As he nears the beach, he feels the rip tide beneath him, trying to pull him back into the depths. He struggles frantically, and finally, miraculously, feels solid ground beneath his feet. The waters, losing their grip, switch tactics. They send monstrous waves into his back, threatening to smash him into the rocks. He continues undaunted. His salvation is in sight, he will not die here. Not on this day.

He scrambles through the water that is neck-deep, then waist-deep, then suddenly he is free. He collapses onto the wet sand and crawls his way to safety.

From the jungle, glowing eyes watch.

Spent the better part of this evening crafting a long entry.

When I finally finished it, I read it to check for typos and such.

Then I read it again because, well, it was good.

No, scratch that. It was brilliant. It was insightful, funny, sad, and hopeful. It was easily the best thing I've ever written.

This was the entry I needed to write, the entry I've had building up inside me for a long time.

You, my readers, would have loved this entry. You would have laughed. You would have cried. Some of you would have offered yourselves to me sexually. Such was the power of my words tonight.

It explained with metaphor and analogy and humor and innuendo those things that I'd given up as unexplainable. In its mission to explain and describe the truth, it transcended the truth and revealed meanings and motivations inside me that even I didn't know existed.

There was, however, one problem. I couldn't post the thing.

There are things that I've tried very hard to put behind me. Topics that I've sworn to avoid. Though these demons still live inside me, I've resolved to keep them in check, to prevent them from ever hurting me or anyone else again.

I've gotten pretty good at it, for the most part.

Tonight, facing a mental block once again, I found myself calling for their help, and they gladly obliged. They scrambled through my mind, unlocking doors and reopening passages through which, until recently, they'd roamed freely. Tonight they were no longer my enemies. Tonight they became my allies - no longer tearing and ripping away inside me but instead providing only gentle hints and reminders of the truth.

Tonight they led me to where the truth was, but they didn't try to force it on me. They let me recognize it on my own.

Tonight they led me back to myself, and when I saw what had become of me I nearly wept from the force of that vision.

My fingers flew across the keyboard. I never doubted a single thought, a single sentence, or a single revelation. Everything was so clear. The thoughts just flowed out of me. It was an epiphany.

It was just so damn freeing!

Yet, still, I couldn't post the thing.

My wounds have finally healed, but there are people with their own demons, entwined at times with my own. I cannot, should not, will not awaken their demons just to show off what is, in the end, just a good piece of writing. They are not ready for their demons to awaken. They may never be.

So, I've saved this entry, this culmination of my brief experiment with writing, to my hard drive. I'll keep it available, lest I ever need it again, lest I ever find myself becoming lost again. I'll keep it handy, but I won't be posting it.

You would have loved it though.

Started out the night by journeying to Hooter's in Jeffersonville for some Newcastles. More and more I'm finding it to be a real shame that my regular bar, one of the best beer bars anywhere, pulled this fine beer from its draft rotation two years ago in favor of a much blander substitute that just happens to be more profitable for them. Per glass, anyway.

It's just sad, really.

But I digress.

There was this unbearably annoying guy working the kitchen at Hooter's. I don't know if he was some kind of manager or what. Whatever his official title, his job last night, as he saw it anyway, was to ring this loudass bell and scream at the top of his lungs, "WE'VE GOT FOOD AT THE WINDOW, LADIES!!! AMANDA! TIFFANY! JESSICA! AMBER!"

This happened approximately every 2.5 seconds from the time I walked in until...

At one point this dipshit decided that he wasn't getting the respect he deserved, so, instead of ringing his fucking bell, be took an empty tray and slapped it against the bar with great force. "LADIES, WE'VE GOT FOOD AT THE WINDOW!!! JULIE! BRIDGETTE! AMY! CARRIE!"

It's been estimated by scientists that when Mount Mazama exploded about 7,000 years ago, forming what is now Crater Lake in Oregon, it was the loudest noise ever heard by humans.

This guy slapping his fucking tray on the counter is probably in second place. A close second. It sounded like someone had fired off a cannon into an ammo dump in my head.

Half the place jumped, the other half had mild heart attacks. One of the former, a customer sitting about five feet from this jerk, rose to his feet and quite calmly said, "If you ever do that again, you're going to have that tray shoved up your ass, then we'll see how loud you can really be."

So now this guy is my fucking hero. And that of a lot of others I suspect, because loudass guy was much quieter after that.

Once that little drama was over I headed to Rich O's and sat at the bar talking with MusicalHippyDude while I enjoyed a Rogue Smoke Ale.

Rich O's was about two-thirds crowded. There were a bunch of strangers in the living room, and a bunch of PBDs at the island. Nobody I knew very well.

My next beer was an Orval, sort of recommended by a friend the other night.

Orval

(bottle) Huge head, bordering on the ridiculous. Taste, as I expected, was that of a fairly mild Belgian. A little less sweet and a little more hoppy than I'd generally prefer, but a very good beer anyway.

Bubbles came in and she and MusicalHippyDude went over to the island to talk with the PBDs. I ended up talking with some guy that I'm sure has a name, but I could not (can not) remember it, and I had myself an NABC Haggisdaddy Stout.

NABC Haggisdaddy Stout

(draft) First time drinking the non-bourbonized version of this stout. I got an almost overpowering sense of chocolate - both in the aroma and the flavor. Pretty good, but would probably be too much for me to wrap an evening around. I was pleased to detect no coffee or licorice at all.

After talking with MisunderstoodGirl for a few minutes I left Rich O's and listened to some karaoke with my cousin Mike for a while before heading home.

One of the things I enjoy doing is checking my web server logs to see what search strings are leading people to my site. Because my 'blog covers such a wide range of topics, I see a wide range of search strings in my logs.

