A zoomed and black & white version of this picture hangs on the wall at Rich O's, in commemoration of DaveFest. SassyGirl and I enjoying the opening night of that festival.

Anyway, today this one chick noticed this picture on the wall. "So all I have to do is kiss you and I can get my picture on the wall, too?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. "And bring all your friends. We'll cover the entire wall eventually."

We never did follow up on that plan. I was too tired, I guess.

---

This was me this evening, sitting at the bar and wondering why I was there. I know that I must look hung-over and/or depressed in this picture, but really, it was mostly just that I've hardly slept since Thursday morning. Though I suppose, now that I look at this picture more closely, it really does display my recent mood quite accurately.

I just got a haircut, in case you were wondering.

I sent this picture to HatGirl and she asked me if I was okay. I sent it to SassyGirl, and she sent me a picture of her and some girls having fun in the sun. I sent it to RockGirl, and she suggested that I take a nap.

---

Tonight OddlyFamiliarGirl and MusicalYuppieDude and I were discussing this Tremens tap - normally used for Delirium Tremens but used for Delirium Noel right now - and OddlyFamiliarGirl posed the question of whether this was an African elephant or an Asian one. She said, and I agreed, that the size of the ears placed it somewhere in the middle.

Of course, this discussion was all moot, because the elephant is clearly Belgian. The dead giveaway being that it's fucking pink.

I can't sleep tonight. Not anymore. Had a stupid series of stupid dreams, and I can't get them out of my head.

So I gave up and I got up and I went for a drive at 3:30 or so. It was kinda nice. I wish I wasn't on-call this week, or I might have just kept on driving. Gotten away from here, tried to evade reality.

It wouldn't have worked, of course. After all, reality easily followed me to Las Vegas in February; it certainly could have kept pace with me tonight. But I'd like to have tried, I think. If nothing else, it would have given me something to do besides glare at my phone.

I can't really be sure, of course. I could be wrong. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

But we talked about it for a while last night. First time we've really discussed it at any length. I think she brought it up, or maybe she just said something that awoke the topic from its fitful slumber inside my head. Hard to say for sure why we discussed it. It just seemed necessary, I suppose. The emperor had appeared naked before us and we simply couldn't ignore it.

The thing is that we get along insanely well. I think we both agree on that. Never has a harsh word passed between us, and I can't really imagine any circumstances where that would change. Humor, temperament, intelligence, morality - all nearly identical. At least that's the way I see it, and she'd probably agree.

So we discussed it tonight while I sat at the bar glaring at my phone and she sat next to me glaring at her phone. We discussed that What if? scenario that's way too big to be encompassed by a single hypothetical. It would need something more like What if this and that and the other thing and oh yeah that one thing too and then some more things? to even come close.

But, strip away all the impediments and the question is laid bare.

What about us?

Because we would certainly try. I don't see how we could avoid trying. We get along too well to live the lies that would allow us to avoid it. Ridiculously compatible, I think I called it. We agree on that too.

The thing is, I think that we'd try, and I think that we'd eventually fail. We'd run into some of the incompatibilities that we discussed tonight, and probably some other, heretofore hidden obstacles, and eventually we'd fail. We'd have a lot of fun trying, and it would be really good for a long while, but in the end, we'd fail.

But the friendship would survive, and that's all that would really matter in the end.

We agree on that, too.

They don't really snap.

It's more like they stretch and stretch and then eventually they just sort of dissolve.

So then suddenly they're just not there.

And I try to make do, with whatever's left. I shift my grip, and I try to hang on.

If they snapped, if they made a sound when they broke, I think that would make more sense. And maybe it would have more impact that way, instead of just sort of sneaking me up to this inevitable fall.

I don't know why I think that, though.

Maybe for the same reason I keep trying to hang on in the first place.

Maybe because I'm weird, or maybe because I'm in love, or maybe because I'm retarded.

It's all a matter of persepctive, I suppose.

Every now and then, I get something.

A certain look, or a word, or a touch. It's never much, or almost never much, but it's always something.

People ask me why. All the time, people ask me why.

Because, every now and then, I get something.

Wow.

I'm fooling myself, of course. Sitting here acting like I'm in control of things for a change. Pretending so hard that I have a choice, and then actually believing it.

Anyway, my dreams these last eight days have all been the same. Oh, not exactly the same - the details vary - but the theme stays the same.

In my dreams, I'm so happy. But then, all of a sudden, something happens, and I want to die. Sometimes, in my dreams, I get to die, but usually not. Usually I just want it, but I wake up instead. I suppose that waking up from a dream is a form of death, at least for the dream version of myself.

And they're not really all that disturbing, as nightmares go. I know it probably seems that way to someone reading about how I want to die and stuff.

But they really are just dreams, after all. A consequence of the random firing of neurons which my sleeping brain tries to interpret. Usually with some current events thrown into the mix for context, and maybe some metaphors for added color and intrigue.

I'm in a mood right now, of course. Lying to myself, saying that everything's going to be okay. Which is ludicrous, seeing as how I don't even know what okay means anymore. I mean, maybe this is it, glaring at my phone, waiting for that little red light to illuminate. Maybe this is okay.

Wow, the damn thing just lit up. It's so pretty.

And now HatGirl is trying to kill me. She's sending me pictures of herself with her sexy new hairstyle. A hairstyle that's oddy similar to the one that LaptopGirl got last Summer.

She's very pretty, in case you can't tell that from the picture.

So, this may be it for me. If the pictures keep coming, I might not last the day. And it might be worth it.

So many problems, waah, waah, waah. I get so fucking sick of it. Sick of every moment of happiness being spoiled by the knowledge that it will never last, because I'm not a cocksucking douchebag and that's apparently what's required.

Doubly-sick of the fact that I haven't even been able to write about those times when I've been happy, not even a little bit. And I have been happy, dammit. I've been happy a lot these last several months.

I also, of course, can't write about being sad, but I've still managed it from time to time. When it's too much to bear alone, I share it with you readers. Like right now. Spread it out or something. But still no specifics, still nothing telling.

I am a good person, after all. Not a cocksucking douchebag.

Lot of fucking good that's done me.

I wonder what would happen, if I just wrote right here, right now, about those things which have been bothering me lately. Especially this past week.

Would it be read?

Would it be understood?

Would it be believed?

Because I've been right here dealing with it, and I sure as fuck can't believe it.

I'm not going to write shit, though. It's not my place, not my job.

And I am a good person, like I said. And I will die alone and unloved despite that fact.

I need some goddamn resolve, that's what I need. So if any of you have any resolve to spare, can you help a brother out?

I'll pay you back double in a couple of months.