I keep telling myself that this would be an easy thing to do.

And that it would be the right thing to do.

I look back at the last several weeks, and I see that there's nothing stopping me.

And by nothing I of course mean nobody.

There's nobody stopping me.

There's nobody worth stopping for.

I should do this.

It would make things a lot easier, in the long run.

Timing is everything.

I keep saying that.

But only because it's so fucking true.

I really should do this.

But not tonight.

Tonight I'm busy.

Or I will be very shortly.

Damn she's hot.

Timing...

I'd already planned on going to Rich O's. I'm off for the first half of the day tomorrow, so that means that my Thursday night is free. So I was going anyway.

Then I got the latest Publicanista! email from Rich O's. I'm sure that it said some other stuff, but nothing, I mean no-o-o-o-thing was even close to the importance of this:

The Rogue distribution rights have transitioned back to North Vernon Beverage Co., the pallet was delivered on Wednesday afternoon, and Dave's two faves are ON TAP now:
Rogue Chocolate Stout and Rogue Smoke

Once I got there, I took notes.

8:25
I arrive. There are probably people here, but I don't care. I grab my favorite seat at the bar and order a Rogue Chocolate Stout (526).

Yay!

8:30
Oh, dark master, how I've missed your frothy presence.

8:35
That one chick's voice cuts through everything. No wonder her husband always looks so miserable.

8:37
I hope these two fuckers next to me don't babble like that all night. They're ruining my special moment.

8:40
I should have stopped and eaten something on the way here. That failure will undoubtedly cost me later, when it causes me to cut myself off early.

8:50
First there was A, and A consumed me. Then B came along and distracted me from A. B was a very welcome distraction. But now A had lost its power, and I wonder what will become of B. Should I start looking for C?

8:53
For those keeping score at home, these fuckers still haven't shut up.

8:56
I should write about reactionary idiots, but I'm worried about what the reactions would be. I think that's irony or some such.

9:00
The fuckers are talking about high school soccer. Kill me now.

9:02
PotatoGirl is wearing horizontal stripes. What is she thinking?

9:04
WomanRepellant is here. He still owes me for his DaveFest shirt.

9:05
Scratch that. He just paid me.

9:07
Today we had to go to this Famous Dave's place for lunch. Despite the cool name, it's not my favorite place. I had a beer that was new to me:

Spring Heat Spiced Wheat (12)

(draft) Touted as being "like Blue Moon" and I suppose that's not too much of a lie. A decent Belgian wheat, but with lagerish undertones and a touch too much citrus. Kind of a blend of Belgian and American wheats.

9:15
Another Rogue (546).

9:16
This one girl that works here, I used to call her HatGirl before The HatGirl came into my life. So now this girl needs a new nickname. I think I'll call her KillerBodyGirl. Yeah, that's it. KillerBodyGirl. It has a nice ring to it.

9:25
Speaking of HatGirl, I texted her as soon as I found out that the Rogue was on tap. No response.

9:26
I'm reminded that I'm supposed to be mad, or at least disappointed, with one of my friends. Right now, I don't care.

9:29
The babbling fuckers have finally left, and PestoBoy has moved to the other end of the bar. Yay! Now there's room for hot girls! Bring on the hot girls!

9:31
Seriously, bring on the hot girls.

9:32
I'm thinking that I might have a Rogue Smoke next. I waited a long time for it, too.

9:47
Piss time.

10:04
Been talking to BreakfastDude.

10:15
Trying to talk ElPresidente into buying a DaveFest shirt. He claims to have no money.

10:21
Another Rogue Chocolate Stout, but I only drink half (556).

10:35
ElPresidente wants a shirt, but I think I'm out of his size.

10:37
I sold him the shirt I'd reserved for my friend Eric. Oops.

10:50
DooRagGirl is here. Yay!

11:05
Ordering a Diet Coke.

11:09
Piss time.

11:16
DooRagGirl is leaving. WomanRepellant lived up to his nickname.

11:17
I'm outta here.

I haven't done one of these horoscope thingies in a long time. Probably because I think it's a bunch of hogwash.

My horoscope for this week from Free Will Astrology:

According to my analysis of the astrological omens, you're about to turn into a creative powerhouse--and will remain so for at least a few weeks. That means you'll be at the peak of your ability to conjure up artistic masterpieces. But more than that: You will also have uncanny skill at whipping up fresh, crisp solutions to conundrums that have stymied you and your tribe for a long time. It will almost be as if you have found a way to tap into the future, where you can learn novel ways of seeing that are impossible to access in the present.

So, according to this guy, maybe my creative slump will soon come to an end. Maybe I'll finally take some of these ideas and thoughts bouncing around in my head, and actually make something out of them.

That could be cool. Because maybe then I could get some of these voices to shut up for a while. By providing a platform for their ramblings, maybe I could placate them.

Because I have plenty of crap rattling around in my head, I'm just having a hard time writing any of it out.

There once was another time when my head was just as busy as it is now, but back then the problem was a different one. Back then, it was like being caught in the middle of a storm. There didn't seem to be time to breathe let alone try to form a coherent sentence.

Now, now the problem is one of motivation.

I just don't seem to care enough about what I'm thinking or feeling to even bother writing it out. And, if I don't care, that pretty much guarantees that none of you will care either.

Talked to SassyGirl tonight. She's been laying low since JauntyGirl is out of town.

