Somehow, I managed to get magically drunk last night. I have a theory about this, and I'll write about it in a bit, but first I should have a disclaimer.

The lines between reality and fantasy and imagination are blurred almost beyond distinction, at least as far as last night goes. So you should probably treat this entry as fiction, just to be safe.

The place was almost empty. This contrasted in a stunningly beautiful way with the madness that Friday night had been. Dina was on the sofa, all by her lonesome like a weirdo or something. I sat on the throne and ordered an NABC Flat Tyre (343). Dina and I bullshitted with each other for an hour or so, then she left to go meet the chick, and I found myself sitting all by my lonesome like a weirdo or something.

A couple of people drifted in and out of the area. They'd come in to smoke, and I could tell that they were all wondering who the weirdo sitting by himself was.

Eventually, the regular Saturday night crowd started to form. This one cute blonde accused me of being 23. That's actually starting to get a little tiresome.

Oh yeah, when I was bored because I was in the living room area all by myself, I texted AlliGirl and WeirdGirl and VigilanteGirl. VigilanteGirl texted back asking who I was. I said never mind, and she called me. I reminded her that she'd given me her number. She said that she would call me for directions to Rich O's, but I never believed that for even a second.

TremensGirl came in and sat on the sofa where Dina had been. I think this was about when I ordered another Flat Tyre (383). I started getting emails from LaptopGirl, hinting that she might come in.

This one chick, who kept coming in to smoke, took one look at TremensGirl and I talking and announced, "You two should date."

So that was weird, how quickly she picked up on our vibe. I said that TremensGirl and I have massive crushes on each other but that things are complicated, and I left it at that.

Then, I had a Schlenkerla Marzen (2828), which was yummy.

After a million more years and a few more emails, LaptopGirl finally showed up. At that point I pretty much started ignoring everyone else in the room, because LaptopGirl and I somehow found ourselves having an actual relevant conversation. People kept trying to interrupt us and/or worm their way in, but for the most part I managed to keep it just between the two of us. It was very nice.

At one point, I looked up, and NotHideousGirl had managed to sneak in. Of course I talked to her as well, but I kept returning to my conversation with LaptopGirl.

I think this was about the point where I got magically drunk. Please note that I'd had three weak beers, over the course of about four hours.

Some dude bought a round of drinks for everyone. I didn't want a whole beer for myself, so I just ended up drinking most of LaptopGirl's free Guinness (1761).

It seemed like everyone left at about the same time, but I stuck around and had a couple Diet Cokes. And I wished that LaptopGirl and I would have shared that pizza we'd discussed, because the room was really spinning. Food would have been nice, but the kitchen was closed.

I ended up taking a cab home from Rich O's. That almost never happens, because it's almost never necessary.

I said, back at the beginning of this novel, that I had a theory about how I'd managed to get so drunk on so little alcohol. Well, my theory is that the alcohol had very little to do with it. I got to have an actual relevant conversation with someone very important to me. This was something that I'd waited years to do. My theory is that I got drunk on that surreal series of moments.

So there.

No entiendo.

Algo pasó, sin embargo.

Tal vez habría sido bueno.

For the most part, I think it was a pretty boring night, at least until I left Rich O's. It was very crowded. It was very loud. I talked to some people. I drank some beer. I got groped. I think that the most unusual thing about my time at Rich O's last night was that I received the most unsubtle text message ever from this one girl.

I ended up having a pint of NABC Old Lightning Rod (450) and two pints of NABC Flat Tyre (343). All were yummy.

WeirdGirl kept having to work later and later, as usual. So I walked over to this Jack's bar when Rich O's closed. I sat with some of the Rich O's people for a while and had a Diet Coke. Then, out of the blue, my friend Eric called. He was over at Sluttopia, so I went there for a while. It was cool to see Eric and some of his friends from his high school class. Sluttopia didn't live up to its new name last night, though. It was pretty much a sausagefest. They had a band there. I bet if they'd had karaoke there'd have been more girls.

Then at about 2:00 I went over to wait for WeirdGirl to get off work.

...you can find stuff like this.

Walking out my front door this morning, I was able to confirm what I'd suspected last night. It was a big tree.

I got pretty lucky, though. The tree barely reached my house.

This section of gutter is toast. I've got a guy coming out to see if there's any damage to my actual roof. He'll also give me an estimate on repairs. This is the same guy who replaced my entire roof a few years ago.

This hole in my yard is going to be a pain to fill, I just know it.

I got lucky.

As it turns out, I have spies everywhere. And I didn't even know that I had them. I thought all I had was people spying on me. Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean I'm wrong about that.

Things aren't as bad as they've seemed. They're still not good. They still suck, actually.

