I'm sitting at my computer, at this semi-late hour. I'm looking at my screen, and all of the miracles thereon. Ordered by date and time, they mark the timeline of my resurrection even as they cause my resurrection.

It's just so fucking surreal sometimes. All those times, I waited for miracles that never came. I finally stopped waiting. And now they're queuing up like baby ducks.

There's another miracle! In bold, for now. I'll click on it, and it will fade to gray. But that doesn't matter, because it's already burned its way into me.

Not much to report today, so I'll make this brief.

After work, I went to this Hitching Post bar, where my dad used to hang out. I was going to have a disgusting Falls City in his honor, but they didn't have any, so I had a disgusting Bud Light (336) instead. I drank it straight out of the can, like Dad would have done it.

After that, I went to Rich O's and had a yummy Cone Smoker (2108).

I couldn't afford a pizza, so this week's Pizza Night is postponed until Thursday.

I told you this would be brief.

I can't think of anything lengthy to write, so I guess I'll just list more random crap.

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I go to Las Vegas two weeks from today. I'm practically dreading the trip, but I'm hopeful that this attitude will reverse itself - probably when I'm about to land and I can see The Strip out the plane's window.

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Several week ago, RockGirl told me something that I didn't want to believe. I knew that she was telling me the truth, but I fought that truth for a long time. Now, that truth has come to pass, and I'm much happier for it.

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I had a weird dream last night. I don't remember very much about it, but my friend Eric's wife Teri was in it, and she was some kind of secret agent on a mission to kill me. Luckily for me, she was pretty bad at her job, and we all had a good laugh about it later.

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Yesterday I went to my nephew's grave for the first time since the funeral. They finally got his headstone delivered. It's very nice, for a headstone. I took a picture of it, but I'm not sure that it would be appropriate for this venue. What with it being depressing and all that. I much prefer, as everyone knows, to write entries about good stuff like boxes full of cute kittens.

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Dina has redone Cory's room into a sort of sitting room. It's very relaxing, and quite a contrast from the teenaged boy's chaotic room it used to be. The walls are now painted a color that I can only describe as school bus yellow. I'd been led to believe that setting foot in that room would cause immediate blindness and/or skin cancer, but it's not bad at all. It really looks nice in there.

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I've been talking to FirstGirl about maybe making a necklace or a pendant out of my rock. The whole thing was my idea, but it still makes me very nervous. I'm not sure that I'm a necklace kind of guy. I also don't want to do anything to damage my rock, so no drilling.

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You know what's weird? The only dirty clothes in my house are the maroon scrubs I'm wearing right now. Last week, I did a million loads of laundry, and I've been keeping up with it ever since. Very strange, and my cats are beside themselves without the normally ubiquitous piles of clothes upon which to nap.

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The other night NormalGirl and I were talking about some of the places I've lived. That discussion got Seattle stuck in my mind, and now I really want to go back there for a visit. Even though it's a long way away, I think I'll put it on my short list for next Spring's Easter trip. I'll have to stop smoking first though. I think that the new law in Washington allows people to shoot smokers on sight.

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I'm pretty sure that I just did something stupid. I meant well, though.

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I've been very tempted to delete my MySpace account. It no longer serves any purpose for me. I'll probably end up leaving it there, but ignoring it. We'll see, I guess.

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I've noticed lately that a couple of my friends are very bad influences on me. Just to be clear, I blame myself for any and all personality defects that arise when I'm around these people. I somehow remain hopeful that I will eventually learn to spot, and stop, these defects before they ruin any more nights for me.

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Hey, it's 11:11 on 11/11 now. I think I'll stop writing for a while.

Have you ever noticed how cats, if they're caught doing something clumsy, quite often their first reaction is to lick their ass?

I wonder if that's supposed to distract us, possibly make us forget the clumsiness we've just witnessed, or if it's somehow intended to enhance our viewing experience.

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I think I've figured out why things went so horribly awry. It wasn't my fault, and it wasn't directly her fault. This realization makes me feel a little better about the whole situation. It still sucks though.

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It makes me sad when pretty girls are sad. I know that I shouldn't care whether they're pretty or not, but I do.

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Last night I bought a half-gallon growler of NABC Cone Smoker. I plan to drink some of it tonight, but first I have to go to the store and get some food. I'm starving over here.

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Tomorrow is November 12th, so I plan to go to my dad's old hangout and have a Falls City in his honor. Except that I'm not sure they make Falls City anymore, so I might have to drink a toast to Dad with something else. He can, however, rest assured that it will be something equally horrible.

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I've been in this giant gaping financial hole since August. Finally, this Thursday, I hope to be able to climb out of it. This will be thanks to my holiday bonus, which always comes in the middle of November.

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Tomorrow I start another week of being on-call for work. I am so not looking forward to it.

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I guess that's it. I'm going to the store now. Maybe I'll drink a lot of beer and write some drivel later.

It was a pretty decent night, I suppose. Quite crowded, partly because of this big meeting the PBDs were having, and partly because there were a lot of strangers all over the place. But about half of the strangers were pretty women, so that made it bearable.

I arrived way earlier than normal, hoping to catch LaptopGirl, but I was too late for that. I grabbed a seat at the kiddie table and ordered a Cone Smoker (1994).

My night consisted of sitting at the kiddie table, enjoying my beers, and talking with StoreGirl and/or FirstGirl, as one or both of them would frequently come in and sit with me for a while. MusicalYuppieDude was at the bar, so I did talk to him every now and then.

Other than those people, and the main mass of PBDs who mostly stayed out front, I didn't recognize a single person in the place. Oh yeah, except for HopGirl. She came in and sat with some people in the red room. I went over and talked to her briefly. I think she did something to her hair, because she was looking disconcertingly pretty. Oh, and ArtGirl made a brief appearance before she moved out front. Ditto on the pretty thing.

