For a while, an hour or so ago, I was thinking that it doesn't have to be like this. That it could be much better, easier, smoother. It could be good, even fun. Uplifting and revealing and relieving and shit.

But now, an hour or so later, now I'm not so sure. Maybe this is not supposed to be easy. Maybe these particular circumstances require a certain amount of uncertainty and impatience and trepidation just to ensure that they don't pass by unnoticed.

Not like that would ever happen, but maybe I'm the only one who knows that with any certainty. It's weird to be certain of anything, but here I am anyway.

I suppose that I'll just do what I always do. I'll wait and I'll see what happens. It won't be easy, waiting, but it's something I've become accustomed to doing.

I can do it for a while longer. As long as it takes, actually.

It won't kill me.

It was brought to my attention, earlier this evening, that I haven't written anything in a few days. Almost exactly three days, to be precise.

Well, that's not quite right. I've written a shitload of drivel since Sunday night. I just haven't posted any of it anywhere. And I've written one entry that I kinda like, but I haven't posted it here.

So I am writing stuff. But mostly I've been trying to keep this chicken ranch of mine running somewhat smoothly.

Just cleaning up their shit takes hours every day. I don't know why I talked myself into this.

I was going to write about something. I even wrote some preliminary thoughts and a rudimentary draft in my notebook. But I soon discovered that it was going to be really boring, no matter how much I tried to dress it up.

Plus, I thought of something else to write about. And my new thought pushed all of my old thoughts out of my head and they shattered when they hit the floor. So they're gone for good now, those old thoughts.

Now, all I have to do is write something good about the new thing that I thought of.

But not right now, because I thought of the idea quite recently, and I think it needs more time to develop.

So there.

Having totally failed to learn any sort of lesson about timing from Friday night, I got to Rich O's at 6:00 or so Saturday night. To be just a little less hard on myself, I had been planning to stop at Wendy's for something to eat, but then I remembered that I'd had a pretty big lunch, so I went straight to the bar.

They were having some art show thing in the special people area, so the place was full of weirdoes. Most significant for me was that the living room area was full of weirdoes. So I sat at the island by myself. I had an NABC Flat Tyre (83).

After a little while, this uberhot girl came in, clearly looking for a place to sit. She looked at me and I smiled. She smiled back and asked, "Are you sitting by yourself?"

I said that I was, then I followed with my standard joke. "Hard to believe, isn't it?"

So she laughed, and then she left. I never saw her again.

Oh well.

I spent some time sending emails and making phone calls. I had another Flat Tyre (103). Eventually I went to check out the art show, mainly to see if there was anything by MisunderstoodGirl or NotHideousGirl on display. There was nothing from either of them.

So I tried to call NotHideousGirl about the art show. I didn't have any success in calling her, so I had the brilliant idea to just go and see her. We've kinda been in a fight, and I've been really bothered by that. I figured that I'd do what I could to help mend things between us.

I was all prepared to throw pebbles at her window, but she ruined that idea by answering the door when I knocked.

For the rest of this entry, NotHideousGirl will be referred to as Sicky McSickypants.

Because she was sick, in case the new nickname didn't make that clear.

I talked to Sicky McSickypants for a while, and I drove her to the store so she could get some juice. Then I took her back home and talked for a few more minutes.

I feel like Sicky McSickypants and I are still on the outs, but not as far out. So that's good. I agreed to help her fix her car Sunday morning. Hopefully it's just a dead battery.

Anyway.

So I went back to Rich O's and sat in the throne, because the weirdoes had cleared out during my brief absence. I had myself a bottle of yummy Aecht Schlenkerla Marzen, and then MusicalYuppieDude and I split another bottle (1546).

One thing about art shows. Besides attracting weirdoes like moths to a flame, they also attract lots of pretty girls. There'd already been the uberhot girl earlier, and usually that would satisfy the Rich O's quota for the night. But not last night.

At one point, this other uberhot girl came in and looked around wildly. I called out and asked her what she needed. Hoping that she'd say she needed a 42-year-old man to take her home and ravage her.

But no, all she wanted was to know where the restroom was.

