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The Raven




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07-09-2020 11:12 pdt

After adding the estimated read time scripting we have realized that all of the subheaders disappeared. They will return one by one. Other than that little tidbit, status quo.




Ablation

 read ( words)

"We are burning away. The boundary layer will not hold. Ablation, outside. Heat, inside. Eventually the recombination can occur, but by that point in time nothing will be left of us. Nothing. Velocity, heat, ablation, impact. The piston sections will bleed plastic in random directions as we strike the wall. Cleanup, venting, cooling. And then we are gone. In the trash with the rest of the detritus.

Jaime is there in the hallway. I know it, but cannot see her. I must pursue. She is in the house. Just Jaime and myself. No more Jolaimora. Her. The one. I need her.

She looks like the tenth Michelle I have considered, I think. Can't be certain because only half of her face can be seen. Right now I would give anything to see more. Sitting here right now in the early morning with my coffee and a pile of cats, everything seems different, as if the night went by a thousand times instead of one. I look up at the television. There is Casey (awesome) and Michelle, who popped into my brain last night due to resembling Jaime. I look over my right shoulder and there is the goofy yard, looking every bit the same as yesterday. Nothing is different aside from the calendar and hour. But it feels different. I don't know how to put it down here, though. A feeling. A sense that there has been some sort of change in my life related to this and my emotions toward someone who is out there, but also a person who may elude me for the remainder of time. I don't know, really. She is real. Maybe she is Michelle. That woman would have been close to twenty years old at that time and could have been there. Michelle is not as tall, however. Maybe I'm reaching when I would be better avoiding such ideas. Again... I don't fucking know. She is on the screen during this film -- here and there -- and appears to have a similar nose, I believe. She is a little over average in height, but Jaime was really freaking tall to my lens. I don't know. Time to stop this. Something with her face does not fit, anyway. Just stop.

Yesterday turned out to be kind of a cluster. I did not accomplish much due to not being alone. Today I will have the house to myself for several hours and do not need to drive at all. Nice. I am hoping to feel that comfort which washes over me when I arrive home after the usual morning trip down the highway and back. The time will be later than the average weekday but I'll take it. My chores are always there. I have a few more things to move into the office and then the floor will be addressed. Also, the clothing rack in the garage (office, whatever) needs to be thinned a little so everything can move back into the house. A little at a time with this stuff. The major operations are done. Pain in the rear, but finished. Now just the some details to make it more comfortable out there. I still have not worked out the entire plan for adding circuits yet. I should work on the bathroom first before branching. That project has been sitting too long.

The Vegas dream from the other night has me trying to remember who the girl was that stole my money (I think she was the one, anyway). Actually, I don't give a shit about my things disappearing. I would like to figure out who she was. There have been so many dreams of the big homes in which I am searching for a woman and do not know who she is, yet I am unbelievably determined to locate and hold her. Why? Ah... Fuck that question anymore. The reasoning no longer matters. My concern now is why I never know of her. She is someone I follow or seek and that is all. I have a cemented thought that there will be the pinnacle of comfort upon reaching her. Again, I don't care why anymore. I just wish to know who.

Jaime is a dream, too. I saw her all those years ago and captured. I lost her, she returned to my vision, and I went all around the world with the ideas. Well, the beginning of that is the dream. The search. I have been looking for someone and doing it for so many years that I've lost track. The subjects in those many dreams are elusive as hell and I don't know who they may be. The women I remember are always those with whom I am familiar in life. The dreams are such that I do not look for them, only those I desire. This whole fucking thing is getting strange. There are drawings sitting in the old office which are related to dreams while I sleep, there are images of women which resemble other dreams, and then there are visions of searching for the rest of my days and finding nothing. Am I seeking happiness? We've gone over that already. Not likely. Am I seeking love? Companionship? Something else? No answers. The dreams involving a person I am either chasing or following usually feel comfortable, like I belong in the mansion and the woman I seek is already connected to me somehow. Comfortable. I know that in reaching her I will be reaching that place I need so badly. I know it as surely as I know I belong there. And with her. The last few dreams have reminded me of Natalie and the emotional nature of her eyes as she listened to me tell such a deep story. I could see within half an hour that she was looking right through to my inner self. Nothing was left out at all. I had no reason to be guarded, so I let it fly and she was fascinated. By the time we were lying next to each other with arms wrapped, I felt a solace that had all but disappeared just a few days earlier. I thought it was gone forever after walking out of the Venetian. Well, the depth of her eyes with their partial tearing struck me upside the head and I believe that is what I may find in the dreams, should I ever get that far. The meaning behind always falling short or awakening before any true conclusion is not something I can work out. I do not understand the process enough to comment upon the reality and how it relates to dreaming of things I can never attain. All I can do is speculate.

