Remembrance is nice, I suppose, when it's all you have. When it's the only option you have.

Remembrance is nice, but it's nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing fucking nothing when compared to recurrence.

That is all.

Got this in an email tonight:

They really need to be more specific about stuff like this. I mean, I can immediately think of two MySpace friends with upcoming birthdays, but there may be more. Then there are at least a dozen people overall who are/have been very important to me - all with birthdays coming up within the next week. This particular week in November has always been a magic and/or cursed week for me.

Kinda makes me believe in astrology, sometimes.

One night this guy and his friend went out to some club. The guy asked a lot of beautiful girls to dance, but they all declined. He became dismayed.

"I'm going to go ask that fat chick to dance," he told his friend.

And he did. And she said yes.

A year later the fat chick was no longer fat, and they got married. That was almost 20 years ago. They're still married and they have several kids. They're happy.

The moral of this story is that beggars can't be choosers.

I was just thinking, for about the millionth time, about letting go of something. Giving up.

Why is it so easy sometimes, and so fucking impossible at other times?

I have been shit on and used and taken for granted, yet I still sit here hoping. Thinking that things can still be fixed, if only. That everything would be just fine, if only.

I, for those of you joining me late, am an idiot. And you might surmise, because I realize that I'm an idiot, I might be able to change my idiotic ways.

Doesn't work that way, apparently.

I think, in the deepest recesses of my mind, it's still denial that's keeping me from giving up. My mind simply cannot accept some of the things that have been said and done, so it denies that they ever happened.

And I fucking fall for that denial.

Every single time.

Like an idiot.

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Fitting. That's the word that keeps running through my head and coursing through my veins tonight. But not fitting like a glove would do, or like a pair of pants would do. And not fitting like a reaction to a situation might be.

More like a combination of every possible meaning of the word.

The meanings multiplied exponentially in those places where they overlap each other. Fire feeding on itself, too hot for even the slightest, swiftest touch. Too white, too bright for even the most cursory glance.

I need to think about this some more. About this fitting thing, I mean.

Maybe it's like the final piece of a puzzle. It fits into place, and it completes a picture. This is like that, except this thing I'm thinking about, this last piece for my own personal puzzle - it doesn't just fill a hole and complete an image.

Nope, it fills every possible hole and it completes every possible image. And it answers every possible question and reacts to every possible situation. You get the idea.

It fits, in every possible sense of the word.

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This entry sucks. Sorry.

Somebody help me out with my math here.

If the last three work weeks, consisting of 5 days each, seemed to last 13 days, 146 days, and 4.6 years respectively, then how long will this work week seem to last, given that it will only consist of two actual days?

On a slightly related note, should I strive to enjoy myself in Las Vegas next week, inevitably shortening the perceived duration of the trip, or should I wallow in misery in hopes of making the trip seem to last longer than it really does?

One time this guy decided to ignore everything that he wanted, and to only think of this one girl. From that moment on, everything he did and said and even thought was in her best interest - or at least what he perceived to be in her best interest. He didn't matter at all, even to himself. She was the only one that mattered.

Then, several years later, the guy died alone and unloved.

The moral of this story is that there is no moral.

I know I always say this, but I wasn't even planning to go to Rich O's last night. I always say it, but then I follow-up by saying that I went to Rich O's.

I went to Rich O's at a little after 6:00, because MusicalYuppieDude had texted me that NormalGirl might be there. So I rushed out to my truck, drove about halfway there, then came back home and put on clothes, then drove all the way to Rich O's.

When I arrived, MusicalYuppieDude told me that I'd missed "her" by five minutes. Whoever it was. Might not have been NormalGirl at all - all MusicalYuppieDude had to go by was a grainy picture I'd sneaked with my phone's camera the night I'd met her.

I texted NormalGirl and asked if she'd been at Rich O's. No response, but that could mean a lot of things. First thing on my mind, of course, being that I've somehow blown it with her and will never see or hear from her again, perhaps that a restraining order is in the works even as I type this sentence. That's the fun way that my mind works.

