Well here it is. Friday again.

Another weekend staring me in the face. Challenging me to do something.

I'm a little hesitant. I'm in this mood after all. No longer a bad mood but not quite a good one either. I guess you could call me content. But I'm sure this is only temporary. I think I could tip in either direction, and I'm not sure that I want to.

If I become depressed or sad, that'll be yet another setback in a seemingly endless stream of setbacks.

If I develop an actual good mood then I'm afraid that my face will crack and fall apart from the smiling, and that would probably gross everybody out.

I kind of want to go over to Fourth Street Live tonight. Eat some dinner, drink some Young's Double Chocolate Stout at The Pub. That could be fun.

We'll see. I have a dentist appointment this afternoon and sometimes it takes hours and hours for the numbness in my mouth to go away. No sense eating a good meal and drinking good beer if I can't taste any of it.

I have something to tell you, and I'd like you to hear me out before you say or do anything drastic.

There's another woman.

Actually, there are a bunch of other women. And there are some men. And there are even some kids and some old people.

I've been cheating on you. I've been 'blogging elsewhere.

It started this past Monday. I logged onto my JS account and, over the course of the next 24 hours, I imported nearly all of my 'blog entries into my JS 'blog.

There are several reasons that I did this. I wrote about a couple of them over there, on the other 'blog:

Well I guess I've imported everything I'm going to.

Anyone that wants anything older than last June will have to go to my main site. But, and trust me on this, it's all quite boring before last June. Some would say it's still quite boring.

So, why did I just spend 24 hours importing a year's worth of entries into JS?

I'm so glad that you asked.

A few days ago I had my 1000th viewing here. I'm sure that about 999 of these were accessed via the Random Journal link on the main page. Whatever, 1000 times someone had come to my JS journal and saw absolutely nothing (what Stevie called a Phantom Journal). About 100 of those times whoever it was would bother to click the My Personal Site link and go read my actual 'blog.

That means that over 90% of JSers were missing out on my brilliance. Or my stupidity. Or whatever.

So the main reason I decided to import all these old entries, and to continue to keep my JS 'blog in sync with my real 'blog, is to simply get some more readers. I'm kind of a whore that way. I started writing this stuff for very personal reasons, but I'm not ashamed to admit that I continue to do it because I want actual people to read what I write. In other words, if I'm going to vomit bullshit, I want to get it on as many people as I can.

The second reason is that this JS community has always intrigued me. People that only know each other through their writings, yet seem to become friends (or even enemies) through those writings and the comment conversations they engender. I just think it's neat, and I guess I'm hoping to become a part of that someday.

So that's why I did this. My plan is to keep updating my real 'blog just like I always have, and to duplicate everything but the most boring entries to JS.

Awkward ending to entry.

The JS 'blog is viewable by JS members only, but if you are a member, or if you want to sign up, you can check out barenada.journalspace.com. Comments are enabled over there - it's one of the main reasons I'm doing this.

Just a quick update on my vacation/long weekend planning.

A few weeks ago I asked for suggestions, and I've received several. Thanks!

Labor Day is fast approaching, and I get a four-day weekend, so I'd really like to get away from home for a while. Since it's still baseball season, I limited my immediate search to those cities with professional teams.

Detroit Tigers are away next weekend. Ditto for Cleveland Indians, St. Louis Cardinals, and Cincinnati Reds.

Cubs and Brewers are both home next weekend though, so the Chicago/Milwaukee area just might work. I didn't get to make it to Wrigley when I was in Chicago recently, and I've never been to Wisconsin at all.

So I may, just may, drive up there next Friday. It's going to be a little tough financially. We'll see. It may turn out that I just drive to St. Louis and do some non-baseball tourist stuff. Or I may puss out and stay home.

And I've already decided that, next Spring, I'm going to pick a weekend that both the Orioles and the Nationals are at home and spend three or four days in that area.

For this Winter, Detroit/Ann Arbor/Kalamazoo are still very much on my short list, as is Cleveland and New York.

(I just remembered that there's this "Brew at the Zoo" thingy next weekend at The Louisville Zoo. I missed it last year because I had to go to this party that same night. This year I really want to go, so I guess I won't be travelling to any other cities.)

