People forgetting to set my ice dispenser back to cubed when they're done getting ice.

I look down at my fortress. The newly-rebuilt walls. The gleaming metal protruding from the sniper towers. The moat, and the drawbridge. The main doors, long rusted shut.

All useless, for now. Protecting nothing more than an old dream.

I see her trying to scale one of the walls. Striving to gain purchase and pull herself just a little bit closer to her goal. Inch by inch, day by day, she's actually making progress. She's doing much better than I'd have ever expected. Most have given up by this point.

I don't know what she's expecting to find. Back when we used to talk about that sort of thing I never got the same answer twice. If I had to guess, I'd say that she just wants to share this haven I've constructed. To be safe for a while. For I am, if anything, safe. Good old safe and boring and reliable Dave.

So she climbs. Every now and then she falls into the moat. But she gets right back out, shakes herself off, and tries again. Stubborn. I like that. Foolish perhaps, but who am I to judge foolishness?

What will she find when (not if!) she makes it over that wall?

I think she'll be disappointed. My courtyard is bare except for one thing. A statue. Of a girl that isn't her. But that's not what will disappoint her, or surprise her. What will be a shock to her is what's not there. Who's not there.

She'll spend all this time and energy and still find herself alone. For I'm not there. I'm up here drifting.

I suppose that she'll look up eventually and catch a glimpse of me. Then she'll start working on a flying machine.

Stubborn. I like that.

Meanwhile, I continue to drift.

People and events call out to me as I pass by overhead, and I may look down upon them with interest or even compassion, but I lift my feet away from their grasp. I'm not ready to care. Not just yet.

I should have let the poor sucker live. How could I have known though? How could I have known that survival was even an option? It sure didn't feel like it at the time.

Is this survival?

So I drift along with the wind. I've been looking for a place to land, but when I do come down I want it to be on my own terms. I don't want to be pulled back down into a world that I'm no longer ready to face.

Of course, I don't really expect to have a choice in the matter.

Here's my horoscope for this week from Free Will Astrology:

Wasting your time and getting caught up in trivial details might feel like the most natural thing to do in the coming week, but I'd love to steer you away from doing that. Please please pretty please take heed of this proverb from ancient Rome: "The eagle does not catch flies." In other words, avoid lowering yourself to pursue rewards that don't really interest you or nourish you. And please please pretty please also listen to the advice of this Nepalese proverb: "Conduct short rituals for minor gods." Translation: Acknowledge the second-tier powers-that-be, but don't prostrate yourself in front of them for hours.

If I were to believe in this kind of thing, this is another horoscope that would freak me out a little. See, I fully expect to be asked (even required) to focus on trivial shit over the next few weeks. I'd just love to be in a position to refuse these requests, but I'm not there yet, and may never be.

The second part of the horoscope doesn't have any relevance to my current life. At least none that I'm aware of.

Tuesday was actually a pretty interesting night.

There were a couple of reasons for this.

First, we all went to a Chicago White Sox game. I took pictures of their new (to me at least) park.

My company had rented this party deck waaaaaaaaaaay out past center field. Kind of prestigious I suppose, but not much chance of a ball ever being hit there. Especially without Frank Thomas playing.

This ballpark has no good beer at all. I only tried one that I thought sounded a little interesting:

Canoe Honey Wheat Ale (2)

(draft) Lord, why hast thou foresaken me? I thought this was crap. I only drank about two sips and then I threw the rest away. Blech.

The White Sox lost their game, just like the Reds lost their game when I went to see them. I wonder if I'm cursed.

I of course bought myself a Sox cap. I also bought myself a Cubs cap because I was planning to head over to the Wrigley Field area later and didn't want to be murdered for wearing the wrong cap.

As it turned out I didn't make it to Wrigleyville. I instead went to this Piece Brewpub that Roger from Rich O's had recommended to me.

A pretty nice little place, though a little bit too dark for pictures. The pizza smelled fantastic, and I'm kinda kicking myself for not trying any of it.

I did try several of their beers though:

Piece Hoppy Ending (4)

(draft) An otherwise bland vehicle for a bitter hoppy aftertaste. What's the point?