That paragraph tired me out. Jesus. I have no idea if anything here is helpful or if I am learning. The whole thing just might be a pile of shit. Well, not shit, but you know what I mean... I'm not educated in the analysis of dreams or any sort of real interpretation. I try to understand. That is all.

Ed Harris is fucking amazing in every role. Michelle is beautiful in a way difficult to describe.

Today again. Wednesday. I am awaiting packages in the mail this week. Each time one shows up I frantically open it to see my little treasure. Inexpensive, joyous little trinkets which likely mean nothing to anyone but me. It is one of those small enjoyments which keeps me going day after day. Upon two knives arriving the other day, I became more motivated to organize my things. Well, look where we are now... The old office is now more useful as some storage, the new office is more useful due to space (and that is amazing considering the motorcycle is still there), and I have been able to go through older stuff to remember what is there. One step at a time, as I have been saying, and those steps are beginning to add up. Very nice. I will move along with this today. I am looking forward to listening to my friends in the background, too. Always.

Jaime or Michelle in the hallway of my dreams. Oh, probably not Michelle from the television or any of the other ten fucking Michelles I have known. Jaime? Oy God help me, please.

Jolaimora? That was something else. I merged all three, and now Jaime and Jolene remain, but I no longer desire the latter. Neither, really. The physical need to attack Jolene went away throughout the last week or less. I know not why, but the fact that her show is done for now might be the reason. I am not seeing her every day as in weeks ago. Out of mind? Maybe. Nora is nearly gone, although I have the small photo of her and look at it sometimes. She still pulls at my heart with those eyes. The three are no longer one. Individuals now. Jaime is in the dreams, Jolene awaits my gushing the next time I see her, and Nora will remain at arm's length because I cannot watch that show. Probably not for a very long time. That one screwed up my brain, royally. Killing me a little at a time. Whatever. Shows? I have complete control over the medium. Control, and in a way very important right now. Anything which comes along and falls under my influence is very good. Most of the time now I need to stay away from certain things and only watch or listen to what is safe. Sheltered, cocooned, closed off like never before. That means no more Nora, perhaps for good. Images, yes. Video, no. Jolene will come back the next time I decide to switch. Jaime... Another story entirely. I have to be patient and wait until another dream occurs. That is all I have.



863



There are now so many reasons for avoiding certain types of media that I am losing track. Aspects of entertainment that seemed fine a year ago are now frightening. I remember going on at length regarding the simplicity of visiting a restroom whenever the goddess and I were at a restaurant or other public place (which we did many times up until early this year). Now? Going into those situations feels different, as if I don't even know if I can anymore. Every single time we were out I was worried. The facade was so fucking heavy after a while, like nearly back-breaking. How I held it together throughout all those trips is beyond me now. The issues are much larger. That may be due to all this time for thinking, or only the passage of time while trying to carry such weight. I don't know. The truth is I am more scared now than in the past. We were out all the time. Perhaps being home for months has allowed me to see those occasions all at once and relate them to the feelings inside. There are no longer distractions. Sitting at a bar with cocktails and conversation is a distraction in and of itself despite being in public. We were not out there for all to see, if that makes any sense. We had our own little space and dealt almost exclusively with the bartenders. Most of the time I was able to remain calm and enjoy the time. And do I miss that? Holy shit, yes. Every damned day. I really hope the world can go back to the way it was (partially, anyway) so we can go out and sit together again. There are no words to describe what those outings did for me.

