Other people's stuff, as judged by me.

A few minutes ago, I dialed Hennessy's number for the first time in maybe three weeks. And it rang, then bounced to his voicemail. I left a message, saying that I was calling to see if he was out because I was thinking of going out.

Here's the weird aspect of it.

I know he doesn't accept or return my calls. I know, if he saw my number, that he wouldn't answer his phone. I know that it's better not to call, even though he told me the last time I saw him that I could and should call. I know, as well, that I haven't called because, well, that's just how it goes and how it's supposed to go.

If I went out, and his friends saw me before he did, then they'd probably give him a heads up. I mean, when I was on good terms or, to be more specific, any terms at all with him, there was a moment in the bar when one of his friends ran up to him, warned him of "some psycho's" presence and told him to switch bars.

I'd probably be labeled that now.

I called twice after I slept with him the last time, and he didn't return the calls.

I kept his number, though, remembering the initial sweet gesture in which I actually got the number.

Before two minutes ago, I hadn't used it in weeks.

I know I was a trick. It's OK, I guess.

I just think it's amusing to know now that my number is one that raises red flags and dread, even though he told me to call and that I didn't actually ever call too much. It's amusing that the fact that I called at all probably gave Hennessy one of those red-flag moments.

I'm not a bad guy, and he'd probably remember that if I were standing in front of him, in person, when I'm less easy to dismiss or disregard.

And I know he's not worth it and that I shouldn't worry about him ... because this is all about him and his issues, except I'm the one writing it, thinking about it, trying to trick him into thinking of me as something other than a dismissable trick.

We're in game-playing phase now, which seems disappointing to me because I didn't want to play these stupid games.

Oh, who am I kidding? We're not in any phase.

The game ended weeks ago. It was a draw. Both teams packed up and went home.

I should probably just head back to Krispy Kreme, like I did last Saturday, and finish "Empire Falls" over coffee.

My brother Dan's engagement picnic was today, and I got introduced to a couple dozen people that I didn't know who know my brother better than I do.

I volunteered to the bride - who is really, really funny and terrific to me and tries to encourage a bond between me and my brother - that I could take black-and-white photos, like I did at my cousins' weddings. I thought, by volunteering, that I could somehow find out if I wouldn't be able to take them because I was actually assigned to another role in my brother's wedding, like being an usher or groomsman.

I want to be a groomsman in my brother's wedding, like some of his frat brothers are going to be.

This is the most normal, joyous event in my entire fucked-up family's warped existence, and I want to be wearing a tux as we smile our ways past dysfunction.

I mean, I love my brother, even if there are others in the family that I can't stand.

But the bride told me that it would be great of me to take lots and lots of photos of the wedding. So I guess I'm not gonna be in that tux.

The wedding isn't about me and will be fantastic and fun, I know, but, here on my journal, it can be about me.

The engagement picnic, thrown by my mother - who ran around organizing everything in a frenzy while not actually allowing herself to sit down and eat until it was near over, was fun, though.

All of Dan's friends are married or have children.

I tried to imagine what it would be like if my mom threw some sort of elaborate party for me, inviting different sects of my friends and family to mingle together. And I couldn't even imagine that.