I was thinking about how this journal has changed since I started it. I used to write every single day. Then I moved to Cowtown, and got a life. I'm not entirely sure if this was a good thing or not. Well, no. It's totally a good thing for my mental health and my emotional stability and my general sense of self. But speaking as a Writer (oh, not that again) maybe it wasn't.

I used to write every day. Most of the time, it was crap, but you got to hear about everything. Now, I sometimes only write once a week, and maybe it's slightly better written, but there's no substance. It lessens the impact, writing about things two or three days after they happen. And so many times, I think a little and say, well, maybe that really isn't worth writing about after all. But, maybe I'm missing out.

I think what it is, is, I used to have to struggle for material. I used to think, hey! I just had a really bad cup of coffee! That's an entry! Now, the stuff like that gets forgotten. But sometimes, that stuff turned out pretty cool. Most of the time, though, it sucked.

See, maybe one in five entries I do is worth reading. When I do fifty entries, that means there are 10 good ones. But if I only write five entries, I only have one good one to point to as my whole month's output. Maybe what I need to do is write every day, but only "publish" once a week. That way, I'd get the best of both worlds.

It's not gonna happen, of course. But I do feel better, now that I've got an idea of what I could be doing.

***

Saturday was strange. I found out last Tuesday or so that Scal was moving to South Carolina. Then, I found out that Jennifer was coming to pick her up. Then, I found out that some friend of Jen's named Bucket was coming along too.

Bucket turned out to be Brian. Brian! Brian, who spent most of my last semester in school stoned on my couch. When I thought about it, I dimly remembered coming back to Cowtown for visits, and having the same conversation every six months:

Tau 1: Bucket said to tell you he'll be by later.

Ana: Bucket? Who's Bucket?

Tau 1: You know, Bucket. Oh, you must know Bucket. Everyone knows Bucket.

Tau 2: He means Brian.

Ana: Brian? Wow! But wait. Why do you call him Bucket?

Every six months, this exact conversation. When Scal told me Bucket was coming up, I knew the name sounded familiar, but once again, I completely failed to make the connection.

Then, Dante, mentioned that Jen and Brian were coming. I forgot all about this Bucket person that Scal was all excited about. Wow, I thought. Jen and Brian. I'd really like to see them again. This is going to be so cool.

When I got to the bar, Jennifer was elsewhere, but Brian and some people I didn't know were playing bar dice. I had the same thought process I have so often when I force myself into social situations. "Yup. I see him. That's most definitely him all right. Now what?" I so suck at small talk. I've just never been able to figure it out. I feel so artifical whenever I try it.

I realized that the essential problem was that Jennifer and Brian were never really my friends. They were people who got fucked up with the same people I did. Jennifer and Scal showed up, with more people I didn't know. I followed this horde of strangers to the next bar.

Things got slightly less strange, because a bunch of people I did know came down. D. BT. Jake and Erin. Alice and Yahn. Dante. Paul. That helped. Also, I'd been drinking pretty steadily. That helped too.

I barely saw Jennifer and Brian at all after that. But I had fun, being drunk, and yes, a little stoned too, with my friends. At one point, Yahn, Dante and I were sitting on the end of the bar at Timmons. Alice was standing behind us. Jake and Erin and D. were nearby too. But then there were two empty stools, and then there was Jennifer, surrounded by these people I didn't know.

In my drunken haze, that seemed incredibly symbolic. There was of course some mixing going on. Lots of people were bouncing back and forth between the Taus and the other group. But there was a gap. Very strange, especially for those of us drinking and thinking too much.

Altogether, there were about 20 people out Drinking With Jennifer. I knew maybe 1/2 of them. And maybe another 15 or so people in the bar who, as near as I could tell, were roughly our age, but not involved in the group even peripherally. That was a little surreal too.

I get so used to seeing the same people at work every day, and thinking, these are the Cowtownians. All of them. Yup. These 50 or so regular Kristina's patrons comprise the entire population of Cowtown. It's kinda a culture shock to see so many other people, and realize that just because they don't happen to eat out a lot doesn't mean they don't exist. There's an entire segment of the population in town who I've never even seen. Cowtown is small, but it's not quite as small as I usually think it is.

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