She helped to keep the obsession in check nearly every time. If something took place, the sweet and caring nature within her helped. We could discuss the issue and how it affected me, after which I usually felt much better. The server who has her own essay was in view of both of us that day, and then once later when I realized she appeared different to me after days. I went on and on about that girl, and then it stopped. I have mentioned her here a few times more recently, too. At the time, my head blew wide open. Later? Not the same. And the server did not change... My view of her was different. Again we spoke of her for a short time. That was more than a year ago, possibly longer. And now? I am not as concerned with myself and the obsession. It is harmless, for the most part, due to not affecting anyone else. That is how I have felt for more than a week, and then this morning the concern went elsewhere. I worry about how those situations may have affected the goddess. I love and care for her to this very second and cannot have worry enter her beautiful head due to my words or actions. I just can't have that. Conversation may be necessary if I can push aside this weighty shit that hides so much.
Oy, what a morning.

Trying to describe what that woman means to me is impossible without the remainder of my life spent at the keyboard. Feelings between us have been both high and low, the latter generally being caused by yours truly. I must be careful with her. There is a person in that beauty, one that does not come along in life very often. Some of me has burned away these last three-plus months, but in her eyes... Not at all. God love her.

There is still coffee left, thank the maker. I never make more after a few cups, though. I'll be too goofy. Wow. Cate fucking Blanchett is on the screen. Talent falls out of her pant legs when she walks. Absolutely, positively one of THE finest actors in history. Damn, every time. She stands five-foot-nine but is fifty feel tall on the silver screen. Amazing. I will not mention her beauty. All the respect, though.

Jesus fucking Christ, who is that now? I'll have to look up this film. Léa Hélène Seydoux-Fornier de Clausonne. Wow, what a handle. I think that's the one I saw. Doesn't matter anyway. We've pushed past ten thousand lines of code since Jaime, just in case anyone gives a shit. You may not realize, but that is a lot. Mmkay? Mmkay.

Those occasions out had me at sixes and sevens some of the time due to my own head. The lack of so many personality traits which are supposed to temper and calm potential problems caused me to slightly implode here and there while out. That was all me. I was weak. Still am, really. I believe at this point in my life and after years of working on these problems, nothing can change. Nothing was caused by the goddess. Nothing. She is a person, above all things, and entitled to feel and speak as she deems necessary. If something emerged from her and caused me to fall down, well... She didn't cause it. I did. I still do. I am beyond help regarding some aspects of life. And as bad as that may sound, keep in mind that at least I know it's all inside me, and not someone else. I am not one to puff myself up over anything, but this one point has to be made. I know what goes on inside and that I am the problem much of the time. This movie has a great cast but is still a pile of crap. And I have been told that Russell Crowe is quite the asshole off the screen. I don't know, but that is something I've heard more than once. Heh. Who cares?

Did I just say something positive about myself? You bet your ass. I am not the same person as before the shelter. Suck it up.

Cate again. Fuck is she ever awesome.

I have to make something more of myself today. Taking it easy sometimes is nice, but there are tasks which await my attention. Being here all the time means I cannot overstate the importance of some normalcy in the routine and effort toward finishing things which have been halted. Some days I lose the motivation to begin work once the daily stuff is done and I have lunch. My function these days is the maintaining of the house in every way, so if other things take more time it's not a big deal. I'll get there. Finding work outside the home does not appeal to me right now. That time will come soon enough. I will finish the coffee and begin with whatever is necessary for my comfort this evening. By cocktail hour I know I'll feel good about the daylight time. One foot in front of the other, a la Rudolph. Hee!

Jaime in the big house. Not the one I said she would occupy after I merged her with the other two, but the largest, most elaborate mansion I ever designed. She will be in there... With me running up and down the hallways in search of a hug.

