This is what happens when I'm in a weird mood.

I can't focus on any thoughts long enough to coax a decent entry out of them.

So you get this crap.

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A former coworker of mine died yesterday. He was 35, and he was a cool guy. So on Friday I'll go to the visitation, even though I didn't really know him that well.

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Rogue Smoke is finally available at Rich O's. Yay!

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I forgot to mention that, the other night, HatGirl graduated from college. In addition, she surprised absolutely nobody by making the dean's list.

Yay for HatGirl!

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For the next two days there's an art show at Rich O's. I already bought one of NotHideousGirl's paintings:

We've talked about this painting over lunch several times. I just had to have it. But this time I'm going to pay her in person, because she still hasn't got her money from the last one I bought, when I paid the guy running the art show.

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Oh yeah, at the art show tonight it was movie night. I didn't stay for it, but I read about it. One of the films is about Darfur, so that's probably the feel-good movie of the year. Not.

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You know how to piss off a stray cat?

Well, I'll tell you.

Go outside at night, and watch said stray run and hide underneath a pine tree with low-hanging branches. Then, walk right up to the tree and call out, "Hi there kitty! It's so nice to see you!"

See, it pisses the strays off because they think they're being so sneaky and feral.

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I have no idea what happened to SassyGirl and JauntyGirl. They're probably off on another one of their adventures.

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TremensGirl showed up at Rich O's this evening with red hair. She then claimed that it's always been red. I'm not fooled though.

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I have to pee.

I think I like it best when I'm in a weird mood. Like tonight. It just seems that these are the times when I'm able to think the most clearly. About life's possibilities and shit like that.

I mean, when I'm sad, then all I can think about is whatever is making me sad. And, if I'm happy, I'm usually in shock, so I don't think much at all. I'm too busy smiling.

Tonight I watched an entire HDTV broadcast for the first time, despite the fact that I've had an HD-capable TV for three years. I bought a new antenna from Radio Shack a couple of months ago. Tonight, I hooked it up and watched Lost in high-def. Pretty cool, but I missed my Tivo's ability to fast-forward through the commercials.

I think that the Spring of 2004 was a pretty good time in my life. Sometimes I wish that I'd have been able to more fully appreciate it when it was happening. But then I remember that uncertainty principle thing. I remember that, if I'd fully seen and understood what was happening, what was about to happen, well then I'd almost certainly have changed it simply by knowing about it.

In the Spring of 2004, I was rapidly becoming a beer snob. I hung out at Rich O's with LaptopGirl, and I tried dozens and dozens of new beers. Some I liked, and some I didn't like. But all were possessed of the same potential right up until that moment when I took that first sip.

That's why I like being in a weird mood like I'm in right now. Because at times like this, life seems to have potential. I don't feel the need to fix anything, and I don't feel the urge to relish in anything, and I don't feel the urge to simply give up, or stand my ground, or fight for anything.

It's nice.

1. Do you outline?
If I feel like I'm in a hurry, then I'll outline an entry with vague plans to flesh it out later. Sometimes I even bother to follow through with that plan.

2. Do you write straight through, or do you sometimes tackle the scenes out of order?
I usually just write whatever my hands and fingers feel like writing. I don't think about the ordering of things, but I think they're usually self-enforcing.

3. Do you prefer writing with a pen or using a computer?
I like the idea of writing with a pen into a notebook, but it usually doesn't happen that way.

4.Do you prefer writing in first person or third?
I usually write in first-person mode. But some of my favorite stuff has been written in third-person.

5. Do you listen to music while you write?
I rarely listen to music except when I'm shooting pool.

6. How do you come up with the perfect names for your characters?
Perfection is a goal I rarely achieve. If I assign a nickname and I can remember it later, then that's good enough for me.

7. When you're writing, do you ever imagine your story as a television show or movie?
Nope. I've had dreams that would make good movies, though.

8. Have you ever had a character insist on doing something you really didn't want him/her to do?
Oh, wait. This is a question for real writers, isn't it? I'm going to answer not applicable.

