I see you, you know.

Skulking around. Hiding in the shadows, in the dark places that you helped to create, you crouch and you imagine yourself to be invisible. But, the problem is, you generate your own light. You are a beacon of color in this gray place, and so I cannot help but see you shine.

What do you want? Why are you here?

Are you waiting for something? Are you staying so close because you hope to watch me descend into madness once again, or because you dread it? Do you wish happiness for me, or do you only seek validation for your own ego's sake?

What happens is up to you. It's always been up to you. I'm sure that you don't want that kind of responsibility. I'm fucking positive that I wish you didn't have it, that I was in charge here.

But I'm not, and I never have been, and it's entirely possible that I never will be again.

See, you have something of mine. Something important. I wish you'd either give it back, or at least admit that you have it.

Is that why you're here? Do you have something for me?

I see you, you know.

I wonder. The next time I say the words, I wonder if I'll do so as a whisper or as a shout. Or as a scream.

So many times, I've bitten my tongue and walked the other way. So often, I've rambled on and on about anything and everything to distract myself until that moment, that moment when the words needed to be said, had passed. So many countless fucking times, I've picked up the telephone only to slam it back down to its resting place.

And I write. I beat around the bush. Time after time I bring myself right up to the edge beyond which the words must be written, but I stop myself. Each and every time, I hover my toe over that line in the sand only to pull it back and then pat myself on the back for my great show of resolve.

The words don't give up though. They fester inside me and they wait. For that inevitable moment of weakness. For that sought-after period of clarity. For that first opportunity, that first instant when I've forgotten that they're even there at all.

That's when they'll make their move. That's when they'll escape.

And then I fear that they'll be gone from me forever.

Don't get me wrong. I want to say the words, but I don't want to waste them.

I want to say the words.

I just want someone to be listening when I do.

Go here! Read this!

Okay, so a few more choices have fallen off the list, but Roger has made up for those losses, and also inspired me nearly to giggles, by adding Newcastle to the list.

Yay!

Today, after work, the Sun was shining.

But that's not all!

When I got into my truck, it was very warm inside.

Almost hot actually!

That was the first time I've been warm in a couple of weeks.

It felt so good that, for a moment or two, I thought about peeling down and molesting myself right there in the truck.

But then I remembered where I was.

There's probably a corporate policy against that sort of thing.

I guess I'm just writing for the fuck of it now.

I overdid my after-work nap, and now it's almost 2:00 AM and I'm probably up for the rest of the night.

Gotta do something, may as well write.

For those of you reading this at barenada.com, you may or may not know that I duplicate my 'blog over at barenada.journalspace.com. Well, that site has been down since Friday morning. Some kind of hard drive crash is what they claim, but I don't buy it. What I think happened is that this chick's new profile picture melted the hard drive.

It's that hot.

Anyway, today after work I stopped by Rich O's and had a small Cone Smoker (1670) and a small Smithwick's (736) while I talked with Roger about DaveFest. It's looking like all of the beers I selected will be available except for the Avery Old Jubilation, so that's cool. I was expecting six taps but it's looking like there'll be eleven.

The t-shirts are still a go I guess. I met the artist the other day and I'm expecting him to contact me again about designs and colors. Or maybe not. Maybe he'll just wing it. He's the artist after all. We're going to order a couple of dozen shirts, and I suppose we can order more if we need to. I really have no idea what kind of interest there'll be.

I'll be at Rich O's both nights of DaveFest's opening weekend, June 2nd and 3rd. This will get me into trouble with my family. Maybe when their favorite hangout decides to honor them with their own festival they'll understand.

Last night seemed a lot longer than it actually was, I suppose. I only arrived at Rich O's an hour early - at 7:00 instead of 8:00.

I went early because HatGirl was going to make an appearance and I wanted to grab some seats in the living room before any strangers could do it. Ideally I wanted to grab the throne, but some old man was already sitting in it. Another stranger was sitting on the loveseat, and WomanRepellant was sitting on the sofa.

