My eyes see your face, as they've done for years.
I'm always a little surprised, when I open my eyes and you're not there.
My hand reaches for my phone, as it's done for days. I stop it, just in time.
I will not call you tonight.
I am not that cruel.
People are wondering what I've been doing for the past couple of nights.
Ha ha. I'm just kidding. Nobody cares. Hell, I barely care myself.
But, since I plan to drink tonight, and since that'll probably lead to some stupid crap being posted, I figured that I'd strive for one last bit of normalcy and write an entry about my weekend.
On Friday I arrived early. I didn't want to miss the De Dolle Stille Nacht, as I had back in 2004. So of course that's what I had first (66).
Since I'd arrived so early, the throne was available, and I sat there. I'm pretty sure that there were some other people around, but I really didn't care. I think one was a girl who should probably get a nickname. Maybe later.
Next, I was feeling experimental, so I experimented.
Dave's Weffenspezial (20)
(mixture) I mixed Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier and Spezial Rauchbier on a 1:1 ratio. Amazing head, courtesy of the Weihenstephaner. Aroma of bananas and cloves, slightly subdued. Flavor of a German wheat beer. The smoke shows up in the finish. Yummy. I'm a freakin' genius.Once that was gone, I had the rest of the bottle of Weihenstephaner (1622).
Again, I think there were other people there. But again, I didn't care. I'd been told that a certain person would be at Rich O's that week, and there could be no substitute.
One of the anonymous people made me try a sample of some Schnieder Aventinus Weizen Dopplebock (24), even though I insisted that I'd had it before. It's still just a beer, so I have nothing to add to my review.
Next, I had a beer from the Saturnalia list. A beer that was new to me.
(draft) Very dark ruby-colored. No aroma. Nice head. A pretty thick mouthfeel, with coffee and licorice fairly well-balanced. Decent, but not worth my time.Another thing about that beer was that it was fucking 8%. So I cut myself off and switched to Diet Coke for a while.
Once that was gone, there was still nobody who mattered at Rich O's, so I gave up and left. I went over to The Hard Rock in Louisville and talked to CoolHairGirl while I enjoyed a Winter's Bourbon Cask Ale (52). It was pretty good, and it was nice to see CoolHairGirl before she got off work and disappeared.
On Saturday, I went to HatGirl's belated birthday party. I had several bottles of Blue Moon Winter Ale (142). I had fun petting HatGirl's dogs, but I didn't get to pet her cat. It was being a scardie-cat.
There was also weird stuff going on, but it was still nice to see HatGirl and NotHideousGirl and LuckyFucker.
I guess that's it. Pretty boring stuff.
Twice before, we've known each other on this day. Twice before, it would have made sense for us to spend this night together. A strange kind of sense, perhaps, but sense nevertheless.
But it never happened. Stupidity and fear separated us. Kept us cowering in opposite corners of this cell in which we found ourselves locked.
And now, now it's come around again. This day. This night.
The promise of the new was replaced by the comfort of the familiar was overthrown by the torment of the lost, and all were observed alone.
What, I wonder, will another year bring?
Where do we go from here?
That's what FutureDude called this week, this period between Christmas and New Year's Eve. He was referring to the extremely crowded conditions at Rich O's. Crowding like that is normally only seen on Fridays, but this week it's been standing room only every single night.
FutureDude works at the place. He has to stay somewhat diplomatic. Hence, Festival of Fridays.
Me, I don't work there. I can call it was it really was.
Week of Weirdoes.
Hippies, specifically. But I couldn't find a word for a period of time that starts with H.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, the place was overrun with hippies. The scents of patchouli and cloves hung in the air, almost but not quite obscuring the unmistakable aroma of clothing that's been subjected to years of marijuana smoke.
I don't know where they all came from. I just hope that they go back. Soon.
Friday was much better. The crowd seemed to consist mostly of people with actual jobs. So that was cool. It was still pretty damn crowded though.
Anyway, because I'm a stupid gullible idiot, I went to the place every night. I scrambled for any available seat. I drank beer. I ate a lot of potato wedges. I watched the door. I became irritated with my own naiveté.
I had my notebook with me, but I didn't do a very good job of taking notes. I'll probably do an even worse job of going from memory. But you'll get the gist.
Tuesday, the highlight for me was getting to see NotHideousGirl for only the second time in three months. The first time had been Sunday night, at a secret event. An event that also featured HatGirl. So, yay!
I sat at the island with a bunch of PBDs and NotHideousGirl. My first beer was the 2006 edition of Anchor's Christmas Ale.
(draft) Dark ruby in color, almost black. Nice head and very nice lacing. Fruity and spicy aroma. Fairly thin and highly-carbonated mouthfeel. Flavor of tingly dark cherries, a little sour even. Finish is tingly. Better than decent, barely good.It tasted better by the time I finished the glass, but it still wasn't that great.
Also on Tuesday I had a couple pints of Spezial (1342). I always drink a lot of that beer when it's on, plus the board in back indicated that De Dolle Stille Nacht would be next on that tap, so I wanted to help move things along.
On Wednesday night, I sat at the bar and pretended that the place wasn't full of weirdoes, and I had a Dragon's Milk (70) and then a couple more Spezials (1382).
On Thursday night, I sat on the throne and talked for a bit to some semi-normal people. I had a couple pints of Rogue Hazelnut Brown Nectar (115) and then a Spezial (1402).
Friday, well my Friday memory is still somewhat intact, but I don't think that anyone cares. And I don't feel like writing anything right now. I'll write about Friday later. For now I've got laundry to do.
It was not too much to say. It was not too far to go.
You did not cross the line.
You could not. Never. Ever.
For we carry the line with us. The endpoints - they are us.
It was not too much.
It was not awkward.
It was perfect.
Did you ever scream?
I mean, did you ever scream, but nobody was listening?
I was surrounded. Outnumbered. Nearly overwhelmed even. My night was filled with pleasant diversions and distractions.
Yet, in the end, my heart still took that beat, and my lips still formed those words.
I'd say that those two events were of equal importance. Though I'd have given up the former, if I'd been forced to choose between them. If given a choice of which I would do again, well I'd certainly say the words again.
Beating heart be damned. It merely marks wasted time.
But the words, the words are important.
That's why they tore their way out of me.
Because they needed to be heard. That was their purpose, their reason for existing. And not only to be heard, but to be understood. To be recognized for what they were.
Truth.
But they tore their way out of me, and I screamed them, and it was for naught.
Nobody was listening.
Almost a full day now. Maybe a full day. Pretty close to one.
I doubt that this will last as long as it should last.
I'm pretty sure that this breath of mine will be needed. That it will be needed for some lesser purpose.
I can still hope, though.
I do that a lot.
I think that it was easy, the way the words left my tongue.
My heart.
My soul.
So why, I wonder, did they have to rip their way out so forcefully?
Crashing and tearing.
