The difference between me and this entry is that, if you could figure out how to highlight me, there'd still be nothing there.

I am completely empty right now. I am a void.

I'm sure that everybody already knows this (kidding) but yesterday would have been Benjamin Franklin's 300th birthday.

To celebrate the occasion, because brewers and beer drinkers are always looking for any reason to celebrate, several breweries around the country unveiled a beer in the style that Ben himself might have brewed. There's more information here at Roger's 'blog.

When I went to Rich O's after work, the place was packed. Everybody wanted to try the new (old?) beer.

So did I.

So I did.

New Albanian Old Lightning Rod (10)

(draft) Dark and sweet. There was a slight bitterness to the finish that made me want to take another sip right away. The description says molasses, but I didn't get any of that. I got more of a fruity flavor that might have been plums or cherries. A very pleasant surprise was that it's not that strong (7% ABV). A very good beer that I will probably drink until it's gone.

Last night saw a bit of an historic happening for SassyGirl and I. When I'd first arrived at Rich O's, there was a hot girl there.

She ended up sitting out front and waiting for this Bill asshole.

When SassyGirl arrived, I asked her if the hot girl was still sitting out front. She said, "Yes, and she really is hot."

That, dear readers, was the first time in the two years that I've known SassyGirl when she's actually agreed with me about a girl's hotness. She usually doesn't like anyone that I find attractive.

I've always found this odd. Knowing me, and my own impossibly high standards, it always seemed to me that it should be the other way around. I mean, I should be the one dismissing her picks. But I don't. Usually if she thinks a girl is pretty then so do I.

Weird.

Not very interesting, perhaps, but weird.

I wonder what will happen, the next time I see her, look into her eyes.

I knew the answer to that question once, but I was wrong. A few months later, I knew the answer once again, but I was wrong again.

And now? Now I don't know what will happen.

Will I become lost again? Will I become terrified again? Will I die again?

What if I look into her eyes, and nothing happens?

I think that if nothing happens, then I will be sad.

It would be like waking up from a beautiful dream, and knowing that I may never see anything as beautiful as that dream again. It would be like waking up from a nightmare, and knowing that I may never again feel anything as strongly as I felt that fear.

It would be like waking up from death, and realizing that waking up was the easy past, and that I must now find something to live for. Something else.

Yes, I think that if nothing happens, then I will be sad.

Today, after work, I went and bought myself a new doorknob, then I went to meet SassyGirl at Rich O's.

Lately I only get to see SassyGirl once a week, on Mondays. I'd already decided that I wasn't going to be at the bar this evening for their Gay Night experiment, but stopping by immediately after work was certainly doable.

So we talked for a while about her new girlfriend and I had myself a Robert the Bruce (160).

Tonight I watched 24. I love this show. While I watched I had one of the beers that's been sitting in my fridge since before Christmas:

Winterkoninkske Winter King (11)

(bottle) Wow. I wasn't expecting a beer this special. The label says "Belgian Ale Brewed with Juniper Berries." There's not a whole lot that I can add to that description, but I owe it more. Flat-out yummy. I want more.

It's a conundrum, all right.

I don't really have much to post right now, but I don't want that last whiny entry to be the first thing people see, so I'll write about my wonderful morning.

On the way out of my driveway, I saw that the dog's body was still there. I suppose it'll stay there until tomorrow as whatever county agency is responsible for such things probably has the day off for the holiday.

I got about halfway to work - not quite to the river - and realized that I'd left my laptop at home. Shit! So I called and left a voicemail telling my boss that I'd be a little late, then I turned around and headed back up the hill.

You know that feeling you get when you think there's an extra step at the top of the stairs? Your foot just keeps going down, and you freak out for just an instant?

I went back into my house, petted the cats for a couple of seconds, grabbed my laptop case, closed the door leading to my garage, and

Shit!

I'd locked my keys inside my house. So I called and left another voicemail, this time telling my boss that I was going to be even later.

I've been locked out of my house before. One day last Summer I came home from Las Vegas and couldn't get into my house because my sister had locked that same door. At the time there was no key for that door, so I never ever locked it, but Dina didn't know that. On that day, I took a drill and drilled out the lock to gain entry. Then, of course, I went and bought a new doorknob set.

This morning, I once again went for the drill, but there was no chuck key and the bit wasn't set tightly enough. It kept getting stuck. I was getting a little pissed, and I looked around and saw the perfect tool for when I'm pissed.

A 15-pound sledge hammer.

It only took a few whacks to break the doorknob off. After that it was easy to get into the house. My cats may never recover though.

So today I get to go and buy another doorknob set from the hardware store.

This time I'm getting a half-dozen extra keys made.

Tonight, in honor of the return of the show 24 to my TV, I had myself an Alaskan Smoked Porter (330) while I watched the season premiere.

This show and this beer don't really have anything in common, except that they're each one of my favorite things in the world.

I can't believe that David Palmer and Michelle are dead.

I wish, I'd like to be, at least a zillionth as cool as Kiefer Sutherland. Then maybe I wouldn't have to resort to evilness to lure in the ladies.

But anyway.

The other night I wrote this as part of a night of drunken rambling:

I'm at such a fucking pivotal point right now. In my life, in my work, in my journal. In everything. I sometimes think I could toss it all away and start fresh, but then I remember that it'd still be the same old me, so why bother?

And it's not just external. This 40-year-old shell of a man that I inhabit, I know that there's more I could do with it than eat, sleep, work, drink, occasionally fuck, and write random journal entries.

But what would I do?

But where would I go?

I've asked myself those two questions so many times that it's become almost reflexive to me.

Sometimes, every now and then, I even manage to come up with an answer. Not a particularly good answer, but an answer nonetheless.

Anything but this.

Anywhere but here.

Tonight - I say tonight but this really goes much deeper than that - tonight I realized that I've been asking myself the wrong questions.

It's not "Where?" and it's not "What?" that I should be asking myself.

It's "Who?"

You see, I've become very much afraid that I'm not going to be truly happy as long as I'm alone. And, and this is the kicker, I'm very much afraid that I'm going to be alone for a very very very long time. Maybe even forever.

I never thought that this bothered me before. I thought that I was happy before. I was my own man, living my own life and making my own decisions. But lately, lately that little nagging voice inside me has been getting louder and louder. I can't help but hear it now. It's only a matter of time before I start listening to it.

But Dave, what good is a life if there's nobody to share it with?

Maybe it's always been this way. Maybe I mistook contentedness for happiness for so long that they became interchangeable in my mind. Everything was fine with me. Not great, but still good.

And then I met her and everything went to shit. Like a magician's mirrors, all of my illusions shattered. I was forced to look at the cold hard truth of what I was.

Not just alone, but lonely.

I sit here tonight, January 15th, 2006, and I look into the future. I don't particularly like what I see.

Actually, I fucking hate what I see.

Bridges burn all around me, and I either don't notice or I don't care or I don't understand what's happening until it's too late.

Great, now I'm in a bad mood.

Just fucking great.