I mentioned that my TV is broken. That's not entirely true. Only parts of it are broken. The parts that cause it to display moving pictures and emit sounds synchronized with those pictures.

There's a little green light on the front of the thing. That light's been flashing since Saturday morning. So that light works just fine, thank you very much. And there may be other, more subtle components that also remain unbroken.

Meanwhile, I've got my diminutive 36" TV down in the basement. So when I absolutely have to watch something on TV, I can just go down there.

And sit in my basement with my technology like a damn Morlock. Hasn't happened yet because I hardly ever watch TV in the Summer.

I guess LaptopDad thinks the problem is likely a bulb. He's probably right, but those bulbs are expensive and I don't want to spend that kind of money unless I know for sure that it will allow the TV to be a TV again. Instead of what it is now, which is a 600-lb, $3500, flashing green light.

So I called a TV repair shop today. They'll be out on Wednesday to diagnose the problem, unless I cancel on them.

I need to try a couple more things. I'll unplug it from the wall for two minutes, cross my fingers, and then plug it back in. My cable company will be so proud - that's exactly the advice they give me every time I complain that my cable modem isn't working.

My next step might be to find myself a line conditioner. I think I can get a good enough one for around $200. And I've needed one for quite a while anyway.

If I have the repair guy come out, he'll charge me $95 just for showing up, but at least after he's done I'll know what's wrong and how much money I'll need to throw at the problem to make it go away.

I had such a nice dream.

It bothers me that I can't write about my dream. Because it wasn't a dream at all.

I had such a nice evening.

So most of my plans fell way short of fruition.

I didn't take my cousin his memorial shirt.

I didn't stop at HH Gregg to inquire about a TV repairman.

And I didn't even get to pretend-marry HatGirl and LuckyFucker as the latter, I believe, chose this opportunity to pretend to have cold feet. Maybe next week, I'm told.

But the most important thing, I did get done. I got LaptopGirl's memorial t-shirt from my sister, and then I delivered it.

Any day wherein I get to see LaptopGirl is a damn good day as far as I'm concerned. Even though her son was eating pretzels and it made me really crave pretzels.

Oh yeah, another thing I didn't do was have dinner at the place where NotHideousGirl works. Nor did I, as I'd halfway planned later in the afternoon, make it to where AlliGirl works. Instead, I went to this Sam's place that I'd never been to before.

While there, I had a couple glasses of heterosexual Blue Moon (761) and some blackened steak tip thingies that were surprisingly good.

On the way home I bought a bag of pretzels. They were yummy.

Never did hear back from AlliGirl about her birthday party. I guess I'd be annoyed by that if I didn't already have a gazillion other things on my mind.

I spent Saturday night as I'd spent Friday night, at home on my swing. I did make one brief trip down to see what all the damn sirens were for. There were sirens wailing nonstop for at least an hour. I went down and asked this girl at the gas station what had been going on. She said she saw a million fire trucks go by. It must have been a pretty big fire, to need a million fire trucks.

All of the local dogs were still howling when I went to bed at 12:00 or so

Let's see, I had my last two bottles of Moerlein OTR (262), even the bottle I'd been saving for MrPopular - it just jumped down my throat before I could stop it. Not that I really wanted to stop it. And so now I'll definitely have to go back to Covington. I should have gone yesterday. I can't go this coming weekend because I'm on-call for work.

I had a couple Newcastles (10444). I drunk-texted BadPickleGirl and she actually responded for once. I had a few email conversations. In one, I got accused of what I think is a class III misdemeanor, and that conversation was the highlight of my week.

I got to go to sleep in a good mood. It's been a while since that happened.

---

Today it seems like I've got a million things to do, but I can't think of what they all are.

I know that I'm going to dinner, probably where NotHideousGirl works. I think that, either right before or right after dinner, I'm pretending to marry HatGirl and LuckyFucker. I should probably call HatGirl to make sure we're still on for that.

Hmmm, I know that I've got to get LaptopGirl's memorial shirt from my sister.

Oh yeah, I've also got to take my cousin Jeff his memorial shirt.

I guess I should stop at the place where I bought my TV and see about getting a repairman out to look at it. I'm afraid that it's going to cost a million dollars, but it's got to be done. Can't really have a 65" TV that doesn't work, can I?

A long time ago, I was in a conversation. Actually in it, as the words being said were directed at me and me alone. I remember thinking just how ridiculous they were, those words that I was hearing. Words of inadequacy and low self-esteem, from the lips of the most wonderful person I'd ever known.

I tried to help, back then. I said what I imagined she wanted to hear. Encouraging and soothing words that also happened to be completely true words. I tried to help, but I failed.

Perhaps I should have screamed.

