This goes much deeper than I'd dared to imagine.

It wasn't the work of just one practical joker, it was a collaborative effort spanning uncountable miles and untold months.

I found my keys.

I found them almost where I'd left them.

I drove my truck back to work tonight. My non-air-conditioning-having truck. Yes, it was hot. Yes, I roasted. I drove back to work and I talked to the guard about whether there was a lost and found box I could rummage through. He said that there was, over in the admin building. He'd buzz me in. I said that I wanted to check my cubicle and my laptop case one more time.

So I went back to my cubicle and pretty much turned it inside-out.

No keys.

But I'd already known that. I had a distinct memory of dropping my keys into my laptop case in the morning. Either they were still there, or they'd somehow fallen out, or someone had taken them.

I opened every pocket in that bag. I emptied out every paper and pen and loose coin from that bag. I picked that bag up and I turned it upside-down and I shook it.

No keys.

I reached my hand deep inside the bag, and my hand somehow found a pocket that I hadn't known was there. A deep pocket. So deep, in fact, that my arm wasn't long enough to let me probe its depths. So I placed the bag on the floor, and I climbed inside. There, I found the entrance to, I dunno, another universe is the only way I can describe it. A separate time and place, with neither light nor sound nor texture. Only emptiness. Nothingness.

I steeled myself, then I ventured inside ever further, and then I lost all connection with time and place and even self.

I drifted through that emptiness for what might have been a few seconds or what might have been a million years. I drifted through the darkness until I saw something. The faintest glimmer. The kind of glimmer that only small shiny metal things can make. By sheer force of will, I steered my drifting body toward the source of the glimmer, and then, after another few seconds or another million years, I heard a clink. The kind of clink that only small shiny metal things can make.

I'd found my keys.

Somehow, maybe through luck, or maybe because that dark and silent and empty place knew that I didn't belong there and forced me out, I made my way back into my universe, into my cubicle. Standing there and pondering the journey I'd just made, I was suddenly struck as to just how deep this conspiracy went.

It wasn't one person hiding my keys on a lark. It was a planned thing. That laptop bag is several years old, made God only knows where, yet that portal waited inside it until today. Someone, some evil genius, designed that bag with today in mind. To make me feel like a dumbass, someone went to an awful lot of trouble. I can't even begin to imagine the kind of planning and patience this took. I know that I could never pull it off.

Whoever it was that did this, that set this up, I applaud them.

Like I said before, Ha ha. That's a good one.

Okay, which one of you fuckers took my keys?

I thought for a while, when I was trying to leave work and couldn't find them, I thought that I'd locked them in my car. They were not in my laptop case where they were supposed to be, and they were not anywhere else in my cubicle. So I realized that in my Monday morning fugue state, I must have locked them in my car.

This realization sucked, but I hadn't done it in over fifteen years, so I figured that I was due.

I walked out and peered into my windows for a good five or ten minutes.

They're not in my car.

You sure had me going though. Ha ha. That's a good one.

But now the joke has run its course. I've already bummed a ride home from a coworker, so there are no more laughs for you to have at my expense.

So, can I please have my fucking keys back?

I seem to have picked up a new quirk over the last few days. An irritating thought process that can take me nowhere good.

I've caught myself several times, way too many times to count. I've noticed this in the past, and I've always been able to stop it before it became a problem. Before that annoyance became a habit became an obsession.

What I'm doing is wondering.

Not wishing.

Not denying.

Not even hoping or regretting or fantasizing.

Just wondering. Wondering what she's doing and what she's thinking and how she's feeling and dozens of other things that are not only none of my business, they're downright dangerous subjects for me to be wondering about.

Because there's always the chance, however unlikely it may seem, there's always the chance that I'll be wondering and I'll be honest with myself at the same time. Don't laugh, it's bound to happen eventually.

One of these days or weeks or months or years, I'll allow that door that I've kept sealed in my head, that door that holds the truth at bay, I'll drop my guard and I'll allow that door to creak open. And all the monsters will come rushing out.

