My first prediction is that I will wake up tomorrow full of resolve. My second prediction is that my resolve will evaporate by 11:00 or so.

I know what I should do. Or, more accurately, what I shouldn't do. It's perfectly clear in my head. It would be perfectly understandable to anyone, if I felt inclined to explain it.

You ever just get sick and tired of being taken for granted? Of being lied to? Of being used and then discarded? You ever just want to turn your back and walk away?

Yeah, me too.

Tonight, I sat on my swing and drank a yummy Schlenkerkla Marzen (484) while all around me neighbors shot fireworks into the air.

I wrote to my friend that it was like my life in a nutshell. The Reader's Digest version of Dave. Every now and then the sound of laughter would make its way to my ears, adding insult to injury.

My second Marzen (501) went down as smoothly as the first.

Tomorrow, I will wake up full of resolve. By 11:00 or so, that resolve will be gone. Because, by 11:00 or so, I will have remembered three things.

Sometimes, I'm appreciated. Even if it's for one tiny little thing, for one tiny little moment, those snippets of appreciation still give validation to this thing I use for a life.

Sometimes, I'm told the truth. It's happened before, and I'm certain that it will happen again. Eventually. If I can just be patient, and hang on long enough.

Sometimes, I'm merely set aside instead of discarded, and the possibility of being needed again is palpable, and it keeps me breathing.

I kinda feel like I owe my readers a couple of beer reports. One for Saturday night, and another for last night. But then I remember that nobody cares, and that even I don't care all that much.

Besides, I'd have to stop them both at midnight, because some things are nobody's business.

Sometimes I hate it that people who I know read this thing. Hell, sometimes I hate it that people in general read this thing. At least I can do something about the latter case.

I can be boring and pointless. I'm working on it. Like with this entry.

I assume that people are out there celebrating July 4th. At least the Americans are. I don't really know for sure. I just prefer to think that at least some of my friends are having fun today.

I'm certainly not. What seemed like good timing, long ago, has decayed over the years into one of those unfortunate coincidences that my life seems so replete with.

And that unfortunate coincidence is one of the things that I cannot bring myself to write about. That I will not allow myself to write about.

So I guess I'll stop now.

Or at least change subjects.

When I walk from work to The Pub for lunch - something I haven't done for a week because of rain and back twinges - I invariably pass one or more groups of protestors. I don't know what they're protesting. Some work atrocity, perhaps. I just know that I hate them all.

There's something wrong with the whole concept of protesting, I think. These people certainly have the right to free speech, but do they really have the right to annoy the fuck out of people with their chanting and marching?

That can't be what the founders had in mind.

I mean, if I wanted to protest, say, the lack of lesbian porn on prime-time television, I could do it. I could go get a permit. Make some signs. Perhaps recruit some like-minded individuals. And we could all go to our designated public-property sidewalk and march around and wave our signs and demand very loudly about how badly we want more lesbian porn.

Maybe some television executive would hear our demands, and maybe not. But it's a certainty that a lot of other people would hear them. People just walking by, trying to live their lives. They'd be subjected to our chants even though they (a) didn't want to hear our pleas, (b) didn't give a fuck, (c) couldn't do anything about our cause anyway.

But I'd still get to annoy them, because I had a permit allowing me to do so. It just doesn't seem right.

I think that one of the protest groups infesting Louisville, I think that they're demanding more pay or some shit like that. Hey, here's an idea.

If you don't like your job, then go get a new one. Take that energy you're putting into pissing me off every day, take that energy and use it to (a) take a fucking shower, and (b) find a better job.

I can get my lesbian porn off the Internet. You can find a better job. I don't annoy you, and you shouldn't annoy me.

And another thing. If I find out exactly what these idiots are chanting about, like maybe they don't like The Amalgamated Drywall Company or something, well then Amalgamated Drywall is going to be satisfying all of my drywall needs for the rest of my life. Sure, there's a chance that they may be assholes, but I know for an absolute fact that the protestors are assholes. And the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Or something like that.

This entry brought to you by Left Hand Smoke Jumper (75).

I've decided to try an experiment. I'm just going to type. Whatever comes into my head, I'm going to let it flow out through my fingers.

I don't expect this to be anything good. Or interesting. I suppose that I do expect it to be real, though. And that's gotta be worth something.

I'm a sucker for tears from a woman. Wait, that doesn't sound quite right. Because the word sucker implies that I'm being deceived. That I'm being naive. And I'm not. At least usually I'm not. Usually the tears are real.

They cut right through me. Make me want to drop everything else in my life and do something, anything to help make the tears stop. Even if I don't have a fucking clue what I should do or say, the need to do or say something is almost overwhelming.

That's pretty normal, I think. To want to help someone in need.

But then there's the other thing. The realization that something special is happening. The realization that I'm seeing a girl at her most open and honest, and that she feels comfortable enough to share that kind of intimacy with me. It makes me feel a little bit special, and a part of me actually wishes that it would continue for a while longer, so I could feel special for a while longer.