9. Do you know how a book is going to end when you start it?
Not applicable.

10. Where do you write?
In my office usually, and also wherever I happen to be when I have my notebook handy.

11. What do you do when you get writer's block?
I drink beer. Lots and lots of beer.

12. What size increments do you write in?
What the fuck does that mean? I write whatever's in my head.

13. How many different drafts did you write for your last project?
Everything is a draft. Nothing is ever good enough.

14. Have you ever changed a character's name midway through a draft?
Yes, I changed one to YourMama when I realized that she was a whore. What a stupid question.

15. Do you let anyone read your story while you're working on it, or do you wait until you've completed a draft before letting someone else see it?
I usually finish whatever I'm writing in one sitting, so not applicable.

16. What do you do to celebrate when you finish a draft?
Masturbate furiously.

17. One project at a time, or multiple projects at once?
This talk about "projects" seems way too serious for the mental vomiting that I do.

18. Do your stories grow or shrink in revision?
I am the king of rambling, so I'd say that stories grow as they're being written.

19. Do you have any writing or critique partners?
Yeah, right. Like I'd deem anyone worthy.

20. Do you prefer drafting or revising?
I guess revising. I prefer to spew out words, then fix them later.

Like I've said before, It doesn't take much.

It's one of the good things about being a fucking willow branch.

Anyway, Monday after work, Roger, the owner of Rich O's, told me that Rogue Smoke would be there on Tuesday.

I think that his exact words were, "Rogue Smoke will be here tomorrow."

His exact words were apparently important.

Today, after work, after my nap, I was taking my newly dewrinkled shirt out of the dryer when MusicalYuppieDude texted me from Rich O's.

I asked him if Rogue Smoke was on tap.

He said that it wasn't.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit!

I thought about Roger's exact words. He hadn't, after all, said that Rogue Smoke would actually be available for purchase. He'd only said that it would be there at Rich O's.

So maybe he wasn't a big fat liar after all.

Since I was all dressed up anyway, I went down to Rich O's. Maybe, I thought, Maybe the beer board is wrong. Maybe Rogue Smoke is on tap anyway.

Well, the board wasn't wrong. Rogue Smoke wasn't on tap.

But I didn't care, because LaptopGirl was there.

Yay and fucking yay!

And, this time, she actually talked to me!

Yay and fucking double-yay!

Like I said, it doesn't take much. Especially when not much is actually everything in disguise.

So I had a Brooklyn Brown Ale (80) and talked to LaptopGirl for a bit.

Then I had a glass of Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1822), which is back on tap for a while.

Then I had what was left of LaptopGirl's Guinness (1424), because she didn't want to finish it.

I was so fucking happy to talk to her! I am still so fucking happy!

After LaptopGirl left, I moved up to the bar and talked with WomanRepellant for a while. He seemed to be in a better mood than he'd been in the last time I'd seen him. Or maybe my own good mood was turning out to be contagious.

I spent some time trying to bribe the bartenders into putting the Rogue Smoke on tap. There was, after all, at least one empty tap in the place, right in front of me. But none of them would do it, so great was their fear of Roger and his official beer board, complete with tapping order.

It was a fantastic night. Just fucking fantastic.

I suppose that it's relevant that I'm pretty much blind at night; the rods of my eyes having been weakened by sparkles a couple of years ago.

Were those even real?

Does it even matter?

So, I'm blind at night, especially on nights like tonight when the Moon is nowhere to be seen. I cannot see shapes, only varying degrees of blackness.

I couldn't see the one, two, three somethings that crossed my driveway tonight, as I sat in my swing enjoying a Rogue Chocolate Stout (1576). I couldn't see them, but I could tell that they were there. They glided like ghosts, and one of them, the largest, stopped not more than fifteen feet away from me. Fascinated, perhaps, by the glow of my cigarette as it rose and fell between my lap and my mouth. I flicked the butt onto my driveway, and the shape slid silently away.

