Not too much going on around here, but I'll do this anyway.

---

Looks like I have no broken bones from when I fell Sunday. Just bruises, and those are fading pretty well. Parts of me that yesterday were a nice grurple color are now merely bluish.

I'm damn sore, though. Especially my arms, which are colored normally.

---

I talked to StupidGirl for a couple of hours last night. Told her that it doesn't look like I'll be coming to Las Vegas until next Spring at least. She's okay with that. Probably because she's got a new boyfriend. Lot of that going around these days. I like StupidGirl. She's really nice. I hope this new guy treats her better than the last guy did. Not that that would be any great feat.

---

Starting Thursday, I've got five days in a row off work. I have absolutely no idea what, if anything, I'll be doing with those five days. Probably nothing, unless this current mood lightens. But I think I'd like to take a little trip somewhere for a night or two. Or maybe even *gasp* go to Rich O's during the night. We'll see.

---

That's it for now.

Unanticipated.
Unwarranted.
Unbelieveable.
---
Unexpected.
Unwelcome.
Unwanted.

Forgot my rock today when I left for work. I feel oddly naked without it. Please note, however, that I'm not actually naked, so neither running to nor fro are necessary.

---

Yesterday I might have screwed myself up. I was getting out of my truck, with my arms full of stuff, when I slipped on a damn dryer sheet that somebody, some terrorist probably, had placed on the floor. My foot went right out from under me. I fell about three feet onto my concrete garage floor, landing on my right hip and left knee and left arm. So yeah, I apparently played an impromptu game of solo Twister on the way down.

This afternoon I get to go get x-rays. My hip, in particular, feels gimpy.

And what really sucked about falling, besides almost dying, was that as I fell I slammed the door of my truck into the door of my Monte Carlo. I'm kind of afraid to look at the latter to assess any damage. I know there was at least some paint transferred.

---

LuckyFucker has a new clam in his aquarium. It looks like a horribly-deformed vagina. It's creepy and erotic at the same time.

I bet I've killed over 1,000 North Koreans since Saturday morning. It's not that I have anything against North Koreans, per se, it's just that in this Crysis game I've been playing, they're the bad guys.

I know this particular game is pirated sold all over the world. I wonder how the average North Korean feels about playing as an American soldier and killing his countrymen.

---

This evening I pretend-married HatGirl and LuckyFucker. It was all very moving and romantic, I thought. HatGirl even cried, and so I even felt very guilty for making HatGirl cry.

Then we went to Red Lobster, and the food was yummy, so everything turned out okay in the end.

---

So I haven't had a drop of alcohol since Friday night. I'm not turning into a Jesus-freak or anything like that. It's just something that I was wondering about. I mean, both of my parents were alcoholics, so it's something I have to watch.

Could I go without beer for two days?

Certainly I could. And did. No problem whatsoever.

Certain recent events have reminded me that people, too often, look for the solutions to life's problems in the bottoms of glasses. Or in hypodermic needles. Or, much more drastically, down the barrel of a gun.

So I needed to prove to myself that I could go without drinking. I can, so that's cool.

Besides, the answer to life's problems doesn't lie in any of those places.

The answer to life's problems lies on the other side of a simple conversation. The other end of an email. It lies in fingertips that touch another person, lips that kiss another person.

It lies everywhere that there's proof that we're not alone in this world.

I had a really bad day today, one of the worst I've had in a long time. And, of course, I can't write a fucking thing about why, except to say that my stupidity played a big part.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe tomorrow I won't be so stupid.

The first part of Friday night I spent like the last parts of most nights. Sitting out on my swing drinking a beer. A Newcastle (10560) in that particular case. BadPickleGirl and I had agreed to "ponder" hanging out for a while, so I called her, left a voicemail, then glared at my phone for a while. But after an hour or so of that, I got bored and went to Louisville to see AlliGirl.

At The Pub, it wasn't nearly as crowded as I'd been expecting. I sat at the bar and had a Newcastle (10580) and talked to AlliGirl when she wasn't too busy. It was nice to see AlliGirl. It had been weeks.

Then I went over to Hard Rock and, lo and behold, CoolHairGirl was working! That was a very nice surprise. Pretty much the opposite of a nice surprise was that somebody had ralphed all over one of the urinals there. Quite disgusting.

