Tuesday was actually a pretty interesting night.

There were a couple of reasons for this.

First, we all went to a Chicago White Sox game. I took pictures of their new (to me at least) park.

My company had rented this party deck waaaaaaaaaaay out past center field. Kind of prestigious I suppose, but not much chance of a ball ever being hit there. Especially without Frank Thomas playing.

This ballpark has no good beer at all. I only tried one that I thought sounded a little interesting:

Canoe Honey Wheat Ale (2)

(draft) Lord, why hast thou foresaken me? I thought this was crap. I only drank about two sips and then I threw the rest away. Blech.

The White Sox lost their game, just like the Reds lost their game when I went to see them. I wonder if I'm cursed.

I of course bought myself a Sox cap. I also bought myself a Cubs cap because I was planning to head over to the Wrigley Field area later and didn't want to be murdered for wearing the wrong cap.

As it turned out I didn't make it to Wrigleyville. I instead went to this Piece Brewpub that Roger from Rich O's had recommended to me.

A pretty nice little place, though a little bit too dark for pictures. The pizza smelled fantastic, and I'm kinda kicking myself for not trying any of it.

I did try several of their beers though:

Piece Hoppy Ending (4)

(draft) An otherwise bland vehicle for a bitter hoppy aftertaste. What's the point?

Piece Golden Arm Kolsch (4)

(draft) Very light and citrusy. Tasted like a Bud Light to me. Supposedly an ale but I'm not convinced.

Piece Dysfunctionale (4)

(draft) I've rated this right down the middle in every category. Nothing at all stands out. I don't like the style, so I don't like the beer.

Piece Dark Bier (20)

(draft) Dark Lager, almost black. A light coffee flavor. Fairly thick mouthfeel with some lagery fizz at the end. Not too bad, but not great.

Piece Belgian Three-Way (24)

(draft) Citrusy aroma. Light apple flavor, with maybe a little apricot? No finish at all. Decent, but the apricot turned me off a little.

So I ended up liking the Belgian okay, and I had two glasses.

Then I went back to McCormick and Schmick's to drool over the pretty waitress some more. I had a couple of Guinnii to give me an excuse for being there.

I still owe an entry for Tuesday night, but for now I just wanted to say that I'm back home.

I came back a day early due to a family emergency. Or maybe it's just a family thing. Yes, I think that's it, a thing. Next week's Boston trip may be in jeopardy as well, or everything may be fine by then.

Just a couple of things.

There has not been enough free time to go to any of the places on my list, so now I've added Chicago to my short list of places to visit some upcoming weekend.

I've been drinking Goose Island Honkers Ale and Guinness almost exclusively.

There's a waitress at McCormick and Schmick's that I cannot take my eyes off of. Guess what her hair color is, and then guess how good her eyesight is.

Tonight we're going to a White Sox game. I remain cautiously hopeful that it will actually be fun.

So I'm in Chicago. Whoop de doo.

Our entire week is choreographed, but I did find myself with a little bit of time yesterday afternoon. I tried to walk to the lake but couldn't find a good place to cross Lakeshore Drive. Hopefully I'll have a chance to try again before I leave.

Our hotel is a couple of blocks from the Hancock Tower.

There's a good restaurant across the street from the hotel. They have Guinness and several Goose Island beers. So guess where I went last night after my t-shirt buying trip to The Hard Rock?

I have a feeling that this is going to be the most exciting entry I make all week. We'll see.

Spent most of the night at Rich O's talking with RealTrainGirl. To drink, I had a Smithwick's and then one of these:

Hitachino Nest Real Ginger Ale

(draft) The first few sips, understandably, brought to mind a beer with ginger ale poured into it. By the end of the glass I'd decided that I did like this beer, and that I wished that it was even a little stranger than it was. Very unusual, and very drinkable.

To finish up I had a Guinness.

The night was very ordinary and boring - until about two seconds after RealTrainGirl left.

At that point, as if on cue, these two guys that had been sharing the living room area with us started talking about YouKnowWho. Now exactly what RealTrainGirl's leaving had to do with anything I don't know. What I do know it that both of these guys are assholes.
They know nothing about YouKnowWho but they still started spewing crap about her.

The last time this happened was back in March. At that time I jumped to YouKnowWho's defense and didn't let up until the bitch doing all the badmouthing left in a huff. This time, for a while at least, I let it go.

I got up and went to stand at the bar. It's none of my business what people think, or what people talk about. Plus, I don't care about anything or anyone at all. That's been the theme of this 'blog for a couple of weeks now.

So I stood at the bar and tried not to listen to the two assholes badmouth the person that - well I don't really know how to finish that sentence. There are really no words left in me to describe her and what she's meant to me. Means to me.

I stood at the bar, trying not to listen, and I thought I was having some success at it.

After a bit though, one of them said something that I just couldn't ignore.

...

So here I've been coasting along for more than two weeks, unable or unwilling to care about anything or anyone. And out of the blue, from left field, out of my ass even, I find something that I feel passionate about. Someone that I feel passionate about. No big surprise that it's the same thing, the same person, that it's been all along.

I sit here now, typing this entry, and I feel nothing once again. It's all like a fuzzy memory of a dream I'm not even sure I had.

Still, it's nice to know that I'm still capable of caring about something.

Here are some pics I took the other day. The Jack Daniel's racing car showed up for this thing at work.