I staked out my claim for a sofa seat, ordered a Cone Smoker (1640) and then went out to the special section and talked with Roger and some of the PBDs for a bit. They'd had this brewerania thingy, which I'd missed because of the wedding. By the time I got there a homebrewing contest was going on as the first part of a PBD meeting. Everybody kept asking me to try the beers in the contest but I stood firm. I'd promised myself that I'd be having two 7.5% Cone Smokers, and I wasn't going to let some sneaky homebrew with a zillion percent ABV derail that train.

Roger and I discussed t-shirts for DaveFest. I guess we're going to go ahead and order a couple of dozen. I told him that if he had any left over I'd buy them off of him. I'm hopeful that at least a few of my readers will want one, and perhaps The Smithsonian would like one as well.

Roger also introduced me to the artist who'll be doing the t-shirt design. I'm looking forward to seeing how they come out.

So WomanRepellant and I spent some talking with the old man and the guy who turned out to be his son for a while. The old man looked really familiar to me, and I had a suspicion about who he might be, but it wasn't until WomanRepellant called him by his first name that I knew for sure.

The guy had been my vice-principal when I was in high school.

Small fucking world.

He claimed to remember me, but as I was a pretty good kid I seriously doubt that he remembered me. Plus, he probably met like a gazillion kids in his life, so I bet everyone on Earth under the age of fifty looks familiar to him.

When VicePrincipal and his son left I moved over to the throne. My second beer was a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier Dunkel (80). Had to drink something lighter before that second Cone Smoker.

At one point I went to piss and when I came back, both HatGirl and DooRagGirl were sitting in the loveseat.

HatGirl! Yay!

So the next couple of hours were quite nice. HatGirl and I and DooRagGirl and WomanRepellant bullshitted about nothing much in particular. HatGirl and I traded some text messages back and forth. I had my second Cone Smoker (1660).

Oh yeah, when HatGirl had first come in I'd asked the bartender to bring her a small sample of Cone Smoker. She didn't like it, but she at least tried.

I'd planned to try to squeeze in another Weihenstephaner, but by the time I'd finished the Cone Smoker I could tell that I needed to cut myself off. So that's what I did, except for the Guinness (1207) that HatGirl didn't finish.

Once HatGirl left MusicalHippyDude and GlassesGirl and some other chick (ha ha) moved from the bar and joined us.

It was a fun night. No idiots pissed me off, and no strangers got in my way. I got to see HatGirl and DooRagGirl on the same night.

It was fun.

This morning I had an incredible hangover, but it was worth it.

Yesterday my sister Dina finally married Kenny.

It was originally going to be a nice quiet affair in Dina's back yard, but because of the rain, it ended up being more like a Keystone Kops skit, with 8,000,000 or so people all crammed into Dina's living room.

I filmed the thing, as best as I could, with Dina's camcorder, then I took a few pictures with my cellphone. One of the latter is this one:

I left the rest of the picture taking to the other 7,999,999 people.

Also, because of the weather, the happy couple decided to postpone the reception and leave for their honeymoon early.

Guess when they're doing the reception now?

June 3rd.

Right at the beginning of DaveFest.

It'll probably come down to a coin flip for me. DaveFest is a huge honor, and not one I intent to take lightly.

I don't know what was going on at Rich O's last night. But I didn't like it very much. And I'm glad I didn't have to stay.

I arrived at about 9:00. I parked in Northern Alberta and hiked in. The new front area For Special People Only was crammed with Special People. The loser area was crammed with losers, the regular front area was crammed with strangers. Rich O's proper was crammed with strangers and, I immediately suspected, woohoos.

I spent about 10 minutes wondering if (a) a bartender would ever notice me, and (b) if I'd have time for a beer before it was time to leave, and (c) where the fuck all these people had come from.

I ended up leaving and going over to this Main Menu place early.