And those other things, those shadows that flitted about at the very edge of my peripheral vision? They seemed to be jockeying for position. I imagined them chattering to each other, bargaining for their favorite angles. From which to watch me. To wait for me. To attack and devour me.

But I did not fear them, those unseeable monsters that lurked in the dark. Instead, I welcomed them. It had been a long time since I'd felt their presence. I'd actually missed the pitiful horrible things.

Tonight, they left me alone. Without my fear to fuel their bravery, they eventually retreated back to their origins. Back into my own imagination.

I am perfectly content, right now.

I am, once again and finally, blissfully aware of my place in this world.

You know what I hate? Besides everything, I mean?

I hate the way that the entire context of my life changed Saturday night. How, now, no matter what I do or say or don't do or don't say, it all takes on a new relevance simply because LaptopGirl is in town.

There's a spotlight on me now, and all I can do is stand on the stage like a fucking retard. I don't sing, and I don't dance, but people still have their eyes glued to the stage. To see what I'll do.

Like, if I go to Rich O's after work today, then it's clearly because I love her and I'm hoping to run into her. And people will talk.

Or, if I go straight home after work, then I must be trying to avoid her because I hate her guts. And people will talk.

If I take a fucking shower tomorrow morning, will it be because she's in town? If I skip the shower, will it be because I've given up?

Fuck that. I hate it.

I was whining to NotHideousGirl about this today at lunch. She suggested that I just do whatever I want to do, and that I don't allow this change in context to affect any of my decisions.

Well, duh.

Of course that would be the correct play. If I were a self-centered asshole.

But I'm not, contrary to semi-popular belief. I find myself far too often caring about the comfort of certain others.

Like, when LaptopGirl said the word awkward after I waved at her. I cannot ignore that.

So, this sucks.

I can never go to Rich O's again for the rest of my life, so that she won't feel awkward.

I must go to Rich O's every night for the rest of my life, to show that I'm not afraid.

There is a solution to all of this. Unfortunately it's even harder to do than it is to say or spell it.

Spontaneous combustion.

That's the answer for me.

Of course, people would still misinterpret it, but I wouldn't be around to care.

Okay, for the sake of simplicity, let's say I'm normal on this imaginary scale I just thought up.

In fact, let's stipulate that everybody is usually normal.

It's not a looks scale. It's not a personality scale either, though that's a little bit closer. Maybe it's more of a pleasantness, or a niceness scale.

What it is, is a self-scale.

Clear as mud, right?

Let me explain.

Man I've got a lot of paragraphs already.

Does it even count as a paragraph it only has a single sentence? Is a paragraph defined by content or by spacing and/or indentation?

But I wildly digress.

What I mean is, when I feel like myself, when I am behaving like myself, I'm right in the middle on my personal scale. I'm my normal self. When my energy level is low, such as when I'm more sad or tired than normal, my position on my scale worsens. I become less likable, less friendly. When my energy level is higher, like when I'm excited or happy about something (hey, it can happen) then my position on my scale is higher.

Remember, the stipulation that everybody is normal on their own scale. This means that Richard Simmons is normal. A high-school cheerleader is normal. That Virginia Tech fucker was normal, assuming that he was always sad or moody or homicidal or whatever. Hitler was normal. He was an asshole but when he was being his asshole self, then he was also being his normal self.

There is a point to this, really. I'm not just typing to kill time. Well, maybe that's part of the reason, but it's not the only one.

I almost digressed again. Whew!

I don't know if it's really relevant, but any changes to your position must be, by definition, temporary changes. Because if whatever mood swing that's going on lasts too long, then that becomes the new you, and you become normal again. The scale just gets recalibrated. Like, I'm a lot more sad now than I was five years ago. But I was my normal self then, and I'm my normal self now. It's just that normal has changed for me. Does that make sense? I hope so.

We can also affect others, and they can affect us.

And this is the part where I finally get to the fucking point.