Last Fall I wrote this entry. I quote part of it here:

Shock, sadness, relief, anger, disappointment, curiosity, blame, determination, grief, fear, speculation, impatience, regret, doubt, depression, wonder, pessimism, optimism, nervousness, callousness, understanding, drama, accusation, resignation...

I could go on and on. At night, instead of allowing me to sleep, my mind takes these and countless other thoughts and creates elaborate storylines that branch madly, twisting and weaving, joining and separating, spreading and collapsing. None ever finish. None ever get wrapped up in the end. I resolve nothing then finally I sleep out of sheer exhaustion.

My mind is trying desperately to find something to latch onto. Something to think about. Something to care about. Something to occupy it and pull it from this void.

A million times a minute, it seems, I'll pick up a thought, then dismiss it as irrelevant. Discard it as bullshit.

For so long I tried so hard to get my mind to shut down for just a little while and give me some peace and quiet. Now it's too damn quiet and it's driving me crazy. The silence is deafening.

I think that even sadness would be a welcome diversion from this, this nothing that's enveloped me. Reminds me of another entry:

There is...Nothing.

Blackness and silence surround him, seep into him.

He wonders how long it has been. A minute? A day? A million years?

Even the familiar thump thump of his heart has stopped. He ponders this, and reaches his hand to his chest, but he finds that he has no hand, and that he has no chest.

He simply exists, seeing, hearing, feeling nothing.

He waits for something to happen, and wonders if he is dead.

(response to messages)

I can't believe you said that.

Yes, I said it. Yes, I dropped my pants a little.

Nobody was surprised that I felt it, just that I actually blurted it out.

I don't think I care. I'd been beating around the bush since April, and it just became pointless.

I really wanted to write something good tonight. To change the subject a little. But I've got nothing, so I'll just stand here with my pants down for a while longer.

This week the band picked the songs for each performer.

Jordis: Hauntingly good. I hope she loses so the band doesn't become an anchor for her. (90 points)

Jessica: Love the song. Love the voice. Wow, that was fucking awesome. (95 points)

Ty: He just didn't impress me this week. Not at all. (70 points)

Suzie: Decent, if passionless, performance. (80 points)

Marty: Poor Marty, having to sing a Britney Spears song. He did the best he could with it I suppose. (60 points)

Deanna: Tough song. Missed a couple of notes pretty badly. Just decent otherwise. (65 points)

JD: Seemed really constipated. It was a really unsettling performance to watch and listen to. (55 points)

Mig: Good song. The performance fluctuated quite a bit, but everyone else seemed to like it. (75 points)

Slept all night last night, so I'm caught up for the first time in a long time. Odd to actually be alert in the morning.

Today I'm having a bunch of dirt delivered so I can try to do something about this damn hole in my back yard. This thing has so far eluded every attempt to fill it. It's becoming hourglassed so filling it isn't as easy as just dumping dirt in. If I knew for sure just how deep this old cistern was I'd be tempted to just drive my truck over the area a few times to cave it in. I guess it's good that I don't drink at home.

Wow, this was an exciting entry.

Maybe I'll spice it up a bit...with pictures!!!

This is the hole. Doesn't look like much but it opens up very quickly and may go all the way to Hell.

Here's the dirt I bought to hopefully fill the hole. I half-expect that I'll be ordering more dirt.

Something has happened.

I'm not really sure why it happened, but I do know when. It happened yesterday evening while I was at Rich O's listening to yet another asshole badmouth someone who wasn't there to defend herself.

Instead of becoming angry, as I have recently, this time I just listened. A bunch of shitheads that I hardly know at all making fun of someone who's more wonderful than all of them put together.

How, I found myself wondering, could the entire world be so wrong about her? How come I, and a few of our mutual friends, are the only ones able to see beyond the actions of the past, beyond the quirky and misunderstood exterior, and see what's really there, what's really important?

So I was thinking about how wrong the world was, and something happened.

Something inside me shifted gears. Something inside me switched itself off. Something inside me fell out of love and went back to simply missing a friend.

I know, and anyone who's read anything here in the past year knows, that my moods are ever-changing. Nothing lasts forever, and in my case, nothing seems to last for more than a few days at the most. I expect my mood to change again before too much time has passed.

But for now, but for now at least, I'm a normal person. No longer a person that fears that he's met, and lost, the love of his life. Just a person that's lost a friend.

