The Beginning
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The Raven


The Brunette, Michelle, Diane, and the Goblet -- I
The Goddess and the Gratification -- II
Death, the Dreadnought, and the Departure -- III
The Goddess and the Scene of the Crime -- IV
The Fineness, the Fragility, and the Finality -- V
The Knife, the Drop, and the Ocean -- VI
Three Doors Down -- VII
The Illness and the Isolation -- VIII
The Transition and the Trial -- IX
The Raven and the Rage -- X
The Chair, the Project, and the Perpetual Aftermath -- XI

[06:08 pdt 10/13/2017 CE, 1507900080 E]

And speaking of delays, this one was a long time in creation. We actually began this essay back in April, but other life concerns and pitfalls left it by the wayside for some time. We picked away at the content little by little and finally here is the finished product (most of it, anyway).

As for the site itself, our intention is to remain at status quo for as long as possible. As has been stated here before, we own the domain so the plan is ours. The mobile situation has proven flexible beyond belief, so hopefully the continuation and fluidity will follow suit. Archiving has been streamlined and the security of past content remains a priority. We are backed up like never before. Also, the mobile platform has recently been extended to the iPhones and this means we have both creative and organizational control like that of past dreams.

Lately, the press has been toward the mobile, and we mean completely. Streamlining of life has become necessary in light of current events. Our goal is to relocate to a stable and quiet environment, meaning we need to get the fuck out of this area. Despite the fact that we can edit from anywhere on the planet, the current physical location has become mired and our feet are cemented. Soon we will jackhammer ourselves the hell out and continue unimpeded. Stay tuned.

The only external project remains the Clodmaster, and the entire affair has been shelved and protected until such time as we can move in that direction without issue. Until then, we keep the faith.


The Brunette, Michelle, Diane, and the Goblet

Part One

"This is a bad one.

In the beginning, all was wonder. We would meet, sit with a drink or something to eat, and discuss all manner of life. Her big, beautiful eyes conveyed every emotion without words. When she smiled, I melted. And some of those smiles came with an additional gesture of a hand over part of her face. That was so cute... I nearly passed out from the vision. Her features can be summed up by describing a combination of two actresses. Her eyes, eyebrows, and the motions which made them come alive were very similar to those of Annabella Sciorra. Her eyebrows became slightly pointed at the middle when she smiled, and the resulting look was incredibly beautiful and unique. Looking lower, her lips would turn slightly downward at the corners just as Lorraine Bracco. When coupled with the look of her eyes, the resulting feeling within me was overwhelming. The woman would sit across the table, giggle a bit, and look like nothing else on this earth. She was so beautiful that the words are impossible. There is simply no way to adequately get across just how she appeared on a given day. Needless to say, I became drawn to her immediately and completely. Gawd.

Along with her unending beauty, inside was a woman with vast knowledge, wisdom, and compassion. And she demonstrated all of these on a daily basis. And toward anyone. Yes, she cared much, thought constantly, and went out into the world with the intention of capturing, exploring and connecting with whomever may come along. Her desire was to experience life on many levels and in varying locations, both for the photographic aspects as well as the human side. She spoke to everyone with the same kind and open heart, captured images of everything from the rusted locks on abandoned gates to the smiling homeless man on any given corner, and looked upon me as if I created the beauty of the universe. She was unique, and a person I could not avoid nor get out of my head in any situation.

The Brunette and I spent much time together, both at home and out. Every single moment was wondrous, glowing.

There is just no way of adequately describing the smile, the heart and the feelings within me when being near the Brunette. She quickly became everything in the world. All else melted away... work, home, friends, family... everything. Issues arose because of my feelings toward her, and the paragraphs which follow outline one of them. The situation at home was already laid out here -- as painful as it was to write -- so the remaining sections of life which I subsequently destroyed will be published in time. The first is below.

She had exaggerated features everywhere

The Brunette and I visited a photography club in the city every other week during the spring and summer. Each time we joined the others at the meetings she tended to wear glasses due to the overhead projector and lessons which were always provided. The combination of the style of the glasses and her eyes was unreal. The aforementioned smile with its details shown on her face expanded into something I almost cannot describe. In fact, the words fail -- even with such stark and clear memories. Sitting here now, the thoughts are all over the map. Her demeanor pushed me into ethereal territory and clouded any hope of reasonable thought. Eventually, and through our nearly constant time together both day and night, I faltered badly. She did as well. Together we became a cocktail of one part depression and two parts alcohol. The end result of that type of situation can be very harsh.

Regardless of the downsides or impending tilt of life, we ran together.

The trip came very soon after I had moved into her apartment. The story there is told in spades, and did not help either of us from avoiding further damage. Such took place before, during, and after that trip, and combined with our furtherance of the drunken, reckless disregard for our own well-being, the coming month turned into a very bad situation. We went on with the uncaring behavior right into the middle of the month. At that point, my suicidal nature became a turning point and forced me out of her apartment and into the home of a relative (sans vehicle). She transferred my things to the new location, cried the entire time, and would not see me for some days afterward.

Roll back to the evening prior to her tossing me out, and there we were... half in the fucking bag, and unwilling to bend in our respective positions regarding control of our own lives. The fact is she was in a situation similar to mine. Her drunkenness and haphazard nature were the result of a destroyed long-term relationship -- at her hands. Whenever the subject was illuminated, the anger rose in both of us and pressed us into a perpetual debate. On the night in question, I threatened to commit the act, tossed my keys to the ground, and proceeded to walk to the ocean with whiskey in hand. Hours later she drove to pick me up -- worried for my mood -- and poured me into bed. The next day she handed me my bag of clothing and brought me across the bay. As soon as she had learned that I was out of that house for a day, my things were dropped there.

I immediately began to formulate a plan to get the hell out and away from everyone's prying attention. With my car still parked outside her apartment, and my keys under the control of my relative (until such time as I was deemed fit to be alone), I had to show improvement, real or otherwise. For a few days I spoke and went on with daily activities until one morning when I was handed my keys, driven to my car, and left there with the understanding that I would run errands and be back that evening. Naturally, it was a long line of bullshit as I had absolutely no intention of allowing any other living soul into my head. I grabbed the car and drove to my original home. On the way I learned that a credit card I had applied for in a bank branch had arrived in the mail some time earlier.

That was the clincher and one tiny step which allowed me to escape everyone.

Michelle's hair was a destination all its own

Upon reaching my home, I quickly called to activate the card and cleaned up a bit before heading back out. Most of my things were still there, which meant I was free to pack up whatever I needed. I then left for the bank and drew cash off the new card. From there I dashed back across the bay and stopped into a bar/restaurant for lunch. While sitting there with beer and whiskey, I was focused entirely upon my phone to make a plane reservation to the Promised Land. Apparently, my connection to the phone drew the attention of a woman next to me. Upon inquiring if I was working, I told Michelle of the flight and my need to flee the norm and the crowds. She seemed intrigued that I was behaving so impulsively, and immediately asked if she could accompany me. I was taken aback, but in the mindset of that day the idea was not so crazy. I figured someone traveling with me was harmless, so we left for her apartment allowing her could pack some things for a few nights. Then it was off to SFO and the wondrous international terminal and its vast array of bars for waiting. We checked in (first class) and headed to a watering hole near the gate.

Cut to several drinks later, and I was already feeling as if I had less control over my judgement. Slurring became the norm for the remainder of the day.

We boarded the plane and sunk into the luxury that is first class. Drinks arrived almost immediately as did the gorgeous attendant. I sat there and admired the others coming aboard with drunken eyes and unhealthy thoughts. At some point during boarding, we began to discuss music. While in Michelle's apartment earlier, I had noticed a sextet of framed NIN album covers. That gave me an idea of the type of person she might have been, and the music conversation was fantastic. On and off while we waited, she placed her headphones on me and asked me to listen. I concentrated on every note and syllable, and eventually realized she had a unique library of musicians -- none of which had I previously been familiar. Upon takeoff, I began thinking that her tagging along on that trip was becoming a good idea. I could benefit from her vast musical knowledge, and she in turn could benefit from my intention to comfortably drown into the goblet that is Las Vegas.

The flight landed a short time later and Michelle and I grabbed a taxi to the center of the universe, commonly known as the Mandalay Bay.

Diane and her gorgeous shape

We checked in, freshened up, and headed down to the casino floor to find dinner. That was not difficult, as I had previously spent much time at Stripsteak and knew full well we could eat like king and queen -- cost be damned. The bar was welcoming, as always, and dinner flew by just like all of the cocktails. When I attempted to pay the check twice, the bartender politely informed me that I had already taken care of it, and perhaps a good idea would be to head upstairs and sleep. By that point we were both polluted, I had no memory of eating, and the room quickly became our best option. To the elevator, the door, and into the bed we went. Neither of us was thinking about anything aside from rest, and though other ideas may have seemed natural, we slumbered next to each other.

The morning arrived and Michelle slowly moved about the room trying to locate a charger for her phone. I helped and laid back down. She crawled up next to me in her lingerie and we discussed the prior evening's pitfalls. She also stated that the idea of us becoming physical had been on her mind from the word go. I was hesitant of being that close, but her thoughts were not out of line, especially considering the outlandish circumstances. Her eyes conveyed desire, and for whatever reason I could not help but think that she wished to show gratitude for my including her in such an adventure. I told Michelle that we could shower together and head to a restaurant for a comfortable brunch. She agreed and proceeded to lean into me. We embraced, and I told her that some conversation should take place before we went any further -- if that was to happen at all.

The shower brought both of us back to a more stable condition, and once dressed we left the room for food. As is my fashion, we took a seat at the House of Blues and its very isolated lounge. Unfortunately, I feared that would be the last meal we shared together.