In the last entry I stated that I can, in all confidence, point fingers as to some who are partially responsible for issue two. Hmm. I might reverse that. Never in my life has a person clearly and blatantly shoved words toward me with the intention of causing self-consciousness. At least, I do not recall such a thing ever happening. I cannot expect someone to so completely adapt to me that they lose themselves. That will eventually result in loss of respect and possibly disdain. At the same time, I cannot completely blame myself, either. Society and the weakness of those who need to rise at the expense of others is an enormous facet of this crap. No denying that one. I have no idea of the ratio and it probably doesn't matter anyway. I am here, within this discomfort-laden space, alone, and only partially understanding of how I can live as such from this point forward. It is a realization which both hurts and assists me daily. More thinking. For now? I'm tired of talking about it. A short scene in the film just reinforced it, for fuck's sake. Time for a refill and a break. Pause.

This laptop might be a tank, but twenty-plus hours on the battery. I'll take it. Pause again.



864



I turned off the movie because it's ridiculous, and there is Molly. Damn. Talk about desire? All of it, especially her. Jesus crap, anyway. I will not go into detail. Unfair. She is a person.

No driving south for three days means I will not see the one in the parking lot down there. That is good, although I can envision her cute gait and those shoes with the polished bits on the heels. The last time I spied her I kind of missed a few seconds due to staring at my puzzle on the phone. She was all the way in front of my windshield by the time I noticed. Ponytail, braided. Her hair is pretty long and nearly black. The braid? Super cute. That girl is something else, I tell you. Being at home right now with no chance to see her again is ideal. I don't need that. Molly is plenty right now. She has me spinning. Don't get me started with the meal she is cooking. Yikes. The food network is wonderful, but much of the time I just want to eat everything I see. Heh. Including some of the chefs. Oy. Sorry.

The next time I see the goddess in person I am going to gush apologies for possibly making some of our outings difficult for her. I do not know for sure, though. She may be fine.

Coffee is almost gone. That usually means I will switch to water and get off my ass. I cannot make any noise yet, though. The house should remain quiet until the young one awakens. At least I have lots of time to consider my options today. Nagging projects, enjoyable tasks, or a combination? Hmm... Don't know yet. Fitness ads. Fuck me. Three seconds of one woman in a van during an ad, and then maybe five seconds of another in the fitness ad and I am falling a bit. Not much, mind you, but it always happens. I have to see. Sometimes I see too damned much, honestly. My fault. Weak, ablated after all these years, and still full of desire most days. At least for a little while, anyway. I still see no way of getting around it. The machinery comes to mind and then I dream and fall further. Machinery. The only way. Did you read that? The only fucking way. Wow, I was pretty positive there for a while. I'll get there again. Just not while my head is filled with Molly's nether regions and imagining her as a robot. Go ahead and damn me for this. I can't help it.

I was talking about getting things done and then derailed by desire. Big surprise. God damn fuck shit crap on all of it, she is so cute that I don't even understand. Watch her. You'll see. I need to...

Never mind. What a rig.

One of these days I may give up trying to understand two of the issues and simply chalk it up to being me. The truth is I have gone into these problems so many times that I believe the words keep repeating. One, two, three, and four. At some point I spoke of five and possibly six, but those are different. They come and go like the wind. One can be controlled even if the genesis continues to elude me, two is from another planet and mostly due to things missing inside me, three is completely out of my grasp but can be avoided for the most part if I remain holed up, and four is something I will not discuss right now. Maybe never. Too difficult. Two is the clincher and has the power to keep me quiet and alone. And now Molly is gone, thank the fucking stars. Dreaming of her sometimes drives four over the fucking top. Damn. Bye, sweetness. Two. Much space here has been devoted to my search for alleviating that most troubling of situations, however nothing has helped as of yet. Well, trying to describe my feelings is indeed helping because doing so makes me think on it. I have plenty of time and will not push against the facts. The interesting aspect of the machine dream is my mention of having no idea what is in a person's head at a given time. I don't know and have to trust what emerges in the form of spoken words. Can I trust that? Have faith in something so deeply personal? Not yet, for sure. I have been told and read about the idea that trust is like respect in that it must be earned and cannot be freely given away. No one I have known well must adhere to that. They have demonstrated enough for me to feel the trust. But not always. It changes as my head works itself into a froth. The Lego set inside my brain is still missing pieces and no one is at fault. No one took them away. The pieces in question have loosened throughout the course of years and been misplaced, for lack of a better term. Others did not do that. I did, somehow, and for whatever reason. There may be parts of my life that I cannot remember in which situations played out and had a lasting effect upon me. I don't know. Pretty much the only certainty -- as psychology is anything but an exact science -- is the way I feel now. That means something happened. Ugh, my head right now.