Couples can be similarly rated. Ditto for friends and coworkers and siblings and whatever else might bring two or more people together.

Take your average man and wife. He's normal, and so is she. But when they're together, what happens? Do they act differently than they normally would. Does he shut up so she can dominate the conversion? Does she get angry at the way he talks to other women?

What are they like as a couple? Better or worse or the same?

Do they boost each other up, so that their sum is greater than its parts? Or do they drag each other down? Do people really enjoy time with one, or with the other, but never with both at the same time?

When I was with MixedSignalGirl, we boosted each other up pretty well. Most of the time. People generally liked spending time with us. Most of the time. WeirdGirl also seems to be immune to my powers, so the two us together are probably more fun when we're together than when we're separate.

I know a few couples who don't seem to change at all. My sister Neisha and her husband Chris. My friend Eric and his wife Teri. They are exactly the same whether they're together or apart. This, to me, would seem to be the goal of all this.

I also know a few who, like the married couple in the example above, are real downers for each other. Spending time with one of them is great. Spending time with the other one is great too. But put them together and suddenly everyone starts making excuses to get away from them. Or trying to kill themselves because it's just too fucking depressing being around them.

They drag each other down, and then a sort of a singularity forms, and they start affecting everyone around them. And once that happens, the only hope is that some super-positive couple like TeamHotness shows up and reestablishes the balance in the universe.

Like I wrote yesterday, everything seems like a bad idea to me lately

This entry right here is a perfect example. I should not be writing this. There is no good that can come from writing this. It's not only a no-win situation, it's a lose-lose situation. Writing this entry will only make things worse than they already are.

Anyway.

Friday night sucked. I got this damn wild hair up my ass to go over to Louisville and check out this big Derby party they were having at Fourth Street Live.

That was a stupid idea.

As near as I could tell, there was exactly one seat in the entire complex. That seat was, fortunately, at the bar at the Hard Rock. So I sat there and had a BBC Alt (362) and talked very briefly to CoolHairGirl. But she was busy, so I didn't stick around. Nobody I knew was at The Pub, plus there were no seats available there, so I left and went to Rich O's.

I was in a shitty mood. I should have just stayed home.

But what I did instead was sit on the sofa for about ten seconds. Then people tried to talk to me so I moved to the island. I had a couple pints of a new beer:

Brooklyn Brown Ale (40)

(draft) Almost black with a decent tan head. Aroma of malts, and not much else. Same for the flavor. No bitterness. I liked it.

Saturday sucked. I spent the entire day feeling worse than I'd felt in months. Like the absence which had been my constant companion, like it had suddenly decided to turn on me. It became a giant hand which closed around my throat and squeezed as hard as it could.

Then I walked into Rich O's. I'd planned to just sit at the bar and be a hermit for a while. I was looking forward to it actually. So I walked straight through the door and straight to the bar. I ordered a Delirium Tremens (940).

Then I heard a voice.

Her voice.

I turned around, and there was LaptopGirl. Sitting with her friends BigWheelGirl and WeatherGirl.

I waved.

She waved back. I heard her say the word awkward to her friends.

And that was it. I wasn't invited over to join them, and I certainly wasn't going to impose myself on them.

So I sat at the fucking bar like a weirdo and watched my hands shake away every bit of progress I've made since last Summer.

Then I had another Tremens (957).

Then I went home (waved goodbye, got a wave back) and sat on my swing, and had a couple bottles of O'Fallon Smoked Porter (72).

Then I went to bed and stared at my ceiling until this afternoon when it was time to get ready for this family reunion thingy at my sister's house.

While there, I had four yummy bottles of Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier Weizen (171). Then I came home and wrote this crap of an entry.

Sometimes the stupidest little things strike me as hilarious.

Such as, for example, when I send a text message referring to myself as a creepy old fat fucker, and I get a response back saying that I'm not creepy.

Thanks, MusicalYuppieDude, I really needed the laugh tonight.