Today I went up to downtown and dicked around for a few hours.

Here's a picture of the famous cowboy on Fremont Street.

To eat and drink, I went to the 777 Brewpub at Main Street Station.

I mentioned back in May, but the Black Chip Porter there is world-class. I had a large glass (69) and chased it with a small glass (81).

Here's my rock being all jealous of my yummy beer.

Now it's time to take a nap before I head back to the bar tonight.

Because even at 7:00 AM, even if I'm the only person at the bar, a beautiful girl will still get up on the stage thingy and dance for me.

I was asked this question via PM today:

What is gained by having integrity, humility, patience, stupidity, etc. ?

Prologue: Today at the airport I bought myself a little notebook. This entry is a transcription of what I wrote in that notebook tonight at the Tilted Kilt.

10:00
Another Rogue (48). I forgot to order an unfrosted glass so I'm letting it sit for a while. Fucking frosted glasses. I hate them so much.

10:05
There are an awful lot of what my friend Mike used to call "goat ropers" around. But I guess these are real cowboys because there's some rodeo thingy in town.

10:10
I like Las Vegas. There's so much opulence here - it's a city built upon the rubble of broken dreams after all - but that opulence, that glitz and glamour, it's not pretentious at all.

There are two fuckers sitting at the table in front of me. They're wearing fucking leisure suits and drinking fucking martinis. They clearly think that they're better than anyone else here. They suck. But Las Vegas doesn't do that, it doesn't put on airs. It doesn't judge and it doesn't cater. It just is, and it will take my money just as readily as it will take the money of these George Hamilton wannabes sitting in front of me.

For all its fakery and all its posing and its pretty wrappings, Las Vegas is still one of the most honest places I've ever been.

10:25
To my right is a guy in a cowboy hat being hit on by this fat rodeo groupie. I guess she figures that he's used to riding livestock, so what the hell. He's ridden worse. Maybe.

10:35
I deleted her number from my phone back in June. I'm sure I had a good reason for that.

10:36
Five assholes just sat at the table to my left. I bet they order a bunch of Coronas.

10:40
Four Coronas and one Jack & Coke. I guess I know which one of them will be playing the man at their orgy tonight.

10:41
OMG one of them just told a joke or said something funny and now they all high-fived each other. High-fiving white guys really piss me off.

10:45
I wonder what happened to the girl from the plane.

10:46
I'm drinking too fast, but this is fucking yummy. I order another Rogue Chocolate Stout (64).

10:47
The cowboy and the heifer just left together. Maybe I should buy myself a cowboy hat.

10:48
The assholes are taking pictures. They're passing the camera around, and each of them is taking a picture of the other four.

10:52
Now they've got the waitress taking a picture of all five of them.

11:00
I'm thinking about how different this night could have been if I wasn't a dumbass.

11:04
Two hot girls just sat at the table behind me. I can't look without being obvious.

11:05
I wonder how yeast would deal with Sucralose or some other fake sugar substitute.

11:07
The Jack & Coke guy is the only one smoking cigarettes. The others must limit their smoking to cocks.

11:10
The girls are from St. Louis and they just asked me what I'm writing. That's all the opening I need. I'm going in.

11:30
I'm back out. They're tired. That's okay though. I'll be here for a week.

11:45
I'm tired too. My body is telling me that it's 2:24 in the morning. I'm allowed to be tired.

After checking into my room, and managing a fitful nap, a woke up a little after 5:00 and went down to the casino.

First things first. I needed to eat. So I went to this All American Bar place for a burger and fries. That's not why I went there though. I went there because they have Alaskan Amber, one of my all-time favorites.

I ended up having two of them (2024) with my dinner. Absolutely yummy.

This is just a picture of the bar. Exciting, isn't it?

Next, and if you've been reading me for more than six months you already know this, I went to The Tilted Kilt. Probably my favorite bar in Las Vegas, and definitely my favorite place on the strip.

The only person there that I knew is this one waitress. She remembered me, which I will consider to be a good thing because I'm not the type that gets remembered for being obnoxious.

To drink, I had some of the best beer I've ever had the pleasure of drinking.

Rogue Chocolate Stout (32)

(draft) A fantastic beer, from the intense chocolate syrup aroma through the creamy mouthfeel to the delicious finish. Beyond yummy.

I kinda wanted to just stay there and drink these all night long, but I'm still, even in Las Vegas, a lightweight. So I came up here to write some journal entries.

Now I'm going back down to drink some more.

Standing at a little bar at the Cincinnati airport, I heard a voice, or felt a presence, or smelled a perfume. I don't remember what it was, but something happened. Something that made me turn around.

It ended as quickly as it had begun. It might be her it's her no it's not her. Same hair, similar body, but completely different gait and, once I ran out of the bar and caught up with her, a completely different face.

But the damage was already done.

My first public anxiety attack, right there in terminal B. I could barely walk, I couldn't have spoken if the need had arisen. I stumbled my way from the scene of my disappointment to the seats outside my gate, and I shook. I shook until I remembered my rock. I took my rock out of its pocket and rubbed it with my thumb for about ten minutes, and finally I felt better.

