I'm going to Atlanta for a couple of days next week.

Why would I go to Atlanta? Why would I go to Atlanta in July? Isn't that city often called Hotlanta?

These are all legitimate questions, to be sure.

I'm going there for work. At least for some meetings I have on Friday. But I'm flying down Thursday and leaving Saturday, so I'll have Thursday and Friday nights to try to enjoy myself.

The Braves will be out of town, so maybe I'll go to some bars. You know, just for a change of pace.

I suppose that, when you're dying in the desert, a mirage is better than nothing.

Even when you recognize it for what it is, even when you realize that it's not real at all, it's still a goal of sorts.

Worth scrambling toward, because it's something to do, at least.

Better than dying and desiccating in place, without even trying to survive.

I'm so thirsty.

Heh.

The subject of this entry is funny to me. I don't know why.

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Monday was, by any definition you want to use, a wasted day.

I mean, I couldn't even make myself sad when I wanted. And that used to be my faithful standby mood. Today, I didn't even have that to fall back upon. I remained numb all day long.

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I figure that 99% of my brain has, rather suddenly over the past few days, been left with nothing to do. That's a pretty big chunk. I find myself worrying and/or wondering what's going to happen, now that I've got all this extra processing power.

Something bad, that's my guess.

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A cornered animal will always fight back. Though it may be terrified, and though it may be doomed, a cornered animal will always go out with a fight.

Snapping teeth and slashing claws. Squeaks turned into roars by desperation.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm being cornered. With nothing left to lose.

I don't like this feeling, and I wish it would go away. It's not appropriate. I have plenty left to lose.

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Did I ever mention that I'd like to win the lottery and retire?

Well, I would like to do those things.

Trust is one of those oddball things. It has to be earned, but simply earning it doesn't always garner it. Nope, it also has to be given. And there are no rules about trusting someone. It's all so subjective.

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This thing that I just tried, and failed, to write about? Now I'm having fourth thoughts about it, and I'm thinking that maybe I should try again. Because it really is quite cool.

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I think it's my fault that it keeps storming here. Every single time I hang my sleeping bag on my deck railing to dry, another storm comes along and blows it off the railing.

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Tonight at Red Lobster there was the cutest little pair of twin two-month-old babies. Everyone wanted to just gobble them up. But nobody did, probably because they were saving room for the regular menu items.

Also, the twins' parents didn't look like they were having any fun at all. I guess that's what two months without any sleep will do to you.

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I've been on-call all week, but tomorrow at 7:00 my week of torture ends. So, yay!

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I've always been the first to admit that I don't know what the fuck is going on. And now I'll admit it again.

I don't know what the fuck is going on.

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I'm sitting here checking my email every couple of minutes, but all I'm getting is dick SPAM. I get a lot of that.

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I guess I'll go out to my swing for a while now.

I have serious doubts that this entry is going ever going to see the light of day. I think that to be publishable it'll have to be too cryptic, even for me. I think it'll be so cryptic that even I won't be able to understand it once some time passes.

But, I'm bored right now. And I'm not particularly tired. Most of all, this is something that I really feel deserves at least a shot at being a blog entry. Because it is important.

So I'll try to write this damn thing. Though I'm already having second and third thoughts about it, and I haven't even said anything yet.

(Bunch of incomprehensible drivel deleted.)

Well, that was sort of a an incredible waste of time, wasn't it?

I guess there are some things that I can't say without coming right out and saying them.

It's not what people think, though. That's safe to say. In fact, it's pretty much the opposite of what people think.

First, I had got to do some stuff for work. There were three things to do, and I got two of them done. The third thing showed some potential problems during final testing, so I decided to put it off until I can research it some more. Because I'm all about quality control and shit.

Then, I took a nap. I dreamed about LaptopGirl, probably because she emailed me and woke me up right at that precise moment when I was about to drift off to sleep. Anyway, it wasn't a very good dream, because LaptopGirl was mean to me in the dream, and in the dream I got angry at her. Then when I woke up I was still angry at her for a while. Stupid, I know.

Then HatGirl and LuckyFucker came over for a while.

HatGirl!

Yay!

I took about 800 pictures of them. Standing in front of a tree. Sitting on my swing. Standing in front of another tree. I have no idea why HatGirl chose me to take the pictures. But it was still fun to pretend that I had a clue about what I was doing.

(Deleted)

Then, I went to Hooters and had a couple glasses of Newcastle (9910) and watched some baseball on TV.

Then, I came home.

There's still a chance that HatGirl and I will test my video chat capabilities tonight, but it's getting pretty late so probably not.

If only they had some devices which could extinguish fire...

So after Friday night's swillfest, I knew that I'd want to return to my roots on Saturday night. I got to Rich O's at 8:00 or so. It was only about half-full, so that was nice. I sat in the throne and talked to some people about some stuff.

Two glasses of Schlenkerla Marzen (4130) later, I was still sitting in the throne talking to some people about some stuff.

It was a nice evening, except that my stupid email on my Blackberry has been broken since Saturday morning. At least I think it's broken. Every time I send an email with the thing, I get an error back saying that the recipient doesn't exist. This causes me great concern, because I'd certainly prefer that they exist.

Some of my emails seem to go through anyway, but I can't be sure if they're all making it.

Anyway, I left Rich O's at 10:15 or so and went to Sluttopia. I talked with my Uncle Wayne for a while, then sat and had a glass and a half of Newcastle (9870). I'd tried to talk LaptopGirl and BigWheelGirl into coming to Sluttopia, but they declined. So there was really no point in me staying there. I went back to Rich O's for a couple of minutes, then went to Jack's. Nobody I knew was at Jack's, so I came home.

It was a warm night outside, so I sat out on my swing, drinking Diet Cokes and contemplating the universe. I stayed out there until 5:00, only coming inside long enough to post a couple of strange blog entries.

On a night like this, the waning moon throws its light from beyond the sky, transforming the clouds into a gray sheet stretching between horizons.

Featureless, to my eyes, but incredible beauty lies just beyond that dome.

My eyes are irrelevant, on a night like this.

It's so beautiful. Out of sight, it still shines through, overwhelms.

I'm in such a weird mood tonight.

Life provides its own metaphors.

Who __ __ that ___ ____?
Duh. You get one choice, and that's more than I ever had.

What __ __ _____ you ____ about ____?
Everything. Literally, every single thing. Even those things that piss me off.

Where __ ___ most _____ _____ _____ touching ___?
Her lips. Almost always her lips.

When ___ _____ ________ begin?
Maybe the day I was born. Maybe even before that. I don't know for sure. I don't think that it really matters.

Why __ ___ ____ her, __ all ______?
For the same reason that I breathe, and for the same reason that my heart beats.