...limiting the amount of hotness that any one girl can exude.

That is all.

It lies cold and lifeless in my hand. I don't know what happened. I don't know if it's temporary. I don't know if it's all in my mind.

But I do know that I don't like this very much.

How do you breathe new life into something that, technically, never lived in the first place? Is it even possible? I must try, but I don't know where to start.

That is stupid, people will think. It is, after all, just a rock.

Did I finally ask too much of it? Or has the world finally thrust upon me the one thing that cannot be helped? The pain that can't be soothed, the fear that can't be calmed.

The grief that can't me mourned.

Maybe that's what it is. Maybe there's some rule that covers this sort of thing. Maybe I'll have to deal with this on my own. I suppose that would make sense, if any of this made any sense.

It is, after all, just a rock.

So I'm pretty disappointed with my stalker community.

I mean, I had one girl surprise me in Las Vegas, but I'm not even sure that PictureGirl counts because she knew me then found my journal.

But I had zero obsessed stalkers in Denver. Just like in there were zero in Cleveland and in St. Louis earlier this year.

The Denver count makes me sad. I had high hopes (Okay, regular hopes. Okay, slim hopes. Okay, it at least crossed my mind) that my favorite Coloradonian would show up at the airport, or at the hotel. She could have at least written a message in blood, professing her undying devotion, on my rental car's windshield.

That would have made the trip worthwhile.

Anyway, I'm home now. My bedroom window is in the Northeast corner of my house. I usually sleep in the nude.

Watch out for bees though. There may be some left out there.

I lucked into it today. I sent a text message off to RockGirl, and in it I included the phrase that I'd been looking for all week.

I feel out of sync.

Something is amiss.

This could be jet lag I suppose. But it's not.

I wish it was. But it's not.

I fear that my needs are no longer a subset of my wants. I fear, in fact, that my needs have been satisfied. And now, now my wants have nothing to anchor them. So they wander aimlessly.

This could be bad.

Well this is kind of interesting, this image that's been stuck in my head since about noon EDT on Wednesday.

I am apparently much more disgusting and typical and hormonal than I thought I was.

Just a quick post here. I don't have many definite plans.

I arrive in Denver at 2:55 on some American Airlines flight from Dallas. Then, I'll get my rental car and drive to Broomfield and check into the Towneplace Suites.

After that, I have no plans. Except for the class I'll be taking on Thursday and Friday. I'd had a brilliant idea for Friday night, but I don't have the funding to pull it off.

I'll probably just stick around Broomfield and maybe see if there are any decent bars there.

Then I leave at like 10:00 Saturday morning and I get back to Louisville at 5:25.

Three or four years ago I had a yellowjacket nest in my yard. I went to the hardware store and bought some foamy shit to kill them. I sprayed their hole. They died.

That's the way it's supposed to work.

This year, this year it's just a teeny bit different.

This year I had four nests. Two in my front yard and two in my back yard.

The two back yard nests seem to have been normal ones. Those bees seem to have been killed with a single application of the foamy shit.

The two front yard nests are occupied by some kind of super yellowjacket. I've sprayed each of those nest with the foamy shit four times. The dude that mows my lawn has sprayed each of these nests at least twice. We're talking an entire can with each spraying.

I guess I should say the dude that used to mow my lawn because he hasn't mowed the front yard in two months. He got sick and tired of being stung. I don't blame him a bit.

I figure that these front yard bees are shampooing with the foamy shit, or brushing their teeth with it. Do bees even have hair and/or teeth? I doubt it. But whatever, they're sure not dying from the stuff.

So today I went back to the hardware store and asked them for something would kill yellowjackets. The dweeb pointed to the cans of foamy shit. I said, "No, the bees in my yard use that stuff to clean their contacts or something. They're immune to it."

So the dweeb called the manager over, and the manager recommended some non-foamy shit that's mostly for hornets. It's supposed to knock them right out of the air. I bought six cans.

I came home and pulled my truck up to one of the nests. I got to where I could clearly see down the hole of the nest. Then I rolled down my window, took a can of the non-foamy shit, and soaked that hole. Then I took another can and soaked it again.

Next, I drove over to the second, larger, nest. This one features a hole big enough that a small child could crawl in. I thought briefly about bribing a small child to go in there with a flyswatter, but alas, I'm fresh out of disposable children.

Back to plan A. Or maybe plan B - I think the foamy shit was plan A. Plan C is sell my house.

I was able to get almost one entire can sprayed into the hole before the super yellowjackets came streaming out of it. I rolled up my window as quickly as I could and I got the fuck out of there.

I drove up and down the road to throw the bees off my trail, then I pulled into my garage.

Just before I typed this I looked out my front door at that second nest. The bees are using the non-foamy shit to fill their new swimming pool. They're having a grand time.

Avery The Reverend: 22
Delirium Tremens: 22.4
Newcastle: 24
Me: 0

And I'm done.

Thanks to those of you who put up with me tonight.

It was fun.

Avery The Reverend: 22
Delirium Tremens: 22.4
Newcastle: 16
Me: 0

Sometimes, sometimes I ask myself, What was I afraid of? What held me back? What was the worst thing that could have happened?

Then, if I think about it enough and if I'm honest enough with myself, I remember what could have happened. What almost happened, if I'm to believe the things that I've heard.

That worst thing, that disaster which I'd struggled so hard to prevent - that thing was right in front of me. I was staring right at it. But I didn't care, not anymore. I was tired of fighting it. I took that step forward...

...and I stepped off a cliff.

That was pretty lucky, I think. That cliff being there.

Avery The Reverend: 22
Delirium Tremens: 22.4
Newcastle: 9
Me: 0

...something happened. Actually a lot of stuff happened.

I can't and/or won't really write about it though. Except to say that it was good.

Life is good. For now.

In the morning, I'll wake up. In more ways than one.

I'm not looking forward to it.