The Main Menu is an oddity to me. I don't know why. I guess partly because it's so close to Rich O's and Jack's but nobody from Rich O's ever goes there, unless we know people in a band that's playing there. Like last night, MusicalHippyDude's band OTTO was playing at 10:00.

The band was getting set up, and I talked with MusicalHippyDude briefly. GlassesGirl was there too, but the other people at the groupie table I didn't know.

So I sat at the bar next to an improbably hot girl and I ordered a Newcastle (1900). There was something wrong with it - like it had been in the keg for 10 years or something. I did manage to finish it though.

I also had the very cute bartender take a glass out of the freezer for me so that my next beer wouldn't have to suffer being poured into a chilled glass.

Speaking of next beers, my next three were all Blue Moons (258). I like Blue Moon. I especially like it when I remember to ask the bartender to leave the fruit out of it, as I did for the second and third glasses. For the first glass I forgot, but I fished the offending citrus wedge out before it completely ruined the taste.

I spent some time talking to ImprobablyHotGirl and her friend while the band continued to get ready. A few more Rich O's people came straggling in, and they kept bugging me to go join them at the groupie table.

See previous entry.

Once the band started I moved over to a table with PhotoDude and bobbed my head to the beat and stuff.

The band is good. They play all original stuff though, and this means that there weren't any people dancing.

I have the same problem with all live bands, and OTTO is no exception. The music is too damned loud, and it completely drowns out the singing. I'm sure that the lyrics were great and all that, but you just can't hear them. I'd like to see every band in the world cut the instrument volume in half and leave the vocal volume as is. But, last time I checked, I was not in charge of every band in the world, so I'm not exactly holding my breath waiting for this to happen.

When the band got down to just a couple of songs left, I drove the short distance back to Rich O's.

The vast majority of the strangers and the losers and the Special People had all left.

Yay!

I sat on the sofa (the throne was occupado) and ordered a half-glass of Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier Dunkel (75), on tap for the first time in over a year I think.

I'd just gotten settled in, and DooRagGirl came in.

Yay!

I gave her some shit for being such a stranger lately and then we just talked about various crap with the three strangers sitting in the living room area with us. Once the strangers left I moved to the throne.

At one point, DooRagGirl asked me how I was doing and I said that I was "about the same." So she said something like, "Oh, pretty bad then."

This was a bit of a shock to me because I realized that I'm not "pretty bad" anymore. Since this wall went up I'm actually doing pretty well. Better than I should be doing certainly.

Once DooRagGirl left I drove back down to The Main Menu, but ImprobablyHotGirl wasn't there anymore, so I came home.

For a while, after she got her hair cut, her hand would still move to her shoulder, and her fingers would twirl hair that wasn't there anymore. She did it all the time, and then she'd laugh at herself because she forgot.

I remember how she looked in my bathrobe. How it would never stay closed. I remember hiding the belt so it would never close again, and how she laughed when I told her what I'd done.

She'd take her finger and trace soft circles on my arm, or on my hand, or on my chest. It wasn't enough for her to touch me - she always had to give it that little bit extra.

In my peripheral vision, I'd see her looking at me, and when I'd turn my head and catch her doing it, she'd always blush.

I remember how she'd fall asleep in the car, no matter how short the drive was.

She would grab my hand, and hold it tightly when we had to walk by strangers on the way back to our cars.

I remember the little dance she did once when a song she liked came on the radio.

One morning I woke up to her whispering my name. My cat had finally allowed her to pick him up, and she was standing by the bed holding him. She was so excited.

When she was struggling, trying to think of the perfect words to say, her face would get all contorted, and I'd mimic her expression until she caught me.

She was so very nervous, that first time, and when we were done the sweat glistened on her skin like a million tiny stars.

I remember all of these little things, and so many more. I think that I will remember them forever.

It's such a cruel world that let's me love every single thing about a person, but that won't let my heart take that extra step.

Such a cruel fucking world.