I wouldn't want to be around myself when that happens.

Yesterday was a pretty decent day. I actually left my basement and went out to shoot some pool. This was the first time I'd shot in a place other than my basement since January. It was also the first time I'd played an actual opponent since January.

So that was fun. My left leg is actually a little sore today. Need to work on my balance I guess.

On the way home I stopped at Taco Bell and grabbed a couple of chili cheese burritos. Shut up, I like them. I've liked them since they were called chilitos. Anyway, after I ate, I realized just how tired I was. It was 7:00 and I was too tired to even think about going out. So I wrote off my Saturday night and went to bed...

...and I couldn't sleep. My cat Buddy just would not allow it. So I went down to Rich O's.

The place was pretty empty, so I liked that. A bunch of strangers were in the living room, but I didn't feel like sitting there anyway. I grabbed my favorite seat at the island and ordered an NABC Artemsia (60).

There seemed to be a S.I.G.H. convention in the area. Several times girls would come into Rich O's proper, glance at me and the open stools around me, then veer around me to stand in the annex area. Whatever, whores.

MusicalHippyDude came and sat with me, and we were able to talk for a bit before we got interrupted. Then I managed to hurt said interrupter's feelings by picking up my shit and moving over to the (recently vacated) throne.

For the rest of the night I just sat and smoked and drank two more Artemsias (100). One note about that beer: None of the bartenders have any clue how to pronounce it. This may be an indicator that it's a stupid name for a beer. But that's just my opinion of the name. The beer itself is weird and yummy. Just like me.

(Note I've asked Roger, the owner of Rich O's, and he says it's ar-TEM-zee-uh.)

I also did something sneaky while nobody was looking. We'll see how that turns out.

After a while, LonerBoy came and sat with me, and we talked about various crap. He's going to Seattle, and I'm pretty jealous of that. I haven't been there since 2002.

Rich O's closed up early because it was so dead. LonerBoy and I went over to Jack's and I had a Blue Moon and wished I was about 20 years younger. It turned out that Jack's was where the S.I.G.H. convention was taking place.

The Blue Moon was a bad idea, and so I ended up staying at Jack's drinking Diet Coke until the wee hours of the morning, waiting for the alcohol to leave my body and talking with a bunch of girls from Logan's Roadhouse.

I'm a pretty stubborn guy sometimes. This stubbornness reveals itself in various ways. Like when I refuse to take a hint if I don't like what's being hinted at. Like when I'm completely wasting my time but I keep trying because I keep imagining that it could all be worth it in the end.

Friday night, it poured here. Floyd County got like 5 inches of rain in an hour. This is all my fault because I washed all three of my vehicles. It was raining so hard that the 20 yard sprint from my car to the GasNStuff left me completely soaked. I was wet for the rest of the night.

So I sloshed myself into Red Lobster. This is just more of my stubbornness. I was supposed to be in Indianapolis, but instead I was wasting my time back home, so I went to Red Lobster to make the night at least a little bit unusual.

The TV above the bar was nothing but weather reports. From the flash floods and the lightning. The sound was muted, so I can't be sure that they officially blamed me for all of it, but they probably did. Every fucking thing else that's ever happened is my fault, after all. Anyway, the TV was muted, but the closed-captioning was still on, but it's wasn't the text of the weather reports that was being displayed. It was instead the show that was supposed to be on at that time. That was kind of weird.

My food was good, as always. I like Red Lobster a lot. The waitress kept bugging me though. Asking if everything was okay. I said that it was, but I guess I wasn't convincing enough because then the manager came over and asked me the same question. I told him that the food was just fine, but that I kept getting interrupted by people asking me questions. He took the hint and everyone left me alone after that. I just make friends everywhere I go.

Next I went to Rich O's and sat with LibraryGirl and her friends for a while. I had myself an NABC Artemsia (40) and then a Rogue Smoke (250). I think there were people there and I think that I probably talked to some of them, but I'm sure that it was nothing important.

I'm craving a steak. Again. Must be some old age thing. Like I need meat to help make up for withering away.