Never have I moved so quickly. I jumped from the throne, levitated myself over the loveseat, and landed gracefully at the girl's side. Taking her hand, I told her, "It's kind of hard to explain. I'll just take you there."

Yes, I really did that. Then I led her to the restroom, and I asked her if she thought she'd need any help finding her way back. She promised to call out if she got lost.

And so that made two good deeds that I'd done that night. The first being when I went to check up on Sicky McSickypants.

Talk about satisfying a quota.

Then, for some reason, I found myself babbling on and on to MusicalYuppieDude about various upcoming events. I'm fairly confident, however, that he won't go around blabbing. I still wish that I'd kept my mouth shut.

While I was babbling to MusicalYuppieDude, yet another uberhot girl came in. She came right over to me and sat at the kiddie table. She showed me her bar bill, and said something about how she wondered if I could do something about this one $23.00 item. I promised to do what I could do.

What I could do, well pretty much all I could do was give the ticket to the bartender and tell him that the uberhot girl with the cornrows had some kind of problem with the $23.00 item.

But that still made three good deeds for me, all in the space of about three hours. I was exhausted.

I also went out and told the girl that (a) I didn't work there, and (b) I'd brought her concerns to the bartender's attention, and that (c) I really liked her hair.

Then I went back to the throne and talked to MusicalYuppieDude and TremensGirl and TShirtDude for a few minutes, then I came home.

It was a pretty fun night. I found out this morning that, had I just stayed up for another 10 minutes, it could have been a great night, because I missed an email that came in 10 minutes after I went to bed.

One time, around 1990, my car (Suzuki Samurai) was in the shop for a couple of weeks. I got a rental car to tide me over. It was a Honda something or other, I think.

The car would talk to me. It would say things like, "Your headlights are on," and, "Please engage the parking brake."

Shit like that.

Anyway, one of the things it would always say, if I put my keys into the ignition before the door was fully closed or if I opened the door before I took my keys out of the ignition, was, "Your door is a jar."

Not that my door was "ajar."

Nope, it was two distinct words. And it was a long A sound. A pause jar period.

My door was "A Jar," it would tell me.

And I'd always argue with the car. I'd say, "No it's not, it's a fucking door, you stupid car."

I had this brilliant idea. What made it brilliant was its utter simplicity.

I'd sit at this computer, and I'd write an entry.

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Ta-da!

Wait, does this even count as an entry? Have I written anything, really?

Not yet, I don't think. Needs more cowbell.

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I took the day off work today, and I didn't do shit except go to lunch and talk to BikerGirl for about thirty seconds. And drink a Newcastle (7745).

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I can't help but wonder if I'm doing the emotional equivalent of nesting. Just cleaning house, getting everything nice and ready for what's coming. Or for what I hope is coming. As if I'm capable of telling the difference. Or of admitting to myself that there is a difference.

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I'm in a really good mood now. I blame this particular good mood on the yummy Allagash Grand Cru (89) that I've been drinking since I came home. Before I came home, I had a couple pints of NABC Flat Tyre (63), but Rich O's was such a sausagefest that I left before 8:30.

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I think that I want to be a part of something special. No, wait. I am part of something special already. What I want is to share something special with somebody special.

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I've read this Blink! book a couple of times recently. If you ignore the thinly-veiled racism of the author, it's a pretty interesting book. It basically says that we should all trust our instincts. My instincts tell me two things, right now. I'm ignoring or at least discounting one, and I'm practically betting my life on the other.

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I had another paragraph up there a few seconds ago, but I deleted it. They weren't very nice, the things that I wrote.

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I'm thinking that certain people could use some lessons in empathy. I mean, who are certain people to judge if someone is hurting enough, or feeling pain the right way? To fail to recognize sorrow doesn't mean that it's not there. Everyone deals with pain in their own way, and sometimes denial is the only tolerable option.

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There. I hope that's enough cowbell, because I'm kinda tired of writing.

Made a quick stop at Rich O's after work. Not really worthy of an entry except for this new NABC beer that I tried:

New Albanian Flat Tyre

(draft) Clear dark copper in color. Decent head that faded quickly. Aroma of molasses and hops, and flavor more of the same. The finish was much more smooth than the flavor indicated. I liked this beer a lot. Easily one of my favorites from NABC.