If I could somehow milk the tears. Control their pace and their ferocity to something manageable. Ride that wave for as long as I can, and carry the intimacy that we're sharing along for the ride.

I think that tears are a lot like orgasms. A woman is never more real to me than when she's crying, or when she's climaxing. At those times, she's her most primal self. Her most authentic self. No bullshit. No games. No doubts. Just her. The real her, and she's sharing it with me, of all people.

I want to help. I really do. To turn my back would be just incredibly selfish, and that's one thing I'm not. But what if I can't help? What if I shouldn't help? I mean, maybe I'm just supposed to listen. Maybe I'm just supposed to be there for her, offer a shoulder to lean on, lend an ear, say a kind word every now and then.

I want to help, I really do. But if I can't, if I shouldn't, then I'd still want to be there. I'd still want to share that intimacy. I'd still want to feel special for a while.

I don't think that makes me selfish. I think that makes me human.

Human. Imagine that.

This morning I've got a slight twinge in my back. Last time this happened, the twinge turned into pain turned into agony by the end of the day.

So now I'm afraid to move.

I think I'm turning into one of those people. Those people who never believe, never trust anything. Or maybe I've always been one of those people, but I didn't believe it, so my disbeliefs cancelled each other out.

Lately, to me, everything is too good to be true. I suppose that I always knew that. At some level. But lately I'm realizing it on every level.

It's like I've spent my life in the audience of a magic show. By now, I've seen it all. And it's all been fake. Even if I don't know how a trick is done, even if I can't see the mirrors or the wires or the trapdoors, I still know that it's all fake.

And most of the enjoyment goes away.

Disillusioned. That's a pretty good word. I no longer want to be fooled by life, so its illusions are often wasted on me. And lately it's gone a step beyond that. I find myself actively looking for the tell-tales to all of the illusions that I see. The red flags. The smoke and the mirrors and the misdirections. Those thing aren't working on me as often as they once did. Instead, they're sometimes having the opposite effect. Instead of blinding and distracting me, they're calling out to me loudly and clearly, that this is all fake. You should trust nothing and nobody.

Sometimes.

Not all the time.

All the time would be cool. I'd never be fooled again.

But I'm not quite there yet.

I am still fooled. Every now and then. The most fantastic illusions still captivate me and suck me into their world. Until I remember the truth.

There is no magic.

It's all fake.

Every bit of it.

The bigger the illusion, the more disappointing the reality.

Ladies cannot be sawn in half. Men cannot fly. Doves cannot appear out of thin air.

Fake. All of it.

There were no sparkles. There was no electricity. There was no connection.

Fake. All of it.

Something I told ArtGirl I'd look up.

Moon Signs Compatibility - Pisces with Virgo

Your two moon signs are completely opposite to each other in an Opposition. This relationship may be extremely good, or it may lead to arguments over your own differences. You must watch for intolerance and lack of understanding. Overall these two signs are only slightly compatible, though you are more likely to be friends.

You are different in your understanding and opinion. Your Moon signs indicate that you are only slightly compatible. Virgo is typically a Moon sign of detail, practical and serious instinctive reactions. A Pisces Moon is gentle, nurturing and protective of others. The two of you must learn to keep your differences intact while at the same time enjoying your similarities.

Well, that sucks. Let's try another one.

Sexual Compatibility - Pisces and Virgo

There is a saying that opposites attract and Virgo and Pisces are a perfect example of this phrase. When these two meet, there is instant curiosity and sexual attraction. Pisces will see Virgo as a dream lover and will make every effort to hold onto the sexy and smart Virgo.

Virgo will see social and sexual adventures in Pisces and will always leave Pisces wanting more. Sex will be a strong element that keeps the relationship exciting. Love will blossom over time to the point of possible marriage. As close as these two get, they never really get together. Pisces could get cold feet at the wrong time and Virgo could get insecure. Virgo may say the wrong thing and at the wrong time. Pisces will view this as manipulation and swim away to safer waters.

For this to work, both signs need to truly understand the definition of commitment.

Compatibility rating: 4 out of 4 hearts

Okay, that's better. Now I'll push my luck and try another one.

Love and Marriage - Pisces and Virgo

Pisces' ability to sense Virgos every mood change and emotional needs of the moment may seem like a good thing, and it probably makes for most of the stress free moments that they will share, but it is hardly something to base a lifelong commitment on. Along with this perception of Virgos needs he/she will also sense the other facets of personality that are not so pleasing to him/her such as: the cold and critical side that will manifest itself at every mistake that Pisces dares to make. Pisces will close his/her eyes to this for awhile.

Virgo will be encouraged to make most of the decisions and Pisces willing abides by them as long as no mistakes are detected. Should Virgo make a mistake in judgment then Pisces can become as critical as Virgo and point the error out sharply. Pisces cannot seem to handle money as it slips through his/her fingers like water so Virgo will have to deal with the financial end of the union. Virgo will want to sensibly discuss differences while Pisces will retreat to his/her inner self to meditate and find the answers.