Anyway, the place was pretty full of weirdoes, but luckily the kiddie table was available, so I sat there. I had, of course, an NABC Cone Smoker (2246) and I, of course, glared at the weirdoes.

I noticed ArtGirl sitting over at the stand-up bar - she'd drug a chair there. So I went and talked to her for a bit, and invited her to join me at the kiddie table. She politely declined and continued to write in her notebook. Probably a restraining order.

OddlyFamiliarGirl came in and sat with me, and I spent most of the rest of the night talking with her about various stuff. It was all nice and pleasant, even though some of the topics covered were anything but nice or pleasant. Also, LaptopGirl has been looking for OddlyFamiliarGirl, so I emailed the former about the latter's presence. No response, and another possible restraining order.

At about the time I got my second Cone Smoker (2266), my friends Eric and Teri came in. Surprise! I was very glad to see them. Last time had been for my nephew's funeral in August. So I talked with them until they left to go do something or other.

I rejoined OddlyFamiliarGirl at the kiddie table and talked to her some more while I had a third Cone Smoker (2286). I see that Cone Smoker has moved into second place on my all-time beer consumption list. It passed Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier by 7 ounces, and it trails Newcastle by only 5,875 ounces. Not that anything will ever catch Newcastle. Availability + Yumminess = Supremacy.

OddlyFamiliarGirl moved up to the bar to talk to Roger, and I ended the evening just as I'd begun it - alone at the kiddie table. Also, I'd got a text message from HatGirl, but then something happened to my phone and a lot of my messages were lost. This put me in a bad mood, so I came home.

One time these people went camping. It was pleasant, if a little boring. But then a bee flew down the front of this one hot girl's shirt, and she quickly tore her shirt off, revealing perfect breasts.

The moral of this story is that it would be a shame if all the bees disappeared.

Last night, Rich O's was fairly full, but it seemed empty for a couple of reasons. Reason the first was that there were several actual parking spots available in the actual parking lot. Reason the second was that just about all of the people there were either PBDs or at least regulars. So no idiots or weirdoes. So that was cool.

One of the PBDs had the throne, so I sat at the kiddie table with my first yummy Cone Smoker (2206) of the night. I exchanged a few pleasantries with some of the people in the living room, but for the most part I just vegged out.

Oh yeah, TremensGirl was there. She'd said a while ago that she wouldn't be back until at least December. I'd said that she'd cave before November was over. So I'd win that bet, if we'd actually bet anything.

Nothing happened for a long time. I emailed LaptopGirl that her BFF was there. I resisted the urge to text NotHideousGirl or NormalGirl. I talked to the regulars and the PBDs. At one point GrammarLady "lost" her purse and there was an impromptu Keystone Kops skit as everyone searched for it. It was found, eventually, in her car. Duh.

Then FirstLady gave me the throne. That was nice of her. TremensGirl said something about the universe being right again.

I had a second Cone Smoker (2226) at one point, then I got annoyed by one of the regulars, so I cut myself off lest I say the wrong thing. Again.

This one PBD wanted to buy me a beer, but I had to decline. Three Cone Smokers would have been too much for me last night. The offer was certainly appreciated, though.

Anyway, I ended up coming home at 11:30 or so. Kind of a pleasant night, but also kind of a waste.

I stole this from a thread at fark.com. I want this on a t-shirt:

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.

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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.

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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.

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She'd be feeling sad, and she'd lean her head against my shoulder and sigh.

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She'd come into the bar and look around for anyone she knew, and she'd see me and she'd smile.

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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.

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She'd call me or text me whenever she wanted someone to talk to. I was always there for her.

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That way she'd blush every single time I gave her even the slightest compliment.

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Sparkles.

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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.

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She was tired. I didn't even know her. But she slept leaning against me on the plane.

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We talked for what seemed like hours, and our faces were so close that our lips were almost touching. Eventually, our lips did touch.

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I grabbed her hand, finally, and she squeezed my hand soooo hard.

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I'd look at her in a certain way, and her nipples would harden.

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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.

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She simply understood me.

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She forgave me.

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She loved me.

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I'd watch her sleep, and all of the stress in my life would wash away like it was never even there.

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That's what I want. More stuff like that, please.