Throughout the entirety of the trip, I could not help but nearly constantly consider the thoughts and feelings of the Brunette. Just because we had a flap about our shared destructive behaviors did not mean that we should have split for good, and even moreso that I would have been better avoiding spending time with a woman whom I did not know. The amplification of those considerations took place upon waking that morning. The talk between Michelle and myself, the shower, the walk to the House, and brunch found me worsening over the idea that I had dashed away without a word to anyone, and without the Brunette knowing that my condition was no longer dire. She needed to know that I was ok, and soon. All of that added up had become quite a sum, and all the while I feared that the Brunette -- being the insecure soul that she was -- might know where I was and come searching. At that point I made the decision to inform Michelle of my worry, and that perhaps we should not spend any more time together.

Ugh... that did not go well at all.

Was I even needed? Heh.

Of course, she thought I was losing my mind (and, she was not far off the mark). I told her that I would make sure she remained comfortable for the next two days and that I would get her a room next door at the Luxor, just to be safe. Michelle's reaction was as expected, and I could see the disdain in her eyes. I felt for her, deeply. She reluctantly agreed to move to the other hotel.

Once underway, relocating her to the Luxor was a simple affair. I checked her in, and then took a seat above the registration desk at Aurora. I waited a little while for Michelle to get her things in order, and after an hour or so I saw her walking back toward the Mandalay Bay. I closed my check and followed along to the Island Bar. She spied me approaching and gestured for me to take a seat next to her. At that point, she seemed quite upset at the change after such a short period of time. I did my best to be understanding and apologized profusely. She calmed a bit, and informed me that I appeared extremely out of balance mentally, and that remaining close to her could help. That was also her hope, despite the risk. She also mentioned the newly missing phone charger. I asked her to sit there for a few while I went shopping.

Upon my return, her eyes expressed sympathy. I sat again and handed her a charger which was immediately taken by the bartender. He provided the power for her phone and dropped off two more drinks. Michelle and I sat there for a while longer and discussed improving the visit. We had decided that the best course would be to sink further into the goblet and enjoy. So... there it was. I went straight to the desk at the Luxor and dropped the fee for her room and she moved back into the Bay. Both of us felt much more comfortable and proceeded to head for Cathouse. Along the way we stopped off for a little gambling and then poured ourselves into the dark red lounge.

The idea of visiting Cathouse at that point in the trip turned out to be one of the best of those few days.

And one of the worst.

We entered, were guided to a booth, and then I sighted a lanky goddess approaching, clad in beige from head to toe. Lingerie, stockings, heels, and a flail. Oh boy. The server's name was Diane and she looked right at home in that business. She helped us to find the appetizers and drinks we desired, and all the while had the look of both predator and prey. Her appearance sent me into the stratosphere and Michelle looked on in wonder... happy to see me comfortable and gazing at a work of art. We sat there for quite a time and talked of sex, society, and the woman who brought us what we needed. The lounge was very comfortable and with the details of a finely-crafted brothel. The staff was both dreamy and discreet. The hostess brought to mind thoughts of dancing girls from days long passed. The bar and menus were very classy and well-thought. Cathouse was a first-class establishment and such a fantastic addition to the newly adult-oriented Luxor. Unfortunately, feeling the way I did on that particular afternoon left me unable to fully appreciate the nature of such a venue. I could not help but stare at Diane, during which Michelle stared at me as if she was in heat. The whole of the afternoon became a test -- one which I would soon fail. Yikes to the nth degree.

The time rolled by and the remarks and simple conversation between myself, Michelle, and Diane had become very flirty. Diane's eyes expressed both desire and danger, the combination of which sent me flying. More than once had Michelle mentioned the idea of bringing Diane along on some sort of bar fling, and the idea was as frightening as it was exciting. After a few more glances and some simple wording, we exchanged a bit of information with Diane and left the lounge. I needed some fucking air like never before. Fortunately, the street was a quick walk.

We decided to stroll back to the Bay on the Strip rather than through the club. We spoke at length regarding what the late afternoon had become, and the possibility of spending time outside Cathouse with Diane. My hesitation was thick with worry, but Michelle was very pointed in her words of desire. Time for a drink.

Sitting between them was frightening

By the early evening, the entire affair had become an exercise in restraint. We enjoyed the Nile bar for a short time and then wandered back to the elevator. Once in the isolation of our room, she asked about showering again in order to prepare for a 'dinner not to be overstated'. My taste in restaurants dictated a certain level of dress, so a shower did not seem out of order. The thought that she wished to be close also entered into my mind again, but I was not feeling like pushing her away. The shenanigans at Cathouse left me with a similar desire.

We showered, embraced, talked, and enjoyed the warm water. Afterward we did finally kiss a bit, but the situation never blossomed into anything else. As nice as that type of thing can feel, she knew full well that I was not in the space which would allow me to relax that much. And the thought of Diane being within the privacy of our room left me wishing that the trip had taken place during more comfortable circumstances.

No longer had I processed that thought when Michelle's phone began to ring. Diane wished to have dinner with us, and that meant we needed to leave the Mandalay Resort Group ownership in order to accommodate her. So, we took to the street and walked all the way down to First Food and Bar in the Palazzo. Jesus Harold Christ that is a long walk, but worthwhile to see Diane perched at the bar... back arched... heels... hair down to her ass... gawd. I immediately became uncomfortable due to the fact that I looked like some sort of playboy with those two women flanking me. There were not many others in the place, so sitting for a little while was fine. The bartender was equally enthralling, helpful, and just the right type of personality to be available during such a dramatic and frightening situation. She regarded our trio with immediate understanding, and her gorgeous demeanor slowly began to dictate the mood. The feeling was wonderful, but at the same time... yikes.

We drank for a while, snacked on some things, and Diane turned to me and expressed her apparent ongoing desire to dine at her house. That was unexpected, and my initial reaction was to decline her request. I simply wanted to enjoy First and just relax for a while with some cocktails and snacks until such time to head back toward the southern end. Michelle and I had a few quiet words and decided the best thing for us would be to avoid entering into an evening with that woman. Vegas can be quite enticing, but it can also be dangerous. Diane was very forward and vocal, and she seemed to be a bit too much. We wished her well and said our goodbyes. Michelle took my hand and we made our way out of the Palazzo to stroll south for a while. During the walk, we talked about the time with Diane and the idea of perhaps laying low for the remainder of the trip. That type of encounter was not something we had planned, nor was it the least bit comfortable. The walk afforded us time to think about what traveling to that town provided each of us, and after a little while we made our way (somewhat instinctively) into the Monte Carlo and that same cozy lounge which became a hideout for Jasmine and myself years earlier.

We sat there a while and continued to discuss the Diane encounter, the hotels, and everything leading to life in general. She looked upon me as if what I was saying took priority over everything around us. The feeling of being so far from home, isolated, hidden, and comfortable there with her pushed me to enjoy every second. Michelle appeared to feel the same way, and eventually we gazed at each other as if the trip created a new outlook for each of us. The lounge was nice, and the conversation was better. We had reached some sort of understanding with regard to her snap decision to come along, and both of our expectations as to what may happen. That conclusion helped to make the remaining trip much more comfortable."

Michelle's sleepwear was jeweled, too. Wait... what?

After enjoying each other's company at the Monte Carlo, we again took to the street in search of something else. The idea of running into another gorgeous woman was no longer anything holding our interest, so we headed into the pyramid but avoided Cathouse. Instead, Michelle suggested Aurora once again. We sunk into the outer lounge and kept the conversation subdued. The server (her name was Grace) was wonderfully discreet and sensed our desire to be alone (as much as possible in that place, anyway). She avoided appoaching us until we wished it.

Once again Michelle and I spoke of life within the goblet and elsewhere. Her eyes expressed much comfort in knowing we found the time and space to speak again. Her position in the oversize and very plush chair was compelling, and I could not avoid gazing upon her beautiful form -- nor could I refrain from telling her of how I felt. She smiled lovingly and told me in clear terms that I was free to do as I pleased. During the quiet moments when neither of us was speaking, we caressed each other gently and expressed genuine appreciation for the time and place. Michelle's eyes began to help me relax, and the physical contact between us allowed for a deep understanding and respect for her need to be there. As the afternoon progressed, the thought of being intimate once again surfaced, but we both knew the consequences could be damaging. Closeness maintained with limits became our most important goal.

At one point Grace visited the table and asked if we needed anything, to which Michelle replied that the world was just perfect at that moment and her instinctively understanding service was equally such. Grace simply smiled with her Egyptian features and slid one hand across Michelle's cheek, then glided away. Neither of us could believe our incredible fortune of sitting where the courtesy was undending, and the comfort was unreal. We stayed a while longer and spoke further of life.

As the evening wore on, we decided to head back to the center of the universe and freshen ourselves for some dinner.

The room was inviting -- as always in that plush resort -- and we took advantage of the shower once again. Though the weather outside was quite cool, the walking and drinking created a tiredness that only hot water can alleviate. We showered together without words, dressed, and proceeded back to the casino floor. Naturally, dinner is an affair and that evening was no different. Straight to Stripsteak we strolled once again, and the bar welcomed us with open arms. Their impeccable staff provided both dinner and conversation the likes of which only a handful of venues can equal. We sat for a few hours and enjoyed all of it. Michelle expressed her desire to rest, so we headed back up the elevator for the night. In the room she once again displayed beautiful and exotic lingerie. We plopped into bed, intertwined, and slumbered. I had begun to feel as if I needed to know her outside the goblet, and that was not an easy consideration. Home meant an entirely different situation and the Brunette which awaited my arrival. She had communicated with me on and off during my absence and through such I knew she wished me to return soon. The combination of the sensitive comfort I felt with Michelle and the disjointed reality that was the remainder of my life was a tough cocktail to digest. The fear within me began to well -- like so many tears -- and took the peaceful right out of any sleep. I knew all too well that the trip home was approaching at breakneck speed.


