When you live your life in total darkness, it doesn't take much.

The smallest spark, the slightest flash of light, can capture your full attention. Even after it's gone, the memory of that flash lives on.

Sometimes that flash is welcomed, but most times, most times it's only reminding you of what's missing.

A man gone blind does not always wish for sight, for there can be comfort in the dark.

Acceptance. Tranquility. Peace. All erased by a spark, a glimmer, a splash of light that does nothing but burn the retinas and leave ghost images floating and intruding.

A flash is nothing by itself. It's over in an instant. But the memory of it lingers, and the blind man sometimes wishes he could forget.

I was almost going to stay home tonight. Took a nap after work and I didn't set the alarm. I thought I might sleep all night.

But I didn't. I woke up at 9:00 and reflexively jumped into the shower and got ready to go out.

Rich O's was pretty crowded for 10:30 at night, which was when I got there. I soon found out why. MusicalHippyDude pointed out that an actual attractive and single girl was present. She was sitting on the loveseat, surrounded by about 10 guys who were all old enough to be her father.

I stayed away from that shit.

What I did was stand at the bar and have a Smithwick's (580).

After a while SpikeBoy came in and I sat at the island with him while I had a Baltika 6 (207).

Oh yeah - MusicalHippyDude told me that ButterFace was in earlier - sans Nerdlinger - and that SuperShitHead spent a lot of time trying to put the moves on her. Yeah, right. Like that fucker would have a chance at anything with two legs.

(response to message)

My favorite [censored] song is [censored]

Happy birthday to my youngest sister Neisha!

Sorry to leave the three people who know what's going on perched on the edge of their seats but, as I said yesterday, it can't be helped.

I need to hear the other side of this story before I can really do or say anything. And I'm not going to hear other side of the story until I'm a little less angry and a little more open-minded.

...

I just deleted a bunch of boring drivel that nobody wanted to read anyway.

(Oh, hey! This is my 1000th entry here! Yay!)

I'll probably give this some major tweaking, but it took so damn long to render that I don't feel like messing with it anymore tonight.

Now this is one of those entries that will probably just confuse people. Oh well, can't be helped.

The good news is that I can stop holding my breath.

The bad news is that the message was this:

Please tell your girlfriend to stop calling me.

I guess I'll find out more later, but right now, based on what I do know, I'm furious.

I'm actually so pissed off that I'm going to stop writing now. I'm sure I'd say something that I'd later regret.

(This entry makes reference to the journalspace version of my 'blog. JS has this dealy where they show a graph of how many visitors you have on any given day. That's the green bar I'm talking about.)

It's all Nat's fault.

Yesterday, she sent zillions of her readers over here. My ranking probably jumped 500 places in one day. Like from 3000th place to 2500th or so.

It was kind of neat, seeing that green bar that indicates the number of visitors stretch all the way across the screen. I actually felt like a real 'blogger for a while.

But today, I'm back to normal.

All those pinguicularians, and none of them came back?

Talk about a buzz killer.

I've seen the same thing happening at barenada.com, too. Readers are leaving the building, and starting to picket outside. They carry signs demanding bring back the pain! and we want misery! They chant lap top GIRL! lap top GIRL! you miss HER! write about THAT! or we'll LEAVE!

But those are my long-term readers. Most of them have never known me when I wasn't tormented. They are finding out just how boring I can be. They know that I can do better, and that's why they march outside instead of simply going home. They know that I could snap, any minute now, and start rambling. Just like the good old days.

The new people, the pinguicularians - they know nothing of that. Nat tells them to come over here, and they do. Then they ask themselves, "Why the fuck should I read this bozo? He's fucking boring!"

And I am. And I know it. What I don't know is if it's temporary or not. What I don't know is, if it ends, how it will end.

See me tomorrow, I just may have a story to tell. I'll at least be able to stop holding my breath, and maybe that'll be worth writing about.

I have no idea what's going on.