She sent me a shitload of pictures from the first night of DaveFest. Some of the pictures are suitable for public viewing.

Going clockwise, my sister Neisha, her husband Chris, my lovely self, my other sister Dina, her husband Kenny, DooRagGirl, and SassyGirl.

Pretty much the same people as before, with JauntyGirl added next to SassyGirl, and WheatDude and MisunderstoodGirl on the loveseat.

That's GlassesGirl talking to Neisha.

DooRagGirl got fucked up.

SassyGirl trying to embarrass me.

Shortly after this picture was taken, things got out of hand. Sexual harrassment took place. I liked it.

I drove into this loveliness on my way home from work this evening.

I wish I had a wide-angle option on my phone. The sky was incredible.

Somehow, the lack of lightning made it even scarier.

When I was a child, I imagined the life that I would lead.

I knew that I'd be married, and that I'd have a couple of kids. I knew that my wife would be beautiful. I'd be rich, somehow, though I never put much effort into imagining just how I'd find wealth. I mean, I was never going to be a doctor or a lawyer or even an astronaut. Those thoughts seemed irrelevant to me back then. What was relevant was that I'd be a father, and a husband. I'd live the American dream. I'd have a good life.

When I became an adult, I did my best to live the life that I wanted.

For a while, I clung fiercely to that hazy childhood dream. Despite the failed marriage, despite losing my mother, despite all of the other bullshit that comes with the coming of age. I fought the disintegration of my dream as hard as I could. But its loss was, in the end, inevitable. And when that dream was completely gone, I found a new dream. One of contentedness and, every now and then, quiet happiness.

And then that dream evaporated too.

Pressures from family and friends and work, they'd just keep massing at the walls of my safe little fortress. Finding and taking advantage of the smallest cracks in the walls that I'd so carefully erected around myself. Eventually, I found myself outnumbered and surrounded. My life became less about me and more about those around me. And I lost myself in the confusion, along with the focus I'd spent so much time perfecting.

One day, a couple of years ago, I found new focus. I found new meaning for my life. Welling up from a place inside myself that I'd forgotten even existed, I found a new dream.

That one didn't turn out so well, either. I might have mentioned it here from time to time.

When I reached middle age, I stopped thinking about living a life. I instead began to think about salvaging a life out of the time I had left.

The past stretches behind me, a testament to the failures and the missed opportunities and the broken dreams. The future looms ahead of me, but all I can see is the end. The finish line. I tell myself that there's still enough time to live the life that I want to live, but I first have to decide what I want that life to be. And then, once I decide, I have to act. I have to stop being afraid. But it's tough, because there might not be many dreams left. I need to be sure and pick a good one. A possible one.

When you're old, you give up on your dreams. You accept that what you have is all that you're ever going to have. You realize that the life that you wanted, no matter what it was, it had always been, and would always be, forever and fucking ever, out of reach. For it was a always moving target, always staying ahead of you as you raced helter-skelter through the years.

I haven't reach that point.

I haven't given up.

Yet.

My sister Neisha sent me this picture of us siblings.

Well this should be interesting, trying to remember the last couple of days.

Yesterday was such a long day that Friday seems like a million years ago.

Let's see. Friday night. DaveFest Night Thirteen.

I might have gotten to Rich O's a little early. I want to say it was like 7:30 or something. There were some dipshits in the living room area eating, and this Joe Cool fucker was at the island. I sat at the bar next to one of the PBDs, and had a half a Cone Smoker (1916).

I'd figured at first that I'd just sit at the bar all night. I was looking forward to it actually. But after the PBD left a couple of loud strangers sat next to me at the bar and started trying to talk to me, so I picked up my shit and moved over to the throne since the dipshits had left.

The rest of the night consisted of talking with MusicalHippieDude and WomanRepellant, and wondering if HatGirl was going to come in. To drink, I had a Newcastle (2200), then a Bell's Kalamazoo Stout (450), and finally half a glass of Mestreechs (115).

The second half of that glass I gave to GlassesGirl. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with the Mestreechs. It just clashed incredibly with the Bell's I'd just had. Much worse than, say, drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth. Much much worse, in fact.

Other than that, not much happened. One of the regular bartenders had the night off or was on vacation or something, so they had this one cute chick from the Sportstime side bartending the Rich O's side. So now everyone is spoiled.

But there were no HatGirl appearances, and the cute bartender wasn't able to make up for that lack, so the night was pretty boring.

---

Saturday sucked dead donkeys. I worked all day, and I worked most of the night. I guess that's what I get the big bucks for though, so I can't complain too much.

---

By the time I got everything back to normal at work, it was almost 10:00. I briefly considered going over to my sister's house for this party she was having, but in the end I figured that it was too late for that. I ended up at The Pub in Louisville instead.

I like that place, at least I like it when that one bitch bartender isn't working. She wasn't working last night, so there.

Pretty much all I did was have a couple Newcastles (2240) and then a Hoegaarden White (32). I think this was the first time I'd had the Hoegaarden in draft form. It was pretty good.

There was this one chick there who was convinced that she knew me from somewhere, but she couldn't remember any details. I actually do remember the details, and I did the right thing in blowing her off. She's a coworker of MixedSignalGirl's.

By the time I got home I'd been up almost 24 hours, so I cancelled my pool practice for the night and just went to bed.