I sat at Hard Rock for an hour or so, drinking a Blue Moon (777) and talking to CoolHairGirl. Hard Rock was incredibly dead. It was me at the bar and like three or four other people scattered amongst the tables.

Oh yeah, at one point when I was out in the street I looked to my left and saw my niece and some of her friends. That was quite cool.

Anyway, I started to feel a little guilty at Hard Rock because CoolHairGirl started cleaning everything in anticipation of closing early. Plus I guess I got a little depressed about the same old stuff that I always get depressed about, so I left Louisville and headed for home.

While I was driving home, I got a text from BadPickleGirl, so I called her and we bullshitted over the phone until I pulled into my garage. So that was nice.

Then I sat on my swing and had most of a bottle of Marzen (4901). Sent an email to her, got no response, got depressed about it, then went to bed at 11:30 or so.

I just had the nicest dream.

Of course I can't say who was in the dream or what the dream was about.

I will say, however, that it was all decidedly G-Rated. It was such a nice dream, in fact, that I'm not even all that upset about waking up right before it might have progressed to PG-13.

Before too long, I'll remember that it was only a dream. Until then, I think I'll smile for a while.

So last night was a frustrating bust. An ongoing email-delaying conspiracy between RIM and/or yahoo.com and/or barenada.com, a conspiracy with the single goal of making my life miserable - well last night it reached that goal.

So this morning, I tried again. Just a quick email to follow-up a conversation we'd had Tuesday night.

The reply that I received is the title of this entry.

You might ask what that means. I know that I certainly asked myself.

"Self," I asked, "What does that mean?"

"Fuck off and die."
Now, if you know me at all, or if you don't know me but you read a lot of my drivel, you know that this was the very first thing I thought of. Sometimes it's the only thing I think of. But not this time.

This time, after gazing out my fourth-story window and realizing that a leap from that height would not bring certain death, I did some more thinking. And I figured that with a message like "Fuck off and die," it's probably best to be as unambiguous as possible. That's not really something you want to have to repeat.

So I did even more thinking, and I came up with other possible meanings for that cryptic email.

"I found your email quite boring, and I will reply with the appropriate effort."
I don't really like this one, because it seems to contradict itself. I mean, if my email was truly boring, then wouldn't nothing be the appropriate level of response?

Yeah, that's what I thought, too.

"I am literally on a set, and there must be quiet, so stop making my phone vibrate."
This is at least plausible, as sets do exist, and they do require quiet, and I can certainly picture her gracing the presence of a set. This is my second-favorite explanation.

"I'm busy, leave me alone."
I think I'm going with this explanation. It's goes straight to the point, but it's still strange, presumably so that I don't forget who it's coming from. There's a little bit of personality displayed in the actual words chosen, and I like that very much.

---

I suppose that I'll eventually find out the truth behind those four strange words. Unless my first instinct was actually the correct one. In that case I guess I should start looking for a taller building.

Four bad capacitors on one of the boards. Cost me $365.98 including trip charge.

There'd better be something good on TV soon, but I'm not holding my breath waiting for that to happen.

So often lately I've found myself questioning this journal. Whether it continues to serve any purpose at all. Whether it's causing any harm. Whether it's outlived its usefulness as my voice, to say those things that I could not or would not say out loud.

I feel like I could write pages and pages, if only I were the sole reader. Or if only I'd been smarter, back when I started, and kept myself anonymous.

There are so many things that have occupied my mind and my heart. I've been destroyed all over again. I'm struggling to be reborn all over again. I'm infinitely happy and infinitely sad at the same time. And yet, I've barely brushed the surface here. Sometimes I think that even those light touches upon the truth are too much.

Other times, other times I get a little pissed. This is supposed to be my outlet, not anyone else's entertainment. I should write the whole truth, and if people don't like it, they can stop reading.

But I don't feel like that very often these days. This journal isn't about me, not like it used to be, and I know it. I'm unimportant, and I know it. Irrelevant, and I know it.

I really feel like I'm writing on inertia these days. Writing because it's what I've always done. Or writing because it's expected of me. Or writing to convince people that I'm okay, somewhat normal. But what I'm not doing is writing because I want to write or because I need to write. That want and that need, they definitely exist, but to satisfy them I'd have to stop censoring myself. And I just can't bring myself to do that.

The truth risks too much. By censoring myself I only risk my own sanity.