But, thanks to my spies, I feel better about something that's been kind of nagging at me for several months. Not a big problem in the grand scheme of things, but enough to distract me from what's really relevant.

And, speaking of what's really relevant. I feel a little tiny bit better about that, too. Thanks to another spy. I still don't really know what's happened, but I now know that it wasn't this one stupid thing which I'd never even seriously considered except during my darkest moments. So, that's cool. One less thing to worry about.

Anyway, spies are cool. I highly recommend them.

You know what a tree sounds like, when it falls onto your house?

Well, I'll tell you. I'm an expert on the subject, now.

It sounds like a very loud clap of thunder, except that it doesn't rumble on and trail off the way that thunder does. Nope, it's pretty much a loud BOOM! and that's it. Or, in the case of a tree hitting my house, it's a loud BOOM! followed by the sound of three cats hauling ass to the basement.

When it happened, I was trying to take a nap on my couch. I'd just about managed to fall asleep, and the house lost power. Then, the hail started. Itty-bitty little balls of ice, maybe a quarter of an inch in diameter. They were adorable, bouncing across the wood of my deck like spilled Skittles or something.

Then, the BOOM!

I still haven't really gotten a good look at the tree. Or of the damage it surely caused. It's pretty fucking dark outside. It's a big fucking tree, though. One of the tall skinny variety that populates the Northwest corner of my yard.

I'll take pictures tomorrow sometime. And I'll need to get somebody up here to give me an estimate on repairs. I know there'll be some repairs. I could see that much, even in the dark. But, there's no damage visible from inside my house, so it could certainly be worse.

There's this thing that I'm not supposed to write about.

Not that one thing about which I keep writing, even though I'm not supposed to. A completely different thing. One which I've been able to more or less successfully steer clear of for years, except for a couple of minor, trivial, and harmless entries.

I fear all that may change, and that it may change soon.

I really hope it doesn't come to that. I'm really too old for that kind of shit.

This entry, such as it is, brought to you by:

Bluegrass Russian Imperial Porter

(bottle) Pours black, with a minimal tan head that faded quickly. Light aroma of roasted malts and chocolate. Flavor was pretty much the same - roasted malt and chocolate. The finish was a little drying, but otherwise the 11% ABV is hidden very well. A very good beer.

WeirdGirl and I slept until after 10:00. We probably would have slept even later, except my sister called with some disconcerting news. Everything, in the end, so to speak, seems to have turned out well. So that's cool, but it did make for several hours of at least slight trepidation.

After WeirdGirl left, I settled into what's become my normal Sunday routine. Doing laundry. Shooting pool. Watching movies. Glaring at my phone.

But that last thing, I think I did more out of habit than out of any real sense of anticipation. I certainly never expected it to make it's little woo-hoo noise. And, of course, it never did. I was oddly okay with its silence, though. Just like I was oddly okay with the silence than ran through my head all day today.

The silence from my phone was familiar. The silence in my head? Not so much, but still, okay.

See, I don't know what happened, but I have to assume that there must have been a good reason for it. I stated my case, for whatever that might be worth. Nothing changed. So I jumped into my time machine. I was right, it's not so bad.

Anyway, some things are funny to me. They have to be funny, lest they be tragic. And I've got enough tragedy, thank you very much.

The thought that a pretty face, or a sexy body, or a friendly personality - the thought that any or all of these things might be enough for me - that thought borders on hilarious.

There's always something missing, it seems. That thing which is intangible and all-important. That's the thing for which the need permeates me. I've found something to fill that need once, twice, maybe three times. I may never find it again. That would be sad, I think.

Desire is more important than satisfaction. Because you can never really have the latter without the former. If you try, it inevitably feels hollow and empty. It feels like a lie, and for good reason.

WeirdGirl and I talked about this stuff for a while, our breathing still synchronized, in the late hours before sleep took us. We've discussed it before, and it's starting to sink in, the things that I say. She's finally starting to understand me, and her understanding will probably signal the end of this. Whatever this is.

Some of the time, a lot of the time, I imagine that people will read my drivel and figure that I've been drinking. A lot. And on those occasions, I imagine that people will blame alcohol for my drivel.

Perfectly understandable. Usually wrong, but understandable.

Tonight, less than an hour ago, I wrote some drivel. I have been drinking tonight, but I haven't drank very much.

Nope, tonight was a tame night, alcohol-wise.

Now, I'm sitting here waiting for my doorbell to ring. After it rings, I will be able to forget the last several hours, and I will live in the present for a while. Until we awaken in the morning, physically refreshed and emotionally numbed. After some caffeine and nicotine, reality will set back in for both of us.

It will be nice, while it lasts. But, in so many ways, too many ways, it will be a lie.

That's pretty good timing. She's here, and just when I was about to spout some more drivel.