Two hours after my dentist appointment, my tongue still lay in my mouth like a dead rat. I began to fear that it might not return to normal in time for tonight's Saturnalia kick-off at Rich O's. The thought of missing the good beer put me in a bit of a funk. Plus, HatGirl kept emailing me to see which beers Saturnalia would have to offer, and when I would be there.

Luckily, magically, amazing, at about 6:30, my tongue returned to life. So I emailed HatGirl that I'd be there by 7:30 and I jumped in the shower.

Friday nights are always busy at Rich O's. The opening nights for beer festivals are also always busy. Roger, via some bizarre decision-making process which I will probably never understand, invariably chooses to start his festivals on Friday nights.

So, it was very crowded. Between all the Friday weirdoes and all the festival beer snobs, the place was already filled-up by the time I got there a little after 7:00. As I made my way into Rich O's proper, I spied a lone open seat at the bar. So I hurried over there, saying hello to TremensGirl on the way. She was sitting on the loveseat.

Once I'd seated myself, and ordered a Schlenkerla Marzen (2195), I surveyed my surroundings. About an even mix of weirdoes, strangers, and regulars. The one weirdo sitting alone at the kiddie table turned out to be PlantDude, so I decided to move there. But then I looked at the sofa and, lo and behold, there was NormalGirl!

She hadn't seen me yet, so I texted her a quick, "Hi, stranger!"

But before her phone could ring, our eyes met, and I had to go and ruin the surprise by telling her that I'd just texted her.

Because NormalGirl is 4,430,087,701.00046 times prettier than PlantDude, I eschewed the kiddie table and moved to the sofa instead, strategically placing myself between NormalGirl and this other hot girl who turned out to be one of her friends from nursing school. I shall call her RahRahGirl, because she's a cheerleader, and that's what cheerleader's do.

So the three of us talked for a while, and all the other guys in the place got jealous. NormalGirl told me that she's been very busy. I said that I understand. If and/or when and/or where our second date might occur, I'm still leaving that up to her.

Oh yeah, NormalGirl told me that I'd just missed my sister, Dina. So that sucked.

At 8:00 or so, HatGirl texted me to ask about the seating situation. Right then, as it turned out, there were a few empty seats in the place. Weird, because it was still very crowded. It was just that a lot of the weirdoes were standing around instead of sitting. Because that's what weirdoes do - weird stuff. So I texted to HatGirl that there were some seats.

Unfortunately, by the time HatGirl and LuckyFucker arrived, those seats were gone. NormalGirl suggested that we all squeeze together on the sofa, but by that time HatGirl was in a bad mood, and so they left after only a couple of minutes. Probably just as well. Had I been squeezed between NormalGirl and RahRahGirl for any length of time, I wouldn't have been able to stand up for a week without getting arrested.

It probably would have been worth it.

Anyway, I spent more time talking to the girls. I had a second Marzen (2212). Idiots and weirdoes and regulars and strangers came and went, but I barely noticed. I was busy. Plus, I felt bad about the HatGirl situation, like I'd let her down somehow. Not a good feeling at all.

Once NormalGirl and RahRahGirl left, at about 10:00 I think, I moved to the throne. I had a third Marzen (2229) and just kinda vegged-out for a while. I found my mood slipping. Everyone was in their own drunk little worlds, and it was too late for me to join in any of the conversations. So I ordered a pizza and came home.

The odds were certainly low, but they've released the names of the Omaha shooting victims, and I didn't know any of them. So that's good, for me at least. I wonder what I'd have done if my ex-wife or one of the kids had been on that list. Probably nothing. I'm good at doing nothing.

Strength can seem to come from the strangest places. Usually, it deludes us into thinking it comes from something or someone besides the person needing the strength. A friend, a lover, a god, a therapist. I won't pretend to know much about any of those things, but I do know where strength comes from.

Sometimes, I open my eyes a little, and I look around me. I don't do this very often, though. It's too much.

I see a downward spiral, and I hear a silent scream, and I know that I cannot help, because I fear being caught in the downdraft. And this tears at me, but I do what I can. I cannot slow her fall, but I will be there to help her stand back up.