Virgos imagination in the bedroom is somewhat limited and Pisces could put a strain on the Virgoans nerves when Pisces' lets the imagination run to outrageous perversions. They must both make a lot of compromises to get through this match which is definitely not made in Heaven.

Damn. Should have quit while I was ahead.

Good thing I don't really believe any of this stuff. At least, not the parts I don't like.

Two fucking fifty three. In the morning.

I'm so tired. I've got so much crap to do tomorrow. I've got to work early Sunday morning.

Basically, I'm fucked.

I won't get anything done tomorrow before I go to my nephew's graduation party. I won't be able to get to sleep after the party, so I'll go to Rich O's or something. Then I'll be up all damn night until it's time to start work.

That's when I'll suddenly get tired.

Anyway.

Tonight was kinda fun. I got to Rich O's a little after 8:00. Had a Dirty Helen (122), then TremensGirl and I split a bottle of Allagash Grand Cru (63), then I had another Dirty Helen (142). When I first arrived, NotHideousGirl was there at the island with OddlyFamilarGirl and MusicalYuppieDude. I joined them for a while, but eventually I moved to the living room for my Allagash. It was a little strange to have to share NotHideousGirl with a group. I've become accustomed to having her all to myself during our lunches. I guess I've been spoiled. As has she.

After a while, ArtGirl came in, and I pretty much spent the rest of the night waiting for opportunities to talk to her, and then taking full advantage of those opportunities once they arose. Had her completely to myself for an hour or so at one point, then we moved to the red room and sat with some people there. That's why I was out so damn late. I wanted to leave, but ArtGirl was totally kidnapping me and keeping me trapped in the corner. But it wasn't so bad. She's warm. She's pretty and nice. So of course she has a boyfriend.

ArtGirl and I not only closed out Rich O's, we stayed almost three hours after closing. Not even during the days of LaptopGirl have I ever stayed there so late. I felt pretty guilty about it, but one of the owners was right there with us, so I guess it was okay or she'd have kicked us out a long time ago.

Man, I need to get some sleep. I'm rambling.

---

Oh gee wowie zowie. I managed a whopping four hours of sleep. Damn circadian rhythms.

There's some shit I forgot to mention about last night.

At one point this one dude and I were talking about mechanical engineers. Specifically, we were talking about how much they piss us off by being so damn smart. I mean, a mechanical engineer could have told us whether our little tower was stable without having to build the thing.

At one point I found myself back at the island with MusicalYuppieDude and PillowDude and PorterBob. They were sampling some beer. I had a very small sample myself.

Nøgne Ø Imperial Stout (2)

(bottle) Black with nice brown foam. Aroma of roasted malts and not much else. Flavor of roasted malts and not much else. Quite a bit of malt bitterness at the finish. Everyone around me was raving about how great this beer was, but I didn't share their enthusiasm. Decent, but no better than that.

Also, at the very end of the night, I was sitting with ArtGirl and OddlyPrettyGirl in the red room, and there was a half a Smithwick's there, so I drank some of it (1658).

ArtGirl asked me how old I am, and for some reason I told her. When she didn't run away screaming, that earned her some points. Not that she needed any more points.

I also found myself writing down my website address for her. I don't know why I do crap like that. Now she might actually read some of this drivel. Just in case, Hi ArtGirl!

If you're seeing this entry, then your DNS servers have recognized the fact that barenada.com has moved to a new hosting company.

Congratulations!

If, for some reason, you're feeling nostalgic (I never do that) then you can go back to the old site. I won't be deleting it for a few days.

I've only got a few minutes to write this thing. I don't know if I'll get it done in time. Normally this is about when I'd be going to work, but today I've got the day off. Yay!

But I still get to leave in about 15 minutes because I'm a nice guy. NotHideousGirl is having car trouble, so I'm giving her a ride to work. Did it yesterday too. You know how I've mentioned before that I'm not a morning person? Well, I'm not. Usually between the hours of 7:00 and 9:00, I might say one or two words to the girls at the GasNStuff, but that's it. Yesterday I talked with NotHideousGirl nonstop all the way to Louisville. Probably do it again today. I'm not saying that it bothers me. It's just a little out of character for me to talk so much in the morning. Or a lot out of character.

Last night I went down to Rich O's for a while. I just didn't feel like sitting at home. I sat on the throne and had a half of a Rogue Chipotle (52). I'd ordered a full pint, but it was so bland and boring that I switched to Dirty Helen. I had two of those (102) and they were very good. So good, in fact, that I've upgraded their rating to yummy on my site. So there.

Besides from brief appearances by TallLady and TremensGirl, and even more brief appearances by WomanRepellant and MusicalYuppieDude. I spent most of my time talking with this one dude who should probably get a nickname. Then after a while a group of weirdoes broke up their meeting in the red room, and OddlyFamiliarGirl came over and talked to me for a while. Apparently, she's a fan of this blog for some reason.

Hi, OddlyFamiliarGirl!

Anyway, I guess it's time for me to go.