In the morning I was able to place the items in my head into some sort of order before waking the woman next to me. As she slept, I moved about the room, a bit scattered, and attempted to make sense of all that had taken place throughout the past several months. I looked upon the phone to see no messages, and checked with the desk as well. We had been undisturbed for nearly nine hours and that thought was both comforting and not. I worried for the feelings of the Brunette and worried further for my situation so far from home. Part of me needed to stay there forever, and another smaller part needed to get the fuck out of the goblet. As comfortable as that resort and room can be, the reality had to intrude at some point. With some home considerations and quiet time aside, I decided that we should delude the day once again.

After making ourselves presentable -- including Michelle wearing yet another dynamite outfit over her unending display of lovely underthings, we ventured to the elevator, doors and into a cab. The destination was the forum shops. We were dropped at the main entrance to Caesar's Palace and wandered along through the casino floor ending up at the entrance to the mall. On our left was the Palm, and that became our brunch locale of choice once the walking ceased (or the need to drink became paramount). After browsing around for a little bit, we ran across a lovely pair of bar stools at the Cheesecake Factory. While sitting there, we discussed the impending trip home and all of the repercussions which doubtless would run us out of our minds. The idea of leaving the dripping coziness of the goblet had become alien to both of us. Another thought was equally intimidating: separating ourselves from each other upon resuming life. As we sat and pondered the pitfalls of not being within the comfort we both so badly needed, the second cocktail disappeared. That meant hunger was approaching, so we headed out toward the Palm.

By that point in the trip, Michelle had become much more than I had anticipated. Confidant, partner, friend. The more we spoke and gazed at each other, the closer I felt to her warm heart. And to imagine that chance meeting during the most dire of circumstances? Jesus the fucking odds are into the stratosphere -- just the idea that she was always out there and I had no knowledge. The situation seemed very similiar to the Brunette, yet the adventure was far different than the earlier trip to the Sea. That week was a rollercoaster of emotion and turmoil mixed with love and closeness. The Vegas days with Michelle had turned into some sort of calming therapy which we needed in spades. Her reasoning for jumping ship and catching a plane with me with nearly zero notice was still not known by our last evening together.

Looking ahead...

Michelle and I flew the next afternoon. The plane home was not quite the overblown party as the flight out, and we were a measure more subdued because of the intensity of some aspects of our weekend. We sat in first class again and held each other very close during the entire flight. Her eyes and hands made it clear that there was no other place she wished to be. I felt the same, and the thought of landing at SFO was not a pleasant one. I wanted to stay in those plush seats forever.

We sauntered through the terminal toward parking and transportation, and held hands the whole way. Just as I began to think about the upcoming difficulty in dropping Michelle at her home, I looked ahead and saw something which swept all else away. Holy crap.

To be continued."

[06:55 pst 11/07/2017 CE, 151006
6500 E]

Just as we suspected months ago, the Autosound and Laserdisc Legacy sections have been removed. The streamlining of the site content is now complete. The writing and Clodmaster updates are to be the only parts of this endeavor which will move forward.

And speaking of the Clodmaster, for whatever reason the menu system and directory are all fucked up. We cannot access the entire library of pages. Something went awry... just saying. We are amidst a new index to ease the menu-driven navigation for that section so hopefully upon deploying the content a few thins will be ironed out.

Also, the legal policies have been expanded to more fully protect both the site and the visitors. We have added a small cookie policy which was generated due to the analytics. As long as things stay on the up and up, we need not mess with any more of that type of work.

On a positive note, the rambling about the archive format being in reverse order is going to change. We are working toward flipping the entries -- by date, of course -- end for end. This will take a bit of time and will commence with the oldest first. Visitors will be able to read through the content top to bottom and then link directly to the following year. We feel this is a more natural way to guide readers and probably should have been formatted chronologically from the beginning.

Better late than never? Maybe.


The Goddess and the Gratification

Part Two

"The Brunette strolled up to us, smiling, and said hello in her adorable way. She hugged me deeply, and I introduced her to the work of art next to me. The situation felt tense, but somehow alright. We all began to walk toward the parking shuttle -- discussing the ups and downs of Michelle and my visit to the goblet. I slowly realized that the fallout which I had feared throughout the last couple of days was not going to happen. The Brunette was more understanding of my feelings and desires, and her own role in the terrible split which took place days earlier. We agreed that the entire blowup could have and should have been avoided, and the alcohol set things ablaze. She continued to smile -- partly embarrassed due to Michelle overhearing the story -- and suddenly everything was fine. My nervousness remained, however, but I tried to keep it at bay and simply cruise along.

[As a side note, I cannot display the name of the Brunette within these writings due to her wishes. Michelle expressed to me that her name included here and elsewhere was not a problem because no one is familiar with matching her face to my entries.]

Outside the terminal, Michelle and I parted ways with the Brunette and headed for my car. During the wait and subsequent shuttle ride, she remained up against me as if I was maintaining her comfort. Every now and then I buried my face in her neck and whispered of my desire to remain attached to her physically as long as possible. She simply held me without words. Upon reaching the car, Michelle hugged me tightly and informed me that she feared being apart. I assured her that everything in my power would be put to use to see that did not take place. She kissed my cheek and slid into the seat.

The ride back to her apartment was quiet, and our hands did not separate unless I needed to shift. The closer we ventured toward our destination, the more turmoil developed within my stomach. That woman brought -- in a very short time period, of course -- a vast array of comfort, understanding, and a way of somehow knowing when we were both in need of quiet. Her eyes had already drilled holes into me and I was nowhere near ready to be away from them. I could not fathom how such a wondrous and fulfilling situation could have arisen throughout the course of days. The entire thought, when wrapped up as a whole, had become mind-boggling. And there was no escape from the fear.

Michelle posed in any manner I desired

Michelle's apartment felt cozy, and I again noticed the images on her living room wall. My being within her space was much more relaxed than the previous visit due to the unreal connection in the goblet. She immediately dropped her things and embraced me just as on the flight. We moved to the sofa and she snuggled her head into my neck, whispering how our meeting was a random consideration she had previously not imagined. I could not help but agree. We stayed there for half the evening and finally decided to clean up and get something to eat. Yet another shared shower felt for a few moments as if we were still in the goblet, but of course the reality of not being in that comfort slammed us upon leaving her abode.

The idea of dinner led us back to the beginning where we met. Michelle and I sat at the bar again, and this time we appeared a bit different to the staff (whom she knew due to being somewhat of a regular there). We spoke less, held hands, and enjoyed remaining close. She asked if I would spend the night with her, and naturally I needed to hold her again so I agreed. The bar was beginning to get busier and the staff doubled for the dinner hours. We stayed there at the end of the bar for a while longer and then took off once again for her home. Upon entering, she held me close with somewhat teary eyes and stated that she had become enamored with my being near her, and the thought of being apart for any decent amount of time was frightening. I felt the same, and began to process how to swing my life into the form of her constantly next to me.

Despite the calmness and comfort of our trip, the difficulties and trials of the past few months were still paying rent in my head. I tried to let go of trivialities, debates, and the like, but all of the circumstances which led me to the bar that fateful day simply would not be ignored. Every moment spent with Michelle was filled with the peaks and valleys of my sordid mind. Her warmth and understanding were often enough to push everything away, and during other times nothing could impede the damaging thought processes. I just did not know what to do, so the incredible heart next to me took priority over everything. At times I had to step back and attempt to understand just what exposed such a precious person to me. She was wonderful, and I could not get enough of her.

Back at her apartment a little while later and I was dumbfounded. Apparently all of the conversation throughout our trip had led her to understand some of my needs, and she decided to fulfill what she could. Oh boy.

Michelle's eyes at times expressed more feeling than I could handle

Lying up against Michelle led me to a calm I had not known for some time. Her gentle nature warmed me like nothing else, and the world seemed to melt away in the distance. She continued to show physical desire but we both still knew that anything in such a direction was not a good idea and could complicate things and possibly ruin all. During the night and under calm lighting, she modeled herself in order to allow me a bit of exploration. Differing outfits and poses passed by and I began to see Michelle as a goddess. The endless flow of her smooth skin, tapered legs, sharp shoulders, and the void between her chest and hips... she looked amazing. Her poses were each held for a length of time, and that gave me time to view her from every angle. She did not look upon me at all, but merely moved herself about -- slowly -- and let me study. As I gazed and appreciated the fact that she was open to my odd needs, I felt even closer to her. And I wanted to make her smile, constantly. I needed to make her smile, and I needed her near me.

We slept like a pretzel again.

During the night while Michelle was out, I could not avoid considering the entire world I had left behind days earlier. The Brunette was there, my things were left, and my life had been put on hold temporarily. And part of me never wished to return. The time with Michelle -- no matter where we were -- had become surreal and I desired remaining in that space forever. That was not a situation which was at all possible, of course, but I needed it nonetheless. And I was certain that Michelle felt the same. I also had to consider where to go in the coming days. I had no doubt that she would have allowed me to remain hidden away in her little space for as long as I wished, but at some point the reality of everything put on a shelf would once again illuminate and press me into a decision. As much as I wished to avoid that point in time, it would come soon enough. All I could do was pull closer to Michelle and wish it away.

So I did.

One aspect of being next to her was unexpected. I looked upon her incredible and seemingly endless beauty and the details of her face, but all of that took a back seat to what she meant to me on the inside. Yes, she was unbelievably well formed. However, she was a person first and foremost. And we had somehow connected on a level which placed all of the physicality aside.