I see unbelievable grief, and I know that I cannot help, because I can never fully understand. And this tears at me, but I do what I can. I cannot ease her grief, but I can be there when she wants to feel normal for a minute or an hour or a day.

I see infinite patience, in an endless battle with infinite disappointment. And, I fear that perfect balance is shifting in the wrong direction. And this tears at me, but I do what I can. I cannot give her advice, for I could never be objective, but I can support every decision she makes. Even if I think it's wrong.

I see unwarranted guilt, blame that is reflected straight back because in any other direction it might be lost forever. And I know that I cannot help, because I am irrelevant to her pain. And this tears at me, but I do what I can. Which, in this case, isn't much. I try to be a friend even when that seems way too shallow a goal.

I see a valiant struggle for independence, and I know that I cannot help, for independence is self-defining. And this tears at me, but I do what I can. I applaud her and I cheer for her, and I hope that my support is appreciated.

Strength comes from one place. Inside each of us. Every other source is naught but an illusion. Nobody can give you strength, and nobody can take strength away from you. It's yours, and it will always be yours.

It will always be there, you just have to look.

Yeah, right. Like I fucking know anything about anything . I struggle, just like everyone struggles. I need strength, just like everyone needs strength.

I can find strength. I just have to know where to look.

One time, this guy found himself totally surrounded by all kinds of drama and potential drama. But he barely noticed any of it, because it was all irrelevant.

The moral of this story is that we all live in our own little worlds.

I don't know why, but tonight I found myself thinking about this one perfect day. I started thinking about it, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it for hours now.

So, I thought I'd write about it. Then maybe my brain will let me have some peace and quiet for a while. Maybe I'll even sleep tonight.

It was June 13th, 2004. I didn't remember the date - I had to use my blog to look it up. It's handy-dandy for things like that.

Anyway, that was a day I'll never forget. It started and it ended in Las Vegas, but that day wasn't about Las Vegas. That day wasn't even about getting up at the buttcrack of dawn (because of the time zone change) and renting a car and driving to Death Valley, simply because I'd never been there before and I thought it would be cool to go there.

It was a long drive. It was very hot even before I'd dropped below sea-level. The scenery consisted of rocks and more rocks, and weeds and more weeds. I was pretty sure, a couple of times, that I'd gotten lost, and that I'd die out there in the desert. Perhaps buzzards would eat my eyes while my heart still beat and my brain still registered pain.

But that day wasn't about rocks or weeds or about getting lost and dying, or even about buzzards eating my eyes while I screamed.

I have a pretty good memory for dates. Anniversaries, I mean. Some particularly good thing happened on a certain date, or some incredibly bad thing happened on some other date, I usually remember that date. But this time, this time I had to go look the date up. That's weird to me. Because, looking back, that's one date I'd have thought I'd have remembered, as much as, or more than, any other.

June 13th, 2004.

That's when it all started to become real for me. That's the day I realized that I was falling, but before I saw how far above the ground I still was.

I felt no fear. Instead of falling, I felt as if I was flying. Soaring.

That feeling, that fucking feeling that I had that day, I could live a million lifetimes and never come close to experiencing it again. But that's okay. Once was enough. Once was very nearly too much.

Once was, as it turned out, perfect. Because that feeling is still with me. Though I've since found myself splattered myself across a gray plain, a part of me, the important part of me, is still flying.

June 13th, 2004, was the day I saw a hint of an inkling of a chance of a possibility.

There's a picture, somewhere. I had some other tourist take a picture of me standing at the lowest point in Death Valley. I just spent a few minutes trying to find that picture. I wanted to see if the smile on my face betrayed the contrast between the depth of my body and the height of my soul.

I didn't find the picture. But that's okay. I don't really need it. All I have to do is look in the mirror, for that smile is back.

It was a perfect day. The first of many.

One time this guy fell in love with this girl. But all of his friends told him that she was a bitch. Hell, even his enemies told him that the girl was a bitch. But the guy didn't listen to any of them. He was in love. So he bided his time. After he'd known the girl for about fifteen years, and she'd managed to alienate every other guy she knew, she finally agreed to be the guy's girlfriend. Then, much to the guy's surprise, she turned out to be a total bitch.