So I'm at this place in New Albany called Tucker's. We used to come here, every now and then. The food is pretty good. The bartender is hot. Plus, there's something about the Guinness here. It's fucking yummy. Much better than it is anywhere else.

I'm having a Guinness, of course. A tall glass of frothy pleasure while I wait for my steak and my baked potato and my sautéed mushrooms. Not that the sides matter. It's all about the steak tonight. And the Guinness. And the hot bartender.

---

The red room at Rich O's is fucked up. Some plumbing problem. So what little crowd there is has, um, crowded into the rest of Rich O's proper. I don't care though. I'm not even officially here.

They've got two new beers on tap. Both seem intriguing to me.

New Albanian Jenever Rye(10)

(draft) Dirty gold. Zero fizz. Has a sweet aroma, if that makes any sense. Flavor is quite sweet with some odd indescribable undertones. Pretty good, but dangerous because the alcohol is very well hidden. No bitterness.

8:20
They're playing fucking Johnny Cash again. I never had an opinion about him at all, but now I hate him because they play the dead fucker so damn often in this place.

8:23
Great, now the fuckhead on the sofa is singing along to the music. I hate him.

New Albanian Artemsia Ale(10)

(draft) Clear brown. Zero fizz. Smells like a pine tree - must be the mugwort. The flavor is very weird, and very good. I like this a lot. Tastes like it should have more alcohol than it does.

8:45
Piss time.

8:55
Another half-pint of the Artemsia (20).

9:00
The strangers just left the other end of the bar. I would move down there, but it seems hard.

9:06
Some guy from the future just took the right-hand barstool. He seemed upset when his Upland Wheat didn't come with a citrus wedge.

9:08
PotatoGirl is having trouble pouring Pilsner Urquel because it's so foamy. This has prompted me to write a new advertising slogan for that beer. Pilsner Urquel: A lot of effort for a little flavor.

9:15
I had a brilliant idea for a series of 'blog entries yesterday. But it seems hard, so I probably won't do it.

9:16
The guy from the future has gone. The time portal must be about to close.

9:18
Piss time.

9:25
Ordering another half-pint of the Jenever (20).

9:35
I am sooooooooooooo glad that I deleted her number from my phone. Really.

9:37
Fine, maybe I'm stupid, but at least my stupidity lets me do the right thing. Most idiots have no excuse at all.

9:20
Bubbles is here.

9:40
PotatoGirl wants me. She needs to get in line.

9:45
This Artemsia stuff is yummy. That means that it will never be here again, so I'd better drink up. Not tonight though.

I'm officially back from Chicago now.

Notice that I said officially. I've been back unofficially since Wednesday night.

Drove to Chicago, dicked around for a few minutes, got a phone call, then drove back home.

Twelve hours of driving just to end up back where I'd started.

In more ways than one.

There are no pictures, there are no stories, there are no explanations that I feel like giving.

There is nothing.

In more ways than one.

A million years ago, I wrapped my arms around her, and she wrapped hers around me. That was the first time.

A thousand years ago, our lips met. That was the only time.

Last night, I thought about how I should have never let go from that embrace. I thought about how I should have never pulled away from that kiss. I relived those moments, as I relive them far too often as I lie staring at the ceiling but seeing only her eyes.

Maybe I'm insane. But at least I have a reason. A purpose.

If I relive those moments often enough then, I'm convinced, I'll find something. Hidden in my memory of those events, there just has to be something that I'm missing.

There's something there.

I know there is.

I'll find it.

I just need a little more time.

I should have never let go. I should have never pulled away.

How could I have been so stupid? There must have been a reason.

I'll find it.

...it was a long and boring drive.

In fact, it seemed twice as long and boring as I'd expected.

That is all.

I'm leaving for Chicago now.

The drive is going to suck because, believe it or not, driving through Indiana vertically is kind of boring.

It'll be five hours of boredom followed by two hours of heavy city traffic and toll roads.

I guess it beats going in to work, though.

Bye.