Well today I encountered the search string of all search strings. One that may never be surpassed for weirdness:

I like to smell my own butt

There's nothing I can say about this - it speaks volumes all by itself.

As his feet touch bottom, he instinctively jumps. He is surprised - these waters had seemed a lot deeper the last time. His head and shoulders break the surface, and once again he gasps for air. A quick turn of his head reveals land, perhaps a small island, off in the distance. He dares to have hope, and once again begins to sink.

I hadn't even planned to go to Rich O's last night.

Well my plans for a night in Cincy fell through, partly because of the uncertain weather forecast but mostly because of MixedSignalGirl's unwavering propensity for indecision.

At around 9:00 RealTrainGirl called from Rich O's demanding to know where I was. I told her I was on my way, and indeed I had been in the process of getting dressed when she called.

Rich O's was just barely standing-room-only when I arrived, with an even mix of regulars and strangers. I stood at the end of the bar talking with RealTrainGirl and GreenBeerDude, who looked like they had a jewel heist or something to go to after the bar closed.

GreenBeerDude was also asking everyone he could find what the best and/or cheesiest pickup lines they'd used and/or heard were. Here are three that came to mind:

That sweater looks great on you. It would look even better on the floor of my bedroom.

(In Las Vegas) This is a city just full of beautiful women, yet you make me stop and gasp for air.

(Lick finger and touch their shirt) Let me help you out of those wet clothes.

Rich O's finally had Rogue Smoke, promised to me since Tuesday, on tap, so that's all I drank. Still very good, and actually becoming my favorite rauchbier because it's not that intense.

After a while the throne and the sofa opened up so we all went over there and I stayed until 12:30 or so mostly listening to everyone else talk but also trading a few text messages with LaptopGirl.

While I was (I thought) wrapping up the night listening to karaoke the phone rang. There was an apology, then an invitation. I actually just got home, so I guess I did get to break out of my rut a little, and I guess things between us are actually progressing a little.

At least until the next time.

So the other day I'm talking with this girl and she tells me that she had endured a mutual acquaintance for hours that day. These two had met once, when we ran into him at a bar. This apparently gave my friend all the opening he (felt he) needed. He stopped by her work and spent a couple of hours doing whatever it his he does when he's trying to be "on."

One of the more interesting things that she told me about her ordeal was he had asked her out on a date.

On a date!

Now, my friend knows that this girl and I are not a couple, but he also knows that there is something going on. Exactly what - that's not the point. The point is that he knows I'm interested in her and still decided to ask her out.

She declined the invitation, to my great relief.

Once I got home I found myself calling the guy about it. "You asked her out?" I asked him. "What planet are you from where you're allowed to do that? You know I'm interested, but what, you don't care? You've known me for decades and you think I won't mind something like this?"

I got several semi-apologies and several excuses. My favorite excuse was this one:

I was actually just testing her out for you. Just to see what she'd say.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

I read this somewhere recently. It's very good advice.

Unless you see an actual baby emerging from between a woman's legs, try not to assume that she is pregnant, and if you do make that assumption, for God's sake do not mention your suspicion to her.

VigilanteGirl told a mutual friend that I'm a retard. I asked her about this and she said no, I'm a turd not a 'tard. I don't know which is better.

This (including tomorrow) will be the first full week of work I've put in since before Christmas. Between Holidays and sickness and vacation I've become quite spoiled recently.

Anyway, the other day I told myself what I needed to do. This weekend I'm going to check out a different path. Just a slight scenic detour. I have to work Sunday morning so I'll probably be back Saturday night. But Friday - Friday I'm going to tear across the desert and risk something, or break something, or fix something. Just do something about the ennui that's settled over me. I'm hopeful that whatever I find, good or bad, boring or exciting, will at least be enough to snap me of this little rut.

I need to do this. Wish me luck.

Our tour starts off, appropriately enough, with the main entrance to Rich O's.

The losers all sit here.

Upon entering, and briefly checking out the loser area, I usually check the beer board right away.

On busy nights the regulars will overflow to this front room. Sometimes I sit here even if the bar area isn't completely full - just to get some breathing room.

To enter Rich O's proper, you pass through this doorway. Every single time someone darkens this door I get a brief spark of hope.

The toilet seat from the blue bus, a local landmark.

The view from the throne, where I usually sit if it's available and there aren't any idiots on the sofa or the loveseat.

One of the two tables in the red room. I couldn't get the whole room because there were people sitting at the other table and I didn't want to take their picture. The red room seems to be mostly used by couples. MixedSignalGirl and I sat here once but I think that's the only time I've ever been in the red room.

The small four-seater bar. Only pleasant if the place is empty. Plus, it messes up my nerves.

The island, where I usually sit if the living room area is full of strangers. My seat provides a good view of the bar and the living room area.

Your host for this brief tour. I'm drinking a Gulden Draak here in case you're wondering.

During the first Gulf War, I switched to Diet Coke from regular Coke and lost 30 pounds in a month. Gained it all back over the next few years.

In 1993, I began work as a bartender and lost 20 pounds in five weeks. Gained it all back, and then some, over the next decade.

Last August I thought I was losing some weight.

Last month I started doing something I hadn't done in years. I started wearing a belt to hold my pants up.

Two days ago I did something else I haven't done in years. I started buckling my belt one notch further in.

I'm wasting away here, people.

I've managed to lose 21 pounds since the late Summer by doing the following:

1. Increase my beer intake.

2. Decrease my sleep.

3. Increase my stress level.

I think what I've managed to do is up my metabolism. Those several weeks that my mind raced along about my troubles - I think some of that excess energy spilled over to the rest of me. It's like my internal thermostat got bumped up to a higher level or something.