Today, I got my oil changed in my Intrepid, so I can drive it to Chicago on Wednesday. Should be more comfortable than my truck. Less bouncy anyway. I also had them fix the air conditioning.

Then I took a nap.

I mentioned that on Friday night a bunch of weirdoes came into the bar. I'm thinking now that they must have just been the advance team.

On Saturday night, sitting right there on the loveseat, in all her glory, was Purpella, Queen Of The Weirdoes.

I tried not to stare. I really did. I went over and stood at the island where a bunch of people I know where sitting. Including HatGirl. Yay!. I stood at the end of the island, and I tried not to stare. After a bit, I sat in Bubble's vacated seat, and I still tried not to stare.

Fuck, HatGirl even pointed out that she was wearing a skirt, and still I couldn't help but stare at Purpella.

She was a freak. A freak with hair that was about a million different colors of purple.

Anyway, after a while some of Purpella's royal entourage left the living room area, so HatGirl and LuckyFucker and I moved over there. The rest of the night consisted of not much worth mentioning, except that I had two pints of Rogue Chocolate Stout (776) and I had a pretty tough time not looking at HatGirl's legs. At least I did once Purpella had left.

Oh yeah, the place was pretty dead. By 10:00, there were just the three of us in the living room area, and about a dozen or so strangers in the red room, and that was it. All of the cool people must have been at some party. In fact, LonerBoy had asked me earlier in the night if I was going to such a party. I declined because (a) I'm on-call this weekend, (b) I had to work in the morning, (c) I wasn't invited to the PBD party he was talking about, and most importantly, (d) HatGirl!

Towards the end of the night I saw something very sweet, and that put me in a strange mood. Stranger than normal I mean.

I was so close. So fucking close to pulling myself out of this abyss. Words of encouragement had boosted my resolve. The strength shown to me by another had lifted my own confidence. I was so close.

I shouldn't have done what I did. I should have completed my climb as I'd started it. On my own. But I didn't. Instead, instead as I neared the top, I reached out my hand. She had been waiting for me for a long time. She seemed as excited as I was, maybe even more so. I was going to be free. We were going to be together.

That's what I thought, anyway.

I reached up with my hand, and she took it into her own. She smiled at me. I gave her more of my weight, and she held on all of her strength.

I gave her my full weight...

...and she let go.

And now I'm going back to where I belong.

Tumbling and bouncing off these walls that I'd so recently scaled. Climbing is hard work, but falling, falling is effortless. It's fucking fantastic, because I know that it cannot be stopped. It's such a free feeling.

I'm so excited. I can hardly wait to get back to the bottom.

Back to where I belong.

I must have decided a million times that I wasn't going out last night. My sleep schedule was all messed up and I'm on-call this weekend. Those would be the official reasons. The unofficial reason would be that I just didn't feel like going out only to have my mood deteriorate as the inevitable feelings of disappointment appeared once again.

So the plan was to come home from work, sleep until midnight or so, then shoot some pool.

Didn't happen.

My phone wouldn't stop ringing. It was either work calling about some perceived disaster, or my sister, or my friend Eric. The work calls I had to answer, the others I sent to voicemail. Don't these people know that I'm trying to sleep? Guess not.

About the eight zillionth time my phone rang, I looked at the screen, and saw a local number that sort of looked familiar. A number that looked a lot like one I'd deleted from my phone a while ago, because I couldn't trust myself not to call it.

I answered.

HatGirl!

Yay!

She wanted to know if I was going to Rich O's.

Well, duh! Of course I was. Try and stop me.

So, while my new Hard Rock Cleveland shirt was dewrinkling in the dryer, I connected in to work to do what I could about the problems there. I called my friend Eric back. I didn't call my sister because all she wanted was for me to bring my camera if I was going to Louisville to listen to my nephew play guitar, and I wasn't going because (a) It was too late, and (b) HatGirl!

When I got to Rich O's, there was an über hot girl dressed like a flapper, and another girl dressed like, well I don't really know how to describe it. It was some kind of period costume. More on those two later.

Inside, I found HatGirl and LuckyFucker sitting on the loveseat, and a couple of strangers sitting on the sofa. I sat on the throne and ordered a Rogue Chocolate Stout (736).

After a few minutes, HatGirl and LuckyFucker left. Remember that disappointment stuff I wrote about up above? Inevitable.

The strangers recognized me from the whole DaveFest thing, and I spent the next couple of hours talking to them. They recently moved here from New York They're pretty cool people, which probably means that I'll never see them again.

My second beer was a Rogue Smoke (190).

At one point FlapperGirl and some other people came in and sat at the island. I went up and tried to start a conversation with her, mainly about why she and her friend were in costume. She blew me off and said it was just normal clothes. "But you're dressed like a hot flapper!" I protested. "And your friend is dressed like an Elizabethan alien or something!"

She didn't seem to like this, and her look told me to go away, so I did. But later, when I went to the bathroom, the guy I was talking to said that FlapperGirl had checked out my ass. So that was cool.

My third beer was a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier, but I only drank about half of it (1240) because after the New York couple left a bunch of weirdoes came and took over the living room area.

Once I got home all hell broke loose at work again, so I spent the rest of the night trying to deal with that.