Her long, slender fingers matched her height

By morning I had cleared my head a bit and knew that I needed to take care of a little business in order to keep the cash flowing. I asked the work of art next to me if she wanted to come along, and she agreed. We showered together and took to the freeway.

Along the way, Michelle began to reveal to me some of the turmoil which led her to the bar in the first place. I started to understand that she was somewhat out of balance (just as myself), and that the calming atmosphere we had found together allowed her to clear some thoughts and relax. Her situation was such that the decision to fly the coop with me created more damage within her life, rather than easing an already tough time. We had that in common, and in spades. At no time was I surprised by any of it. I had known something was wrong in there. I felt for her, and wished no more difficulty with anything. As we drove into the city, our hands found each other's often. The warmth in that simple connection cannot be overstated.

We dropped the car with a valet and took to the street in search of my financial needs and her desire for some coziness. We ended up in the shopping district where things aligned nicely. Business aside, we grabbed a seat in a quiet corner and discussed what came next. I feared being away from her, so every effort was made to keep the situation close and warm. Both of us seemed to need it so the focus became common. I again brought up my desire to consider the brunette and her delicate feelings and heart, and Michelle was more than understanding. During the entire subject of the Brunette, I sat with quite a knot within, and Michelle could sense my discomfort. And as expected, she responded with calm, kind words and a demeanor which pulled at my heart. Just a short time after seating ourselves in that restaurant I already wished to smother her with love and attention. Good god, she was amazingly sweet and kind.

A few cocktails and more conversation actually, and not surprisingly, led us nowhere. There was no easy solution to our situation, and despite all of the connected parts of us, there still remained the initial issues we both fought. There was just no getting around the fact that neither of us was in any position for a relationship. And holy fuck was that a tough truth to accept. We wanted to be together, yet the fact was we could not. That hurt. We departed the restaurant and strolled toward the water, hand in hand.

Alcohol led us to both joy and frustration

Gazing out over the possibility (read: water) brought me to a place of understanding and consideration. My strongest desire at that point was to see Michelle both happy and comfortable. And I meant within her life. That fact meant that at some point I would have to exit her attention and company. Such a thought was not pleasant, albeit necessary. Her proximity to me throughout the past many days had become powerful enough to bring me to a place of dreams. Yes, that type of warmth can be dangerous, and still I was having trouble choosing between destruction with warmth or departure with emotional intelligence. For fuck's sake I flip-flopped like a fish out of water. Michelle could sense my condition and felt the same. While walking, every now and then she would stop me and look at my eyes with a perception I could hardly believe. What a person and what a wondrous soul. Good god... again. Add to that her physical appearance and the resulting mix was the stuff of the obsession -- and more.

I knew what needed to happen, but at that time I felt to toss myself off a bridge would have been the easier path. I longed to be wrapped around her, both physically and emotionally, until the sun ran out of hydrogen. Fuck.

The afternoon wore on, and we ended up at yet another dim, cozy bar. That was when things went both upward as well as down. We ordered a round and Michelle spoke to my heart. She told me in no uncertain terms that she would be my subject and perform anything I wished if we could be close just once before separating. Holy shit and to the nth degree. Absorption of that statement took some time, and I informed her that I needed to think it through. I could not imagine being at such a point in our short duration together, approaching a peak, and then departing for all of eternity. Several damaging thoughts occurred to me, but one simple truth continued to come through the fog: I was feeling love for her and perhaps being within a cloud together once may be better than the rest of my life without enjoying each other's company and leaving ourselves in some sort of positive place.

How could I not embrace her wishes and my own needs? How, indeed. We decided to leave the city and make our way back to her apartment. Upon arrival, she asked if we could bathe together without words. I consented and we plunged into hot water (is that not humorous?).

Her bathroom was huge, and the freestanding soaking tub looked inviting. I remembered seeing it before the flight and marveling at its dimensions. She started the water and then opened a bottle of wine. Two glasses poured, and she again displayed some of the most beautiful lingerie I had ever seen. We sat for a few minutes and came to an understanding that this would represent the end of the heartache for both. I sat there staring into her eyes and knew that for myself the thought would be far from the truth. My suffering continues to this day.

There was no chance of denying her

The hot water was comforting, but nothing compared to sharing the experience with Michelle and her huge, emotional eyes. Her demeanor and warm heart took me to a place previously unknown, and only the company of the Brunette was similar. That woman had a way of telegraphing happiness and fulfillment unlike others. Michelle, on the other hand, was as a calming angel and an unending peaceful presence that I could not avoid.

We exited the tub, wine glasses in hand, and flopped onto her plush bed to cool off a bit. After a few minutes of enjoying the softness of skin resulting from the bath water, she rose and donned yet another unreal outfit. She then stood before me with eyes which said 'I am yours'. Oh my. I immediately expressed to her that I felt love for her and did not wish to change anything. She kissed me softly and told me that my choices for the afternoon had been removed. Holy crap was I floored, but my desire was such that I could not avoid pushing forward and making her my doll.

During the next couple of hours, I posed her and gazed, moved her about the room and proceeded to mentally record what I was seeing. Michelle allowed me anything... anything I wished and she continued to gaze at my eyes as if I was bringing her more enjoyment than myself. She changed outfits often, and caressed my cheeks many times. And just as the open space began to close in on my brain, we stopped to relax. Once we spoke about how nice it was to be alone, she kissed me and the world went aslant.

Never had I lived through more of a beautiful, heart-wrenching, and resplendent experience in my life. Michelle became a dream, my model, and partner during the end of a period filled with love, turmoil, and a doorway I felt I would never pass. She was beautiful beyond words, loving to a fault, and the connection between us could not adequately be described if the words were grains of sand on a beach. Jesus.

The remainder of that day and night are classified.

Carry the fuck on and wait for part three. And part three is the worst."

[07:22 pst 11/12/2017 CE, 1510500120 E]

The story continues, and from a negative space.

Part of the archived indexing has been reversed, and a whole bunch remains untouched. Eventually the entirety will be streamlined, if anyone even reads back that far. Heh. All other sections of the content are at status quo. All we are doing is maintaining, organizing, and keeping the legal up to par.


Death, the Dreadnought, and the Departure

Part Three

"I left Michelle's apartment in a half-drunken stupor and with a head full of damaging thought processes. My destination was the cave on the coast and the company of the Brunette. I needed to see her and hash out some things. A quick call to her and I felt as if there were no worries. The other side of my head was awash with concern and feelings of loss. A massive hole developed within me and the only thing capable of alleviating it was the goddess I left behind. And that was not going to happen.

I stopped off at the market to grab alcohol and then headed up to the cave. My arrival was warmly welcomed and the comfort I felt there prior to the escape began to return. The Brunette was very affectionate and expressed to me her joy in me being there again. Of course, the week before found her tossing me to the curb and delivering my things across the bay, but the time between proved to be therapeutic for both of us. She also sent word to my family that I was out of Vegas and they were overjoyed. The alarmingly quick exit days earlier put everyone on alert that I was not well. That afternoon provided all involved with some relief (except one part of the whole thing).

The Brunette and I stayed within the confines of the cave, ordered food, and sat with cigarettes and whiskey. I actually laid out the entire trip leaving no detail hidden and she did not react with rankor. She understood my personality all too well and the idea of seeking comfort was not unheard of. Our reunion went on into the evening, and we ended up on the sofa in front of a few movies. Her affection was very warming and welcoming, and I could not help but wish to be with her all night. No sooner did that thought run across my heart, and she asked if I would stay for a few days to ease the difficulties we had experienced. I agreed, and the night grew even warmer. All the while my thoughts were dashing toward Michelle. We slept, intertwined, and my heart swelled for both women.

The Brunette's curves were the stuff of dreams

In the morning the Brunette suggested an excursion into the city via the train. That was a routine we exercised quite often throughout the preceeding months so I figured it might be a good idea. Getting out of the cave sounded pleasant and relaxing. Our past walking trips in the city had always allowed us to spend time together, yet we drifted from place to place each within our own world in the lenses. Just like that fateful trip to the Salton, every now and then was a little glance toward each other's direction which brough both a warmth we needed. I hoped the day would bring us the same, however later the trip turned directly south toward hell.

We cruised up to a lovely bar and restaurant near the station and slid in for some breakfast and drinks. The conversation between us began with my trip to the goblet and furthered into less comfortable territory. She asked of our activities there and I left out no detail. The honesty warmed her and helped her to feel as if there were no barriers between us. She could sense that Michelle's company was therapeutic in many ways, and my running away from everything was a result of a lack of the same. The falling out between the Brunette and I was not pretty, but it was not the end of the world. We both felt the need to spend time apart and let things calm. For me, that meant traveling the hell out for a while and into a place I knew would help.

After the short train ride dropped us in the middle of the city's soup, we walked the downtown areas and then made our way toward the water. She wished to head into a small seafood restaurant on one of the piers which had a wondrous view out over the bay. As we sat there, the conversation slowly became more and more flirty, resulting in her desire to leave and be at arm's length for a while. I could not help but agree because I knew of her ways and I wanted to avoid us getting too close within a public place. Oy.

Again we took to the street and out of the blue she asked of my physical attraction toward Michelle. I replied with everything I had felt for that goddess and none of it seemed to upset her, although the words emanating from her began to slow. I could feel that she was analyzing everything I said, but deep down I knew that she was still the open and understanding woman from whom I ran away. The Brunette informed me that she had felt Michelle was a deep need of mine and the fact that we had connected brought her as much comfort as it did trepidation. She trusted me, completely, and her mind was open to possibilities -- good or bad, pleasant or otherwise. Time would tell of the consequences.