More recently, there was another conversation. But this time I wasn't in it. I just happened to be in the room, a bicycle's superfluous third wheel. I heard the same words, from those same beautiful lips, and though I cringed and laughed inside at the ridiculousness of what I was hearing, I said nothing. It wasn't my place to say anything. It wasn't my conversation to join.

Perhaps I should have screamed.

Then, a few days ago, I found myself reading words of inadequacy and low self-esteem. Words typed to me in an email by the beautiful hands of she who is still most wonderful person I've ever met. I replied. Once again, I replied. But I remembered the first time, when I'd failed, and so this time I pussed-out. I replied with a stupid platitude that probably did more harm than good.

Perhaps I should have screamed.

Last night I didn't do much of anything. Sat on my swing and traded some emails back and forth for a while, but then they stopped. I had a bottle of Stone Smoked Porter (542) and then a bottle of Moerlein OTR (238).

I'm almost out of the OTR, and I'd thought about going back to Covington today and picking up a case or so while I'm there. But I probably won't go, there's no point. And besides, AlliGirl's traveling birthday party is tonight, I think. So perhaps I'll head over to Louisville and try to run into her.

Or maybe I'll just stay home again.

Weeks.

That was the prediction I made, weeks ago. Now I'm starting to suspect that my prediction was just incredibly optimistic. Weird, for me to be too optimistic, I think.

Glared at my fucking phone all night. Nothing.

So I went to bed, trusting that it would woo-hoo should the need arise.

Well, at 1:47, finally, I got an email. Not that I knew anything about it until this morning.

Because my phone didn't woo-hoo.

The cursed thing wasn't even blinking, when I finally got my lazy ass out of bed at 8:30.

I don't know what happened, but if I can't trust the woo-hoo, then what can I trust?

I wrote in an email, earlier tonight, to a girl who's going to get a nickname before too long if she keeps being nice, I wrote that I have a zillion blog entries to write.

Perhaps that wasn't quite true.

What I have, instead, are a zillion titles, or a zillion topic sentences.

Actual full-length entries just might be beyond my capabilities right now. That's why I've been doing nothing but snippets and reposts and boring crap like that.

And this entry, I suppose, falls somewhere in the middle.

Yep, another damn repost. And you thought I was beyond this sort of thing.

Well, I most certainly was not.

Anyway, I like this entry, from almost two years ago.

the ghost of friendship past

There is nothing to see.

There is nothing to hear.

It is, as it always is, much more subtle than those glaring things would be.

A chill runs down my spine, and then it takes the seat next to me.

And, somehow, it warms me.

"Did you miss me?" she asks.

I take a long drag from my cigarette. I hold it for a long time. I let it out ever so slowly.

This is a game, a game that we always play.

She asks me the question, and she waits for an answer even though she knows the answer; even though I've answered the same way each and every time.

I take a sip of my beer. I swirl it around it my mouth. I savor it.

She's waited long enough.

"Only when I breathe," I say.

I dare not look at her. I need not look at her. I know what she's doing.

She's smiling.

She smiles, like she always does.

Then she frowns, like she always does.

She doesn't know how to respond.

She's silent.

I win again.

---

Wonderful eternities pass.

---

"This was nice," she says.

"I think so too," I reply.

"I'm so glad you were here," she says.

My eyes roll back. I recognize this, another game that we play.

"Where else would I be?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

She ignores my question.

She is uncomfortable, unsure, insecure.

"I might be back in a couple of days," she offers.

"I'll be here," I say, just like I always say.

"I don't know exactly when I'll be back," she says.

I take a long drag from my cigarette. I hold it for a long time.

I take a sip from my beer. I swirl it around in my mouth. I savor it.

"I'll wait for you," I say. "As long at it takes."

She wins again.

I thought of this awesome thing to write, but then I remembered that people read what I write. So, I might still write it, but not here.

---

I also thought of something awesome to say on my death bed. And of course I can't write that because I'm saving it for when I'm actually on my death bed.

Like in 500 years or so.

---

I'm counting on medical technology to irrelify all of my current stupidity.

It could happen.

---

I made that word up. I like it, though.

---

Did I ever mention that I like hot girls?

Well, I do.

---

I still haven't had any of the 08.08.08 beer. Because I might be able to talk BadPickleGirl into trying it with me. Tonight, I had myself some yummy Moerlein OTR (216).

---

Speaking of OTR, I need to remember to take a bottle to work, so that later I can drop it off for MrPopular.

---

Speaking of BadPickleGirl, she just complained about getting just one MySpace message, from me, in a week. I myself usually only get messages from Jack Shit.

She got a message from me, I get messages from Jack Shit.

She wins, hands down.

---

Because, no matter what certain people might think, I'm much better than Jack Shit.

---

Damn, it's only 11:04, and I'm out of material.