Anyway, as long as I'm typing an entry anyway...

I sat at the bar because there were weirdoes in the living room area. I had a small sample of the beer reviewed above, then a full pint. FirstGirl came and joined me for a bit. I talked to her about possible ways to make a necklace out of my rock. She's some kind of professional jeweler or something. She had some interesting ideas, and she promised to bring some demos to show me later.

Other than that, I pretty much just sat and drank my beer. TremensGirl's BFF was one of the weirdoes in the living room area, and I did my best to tune him out. Didn't have much luck though, so I bailed as soon as my glass was empty.

I never said this would be an exciting entry.

Past and present:

Soon:

See? No wonder I'm freaking out.

This will change everything.

I like brunettes with glasses. I might have mentioned that here, from time to time. I also like small blondes. And I like athletic brunettes, but I prefer soft girls even more. I generally like girls with short hair more than long-haired girls. I generally like straight hair more than curly hair. It varies. I have wide-ranging tastes.

But what's my favorite kind of girl?

Easy.

The random hot girl.

The exotic beauty driving the car in the next lane, singling along to her radio. The smoldering housewife, in front of me at the supermarket. The slinky businesswoman, crossing the street as I sit at a red light. The half-dressed girl that asked me for a cigarette at the Dallas airport. The girl at work who has no idea how pretty she really is. The girl at the bar, sipping her foo-foo concoction. The policewoman standing on the corner.

All beautiful.

All unexpected.

All random.

Out of my life before they're even in my life. Offering nothing but surprising beauty, and expecting nothing in return.

Harmlessness through anonymity.

They're my favorites, because they never get the chance to hurt me.

Most of the time, I think being a mind reader would be a pain. Because I know that there are thoughts in my own head which aren't suitable for public consumption. Unspoken insults, deviant sexual fantasies, sarcasm run amok, more deviant sexual fantasies. And that's just in the time it took me to write that sentence. So it logically follows that the thoughts and feelings of others must be the same way. Private, and better left private.

I'm pretty sure that, were I a mind reader, I'd end up hating everyone on Earth before too much time had passed. Or maybe I'd eventually get used to it and be able to accept the things I was sensing as perfectly normal human thoughts and emotions. Maybe I'd stop being repulsed and disgusted. Maybe, like a blind man suddenly given sight, I'd be overwhelmed at first, but after a while I'd be able to deal with it. The question would be whether I'd lose all capacity for compassion before I got used to it. Not worth the risk, I don't think. At least, that's what I usually think. Most of the time.

There are other times, however, when I'd love to be a mind reader for a little while. Times like right now.

There is a head that I'm dying to peek into. But not to pry. Not to rummage through her mind just to see what cool things I can find. Nib-nosing, my grandmother used to call it when I'd snoop through her chifforobe. Nope, I'd have specific questions that I'd to find the answer to.

Am I needed, right now?

Am I wanted, right now?

These are important questions, always. But perhaps now more than ever. This person, this girl who occupies my thoughts these days, she's hurting. Her life is in a turmoil of sorts. And I want to help. I need to help. I truly do. It's just that I don't know how to help. By keeping my distance? By minding my own business? Those are the things that I've been doing, the things that I've almost always done before.

Things that have been done to me, during the troubled times of my own past, mostly because that's the way I wanted it.

But she, this girl, she is not like me. I have no reason to suspect that keeping my distance is the right thing to do. I also, unfortunately for me, have no reason to suspect that I should intervene, offer an ear or a shoulder or an arm or a hand or a heart. I could end up doing more harm than good. Irreparable harm, perhaps. Hence, my dilemma. My questions.

People hurt. I get that. It hurts to be alive, way more often than it should. And, sometimes, that pain must be suffered privately. But not all the time. Not every time.

Is this time, is this time one of the former, or the latter? And, if the latter, am I a person, the person, who can help to ease her pain?

Yeah, I think that, right now, being able to read minds would be pretty cool.