Piece Golden Arm Kolsch (4)

(draft) Very light and citrusy. Tasted like a Bud Light to me. Supposedly an ale but I'm not convinced.

Piece Dysfunctionale (4)

(draft) I've rated this right down the middle in every category. Nothing at all stands out. I don't like the style, so I don't like the beer.

Piece Dark Bier (20)

(draft) Dark Lager, almost black. A light coffee flavor. Fairly thick mouthfeel with some lagery fizz at the end. Not too bad, but not great.

Piece Belgian Three-Way (24)

(draft) Citrusy aroma. Light apple flavor, with maybe a little apricot? No finish at all. Decent, but the apricot turned me off a little.

So I ended up liking the Belgian okay, and I had two glasses.

Then I went back to McCormick and Schmick's to drool over the pretty waitress some more. I had a couple of Guinnii to give me an excuse for being there.

I still owe an entry for Tuesday night, but for now I just wanted to say that I'm back home.

I came back a day early due to a family emergency. Or maybe it's just a family thing. Yes, I think that's it, a thing. Next week's Boston trip may be in jeopardy as well, or everything may be fine by then.

Just a couple of things.

There has not been enough free time to go to any of the places on my list, so now I've added Chicago to my short list of places to visit some upcoming weekend.

I've been drinking Goose Island Honkers Ale and Guinness almost exclusively.

There's a waitress at McCormick and Schmick's that I cannot take my eyes off of. Guess what her hair color is, and then guess how good her eyesight is.

Tonight we're going to a White Sox game. I remain cautiously hopeful that it will actually be fun.

So I'm in Chicago. Whoop de doo.

Our entire week is choreographed, but I did find myself with a little bit of time yesterday afternoon. I tried to walk to the lake but couldn't find a good place to cross Lakeshore Drive. Hopefully I'll have a chance to try again before I leave.

Our hotel is a couple of blocks from the Hancock Tower.

There's a good restaurant across the street from the hotel. They have Guinness and several Goose Island beers. So guess where I went last night after my t-shirt buying trip to The Hard Rock?

I have a feeling that this is going to be the most exciting entry I make all week. We'll see.

Spent most of the night at Rich O's talking with RealTrainGirl. To drink, I had a Smithwick's and then one of these:

Hitachino Nest Real Ginger Ale

(draft) The first few sips, understandably, brought to mind a beer with ginger ale poured into it. By the end of the glass I'd decided that I did like this beer, and that I wished that it was even a little stranger than it was. Very unusual, and very drinkable.

To finish up I had a Guinness.

The night was very ordinary and boring - until about two seconds after RealTrainGirl left.

At that point, as if on cue, these two guys that had been sharing the living room area with us started talking about YouKnowWho. Now exactly what RealTrainGirl's leaving had to do with anything I don't know. What I do know it that both of these guys are assholes.
They know nothing about YouKnowWho but they still started spewing crap about her.

The last time this happened was back in March. At that time I jumped to YouKnowWho's defense and didn't let up until the bitch doing all the badmouthing left in a huff. This time, for a while at least, I let it go.

I got up and went to stand at the bar. It's none of my business what people think, or what people talk about. Plus, I don't care about anything or anyone at all. That's been the theme of this 'blog for a couple of weeks now.

So I stood at the bar and tried not to listen to the two assholes badmouth the person that - well I don't really know how to finish that sentence. There are really no words left in me to describe her and what she's meant to me. Means to me.

I stood at the bar, trying not to listen, and I thought I was having some success at it.

After a bit though, one of them said something that I just couldn't ignore.

...

So here I've been coasting along for more than two weeks, unable or unwilling to care about anything or anyone. And out of the blue, from left field, out of my ass even, I find something that I feel passionate about. Someone that I feel passionate about. No big surprise that it's the same thing, the same person, that it's been all along.

I sit here now, typing this entry, and I feel nothing once again. It's all like a fuzzy memory of a dream I'm not even sure I had.

Still, it's nice to know that I'm still capable of caring about something.

Here are some pics I took the other day. The Jack Daniel's racing car showed up for this thing at work.