Two is the current fucking king of the hill. I thought one was, but nope. Not anymore. I can reason with it. Stop. I have to drive to the big city and two other destinations. A serious veer in my otherwise mundane (but I love it) routine. I have successfully rolled up there several times now with no entanglements. Full tank of gas. We go.

Morning again. Coffee, cats next to me, television with some stupid family Christmas movie. I may need to find something else.

The drive went just fine. We stopped right close to home at the Safeway and grabbed some things to deliver. The store was mellow, although I was disturbed to think that with everyone wearing masks I cannot see who is cute. Damn. Maybe I am the only person thinking in such a direction. Heh. After that I steered us to the city. Business was finished up there and now I have a project to research transferring some media. On the way back we made two stops and then home. No incidents, although one of the stops was the farmer's market where I spied not one or two, but three fucking pairs of yoga pants. The first? Holy fucking shit, batman, unreal. I had to push it away quickly and be sociable (mostly). The visit was fine other than the artwork strolling past me in black. One loop through the now very-controlled market before heading here. I'm fairly proud of myself for visiting so many places without issue. Standing on a number at the market and seeing others doing exactly what they were supposed to helped me to realize that everyone is in the same boat and most are doing their best to adapt to all the restrictions and guidelines. The reality is that we were in and out of that market with a few items in less than half an hour. It was fine. And then home. Another knife was in the mail waiting for me and is now on my key chain. Cool.

Today.

I will not have the house to myself but at least can remain home all day. Yesterday turned out ok aside from having to run around some. I did not want to go but decided to help anyway. There was a little discomfort in the beginning and that is all. Today none of that exists. I am in the cocoon, mostly. Someone else here means I have to consider another rather than focusing upon my needs one hundred percent. That is ok. Tomorrow and Saturday will be business as usual. So, I will go through my typical work today and then try to get a little extra finished. I might be sitting here a while. I'd like to get this shit into production before moving away from the computer. We shall see.

Where was I before dashing to the city yesterday? Issues? Two of them. Mainly one, really, and I think I went over that enough already. Yesterday I nearly proved to myself that one of the issues is in charge of me. Such a situation has to stay right close all the time or I will fall off the wagon. Vigilance. Diligence? Something. I don't know, really, but the certainty is that as soon as I feel weak I need to do something other than sit here and stew. I can't have that anymore. Even if years are required, the training of my brain must commence in order to keep myself safe from myself. Heh. Funny? Who fucking cares? I honestly believe that I can accomplish whatever I may set out to do. Some things are more difficult, naturally, but that only means that more time must be dedicated if the issue is to maintain importance. I have to do something, though. And do not get me fucking started on the relationship between two and four. That goes from home to public places to restrooms to the doctor's office and around again so fast your head will spin out of control.

Control. Oy. And there is a character in this film named 'Ricky'. Hmm. Reminds me of my grandmother so many years ago. Time to refill the coffee.



866



Better.

I really have no idea of which way to turn with the trust issue. The threat is always there, apparent and glaring, even while I am alone. Perhaps I am no longer capable of trusting. Or maybe I am unable to reason with myself over some aspects of life that are supposed to be perfectly natural. Oh shit, that brings up a thought which has been discussed between myself and the goddess on more than one occasion: The massive double-standard within which I live. Massive. I trust nothing and no one, take issue with the resulting behavior due to a lack of the same, and then go on for days about a pair of legs and how deeply they can be embedded inside me. Unfair? Probably. I honestly believe whether or not I am fair depends upon the individual and each specific situation which has arisen (or will come up in the future). This has taken place several times. Does my exploration of such a subject mean that I need to change it for the benefit of others? Nope. I will not. People just need to live with it. I am rigid with regard to my feelings toward issue two and trust is not the sole catalyst for my descent into a place only I may inhabit. That is all. Unfair is the least of my concerns. I don't give a fuck whether I am viewed as fair, anyway. I have to protect myself.