Okay, at what point am I allowed to be pissed at you without making myself seem like a jackass?

Hopefully, that point has already passed, because I'm pissed right now.

It's one thing to call me and arrange to meet me at the bar after work.

It's another thing to then not show up.

And then, then to not answer your fucking phone or return a voicemail - that's just fucking rude.

To do the all of the above like a dozen times in a row, well I don't have the words to describe it.

And, just when I start to get used to that mistreatment, you fucking find a new way to abuse me.

You call me and tell me that you're already there. That you're waiting for me. That you'll see me when I get there.

But noooooooooooooooo!

When I get there, you're nowhere to be found.

So I fucking call you to ask what's up.

Again.

And I leave a fucking voicemail.

Again.

And you fucking don't return it.

Again.

Remember, you're the one fucking calling me.

Anyway, while I was wasting my fucking time waiting for you to return my call, I had a beer that was new to me:

Rogue Altbier (5)

(draft) Looks like a brown ale, smells like an alt, but tastes like an IPA. Bitter flavor followed with a bitter finish. An Altbier is supposed to be balanced, dammit! A very disappointing beer from one of my favorite breweries.

Look, I know that lately I've put too much stake in the actions of others. I know that I do that. But dammit, there are some people that I should be able to fucking count on.

I thought that you were one of those people.

You fucking called me.

Well that was nice. I'd expected to hear from her attorney before I ever heard from her.

---

I've got a cyst or a conjoined twin or something growing on the back of neck. It's actually impeding my ability to turn my head without pain. When this grows big enough to become self-aware I just hope it isn't a jerk.

---

Yesterday some guy at Rich O's that nobody ever saw before bought two DaveFest shirts. I made it a point to stop by his table and thank him for his support.

---

That's all I've got for now. Thought there'd be more, but nope.

Clicking the image should pop up a larger view, if you're really bored.

Okay, this is a little disjointed.

That field to the right of the highway - that's where I grew up. There used to be a house there. There used to be a lot of shit in that area that isn't there anymore, and there's a lot of new shit that wasn't there when I was growing up.

Anyway, I had my pillows and my sleeping bag, and I was camping right on the edge of the road in front of my old yard. The pillows that I had - I had three pillows with green pillowcases, which is weird because I only have one pillowcase like that in my house.

There was a kind of theme to what I was doing. "Roadside 'Blogging" or something equally nonsensical. I kept getting annoyed because passing cars would keep zooming by me without even slowing down. I kept thinking that I was going to get run over, and I didn't want to die in my sleep like that.

I was trying to get some sleep, but there were some kids across the street setting up for a concert or a huge party or something. Also, I was right near this drainage pipe (you can barely tell where it is in the picture) and there were rocks that were digging into my back.

So I gave up on sleeping, and I decided that I was thirsty and that I'd go to Polly's Freeze. Polly's is the building at the top of the picture. So I walked passed my grandmother's old house (center right of the picture) and I was almost to Polly's when I realized that it was only 10:00 or so, and that I could go to Rich O's and have a yummy Rogue Chocolate Stout instead.

I picked up a ladder and I started running back to my old yard, where I'd parked my truck. Some black guy came out of Mildred's house (on the left side of the road in the center of the picture) and he started hollering at me about something, but I couldn't understand what he was saying.

When I got back to my old yard, there was a big giant house that was being delivered. I couldn't get my truck out because the big giant house delivery had the driveway blocked. So I tried to drive my truck up the hill at the front of my old yard, but the hill was too steep and I flipped my truck.

These things were outside my window when I got up this morning. There were actually about twice this many. There was another adult and another half-dozen chicks.

The reason it's so out of focus is that I took this picture through the glass in my window, and the glass messed up my camera's auto-focus. By the time I figured out how to focus them, they were in the bushes.

I think they're turkeys, but that's just a guess.

One of the fringe benefits of taking a trip like the one I just took is that I'm given the opportunity to think. Actually, I'm forced to think. I don't have one of those fancy satellite radio thingies in my truck, nor do I have a working CD or cassette player. I don't really enjoy searching for radio stations only to have each one degrade into static after an hour or so.

So, I think.

...

Of course, the timing of this change sets off lights and buzzers in my head. Don't think that I haven't noticed the timing, because I have. I always notice the timing when it indicates that something might have something to do with you know who.

...

But I think it really goes deeper than that. This feeling that I have with me now, it's one of almost overwhelming disappointment. With everything in my life and with everyone in my life. I look forward to certain things, or to seeing certain people. I almost put my life on hold waiting for, I don't know, waiting for something that just isn't happening. I anticipate seeing my friends, and then they either don't show up or, when they do, it's just never enough to satisfy me.

...

This might be the most obvious thing ever, to anyone who's been reading me for any length of time, but I didn't really get it until today while I was driving through Ohio. I've completely lost sight of who I am.

I'm trying to see myself through other peoples' eyes, because I've lost the ability to see within my own head and my own heart. I no longer know what it is that motivates me. I don't even know if there's anything to know. It's like that old joke, I not only don't know anything, I don't even suspect anything.

...

And so, when the familiar fails me, I run to the unfamiliar. At least then I know that expectations are bullshit.

...

Plus, I can't help but think, every now and then, that somebody might notice that I'm gone, and maybe even wait for me to some back.