Her dark hair contrasted olive skin

We ventured around the waterfront, cameras in tow, and again wound up in a seafood spot not far from the first. We enjoyed some dessert and watched others walk by from the window. I could see that she was tipsy but because we were both that way (and daily), no worry entered my head. The drinks continued to flow through me, as well. That meant that any criticism of myself would amplify along with my compassion for the wonderful soul next to me. I could feel the negativity within me beginning to boil, and the fear mounted.

On the walk back toward the train station, I started to become upset for leaving her in the first place. The more I looked over at her and those sensitive eyes, the more guilt flowed into my heart. I asked for her feelings at the time and she simply smiled. And then I fell through the floor into a pit of disgust. Her face was soft, her expression was that of comfort and satisfaction, but my remorse over spending such time and sharing my heart with Michelle took over everything. I became red inside and I could not stop it.

The Brunette and I paused on a bench for a cigarette, and by that point -- just minutes after it began, my guilt pushed me into very damaging and suicidal territory. I stood and removed my backpack, took my phone and wallet out and placed them inside the pockets, and told her to keep everything. She appeared startled, and pressed me for what I was doing. I told her I loved her but was incapable of remaining stable, and that she would be much better off without me. As I quickly stepped away, she tried to follow but I instructed her that I was helping everyone. She stopped in her tracks, began to openly weep, and then sat on the ground. I gave her one last glance back to be sure she was falling behind, and ran away toward the piers. I swore to myself that I was doing the right thing, and her life would be improved without the issues I so often caused.

Ok. Deep breath.

I ended up only a block away before needing to stop running and cease that thought process. I immediately worried for her having to deal with the implications which I dropped upon her. And then I worsened due to more guilt over stating my intentions and walking away from her. My heart fell and the impulse to drop my sorry life into the cold water became amplified, but I could not move. The swirling thoughts in my head were out of control and I suddenly did not know which way to turn. Michelle floated into me, as did the idea of what may take place moments after a plunge. My family... the Brunette being left there as the only person to see what happened... the people nearby and their happiness... the lights which were beginning to look haloed... everything all at once and out of my control. I wanted to die, live, go back in time... anything but that very moment. Things were spinning, diving -- the water was calling. My eyes darted about in search of some miracle which could deliver me from that incredible hell. As I stood there I became paralyzed for moments, and the street next to me began to look inviting with its endless parade of vehicles speeding by. My body started to twitch in the direction of the traffic, as if I was trying to decide whether to dash in front of a car or stand my ground and attempt to calm my impulse. Back and forth and back and forth -- death and sleep, walking or diving, living or dying. Every passing car was a possibility, and every second not darting into traffic was another possibility. What to do? The planet felt as if it was spinning fast enough for me to just fly off the surface and ignite in the atmosphere. Live on and suffer, or die and be done with it?

I then turned toward my previous path and spotted the Brunette standing at the corner of a building, staring at me and crying. Everything flipped right-side-up and I ran back to her instantly.

She was so beautiful, and with features I could not resist

She quickly grabbed me and squeezed like never before. Her tears soaked the shoulder of my jacket and her grip would not cease. All at once I wished to be away from that place and in her arms forever. We stood there for what seemed a million years and then moved to a bench. She finally let go of me (mostly), handed me my things, and looked upon me as if to say that I was no longer allowed to go anywhere alone. My pain began to subside and my head was able to clearly process what I then had to do.

And that was to return to her cave and apologize for the rest of my life.

Minutes later we resumed our walking and made a beeline for the train station. By that point in the evening my brain was turning to thick clay and the simplest of tasks became overwhelming -- like placing my ticket into the turnstile. I was barely there. She helped and made certain to maintain contact with me physically. Every single time I looked at her face I saw deep sympathy and appreciation in her big, beautiful eyes. That alone could have kept me from the water. Her facial expressions were calming like nothing else on earth, and during those moments I needed nothing more.

We boarded the train -- standing room only, naturally -- and stayed near the doors. She never looked away from me for the entire ride. And she was showing affection like I did not expect. All of that allowed me to relax more and I began to feel as if my episode was not so alien to her. I knew of all that woman went through due to the guilt of what brought her to the coast. She left nothing out, ever. So, the ride ended up being quite a help for both of us. Her appreciation for my being there beside her was wonderful, and the simplicity of holding her hand became the entire universe.

We arrived back at the cave and dropped everything. She turned to me, again teary-eyed, and told me she loved me and that would never stop. The hug which followed must have lasted ten minutes or more. And then she asked if I was hungry. Huh? Are you kidding? The funny thing is, I was a bit hungry, so she prepared a snack and poured us each a beer. Very nice, although the hurricane in my head still had some residual power over me. I did my best to keep it at bay, and her loving company certainly helped. She had a way of making everything bad just go away when she looked at me with her heart. Every second that disappeared brought me closer to the person I was before jumping ship in the middle of the city. Her demeanor was wonderful, and the evening was smoothing out. My heart swelled and I wanted nothing else but to be near her.

The first woman to be my model

A few hours into our being back in the cave and the conversation had become much more composed and soothing for both of us. We had our snack, a few drinks, and relocated to the bed. She expressed her fears to me and I could not avoid understanding. We were so similar that at times nothing could keep us from expoloding. Along those lines, said similarities brought us to the peak of love and passion. The in-between areas were seldom explored because each personality toggled repeatedly between the flame and the freezing. The up was way the fuck up, but that meant that the down was equally superlative. It was the bottom.

While relaxing with some quiet music, and deep into all of the staring at each other, the Brunette stated that she needed a few minutes alone. I told her I would sit tight. Some minutes later she emerged from the bathroom clad in a bodystocking, lingerie, and heels. I almost shit myself with surprise, and no sooner did I attempt to take in such a fantastic sight and she hugged me deeply. She then took my face in her warm hands and expressed her love for me and planted her lips to mine. Jesus fucking hell that was unexpected and so beautiful that my mind went away completely. All I could think of was being with her and enjoying all that she wanted.

She slowly slid to the floor as I grabbed at my camera. The sight of her on all fours was enough to force the memory of how to operate the Nikon completely from my head, so I dropped it on the bed and watched her crawl. Gawd. Her curves became exaggerated to the point of looking as if she could fold in half easily. The press of her upper thighs allowed me to paint a mental picture of the numbers all over her. I did not have anything with me to wrap around her loveliness, so I simply sat there, flabbergasted at the beauty in front of me. Her eyes were that of both predator and prey. And those oversize breasts looked as if they would crush me without mercy. And I was happy to let it happen. There was absolutely no resisting any of her. I could not think clearly, and when we touched my brain went into a tailspin which led me to diving in completely. The Brunette was the most sexual woman I had ever encountered and was willing to be a fantasy of any type. And she desired me to the same extent. Within a few minutes her apartment went from a living space to a dynamic and loving retreat outside of which existed nothing at all. She took me from myself and there was to be no return.

The entirety of what took place after arriving back at her home that evening -- beauty, physicality, alcohol, gazing, and caressing -- took me over completely, and provided the first occasion when Michelle melted away for a time. The idea and difficulty inherent in that taking place was only realized hours later as we continued to hold hands on the sofa. And it sunk in regardless of the comfort and security I was feeling in the arms of the Brunette. I could not help it -- Michelle was wonderful and I just fucking needed her. I also needed to be where I was at that moment. I needed everything and both of them. Jesus. Which way to go, and where to be?

There next to me, dozing off, the Brunette looked beautiful beyond words. And I was seeing all the way through to her soul. I felt that she had saved me. Or, to be more pointed, the connection between us and the understanding I knew she held had saved me. It probably saved both of us on more than one occasion. The ridiculous part of all of it was that we also sent each other spiraling down into a pit of despair with drunken suicidal thoughts. We had already been through many moments in which neither was seemingly inconsolable. But we always rose from the shit, somehow.

The Brunette would wear anything I wished

And considering all that had taken place throughout my visit to the cave, I needed to be near Michelle like never before. I longed for her eyes and embrace. The Brunette had carried me quite literally from the draw of death, yet I knew that over time we would drive each other right back there with all severity. We had done it, and we would do it again and again. I loved her and she felt the same. Still, the knowing was tearing me up like tissue in hard water. And all of the pieces -- however endearing and emotional -- would come together only temporarily. I felt it to the center of myself. There was no exit from that road. The Brunette and I would destroy each other, sooner or later. Every thought became as the ball in a tennis match. Back and forth over and over I knew it would be bliss and then damage... joy then fear. At any given time I could drive her to the bottom, or she could do the same to me. We just did not mix, and there could be no balanced end.

The morning arrived with her up against me in all her beauty. I rose and showered while she slept. Coffee, the balcony, the quiet, and the knowing -- one after the other -- pushed for me to leave. All of that despite the love and unending loveliness that was us. We were beautiful and on top of everything in the world. It was all ours in the beginning, but later times brought us to defeat. I could not help but look at her through the window and cry into my coffee. Sadness.

She awoke to my absence and immediately called me. I told her I was down at the market and would return shortly. And I did, to find her still lying there and writing in her journal. I could not imagine what that entry could have entailed, but suffice to say I also knew. Her tussled hair and dishevelled look was super cute. When our eyes met again, I could see she was drawing the same conclusion as I did just a while earlier. My sadness returned, she began to cry, and then she whispered to me...

'Be well, and I love you.'

My eyesight blurred with tears as I turned and walked out the door."

[06:48 pst 11/18/2017 CE, 1511016480 E]

The entire series of essays which is being slowly published here on the index will eventually find cohesion and a space in the writing section.


