Some of the shit that pops into my head late at night - it's no wonder I have chronic insomnia.

Back in 1992, before I got out of the Air Force completely but after my security clearance had been pulled, I spent some time filling in at our unit's administrative office.

One of my tasks, given to me as the new guy in the office, was to measure the men who were in what was affectionately known as the fat boy program.

These people, who were at or near their maximum weight, would have to come in once a month or so to get measured.

After getting their height and weight, I'd run a tape measure around their neck and stomach, then look up the results in a body-fat chart.

There seemed to be a fairly constant stream of these people coming in to be weighed and measured. I must have measured the stomach size (touched the stomachs) of several dozen men. I didn't measure the women, the new girl in the office had that task.

So my most optimistic estimate is that I've touched the bare bellies of men more often than those of women by about a five to one margin.

C'mon, ladies! Help me out here!

Chest heaving and heart pounding, he fills his lungs with sweet, sweet air. All of his senses activate at once. He relishes the sight, sound, and smell of his brief surfacing into the world of light. Before going under once again, he uses the last of his precious air to scream out a name. The depths are peaceful, but he knows they will kill him eventually. He begins to sink, smiling.

Like a bottle of Coke that's been shaken up, I've had some pressure building inside my head for quite some time now.

I figured I'd take this opportunity to vent a little of that pressure.

These thoughts are things I should have had the courage and/or courtesy to say out loud. If you know me well enough, you can probably figure out who most of these thoughts are/were directed toward. There are about a dozen people in all.

I do love you, but I'm not in love with you.

You are the most obnoxious and immature and abrasive person I've ever known. Grow up, already!

I am so proud of you. I don't think I could have done what you've done.

If you get any more beautiful they'll have to slap an R rating on your forehead.

I miss you.

Get out of my head, you fucking slut!

Your happiness is staring you in the face each time you look in the mirror.

After starting out so screwed up, you've turned into a very mature and interesting person - one that I wish I knew better.

Recently I've found myself afraid of you, and I don't know why.

If you fuck this up for me I'll never speak to you again.

Please treat her well, she's been through enough bullshit in her life.

Why won't you call?

I find myself a little jealous that you took a chance and got so lucky.

I find myself irritated that she was so sweet and you pushed her away.

I'm so sorry.

Why did I feel closer to you when I lived 2,000 miles away?

If only I'd met you first.

Your smile is the last thing I want to see before I die.

I can define, but I cannot adequately explain, my feelings for you.

You had it made and you drank it all away. How could you be so stupid?

At first we all thought you were too good to be true. Now we know you're just good. Thanks for being there for her.

The potential I see in you cannot be expressed in words alone.

My intentions toward you are not completely honorable.

If only he'd been more of an asshole, then maybe I could have justified being with you.

You are one of the geniunely good guys. I'm honored to know you.

I'm sorry, but you really creeped me out back then, and I've never quite felt comfortable about you since.

Our timing was horrible. I meant what I said though.

I can't help but wonder what you've been told about me.

(response to message)

That was a long time ago, and I honestly haven't thought about it in years. All is forgiven.

What I'd really like to know is this: The night before, did I miss a hint?

I'll kick myself if I did, but it would also help me to understand your behavior.

I really had no idea what I was getting you into.

I just wanted to show you off a little.

How could I have suspected that a person could decrease in maturity as they aged?

I know you can take care of yourself, but this is something you shouldn't be faced with.

I know you'll let me know if I need to intervene.

Was it the first time you saw her smile?

No.

How about the first time you heard her laugh?

Nope. Not then either.

The first time you were disappointed that she wasn't there?

No.

The first time you smelled her hair?

Not yet.

The first time she touched you, hugged you, kissed you?

No, no, and no.

The first time you woke up next to her, and watched her as she slept?

Not even then.

How about when you first heard her cry?

That's when it happened. That's when I knew I was in trouble.

Went and picked up a couple bottles of Blue Moon Belgian White so I could do a proper tasting.

Blue Moon Belgian White

(bottle) A commonly-available beer that I put off drinking simply because of its availability - reasoning that something so widely accepted must be bland and boring. I was quite wrong (see Newcastle for another example of my flawed logic). This is a very nice beer that went down very easily. I think I could drink it all night, and that's not something I could say about most Belgians.