When I last went to my old Kent, Washington hangout back in '03, I'd been hoping to see it exactly as I'd left it. Even though I'd been gone for three years. Well, they hadn't just mothballed the place and wrapped it in plastic to wait for my return. Time had continued to march forward, the fucker.

There were an awful lot of people there that I had never seen before. In MY bar. It was a little disconcerting having to look around for people that I knew. I used to know everyone.

That disconcerting feeling is the same one I've been having when I enter Rich O's lately. Last night, as is typical for Fridays, the place was full of strangers. I spent the first part of the night either talking with MusicalHippeeDude and TallLady at the bar, or sitting on the sofa trying not to interact with some retarded people.

When I first went in, I saw that NABC had brought one of their old beers back. I couldn't remember if I'd liked it or not, so I ordered one:

New Albanian Kaiser 2nd Reising

(draft) I'd never call myself a pilsner fan, so I didn't have great expectations for this beer. Having said that, this just wasn't very good. A little citrusy, and a little bit of some odd flavor that I cannot pin down. Must be the corn. Hey, at least I tried it.

I guess I drank about two inches, which was more than enough, and then I switched back to beers I know I like. Specifically, a Smithwick's and then a Bell's Porter.

The retarded people apparently know this guy named Dave, and he is apparently the center of their universe. It was Dave this and Dave that all night long. I was trying hard not to eavesdrop, and trying equally hard not to stare at the retarded girl's breasts - easier said than done, they were right there - but I wasn't especially successful at either endeavor.

Eventually these girls (more strangers) left the island so I moved up there and was quickly joined by CuteBlonde and this dude that I didn't remember but that seemed to remember me.

For my last beer I held a gun to the bartender's head and forced him to sell me a 2004 Alaskan Smoked Porter. Man I miss that beer.

Today I really wanted to go to Indianapolis for this microbrew thingy, but I've got to harvest my lawn (it's way past mowing) and then do some laundry. I'm going to Chicago in the morning and I guess clean clothes would be useful.

Early in the night I sent off a text message to my friend Eric, inviting him and his wife to Rich O's. I guess they were busy. Kids can do that to you.

Oh yeah, I talked with VigilanteGirl for a while on the phone. I apologized for being unavailable lately, and assured her that it's not just her that's become an innocent victim of my mood.

Speaking of my mood, I was actually able to depress myself a little bit last night. This news I got Thursday has irritated me just enough that my mind has started looking for something else to occupy it. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised at what it found.

Got some rather unsettling and surprising news today. I promised that I'd give it some time to sink in before I reacted. So I'll wait for the whole picture to emerge and I'll try to avoid jumping to any conclusions.

It'll be difficult though, to avoid thinking about the ramifications. It's not like I've got anything else to occupy my mind.

I've noticed that I've been getting a lot of visits to this 'blog from China lately.

I guess it shouldn't seem that strange. Over 20% of the world's population lives in China, so the odds are good that at least somebody there will be bored enough to read my stuff. I guess I just figured that I'd be blocked there or something for saying fuck so often.

Anyway, greetings from the West, and I really like your wall!

There also seems to be a big San Diego fanbase. Or stalker community, whatever. I don't think I know anybody in San Diego either.

I heard an interesting story today. I don't want to get into too much detail. I suspect that it was a little more painful for those involved than the retelling indicated, and I've got no business opening up anyone else's wounds.

Just a little story about a promise kept. An impulse followed. A relationship tested. A drunken jaunt similar to those that have run rampant in my own imagination for months.

I was thinking about this tonight, as I tried to put into words some of my imaginings. As I was trying to do the homework I wrote about the other night and, failing miserably, I thought about this story I'd heard.

This was a story about people that cared about each other. Each in their own way, to be sure, and I'm not going to sit here and say that I completely understand everything, but all of the people in this story definitely cared about what was happening. And even if they didn't like it, they at least understood.

I tried to use this story as an inspiration for my own.

And, as I said, I was failing miserably. I failed miserably.

See, a story of understanding and caring just does not apply to me right now. There are things that have happened to me, or because of me, that I still don't understand. Things that I may never understand. Yet I don't care. I've said so many times in these writings that it's all irrelevant. I believed it each time I wrote it. This time as I write it I don't just believe it - I know it. And if understanding is irrelevant, then I don't need it.

Everything that once threatened to pull me Westward is still there. Every answer to every question is still there, behind those sparkling eyes. It's not that I don't want to know the answers to these questions. I still do. But what was once an all-consuming force has been reduced to mere curiosity. Sure, it'd be nice to know the answers, but I don't really care what they are. And if these secrets wish to remain as such, well that's fine too.

I guess you could say that I've given up.

You could say that, but you'd be wrong. I haven't given up anything. Whatever it was that I had, whatever it was that was driving me for so many months, I didn't give it up.

It was taken from me. In the middle of the night, two weeks ago, I lost focus. Not because I'd turned my gaze elsewhere, but because the world itself had shifted around me. I'm still stumbling about, waiting for my vision to clear. I have no idea what I'll see when and if the world solidifies.

And, right now, I really don't care.

So I won't be writing the story of my search for answers and closure. I won't be writing of how I'd face my fears and my desires and walk through the desert to bare my chest and offer up my heart. I won't be writing about the pain or the joy that would result from such a journey. That story just isn't inside me anymore. Exactly what's inside me I'm not sure.

And I don't really care.