The Goddess and the Scene of the Crime

Part Four

"The Brunette expressed her discomfort over me leaving in such a hurry, but my mind was elswhere. It was already en route, and Michelle was in there too. All the way in. All other concerns went away as quickly as the idea to leave was injected. And then there we were... first class, cocktails, and physically intertwined. That second flight out of the city felt different and much more comfortable. Days earlier, we did not know each other and traveled more as aquaintances rather than partners. However, the new trip was more fulfilling than I could have imagined. No sooner did we take the plush seats, and Michelle looked at me with teary eyes and a smile which expressed her joy at being isolated once again. I could not help but agree. Sitting with her at the front of the line was bliss. We folded up the armrest and made ourselves into a pretzel as others boarded. God damn was that one of the best feelings, and all else in the world once again flew out of my head. There was only us.

We had no idea of a return (tickets were one-way this time, so as to leave us out of being scheduled by anyone or anything), and we did not have a reservation anywhere in town. We decided so quickly about the trip in the first place that we did not plan any destination. That did not really matter. We just needed to run and the flight was the priority.

As Michelle buried her face into my neck, I began to gaze at others walking onto the plane. As they came on board, I could see the differing styles and walks of life. Executive types, young couples, everyday people... they entered and sought out seats and stowed their bags. Michelle held me tightly and mused that the plane would be much more comfortable if we had been alone. In a way, I told her, we were in our own space that no one else could enter -- physically or otherwise. All we needed to do was converse with the staff on occasion and relax.

The attendant approached with her dark eyes and asked of our comfort, to which I replied that we were want for nothing at that moment. I took her hand and stated that Michelle and I were right where we needed to be. The trip was a risk and an undefined period within our lives, yet the coziness and satisfaction of being near each other and around unknowns was wonderful and torched all of the responsibilities which plague daily life. We escaped yet again. The attendant smiled at us and promised to be where we required.

Michelle's big doe eyes sent me into orbit every time

Being back on the plane so soon was wonderful. The flight home days earlier was filled with a mix of love and stress, the combination of which could be uncomfortable at times. This flight, however, was quite the opposite. Knowing we had more time together away from anyone who knew either of us nor cared of our actions or situation was nice.

On the other hand, Michelle had no idea of what took place just the night before. I hesitated to tell her about it for two reasons. First, she did not need the added stress of worrying even more about my emotional stability, and second, I still needed time myself to process the whole shitaree. Although Michelle and I were in heaven on that flight and streaking away from home at remarkable speed, the events with the Brunette were still paying rent in my head. There was no denying the severity and dramatic nature of my dashing away. Michelle did not need to be brought into such a thing. I cared for her, just as I cared for the other one.

Our arrival at McCarran was somewhat lighter than the previous trip. We were not as polluted, and our comfort level with each other was way up the fucking scale. All the way, in fact. Due to the preceding many days, we found a level previously unattained with each other -- meaning, she and I were in need of each other's company to the extent that nothing else in life could have served to help to that degree. The plane was cozy, and the flight only added to our attraction and security. And the attendant once again did not fail to please. She read us from the beginning. Her look and attitude told us she was our type, and judging by the previous trip that was a very dangerous combination. We loved her and the situation, despite the implications and resemblance to the day with Diane.

Her waist was often home to my hands

By the time we arrived at the terminal, Michelle and I were ready to separate ourselves from the mass and isolate for a little while. The car dropped us back into the goblet and I checked us in while she relaxed at the Island. We wasted no time making our way up to the 30th floor and into the comfort we both badly needed. Once organized, I called upon room service to provide some hors d'ouevres and two bottles of scotch. Upon the server's arrival, Michelle was already into her lingerie and lounging about the bed. At that point in the evening all seemed very well and our separation from the mass of society began to sink in deeply. And we felt a great appreciation for that fact.

Our snack gone, and a few icy glasses of alcohol absorbed, Michelle began to fill the tub that sat next to the huge windows. She expressed to me her need for warmth and coziness, and I could not help but agree to relax in the hot water for a while. The feelings within me swelled as the water rose over my knees. She lost her clothing and stepped into the tub while gazing at me with appreciative eyes. I took her hand and assured her that we would spend every moment together, no matter the circumstances. Honestly, Michelle was so beautiful that I would have suffered in the glaring sun for days just to glance at her for a second. Not a moment passed without me stirring at her appearance and calming abilities. She was a dream, literally. Upon exiting the tub, I felt the draw of Michelle's warm, open heart, and my first instinct was to slowly drop to my knees and hug her around the thighs. I held on for a few moments, looked up at her, and professed my love for what we had become. She gazed down at me from above and returned the feeling with her big, beautiful, and teary eyes. I could not imagine being more content than I was at that very moment.

The bath led us to the shower, and that pointed us in the direction of food. Considering all of the time spent together, we were able to sense the desires and needs of each other without words or even the slightest expression. The loving feeling of those facts continued to leave me breathless. She had become such a high point in my life. My heart was pounding from one moment to the next. Good god... an absolute goddess with the instincts and demeanor of an angel. I could not get enough of her in any way. I had begun to feel as if the only way I could be as close to her as my needs and desires dictated was to crawl completely inside her heart with all of me. The woman was simply becoming everything.

Amber is more than two inches shorter

After a bit more gazing with appreciative eyes, we dressed and took off for the elevator and the casino floor. Within the car, Michelle remained pressed up against me with her face in my neck. Along the ride we picked up others at various floors, and as they entered and noticed Michelle and I in the corner, I smiled and they smiled back -- as if the vibrations of our hearts were resonating throughout the resort. The feeling was indescribable.

We ended up strolling all the way through the property and most of the way across the Luxor's massive gaming area. Michelle wished to see if Diane was working at the time, and suggested we say hello on our way to... wherever we were going. I poked my head into that plush restaurant and spied her near the hostesses. I gave Michelle a nod, as if to say: she's there, but be careful. That woman was gorgeous, but also dangerous, as we sensed during the previous trip. And there she was again, in the beige and white, looking ever the model. Her heels pushed the top of her head a good three inches above mine, and considering Michelle was roughly six-foot-one with the damned heels, I had become the shortest guy in the room.

Diane spotted me and approached to say hello, embracing me tightly and then resting her long arms upon my shoulders. Her eyes went right through me along with her typically devilish smile. She was looking at me as if I was a piece of fish and she was the shark. Holy shit. I immediately felt intimidated and nervous, of course. She could have intimidated anyone with her big cat eyes and playfully evil eyebrows. Michelle swung around me and hugged her, and the expression on Diane's face changed immediately. Aside from appearing to mentally ravage Michelle, her face also softened a bit and became less predator and more understanding. Somehow Diane had sensed that the two of us were much closer than during the preceding days. Her instincts were incredible to say the least. We made the typical platitudes available, of course, and assured Diane we would visit again. She still had the predatory look about her, but it was different from when we were at First. Her eyes were not so severely biased, and I was a bit more relaxed being near her loveliness. After a few minutes and a couple of additional introductions to the staff, we set out toward other venues.

Once clear of the redness of Cathouse, Michelle expressed her need to speak, so we dropped our asses at the Nile for a chat. She told me that her heart was swelling with feelings for me and while in the company of Diane she felt a tinge of jealousy. I was taken aback and responded that I felt Diane was more interested in her than me. Regardless of which way that situation may have swung, we were both more comfortable away from that place. The fact that she felt jealousy spoke to me deeply. I knew being together was good for both of us, but until that point in the trip I had not realized the extent of her feelings. No matter what I sensed and saw in her eyes, there was much more underneath. We then decided to avoid others and remain attached to each other. I had no doubts that we could have grabbed a mixing bowl and dove in with Diane and her desires, but Michelle and I felt balanced enough to cease consideration for anything more complex. We again intertwined fingers, and took off to the north in search of culinary satisfaction. Yes.

Her thin arms and disproportional breasts... unreal

We ended up at AquaKnox for a light meal and a few drinks. The place was mostly empty, and was quite the opposite of the type of restaurant we had normally considered acceptable. The dining room opened on to the esplanade of the Venetian, and the less exposed areas were divided by frosted glass. We felt comfortable there, but did not stay terribly long. We discussed Diane's wondrous intentions and pondered over what may have taken place had we submitted to her outlandish wishes. By that point in us being together, the focus had sharpened enough to keep us away from others and situations which could have caused us any issues. We simply wanted to remain right up against each other and in as much comfort as possible. After a bit of discussion on the subject of us, Michelle slid over to me and again rested her beautiful head on my shoulder. The server could see that we needed exactly nothing, so she kept her distance unless we glanced toward her.

Sufficiently fed, we decided that on tap for the rest of the day was a taxi ride (to avoid the hideously long walk) and our room. I could not wait to get out of the public eye and have her all to myself for a while.

We exited the restaurant and said good day to the hostess and her endless flowing hair. The stroll past all of the canal shoppes was nice and quiet. Once into the Palazzo end of the casino, the noise level rose only slightly. Michelle paused us for a second and suggested we cap the meal with a glass of wine in the cozy Double Helix. Off to that bar for a visit, and shortly thereafter we hit the taxi stand. I then asked Michelle if she would pose for me again, to which she replied with a kiss and a bright smile. 'Anything, my love.' Oh gawd. I just wanted to glue myself to her forever. We arrived back at the center of the universe a short time later and made a beeline for the elevator. Once in the room, we took to the plush loungers for a little bit and ordered drinks to be delivered. The quiet in that room coupled with the lovely view toward the southeast was enthralling. The Mandalay was known for isolation, and our room felt like the pinnacle.

Michelle went into her case of endless lingerie for a couple of outfits, and then sat with me on the end of the bed for a few moments. She asked if I felt the choices she had made for the trip -- regarding her dashing with me, twice -- might cause irreparable damage within our lives. I was taken aback temporarily, but assured her that we could dissolve ourselves back into the world smoothly, provided we were capable of spending long periods of time apart. That statement seemed to comfort her somwehat, and she responded by taking to the sheets. Oy God and Jesus.