---

The plane was completely full. I had the aisle seat, 29D, and there was a hot girl in the center seat. She kept dozing off and leaning against me. Then she'd wake up and apologize, embarrassed for her transgression. I didn't tell her that it was okay for her to touch me, okay not only because she was hot, but also because it felt good to be useful to someone. If my purpose today was merely to be someone to lean against, to be someone who, by my very presence, helped another person get through a tedious journey, well that was fine with me. Better than nothing, which is what I've been lately.

---

Back when I was much younger and much more afraid of flying, I'd catch myself looking around whatever plane I was on, checking out all of the different people, and wondering are these the people I'm going to die with?

We're all such completely different people. Not just the outward differences though those are the most obvious, but the internal differences, formed from our experiences as we go through life. We are all, by definition and by necessity, different.

But put 200 people on a plane, and no matter what they look like or what their backgrounds are, they're all , for a while at least, sharing the same experience. Perceiving it differently, assigning more or less importance to it, paying more or less attention to it, but for that period while they're all sitting in the same tin can hurtling through the same air towards the same distant destination, their experiences - their life paths if you prefer - they merge.

Of course this happens all the time. You people reading this entry, for example, are all sharing the experience. Every day we encounter other people, other completely autonomous beings, and our lives merge for a bit.

I dunno, maybe I'm drunk.

Wednesday I had a brilliant idea.

I'd go to bed at 8:00 and then get up at 4:00. That way, see, I'd be nice and tired Thursday night and I'd have no trouble at all going to sleep. What a great idea.

Not.

So now it's 10:20 Thursday night as I type this sentence. I'm barely tired. I have to get up at 4:00 in the morning.

I guess the good news is that I'm at least packed. Everything except the shit I'll need in the morning like my toothbrush and deodorant.

I'm going to be sooooo wiped out all day tomorrow, but I know from experience that I won't be able to get to sleep until after midnight. And then my stupid internal clock will snap me awake at 3:30 in the fucking morning because of the time zone change.

I guess it's okay. I'd rather be exhausted in Las Vegas than completely alert back here in Indiana.

After work Wednesday, as I said in my last entry, I went to Rich O's to see RealTainGirl.

Checking the board, I saw quite a few beers that looked interesting. One that I'd never heard of before. I asked the owner to describe it, then tried it anyway:

Rogue Honey Cream Ale (4)

(draft) I just had a small sample glass of this, as I was not expecting to like it. I was right. Had that dirty sock aroma that I associate with too many hops. It was very watery tasting, but had sort of a thick mouthfeel. Hard to believe that this comes from Rogue.

There was something strange going on in the red room. Roger was having some kind of private tasting for a bunch of guys in suits. That was odd enough, but the really weird part was that they had a spit bucket! RealTrainGirl and I decided that they were a bunch of pussies.

Since we were enjoying ourselves so much making fun of the spit bucket brigade, I decided to stay for another half pint. At about the time I ordered my Spezial (950) these people came in:

I know, that's a pretty useless picture. That is a picture of a hot girl carrying a microphone, and another hot girl carrying a camcorder. With them, but not pictured, was some dork with a notebook.

They were doing some kind of profile on Rich O's for IUS, the local small college. The hot girl with the microphone interviewed a couple of the after-work PBDs, then she came over and interviewed me for a bit. She could tell that I was interview-worthy because I was sitting on the throne.

I showed great restraint by actually looking her in the eyes instead of at her chest. The concentration needed for this, unfortunately, also prevented me from saying anything funny. RealTrainGirl was clearly disappointed that I hadn't used my camera time to poke fun at the bucket brigade.

See, this is what happens when I forget my rock. I end up on TV or something. If I'd had my rock then it could have been on TV too.

I overslept this morning and, in my rush to get out the door, I forgot my rock.

This is the first time I've been further than ten feet from my rock since I got it.

I feel very guilty.

Plus, I'm going to Rich O's after work to see RealTrainGirl, so my guilt will only increase.

I bet my rock never speaks to me again. It could be a long and uncomfortable week in Las Vegas.

Like a needle stuck in the groove of an old album, my thoughts keep playing the same old tune.

I keep hearing this song, but it just doesn't move me the way it used to. It only irritates me as it inserts its relentless beat into the sounds of my world.

It used to be my favorite song.

I found, after many months, a way to stop the flood of emotion running through me. I find that I end each day just a little bit more content than I'd been the day before. I can pretty much pass for a normal person now, at least to those around me.

These feelings are still there. I know they are, because I can still feel the pressure as they boil away at my insides. I contain them, for now at least, but no matter how much I try I cannot contain my thoughts. My thoughts are the same as they've always been. Over and over and over again, just like the song.

These thoughts continue because of simple inertia. And unless I can do something about the vacuum through which they travel, they might continue forever. Like a needle stuck in the groove of an old album, they'll keep playing this song because they're incapable of playing anything else.