There would be no possible issue with a machine. For the second time, there it is.

This film was shot in 'scope', which means an anamorphic lens on the camera to squeeze a 2.35:1 aspect ratio into a 1.85:1 frame of film. At the theater? The reverse takes place. The lens turret on the projector is rotated from 'flat' (standard lens) to 'scope' (anamorphic) and the image is returned to its nearly-original configuration. I believe this grew out of the need for cost savings. 70mm film is hideously expensive and ultra-rare now, so the cheaper 35mm film is used. The anamorphic lens enables the filmmaker to display his/her art with a wider resulting image with respect to height, the appearance of which can be dramatic. 70mm was much brighter and was used in the older, much larger auditoriums due to more light being thrown across a longer distance. I have a story about that but must save it for later. No one seems to give a shit about film anymore, anyway. The medium is all but gone now. So sad. Just sad. Not one gives a shit about my opinion, either. Heh.

I can't believe I went into the relationship between my issues and the nature of a double-standard. It's true, though. Nothing will be denied. If I can sit here and spout about everything else, I can spout about when I feel that I am being unfair. And I am, but will not change it. I need to remain this way for my own protection.

In other matters, the home design has not moved or advanced. I keep dreaming of living in there with her but I cannot seem to drive myself to work on it. Too much other shit, I suppose. I have the office project, the daily stuff, this crap, and my ever-increasing headspace to consider on any given day, so the frivolous items are outside my vision right now. I have not contacted my nephew, either. I need those drawings from the past. Perhaps today is the day. The old office is in better shape but I still have to clean the floor and move my drafting table so the house design can be placed there for work. I'm certain that upon seeing it again the dreams will advance. They are unhealthy and I don't care. Call me what you will... There are too many positives and too much drive for me to avoid picturing us together. A beautiful, sensitive machine. No issues.

Issue three showed up in the film so I switched to science fiction again. One of the most beautiful women I have ever seen is a principal character in this story. She is the type to grow more beautiful as years pass. When I was younger I really had the physical hots for her. Now all I wish is to look. Her talent commands respect. A person, not an object. Oy. See image below. You know who she is. Good fucking God, I could live in her eyes.

Wow, Kathy Bates sure can look menacing at times. Talk about talent? All of it.

Ellie told me once that I must care for myself before trying to care for another or there will eventually be disaster. The kitten did not mince words, hence her pushing me out of Vegas with one finger. I don't know how much stock I can take in her words, however. I may not be capable of truly putting myself before others. When it comes to daily things, like chores and cooking, maintaining the operation of the house, and keeping stuff in order, I am a champion. I don't bat an eye at those activities and find comfort in the routine. I have for years now. And then I feel like I deserve the little purchases or situations I create for my own enjoyment. It's a balance of sorts, I suppose, and seems to work well for the most part. I will not say that the kitten was wrong, though. What I would say to her if she were next to me right now is that I am very different than those in view. I feel it. Nothing negative about others, really, but I have spent years observing and mentally painting what has taken place in my life and I analyze everything almost constantly. This movie is technically beautiful and fascinating, although as a whole it ended up being a pile of crap. Keanu did a great job in my opinion. He cannot carry the entire film, unfortunately. Even Jennifer's big, dreamy eyes fail to lift the plot. Ugh, another remake from a two-decade period of crap remakes. Too bad. Wait... Where was I? Ah... The kitten and her wisdom.

Maybe I should have stayed there in eleven and clung to that little girl for dear life. If only. Well, I suppose in the long story I got the point across as to what she meant to me. I still love her.

Acceptance of others requires acceptance of myself. Well kids, that is not going to happen. I do not have much regard for them, anyway, so fuck it. I remain like this. Issues, a lack of understanding, very little clarity, and a host of difficulties on a daily basis are what move me from one moment to the next. The little enjoyments have to keep going or I will become a lump. Maybe I am already there? No one can know. Whatever. I will keep typing no matter what takes place. This is all I have left. No disrespect to the kitten. I just cannot jump the gap she described. I am ill-equipped to take the journey. She believed in me but I threw all the reasons away in order to be comfortable. Sorry, babe. I love you, wherever you are.