How in the blue fuck did I run across that woman by chance, and at a time when my being receptive to nearly anything was at the bottom of the fucking food chain. How?

Her posing was so beautiful... she pushed every limit

I pondered that thought for a little time before turning my attention back toward the incredible goddess. I could not help but consider the possible ramifications of us throwing the world to the dumpster and skipping town twice. And to have thought about all of that while sitting right in the center of the scene of the original crime was beginning to become mind-boggling. And then I glanced over toward Michelle and saw her hair flung all over the bed, her shoulder jutting into the air like a sexual knife, and the one eye not obscured peeking at me as if to invite anything. Jesus Harold you-know-what, I had to explore her fully, and ensure she was to remain treated like the partner she had become.

I could no longer think straight nor make sense of the simplest of issues. My mind was clay again, but in a better place. I ran my hand down the inner part of her thigh, she raised up into the air, and threw that enormous mane over and down to the top of her ass. Once I saw that movement take place, I lost all control. I planted a kiss at the small of Michelle's back, turned her to face me, and dove the fuck in.

All of it, everything, and anything."

[07:27 pst 11/26/2017 CE, 1511710020 E]

This most damaging of sagas continues, and we go with the flow, no matter the cost. Admin is most of the way into the asylum due to the long story and subsequent repercussions.


The Fineness, the Fragility and the Finality

Part Five

"Hours later, and my mind was overwhelmed. I could not fathom how that woman could have come along during the height of my destructive behavior, and just days later had me so full of bliss that I could not help but love her deeply. The beautiful connection between us was filled with mutual understanding and an unspoken caring which showed itself at every turn. Holy hell was the situation bringing the two of us to a place previously unknown. Not even my time with the Brunette could have been compared. Jesus, Michelle had become everything.

I looked over at her, perched on the edge of the massive tub, and mouthed the words which brought a smile along with gentle tears... 'I love you.' She came to me -- arms wide -- and we held each other for several minutes. As her flowing hair encircled my face, I inhaled deeply and felt want for nothing. The world was in that room, and the outside was alien to me. Others were no longer necessary. Just Michelle.

She pulled me into the shower so we could eventually make our way to the House of Blues for some relaxation. Again we spent time in there together and the hot water was wonderful. The difficult part was actually stepping out of the heat and leaving our own space. Watching her get dressed was another story. Jesus Christ, what a fucking goddess. After my head cleared from the sight of her goddamned lingerie for what felt the billionth time, we left the room. The draw of the gaming did not exist for either of us during that trip... just the food, alcohol, scenery, and each other. And almost exclusively the latter. Those massive and seemingly endless casinos had been reduced to walking paths and not much else. The adult nature of the atmosphere within the clubs was always inviting, especially the newly rethemed Luxor, and we did enjoy being away from the family-type of environment which felt way off our marks of desire.

We cruised into the House's cozy lounge and sat, gazing, until such time as we could break away from each other's eyes and order.

She did anything I asked

Our little slice of near-perfection was not without issues. Michelle had latent images in her head regarding what she walked away from, and I still had the Brunette and that recent terrifying evening in the city. Neither of us could just ignore what remained outside our little world. While within the goblet, we found ourselves hard pressed to wander back to reality because the wonder and satisfaction which was the sum of us could not be avoided. We were too happy and filled with overwhelming love and caring. The world behind and beside us sat there, waiting, and I found myself beginning to feel curiosity as to what awaited the end of the distraction. No sooner did I begin such a thought process, when Michelle asked me what happened between trips. Oh my, that was not something I wished to discuss, but there was no way I could keep anything away from that beautiful soul. I owed it to her, completely.

I asked if we could return to the room for such a conversation, and she simply smiled, kissed me, and agreed. Upon arriving, the gorgeous woman embraced me and said there was nothing which had the ability to keep her from me. And though such a wonderful statement put my mind at ease, I still found it necessary to steel myself for her reaction. So, I laid out the entire affair with the Brunette, from days before that terrible night right up to and including my exit from her cave. Nothing was left out at all. Michelle deserved honesty from me without limitation. Her eyes during the whole story told me she was quite upset, fearful, but still felt for me just as always. Those eyes had the capability of paralyzing me from the inside out with their endless beauty. She looked like a doe about to give her heart without restriction. I could not help but tear up both in fear of her complete reaction and in the memory of the wild and suicidal thoughts in my head when I fled the Brunette. I soon realized that my fear was misplaced. Thank Christ.

Michelle pulled me close, and then pushed me onto the bed where she proceeded to slather me with physical attention. I was so startled that I nearly pushed back, until she assured me that her feelings were coming out with the intention of taking the horrible events from my head, if temporarily. In time I softened and followed suit, and my desire to swallow her whole left my mind anywhere but upset. Her overwhelming beauty took me from myself yet again, and the next two hours were spent in the clouds. On and off I posed her and showered her beautiful body with the attention which she consumed just as passionately. Anything and everything, yet again. As the sun began to glow orange within the room, we professed our love for each other and slid into the shower for the umpteenth time. Gawd, to the nth degree. Her wish was to leave me breathless and without sadness, and on those counts she succeeded in spades. What a soul.

And then, dripping wet and nude, Michelle pulled me against her and slowly whispered that it was her turn to reveal the path which led her to me.

Her curves sent me flying

Her story was such that I found myself lacking in appropriate words. She told me of all of her troubles throughout more than three years leading up to walking away from her career and many people. I listened intently, giving her the attention she so richly deserved. I cannot reveal any of the situation here, but suffice to say her path and mine were not so different. I realized that Michelle needed me and what we were doing as badly as I had needed her company. The fact is that we fell toward each other at the correct time and with the space necessary to help us both through difficulty and into a better mental locale. I grabbed her from the waist and then moved my hands to her cheeks, after which I did my best to make her understand that I would help with anything, anytime, and no matter where such things may leave our relationship. Her happiness had become paramount to all other concerns. When her crying slowed, she again looked right through my soul with those huge eyes and let me know that things were not yet settled and she still had much to deal with after all of our insane smoke had cleared. All I could do was try, and she appreciated everything.

We left the room after Michelle made a pronounced show of dressing herself in a bright red cocktail dress with matching everything. Jesus fucking Harold Christ on a rubber crutch. Goddess. I couldn't breathe until the elevator.

In honor of my revealing to her that I spent an entire bloated weekend with a hideously expensive call girl, she wished to dine where that trip peaked. Yes, the fucking Delmonico Steakhouse and its never-ending slough of quality bourbons. Nice. I had not followed the flow of time, but we apparently spent a good portion of the daylight in the confines of the room with tears flowing freely. The clock turns into a propeller whenever such emotional issues are discussed, so there I stood marveling at the hour. She had a stellar point in exiting the resort for something different, and the Delmonico could be light, heavy, drunken or otherwise... fun for all appetites. Excellent choice.

We slid into the bar for a mint julep and took the time to speak with the hostess and bartender a bit. The staff in that place is always impeccable, and discussing a few things with them prior to dining can be nice. Working in such a location affords them a unique and unbiased view along with tons of anecdotes about the ever-changing clientele. Sitting there for more than an hour turned out to be one of the best parts of the trip. Dinner ended up being quite light. The main fare in that palace of a restaurant tends to be oversized, so we kept to the simple things along with what would soon become too many drinks.

Way too many.

And the world was about to cave in upon me and create more sadness than I had ever dreamed.

The mechanics which rule my thinking

We left the plushness of the Delmonico and Michelle was hanging upon me as if she was an extra appendage. I could not get past her scent and unending sexuality, and inside all I desired was to ravage her endlessly. Part way along the esplanade and she asked to take a seat for a few minutes. Her look was that of an injured and frail bird combined with enough physical desire to satiate any dream. I longed to be back in the room but did not wish to disturb the moments she needed. We sat there awhile within the passing others, and all the while I caressed her gently from head to waist. She, in turn, held me closely and avoided meeting my eyes excessively. The sum of that bench visit did not prepare me for the conversation we would soon live through. Damn, but the wait became uncomfortable, and I knew inside that the earlier confession to me was the catalyst. We needed to go, and quickly.

I poured her loveliness into a cab and asked the driver to fly us to the south end of the goblet. Reaching the hotel lobby, Michelle was attached to me as if I was keeping her from falling into a chasm with no floor. Her eyes were wet with tears and my trepidation was amplifying at an alarming rate. She asked to stop again within the club so we sat for a few minutes at the Island. She ordered nothing and I bothered the bartender for a glass of water and black coffee. He seemed to sense that things were not well and honored my wishes without word one. I sat there and remained attached to her hand and arm for what felt an eternity. I longed to learn of what was so troubling to her but my wait was not nearly over.

When Michelle finally looked to my eyes and spoke, her words were small and her voice was as that of a frightened child. I did my best to calm her and assure her that her wishes would be honored, and my sole purpose at that point was to make her as comfortable as I was able. Still, inside me was an emotional volcano that I had to hold back. The effort nearly broke me at every second. Feeling the way I did for that beautiful soul, I needed to maintain my composure for her sake and remain calm despite my insides being quickly destroyed. I felt like I was in charge of the happiness of the whole world with nary a skill to pull it off. So I waited, and held her as she needed. God help us. What had happened?

She told me that the life left to the north was eating her from the inside out. I knew she had plenty of alcohol and figured that was at least part of the reason for such an emotional recall, but still her feelings and decisions were not mine to judge, so I listened intently and stayed away from commenting if at all possible. The whole picture seemed as if she uttered one word per hour and life was on indefinite hold. The sun would soon burn out.