Also had the De Dolle Ara Bier that I had in my 'fridge.

De Dole Ara Bier

(bottle) Pouring this into a glass resulted in about a 5/1 head/beer ratio. I actually lost patience waiting for the head to dissipate and ended up disrupting it with my finger. Once I got to the actual beer I really enjoyed it. A little lighter in both flavor and ABV than other Belgians I've enjoyed, so more suitable as a session beer. Black flecks that settled to the bottom of my glass turned me off a little.

Finally, one more from De Dolle:

De Dole Boskeun

(bottle) Fizzy, hazy orange. Citrus undertones that I didn't care for at all. MIght be okay on a hot Summer day. My least favorite from this otherwise wonderful brewery.

(I just corrected a typo in this entry. I'd had the word Belgina instead of Belgian in the first sentence. Belgina, what a lovely name that would be for the daughter of a beer lover such as I.)

(Yes, I'm kidding.)

A little bit different tonight.

Rich O's was my second stop. My first stop will remain private.

Anyway, at Rich O's I had an NABC Tunnel Vision, a Hitachino ricey beer (can't remember the name, but I find it oddly appealing) and finally a Gulden Draak.

Rich O's was moderately crowded but I was able to grab a seat at the bar before my second beer.

One of my friends is in a band, and they were playing a gig at this dive down by the river so I went there. MisunderstoodGirl and OddlyPrettyGirl came in a little after I did and joined me.

One of my friends being all dainty and ladylike and shit.

My friend Tim rockin' away.

While there, I tried my very first Blue Moon Belgian Ale. I actually liked it a lot, but my taste buds were a little overworked from my earlier beers so I'll hold off on doing an official review until another day.

I'm home fairly early because the place where I've been going to listen to karaoke was mysteriously closed.

Friday night Bob and I spent an hour or so at the hotel bar doing some final reminiscing before he returns to Arizona. I had a couple of the BBC porters and Bob drank MGD for some reason.

I want to state again, for the record, that it was very cool to see my old friend again. We'd kind of drifted apart a little during his last days in Omaha, and of course there'd been no contact for 14 years after that, but Bob was a big part of what may very well turn out to have been the best years of my life, and that little blast from the past that seeing him brought was very refreshing.

After I left the hotel, and took care of a little drama that's been developing nearer to home, I went to Rich O's and had myself an Upland Winter Warmer. Rich O's was only about half full at that late hour. I waved at GlassesGirl and sat on the throne, then talked with GrammarLady and her husband for a while.

GrammarLady told me that she'd never seen me looking so worn down and with such dark circles under my eyes. Gee thanks, GrammarLady. Just the pick-me-up I wanted.

Once my companions left I spent a few fruitless minutes trying to make eye contact with RealTrainGirl or MisunderstoodGirl, but they were, shall we say, busy.

Stopped at the karaoke bar on the way home. I'm finding it to be a nice way to end out an evening.

Several years ago I drove from Seattle to Las Vegas to see some friends that were playing in a pool tournament. The drive through Nevada on that hot August day consisted of seemingly endless stretches of flat highway, punctuated only by an occasional mountain range.

I'd get a kind of highway hypnosis on those flat stretches, and my car would often ease up to over a hundred before I'd catch it and let off the gas.

When I'd arrive at the hills, there'd be several minutes of interesting scenery, and there'd be a timid, almost undetectable curiosity about what would lie beyond the hills.

It was always the same - another long stretch of blacktop, with another range far in the distance.

To cross one range, and see before me nothing at all between me and the next range, to know that the next hour or so of my life would mean nothing and would contain nothing of interest - that's a pretty good analogy for what's going through my head this morning.

Except that instead of an hour, sometimes I feel like I can see the next forty years. And instead of hills in the distance, there's nothing.

I think I need another vacation. I know what I need to do in order to break out of this rut.

I need to get off this road, shift my truck into four wheel drive, and go tearing across the desert. I need to risk something, break something, fix something, do something. I need to take a fucking chance, and steer toward a different horizon.