Let me see... I went over the whole trust thingy, figured that I can manage the obsession, concluded that issue two is nearly too difficult to completely lay out here, and the other issues are still in the works. Have I gotten anywhere? Or is this just another convoluted mess of thought? Never mind. Silence is my favorite these days. But I am still going. Considering all of the shit in my head and the way I fall off a cliff at random moments when something threatening strikes me, that is not bad. Nine years ago I would have committed suicide over one difficult image. I read recently that the male ego may truly be the most fragile thing in existence, and the right combination of words from a female can shatter it instantly, leaving issues for years to come, if not the rest of his life. I cannot argue with such a philosophy, contrarily I cannot affirm it. I just do not know how anyone else feels because I have my hands full dealing with my own psyche. The fact that there are countless books dedicated to the effects of developing through differing living conditions and situations means there are some who find it valid. Publishers, at the very least. Heh. Sorry, any humor right now is welcomed. I can only analyze myself. Hands full... Plenty. The book I referenced resulted from a search for information and I saw only two pages. There is no way I could read something like that. Too much unfeeling wording, even though most of it had been quoted. Still, I discovered a bit of insight. That's enough. I then turned my attention elsewhere. I began this paragraph with threat and trust. Believe me when I say that it is all related. From society to the media to the public restroom, and all the way back to my formative years, every single fucking second of each day is a reminder of how bad I have become.

And since I have not said it in quite some time here, I AM STILL OK. Big smile!



865

Jennifer



I do apologize if my topics waver. This is not easy. Plus, I keep moving my fingers to the wrong keys and have to backspace often. Yep. Not getting any younger. Wow this movie is poo poo but I'm watching (sort of) anyway. Funny.

Almost three hours straight at this. Yikes, but I have things to say.

I believe part of the reason I am ok after all this time and writing is due to the fact that I am in control of both the site and this home. All mine, and crafted to my liking. Everything configured so that I am comfortable here each day. So, above when I stated that every second is difficult, it is tempered and quenched by being here in control. I need that so badly that to describe it at this point would be impossible. It is a feeling, and one which keeps my head up each morning and enables calm when I lay it back down each night. There are some touchy subjects here lately, and the clarity has sharpened since years ago. Whereas I used to mask everything so completely that no one could possibly understand, I am now expressing the ideas and visions without ambiguity. Of course, two of the issues (three and four) have to stay foggy. Those I simply cannot spell out, no matter the drive. They are too emotional and could be damaging should the right reader come by and see. I will never hear the end of it, so they stay beyond a frosted window. Sorry. Live with it. There is plenty here otherwise. God fucking damn, Jennifer's face is a world.

Yes, still ok. Threats, visions, falling down over the girl in the parking lot down there, all of it. And here I sit. Throw in Jaime and my heart bleeding over seeing half her face and you can imagine the angle of this hill. Here I am, sitting with the last of the coffee, seeing the cats there in a pile all warm and comfortable, and the stupid movie. This machine. My never-ending haphazard analysis of me. Oy. Back to the girl in the parking lot.

The aspect of Jaime which drove me to grab the camera was her height. Back then I was overly fascinated by everything being exaggerated as a result of a woman being tall. That is not always the case, but she carried all of it. Very tall. Like, over my head, I believe. Well, discovering her images again meant I saw that height but what stirred me much more was her face. The girl in the parking lot is the same. Yes, I spoke of her oversized chest, but please forgive me. The last time she walked by me I did not look at her breasts. Just her face. And I discovered that she had a similar expression. Leaving work with what I understand is quite the long commute due to being borrowed from another location could mean stress. Well, I didn't see it. I saw softness, caring, kindness. And according to what I have been told, she is all of those things and more. I can't help but look at her. Cute beyond words, and exuding so many personality traits that I see as beautiful. She has been growing in importance and I am a little worried about it. This is exactly what happened with Jaime. I simply cannot go through that again. At this point in time, another obsession does not fit inside my already full head. Jaime is plenty, Jolene pops in from time to time, and believe it or not, another dream of Vegas brought the younger of the thong sisters back to my brain with enough force to smack me like a brick. Once again, I am full of the desire to relive the point when she repositioned her beautiful self to display her thighs and all they encompass. The radii of my life, yet again. The girl in question (from the south, follow along here please) is radically different. Her face. There is absolutely no correlation to the young vision with very little clothing. That is all physical need. The face is something else... softness, eyes full of wonder like they created the universe. I do not desire that girl at all. I did go into the breasts more than once because the configuration of things she carried just happened to accentuate them and she is out of proportion. I do not see anything wrong with noticing such a feature. I am still a human being. Flawed all to hell, but human nonetheless. When I see her face I wish to know her... What is in her head, dreams, whatever. Who she may be. Those things are not born of the wish to be physical. Quite the reverse, really. The girl in Vegas was desirable beyond comprehension, and only months after that day. I've tried to learn of why the walnuts sent me flying and came up with an empty box. Nothing. The difference between the thong girl and the face in the parking lot could not be more dramatic. The face is trouble. Like Jaime. Just... Trouble to the nth.