I think that's about it. I ended up drinking a couple more Cone Smokers (2024), then I went and said goodbye to ArtGirl, and I came home at 11:00 or so.

That show Extreme Makeover: Home Edition is in Louisville makeovering a home.

Yeah, I know that's not a real word.

It's been all over the radio, how they're redoing a house for some semi-famous blind guy. Plus I guess they're all staying at this fancy hotel across the street from where I work. At least there's been a very large bus parked there all week, and everyone is saying it's the people from the show.

I used to watch that show. I used to like it. I mean, the things that they do to transform those houses are truly amazing. But I haven't watched it in a couple of years. It just got to be too much, with all the heartwarming and the tears and the uplifting moments.

It used to be that they'd swoop in and fix up a house for any of a number of reasons. Maybe because you were cool, or you needed more space, or maybe just because you applied for the thing. And, of course, there were the charity cases. People in real trouble, who needed real help.

But things changed. I guess the heartwarming stories rapidly became the most popular ones. And the more desperate the lives of the people being helped, the better the ratings were. So it kinda snowballed.

It used to be, back when I first started watching that show, it used to be that I could almost imagine them showing up at my house someday. I liked the semi-randomness. For me, that was a really big part of the show's appeal.

Now, though, they don't do that semi-random stuff anymore. If they show up at your house now, then you know that your life truly sucks big ones.

Like, we had a storm here in August, and one of my Tivos broke. I seriously doubt that the people from the show are going to give my house a makeover because of my broken Tivo. But, back when the show first came on, it was fun to fantasize about it. Now, it would be a horrible fantasy. Because first I'd have to imagine that half my family was dead. And the other half had cancer. And the other half was blind or otherwise disabled. And that my cats all hated me. And that, despite all the problems, I still spent all of my spare time and all of my spare money helping those even less fortunate than I was.

It used to be fun to fantasize about that show redoing my house. But now, I wouldn't wish that fate on my worst enemy. Nobody deserves to have a life that's so crappy as to lure that show in.

I got to Rich O's early, about 7:20 or so. I hadn't really been planning to go at all. I was just going to sleep and wake up whenever I woke up. But then HatGirl texted me that she was at Rich O's. So I went to Rich O's, even though I was very tired, because, duh, HatGirl!

Also, Thursday I went there after work and saw this bit of loveliness on the board.

I asked Roger when he thought it might be available, and he guessed that it would be around the first of December.

So, imagine my surprise and glee when I went in on November 9th and saw this.

Cone Smoker was on tap! Yay!

I went into Rich O's proper and sat on the sofa. I said hello to everyone around me. MusicalYuppieDude, some dude without a nickname, LuckyFucker, HatGirl.

HatGirl!

Yay!

Then, after about 10 minutes, I realized that none of the bartenders were going to ask me what I wanted, so I went up to the bar and ordered my first Cone Smoker in 18 months or so (1936). It was a little darker than I remembered. More malty, and not as bitter. Quite yummy, though - that hadn't changed.

I ended up having a second one (1956) then most of a third one (1974) before my stupidity irritated me to the point where I became unfit for human company. At that point, I came home.

I don't feel like writing anything.

You ever have one of those nights when you feel like you just can't control yourself?

Well, I have them every so often. Usually I manage to restrain myself a little bit, enough that I don't fear falling asleep because the dread of waking up is too much to bear.

Usually, I manage to do that, but not tonight.

Tonight was a fucked-up night.

I doubt that any of the people I talked to or emailed or texted tonight, I doubt that any of them will assign any particular importance to this night. But I certainly will.

I simply could not shut up.

I had a choice. I could explode, or I could be an idiot.

I chose what I perceived to be the lesser of those two evils.

Because exploding would be pretty gross, I think.

I just had a very funny thought. Or I guess it was more of a daydream than a thought. In it, I imagined being misunderstood. But that wasn't the funny part. Nope, the funny part was the exact nature of the misunderstanding.

My reticence was thought to be caused by apathy.

Bwaaaahaaaaahaaaaa!!!

Pretty much the funniest thought I've had in a long time.

Or maybe it was the saddest. It's so hard to tell sometimes.

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Also, I'm writing a song of sorts. I can't play it for shit, but I'm thinking that if I keep trying for a million years, then maybe I'll get it right once or twice. This is the same theory I'm testing for my love life.

I neither read nor write music. I'll have to describe my song to MusicalYuppieDude, so he can tell me how it would look in musical notation Then I'll post that notation. After I add some variety.

For now, according to this site, it just goes like this

Cmajor, Cmajor-Cmajor, Cmajor, Cmajor, Cmaj7, Cmaj7, Cmaj7, Cmaj7,
Am, Am-Am, Am, Am, Asus2, Asus2, Asus2, Asus2...

The nice thing about these four chords is that I can almost switch between them quickly without dislocating some vital joint or pulling some vital muscle.

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I never said this would be interesting.

I think I want to buy a sailboat. Nothing ostentatious. Just something big enough, say, for me to sail around the world if I felt like it. I'm pretty sure that I'd feel like doing exactly that.

I think that I just get sick of being by myself in crowded rooms. It happens all the time. Often, the more dense the crowd, the more alone I am. I'm a third wheel, or a fifth wheel, or a nine hundred forty-third wheel. It always seems to be an odd number, and I always seem to be the odd one out.

So I want to buy a sailboat, so I can sail around the world all by myself. So there are no more crowds pushing me aside like a drop of oil in a lake.

I think that, if I were physically alone, then the mental isolation wouldn't seem so bad. At least, then, I'd have an excuse.