The moral of this story is that when friends and enemies agree about something, they're probably right.

Clearly, I seem to have fallen out of the habit of writing here. I'd like to say that this will be a temporary thing, but I just don't know. I've become very tired of writing boring stuff, and I've become quite fearful of writing interesting stuff.

I find myself being tempted by old paths. Paths which are fraught with danger, but maybe that's part of their allure. For danger brings with it the possibility of salvation. And salvation would be a nice thing, I think.

Anyway.

I think I'm jet-lagged. After I got home tonight, and after I'd eaten some pizza, I found myself exhausted. So I went to bed, a little after 8:00. My intention, my expectation even, was that I would sleep until my alarm sounded at 6:45 in the morning.

Didn't happen that way.

I woke up at midnight or so, and I've been up ever since. Watching episodes of Heroes in my basement, and pausing every now and then to mess with my guitar.

I still suck at the whole guitar thing, in case anyone was wondering.

Tonight, I was also thinking about how things can change, and how sometimes they can only seem to change. Like, sometimes I almost open my big fat mouth, and state that which is obvious to everyone. If I were to do so, things would almost certainly change. But, I don't think that they really should.

If, for example, I said that water was wet, nothing should change. Water has always been wet, and water will continue to be wet. My speaking about it doesn't change its wetness at all.

This is like that, I think. Maybe even more obvious than wet water. I should be able to say it, and then absolutely nothing should happen as a result. My admission of the obvious should not change a thing.

Like I said, these old paths are tempting me.

I wish I was tired. This is a dangerous mood for me to be in. Sleep would be safer.

I was struck by a realization this evening. This realization followed, quite logically, a thread I'd started in an email to RockGirl a few hours earlier.

What I realized, what I realized was that it's the second of December. Not that this particular date means anything. It's not some significance of the date that struck me - it's the lateness of the date.

This year is almost over with. That's just so hard for me to believe. So much has happened to me, to my life, this past year. So much has happened, I almost want to say that, were I inclined to list the various highlights and lowlights of the year, that I wouldn't know where to start.

But that would be a lie.

I know exactly where I'd start, were I so inclined. Same place I always start. Same place I always end.

Anyway, the lateness of today's date struck me with a force that, had I not been sitting down already, I'd surely have been knocked flat onto my ass.

See, there's this sort of timeline in my head. Stretching out in front of me. I can almost imagine my future. One possible future, at least. And now my stupid mind has decided to compress that timeline. Cram all of the events therein together. Rush things.

Today is the second of December. In a few short weeks, this year will be over. In a few short weeks, it will be New Year's Eve.

I used to think, maybe, someday.

Right now, like a dumbass, I'm thinking, maybe, on New Year's Eve.

Now I know, and everyone who knows me knows, and everyone who's read this blog with any sort of regularity knows, that I'm probably going to spend those few minutes that bridge the years 2007 and 2008 by myself. Conducting a séance of sorts, just like I always do.

Talking to people who aren't there. Speaking words that might otherwise never leave my lips.

But now, I've dared to imagine another scenario. One in which I'm not alone as the hour and the month and the year change.

Clearly, I've taken things too far, here inside this lump of fat I used for a brain.

I mean, being in a good mood is one thing. Being an optimist is another, more dangerous, thing.

But assigning an expiration date to that optimism - well that's just the stupidest thing I've done in a very long time.

So, I'm back. Got back yesterday evening.

I've been struggling for a week now. Trying to decide what I was going to write about my trip. Besides the usual stuff, I mean. Like the yummy beer I drank, and the boring conference I endured, and the video poker I played.

But there were other things. Things which I haven't quite figured out. What happened? Why did it happen? What will happen next? Will anything happen next? Do I want anything to happen next?

And then, then there was some crap that happened back here, while I was gone. And I ask myself the same five questions.

I don't want to lie, here, in this blog. But neither do I think that telling the whole truth would be a good thing. And I don't particularly want to guess.

Hence, my struggling.

---

Anyway, last night was much more normal for me. I went to Rich O's, that decision having been made for me by the simple fact that LaptopGirl was thinking about maybe going to Rich O's.

It was a nice night. I took it easy on the beer, though.