I don't know what it is about this early hour on this early May morning that suddenly finds my brain aching to write something. Neither do I know what it is I'm supposed to write. I think it just has to be something but the actual topic is irrelevant.

Irrelevant.

That's a word that I've used a lot over the past several weeks and months and even years.

So something has happened. Something bad. A beast bore down upon me, and I saw it coming and I stood my ground and I fought with everything I had.

I lost.

People tell me that I should have never bothered to fight. That I should have ran at the first sign of trouble. That it was futile from the start. This is their way of telling me that they think I've been stupid for a long time.

It's easy for people to cower safely inside their own lives and pretend to understand. It's easy to smirk and shake your head when you've never had anything worth fighting for. Worth living for. Worth dying for.

People tell me that this is a good thing. That now I can finally move on.

Those people are irrelevant. Their opinions are irrelevant. Their advice is irrelevant.

Maybe I could never see the forest through the trees, but at least I was in the damn forest. And now, battered and bloody, I struggle to crawl my way out.

So a few weeks ago - I could tell you the exact date, but I'd have to look it up - this chick was hitting on me. I was almost positive.

Well, tonight I became positive, because she fucking did it again. With zero subtlety.

She was unsuccessful.

But it was still nice to know that I wasn't imagining things before.

---

Sometimes there are too many women.

Like tonight, before the drama at Rich O's, I sat at Buckhead having dinner with HatGirl...

HatGirl!

Yay!

...and her equally hot friend PokerGirl, and then BadPickleGirl started texting me about going to some bar I never heard of before.

I had to decline, of course, but I promised to maybe see BadPickleGirl on Saturday.

I'm such a tease sometimes.

---

And then, after the drama at Rich O's with MaybeCrazyGirl hitting on me, YoungGirl called me to ask me to come over.

I declined that offer as well.

I know why I declined, but I don't want to say.

It had nothing to do with her, though.

---

Today I slept almost all damn day. So now I feel like I may never be tired again.

---

It was really packed at Rich O's tonight. I don't know why.

---

I also got to see ImprobablyHotMarriedGirl when I first went in. That was cool. I gave her a big hug and felt a big bump - she's pregnant. So congratulations to her!

---

I might be back typing some more stuff. Or maybe not.

Funny, I really thought I'd be in the mood to write something tonight. And I suppose that I was, about six hours ago. But now I'm home and I don't feel like writing anymore.

Sometimes, things happen. That's what I was thinking I'd write about. Sometimes, things happen, and I feel pretty guilty, especially about the things that the things imply.

No, scratch that. There's no implication, there's a big fucking spotlight shining onto my shortcomings.

But, as I told myself Wednesday night, when some things happened, "You get one life, Dave. Try to enjoy it every now and then."

That's the same line of reasoning that I've used to justify a lot things lately.

Hmmm, I guess I did feel like writing something after all. No much, to be certain, but something.

I had to wait until I wrote this entry. And, of course, in the week that's passed since I thought of it, it's become less funny. You've been warned.

I was at Rich O's the other night - I think it was Wednesday - talking to various regulars and irregulars. In that place, I try to steer clear of the usual topics of politics, religion, music and sports. The first two because those conversations always lead to people revealing their stupidity, and the last two because I neither know nor care about those things.

So that usually means that I either talk about beer, or I talk about women.

Women are weird. If you've never read this blog before, then that might come as a shock to you, but trust me - they're weird.

So let's take a guy. But not a regular guy, one instead who has three particular qualities. He's an asshole, and he plays guitar, and he's unemployed.

The thing about that guy, see, is that I absolutely guarantee that he has a girlfriend.

Those three qualities, taken separately, would seem to be either neutral or even negative qualities. But put those three qualities together, and they form some kind of magical sphere - a triumvirate of attractiveness - for the guy. Women find him irresistible.

Weird, like I said. But you can't prove me wrong, because I'm not wrong. If a guy has all three of those qualities, he's got a girlfriend, or at least getting some steady action.

Now, lacking those three qualities doesn't automatically mean that a guy's going to die alone and unloved, but it might. So, in order to foster my own chances of having someone actually cry at my funeral, I'm taking some steps.

First, I'm really not an asshole, though I can act like one at times. I need to do it more often. Recent events in my life have already given me a shove in that direction, so it's only getting easier.

Second, I've been trying to learn to play guitar. For over a year and a half now. I still suck, but not as much as I once did.

Third, I lost my job last Tuesday.

Yes, that's right. I've been made into a victim of this recession, along with another 250 or so people from my old company. So, for now anyway, I've got the unemployment requirement nailed.

Anyway, I had to wait before I wrote about losing my job. My sisters and my niece were on a trip to Europe, and I didn't want to impact their enjoyment. But now they're back, so they can be miserable right along with me.

It's a surreal feeling, and I'm not sure how to describe it.

Waking up, and realizing that you've just been thrown out of an airplane. Falling because you must, and because it's effortless. You twist your body so that your head will impact first.

Touching a fence, and finding out too late that it's electric, as your hands seize into claws unable to let go. Your fingers ignite and you relish the pain because it's better than nothing.

Blinded, deafened, numbed. All senses overloaded and dead, but no matter. Lesser purposes and all that...

Living for that which no longer exists and wondering if it ever did. Questioning, doubting everything you know and everything you feel and everything you are. Answers elude and evade.

It's a surreal feeling.

Last night, I sent RockGirl this email, with the subject of "Yay!"

And yay and yay and yay! I get to have lunch with HatGirl tomorrow.

It's been 17 billion years since I've seen her. *

I'm so excited!

HatGirl flaked on lunch.