car was none other than VigilanteGirl!

Yay!

She saw me, stopped and waved at me through the window, and motioned for me to some outside. Of course I went outside, somehow remembering to open the door instead of just crash through it.

We talked for a minute or two. She gave me her card with her number on it, and said she had to get back to work. I called her a little later, so now she has my number, too. I told her that I didn't want to wait another year and a half to see her, and that we should figure out a way to keep that from happening. She sounded dubious.

But still, it was very cool to see her and talk to her.

---

Then, later in the evening, I stopped at GasNStuff on the way to Rich O's, and VigilanteGirl was sitting in her car talking on her phone. I waved at her, but that's it.

---

Rich O's was crowded as fuck.

I stood around for a while until this one dude finished eating, then I squeezed by him and sat on the sofa. I had an NABC Cone Smoker (3071) and enjoyed it immensely. Other than that, I felt pretty claustrophobic sitting there because it was so crowded. As soon as PlantDude left the throne, I moved there. ArtGirl was sitting at the kiddie table with some dude. I talked to her for a bit, and I chastised her for getting a new boyfriend and not even considering my lovely self for the position.

Next, I had a Smithwick's (1678). I'd resolved that I wouldn't be cutting myself off before 9:00, as I'd done the last two nights, so I was going to alternate between strong beers and tame beers.

This was a nice plan, but it didn't quite work that way. Once most of the weirdoes had left the sofa, MusicalYuppieDude moved over there. We ended up splitting a bottle of Malheur 10 (53). It was fantastic, but it certainly wasn't tame. After that was gone, I had what was left of my Smithwick's, then switched to Diet Coke for the rest of the night.

Then, at about 11:00, at about the time I started to get bored and disappointed with the night, I got a surprise phone call.

I had a couple of hours to kill, so I came home and did a quick straightening-up.

Last night I whipped this together and sent it to a few people. I mainly made it for RockGirl. She was looking for ideas on what to send her boyfriend.

RockGirl decoded it in about two seconds. HatGirl came very close right away, but may have given up. LaptopGirl is probably forwarding it to her attorney. WeirdGirl cheated, but she said it was only to check her answer.

I could have picked another image altogether for the third image. I don't know why I didn't.