Every feeling I've tried so hard to suppress is dormant. All that remains is kindness. Affection. Fondness. That annoying habit I'd developed of objectifying her? Gone. Those countless hours spent agonizing over past indecision? No longer needed. The drifting I've been doing for weeks? I'm grounded now.

I'm just a guy that misses his friend, and nothing more. All is as it should be.

At least for now. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

I guess I've given up on sleep for the night.

I developed a bit of a fever this evening. I hope I didn't catch it (or give it to) my grandmother while I was at her house setting up this 1960s technology medical alarm doohickey.

So anyway, I got this fever, and I laid down at about 7:00. For the night, I thought.

Wrong.

I woke up a little while ago and, though I'm still feverish, sleep is beyond me.

What woke me up was dreaming about this one part of this one night last Summer. One night a week before the first part of this entry happened.

That night, my dear readers, was what you call a golden opportunity.

A golden opportunity to be like every other guy on the planet. A golden opportunity to jump in, dick first, without a care in the world for what would happen later.

After all, what could be better? She'd just broken up with her boyfriend in front of my eyes. We'd both been drinking. There was nobody else around. I had, for a while at least, her undivided attention. We even hugged each other goodnight, first time that had happened. It wouldn't have taken much to press things further. To see where they might lead.

Yep, a golden opportunity. A wasted one.

I did nothing.

For you see, I'm not the type of guy that's going to make a move on someone that's been single for less than two hours. I'm not the type of guy that's going to hit on a girl that's been drinking heavily. And I'm most definitely not the type of guy that's going to try anything with a friend of mine unless I know damn well that's what she's wanting me to do.

I hardly ever think about that night. I have plenty of other moments, much more dramatic, seemingly much more pivotal, to occupy my mind. I don't think I've really thought about that particular night in months. But I'm thinking about it right now, and I'm thinking, once again, that I'm a dumbass.

Everything hinged on that night, on those two seconds when we pulled away from our brief embrace. Nothing that's happened since then would have been the same, if only I'd been like every other guy on the planet. If I'd just leaned back in. Put my hand aside her face. Pulled her to me. Tasted her lips. Things may not have turned out well - they probably wouldn't have - but I'd fucking know. I'd know and I wouldn't still be guessing a year later.

Every once in a while, something happens, or doesn't happen. Something that's important. A brief period that doesn't seem like much at the time but turns out to be one of the most important moments in a person's life.

I could have tried, failed, and then moved on.

I could have tried, and succeeded, only to have things fall apart later, and then moved on.

I could have tried, and succeeded, and been deliriously happy for the rest of my life.

These were some of the the paths that lay in front of me on that night last Summer. I chose instead to do nothing. To just stand there. A part of me is still standing there I suppose. Wondering.

Went and ate a very good steak dinner with MixedSignalGirl last night. I know, this was probably a bad idea. I think she figured that out as well because she bailed after we'd eaten and I'd assured her that nothing I've been writing about lately (the bullshit last week) had anything to do with her.

To drink with dinner I had myself a Guinness (736). For some reason the Guinnii at Tucker's taste better than the ones at Rich O's. I think it has something to do with the temperature, but I'm not really sure.

So next I went over to Rich O's. The parking lot was jammed but I guess everyone must have been on the Sportstime side because Rich O's itself was only about 1/3 full. I sat on the sofa with the beautiful HatGirl and ordered my first beer.

Rogue Chipotle Ale (22)

(bottle) Very faint peppery aroma, with a little smoke thrown in. Not much taste until the finish, then a little pepper heat. I was expecting more pepper, so I was expecting to dislike this more than I did.

I was really having a hard time keeping from jumping into HatGirl's eyes and swimming around, but after a while this dude showed up and sat with us and HatGirl left pretty much immediately. Just a coincidence I'm sure. Not.

OldBob joined us then and we both tried this Jenlain beer.

Jenlain Farmhouse Ale (10)

(draft) Orange. Some faint apple flavor, but even more apricots. A little too sweet and citrusy for my tastes.

The rest of the night was pretty dull. The place was even more of a sausage festival than it normally is, thanks I suppose to WomanRepellant, who sat and talked with me about this one fucker that we both hate.

Got home a little after 11:00 and finished watching Last of the Mohicans.