Where am I going with this? Worried. Jaime is in my heart, nearly all the way. Glued. There is no room for the face. Her gentle expression and striking cheekbones stir me at high speed, but I must keep her at a distance. I will be there tomorrow, twice, and the visits will be tests to see if I am able to avoid looking. The result could be unfortunate otherwise. I know I am weak beyond words, too. It will be very difficult to maintain sight of my jigsaw puzzle. She is beautiful, and consuming space within me at an alarming rate. Again, vigilance, if I am capable. Ok, enough of this. I see her right now and... Yikes. So far beyond beautiful that I don't even understand. I've said it before... God must have been a fucking genius. Thanks, dude. You really fucked me this time.

Beauty, love and sex aside, today is new. I fully intend to embrace my routine and little comforts. The show, cleaning, organizing, and then little breaks here and there for enjoyment. I might be receiving another knife in the mail, too. Just a cheap one. Old. But it makes me smile. Another item arriving by Saturday is a small organizer to go into my EDC bag. Once that is in my hands, I can get everything together and that will also make me smile. The current world situation has me considering preparation should things worsen. I have always found comfort in having my items in good order. This will be the same, and I really look forward to getting that bag set up. Very nice.

All of a sudden the ensign at the helm of the Pasteur is adorable after all these years. I've seen this episode many times but never noticed. Ah... She spoke! That means two things: A SAG card and credit for the work for one, and a name I can research for another. Of course, this is from twenty-six years ago and she may be very different these days, but the internet will show me whatever I wish. Oy, what a fucking goof. Something took place at some fucking point which pushed me to become overly interested in the quickest glimpse of a face on the television. Commercials (the walnuts!), older television shows, whatever. Even watching DDD sometimes, I swear some of the most gorgeous faces I have ever seen are split-second segments in which Guy inquires to patrons of their experience in a restaurant. And then there was another Maybelline ad, and then a fucking commercial for J.G. Wentworth with another amazingly beautiful face. God help me. What the fuck happened to me and when did it take place? I am a crazy person, again. I don't get it. Why do the faces cause so much turmoil? Have I lost my ability to separate reality from entertainment and fantasy? Oy, not a good question right now considering the house design in which Jaime and I will reside. Heh. Maybe I should not go into this. Every Goddamned day the television shows me another facet of my distorted and deviant personality. I don't want to lose my mind. That may appear untrue, but I really don't. Some measure of control over my needs must be found, and soon. I am likely already lacking grip. Ugh. Faces, and the one in second place may be seen again tomorrow. Let us leave this alone now.

Today. Thursday. Work for others, none for me. I will not leave this house at all. My cocoon. We are not far from noon and I am still sitting here. I believe this entry has been formed more quickly than any in memory. Whatever. I need this. The faces are spinning me more than the milk frother I just used. Losing it. I am losing it all. Ablation. Falling away for the second time. The needs of the... Never mind. Sorry, Spock.

Burning away. The boundary is fleeting. Recombination? No one knows. Vapor.

She is out there. I am fading."





"No more miracles, loaves and fishes; been so busy with the washing of the dishes."

-- Peter Gabriel




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