Every angle provided dreamy proportions

Time passed like mud in a freezer, and finally she wished to be back in the room. Once closing the door behind me, I turned to find her right there, crying, and trying her best to kiss me deeply. I tasted the salty tears on her lips and found it difficult to decide between going with what she wanted or trying to stop her and help. Within a few minutes her sobbing amplified ten-fold and she ran to the bed. I followed along, sat next to her, and heard more about her life prior to our meeting. The general idea was that she was isolating herself and denying all that had taken place for a very long time. I was not surprised at any of it, because the same types of things had been affecting me on and off for weeks. I slipped Michelle out of her dress and tucked her under the bedding in an attempt to calm the flood. Her eyes appeared to be miles away from that hotel room, and as troubling as that was to me, I did my best to stay the course. Time passed, she relaxed much more, and I joined her. We lay there for hours and watched the lights bordering the other large hotels rise against the increasing dark. And I longed to see that incredible smile again.

We slept.

The early morning arrived and I found myself looking out at the opposite of the night before... lights dimming and automobiles increasing. Next to me was a beautiful woman who fell apart completely. And I mean completely. There was no possibility of entering her head the previous evening and having any effect upon what she was dealing with over and over. I tried and failed, and in the end we both succumbed to the power of exhaustion. I still did not know the extent of her troubled mind, but that did not matter in the least. She was there and all of it had to be dealt with outside what we had become. I knew that fact, and as painful as it was, there seemed no other option. I loved her and would have done anything to help her through all of it. And one funny note... had I risen before her to shower, that most decidedly would have turned into two showers because Michelle would not have it any other way. Too bad there was just no funny to be found that morning. I watched her sleep and longed for the smile on her face again and the playful, loving way she looked at me for days. All I could do was wait and keep the room as quiet as I could for her benefit.

After some time I decided to order a few things in case she needed sustenance after such a tiring night. Upon dropping the phone to its base, Michelle awakened in all her beauty. She crawled over to me and held on for dear life. The smile I wished for had returned, but within her expression was sadness and the appearance that she had been defeated by something unavoidable. God damn was that uncomfortable. That gorgeous creature was in a situation she needed to resolve and there seemed no way to avoid it. As expected, she asked to shower together and dropped the jeweled bra at my feet, playfully. I did not know which way to turn with regard to my thought processes, so I followed her curves into the marble shower. Regardless of all of the emotional issues at work within each of us, I could not get past the sight of her skin and gait. I instantly wanted her in every conceivable way. For fuck's sake, she was just too picturesque to avoid thinking sexually.

In the shower she laid the entire story upon my waiting ears and things cleared to a large degree. I finally understood the power of what she was dealing with, and again I felt the overwhelming need to find happiness for her at any cost. At the same time, I wanted to run and fly through the window and fall to the ground to end the sadness which began to overtake me. My composure was becoming strained as we finally exited the hot water, and Michelle sensed the change instantly. Once again she led me to where I partially wished to be, despite all of the trials which were piling up quickly. She attacked me -- for lack of another term -- and left me desiring absolutely nothing. Her attention had the capability of sending me to the moon and beyond. The sight of her endlessly goddess-like skin and curves being so prominently displayed was heavenly. We traveled to a place previously unimagined as she made every physical dream a reality. Fucking hell, there was no outside world yet again, and the passion left the universe in its wake.

And then... breakfast. Huh? Are you fucking kidding? Gawd. Whatever.

I needed to see her happy again

Yes, breakfast at the New York New York, along with Irish coffee. That was relaxing, and accompanied -- once again -- by longing, gazing, and loving words from each of us. We were back where it began, but after understanding what needed to take place. The only option after all we had been through was to enjoy what we could and cease the trip on a positive note. I sat there, half in the fucking bag, flip-flopping between staying behind and drowning into it, or spending one more intertwined, passionate flight with Michelle and then walking away. I could not decide, but the idea of death was approaching like a train without a brake. I began to fall. Michelle could see it developing and did her best to keep me afloat until such time as we could fly. All the while her eyes maintained a combination of perpetual sadness and powerful sexuality. She tried over and over to entice me and keep me above the hades which was becoming all I could see. And I pushed everything aside to be where she needed. Smiles, hands, shoulders, legs, lips, and neck... I was all over her and she attached to me. We both knew then the hard part was nearing. We knew it deeply and tried to keep the damage path from expanding. We attempted everything from deep kissing to a trip into the airline restroom. Clothes began to come off and our lips explored each other's skin in an effort to sidestep the impending doom. We used the counter to no avail, we gripped at each other as if we were both falling through the floor and to the ground at terminal speed. Over and over we tried to sex our way out of the inevitable. In the end, however, the flight and passion were nowhere near enough. The exit was inches away. And I could see in her eyes that my narrowing options were becoming hers.

We cried to my car and left the airport toward her apartment. My right hand felt as if the blood could not flow due to her grip. Almost there, where neither wished to be. Fuck it all.

The world was slowing, closing in, and swallowing me like never before. As Michelle drunkenly zig-zagged toward the door which started it all, I could hear her open weeping and wished for only one thing: death. The flashes of downtown San Francisco began to blind me and cut my heart. The street with its inviting flow of traffic, my decision-making process faltering, and the draw of the cold water and the end of everything. All of life had become the necessary separation of us and I felt as if nothing could keep me from finding my own demise. Everywhere I turned my head was disjointed imagery, trees blowing, and my feet on the ground. It all began to confuse me and leave me more distraught than I had ever thought possible. There was no good direction, no option which could cease the sorrow. I looked around the complex and wanted to destroy everything within view, and every person visible. And then I wanted to run to each of them and find the shoulders to catch my ocean of tears. I needed it all back but there was no possibility. She was in the apartment, and I could never be inside again. I could never be with her. Michelle... gone, and much of my heart and soul violently ripped from me and left within her. And I could see my blood all over the pavement. And then it was gone. She was gone. And I would never be the same.

I simply needed to die and stop the misery which gripped me like the hand of God."

[07:35 pst 12/09/2017 CE, 1512833700 E]

The site remains at status quo. The analytics and related numbers have actually shown promise, and this despite our current mood and direction. Dimensional Passion has not panned out in any manner, and seems to be the opposite of the weekly site statistics. We have done a small revamp of that section in hopes of future research, but nothing has come of it as of yet. Admin is keeping on with the patience which brought that endeavor to life.

Rework of the archive continues at a snail's pace. All of the recent entries have been reversed for improved flow, and the older content is next. The writing section is being expanded to hold more of the longer and more dramatic entries, including this latest run of story segments. We are hoping to see the conclusion soon. Until that time, we keep on with the support.


The Knife, the Drop, and the Ocean

Part Six

"Never before in my life had I stared into space so much and ponder all things negative. I could not help but feel as if the world no longer had a place for me, and the tears flowed freely -- as did the alcohol. The depressive nature of my being had been pushed further into the black and all possibility of listening or learning burned away quickly. Everything which had taken place throughout the previous several months began to become pointed. All of the pathways narrowed, and all of the options reduced to none. I had become a fraction of myself -- a frail wisp awaiting a strong breeze from any direction. The words in my head were being released and only a few remained...

Pheno. Pento. Lead. Water.

The fucking ocean.

The water just sat there, within reach, and awaiting a decision. But the decision was not forthcoming. I could not figure a way to be calm, happy, or in control. Michelle and the feelings were still dictating any move. The only path I could see at the time was to run into the arms of the Brunette and ask her for some attention -- perhaps just to hold her. During the time period we enjoyed together, there was never a shortage of physical affection, and when things went awry (quite often) each of us knew of the importance a simple hug held. The Brunette was a clear thinker, and a very genuine person. She seemed to understand everything, so I had to try.

To her door, but to no avail. She was in the city, and that felt like the last place I should be. The decision was made to grab the steering wheel and head toward any place where no one knew me. But not Nevada. Heh. I needed to either drop the hammer and drop myself, or get the entire affair the fuck out of my head and carry myself into the future. Either was acceptable, but neither was easy. I just needed something to push everything away. I drove an entire tank of gas to its end and filled up again. The massive right turn south came quickly and I looked ahead and left the whole of the Bay Area in my exhaust. Good riddance for a while, and fuck off.

Her beauty emanated from every fiber and outward toward the world

No matter the scenery outside, images of Michelle and her vast beauty still floated around within me. I could not help but go over the events repeatedly, and the need to get out of the car and be near others grew from that difficulty. I stopped at the big windmill for a little while and sat at the bar. The place was nearly empty, and thankfully the staff remained scarce. Yes, the need to be around other people means they should be there, but that did not mean I wanted them everywhere. I just had to be within the fold for a little while before isolating in the car again. And two hours later I did exactly that. Down the road to Lost Hills. Full tank, and back to the interstate south at high speed. My destination was beginning to form, and I knew if the need to be near people grew once again I had plenty of options. And that place would also be comfortable.

Eventually I wound my way past Tejon and up the hill. Another stop seemed a good idea, so I rolled into Valencia and its endless array of restaurants, bars, and tourists. Sliding into a family establishment near a massive theme park placed me within an atmosphere of positivity and hope. I looked around after ordering whiskey and began to see images which were the exact opposite of the goblet -- children of all ages, lots of bright colors, and groups filled with laughter and smiles. The feeling of belonging there was alien, but to be near all of the fun others were enjoying did help to a small degree. And in there -- inside my head and heart -- the ping pong ball bounced between fitting in with the rest or driving into the nearest bridge abutment. I still could not decide, but the wetness in my eyes told me it might be time to move on and away from prying eyes or words. Through the door and into the car I trotted yet again. The destination was still further south through the cities, but being so far from home felt good. I needed the separation nearly as much as I needed to be back inside Michelle's gorgeous company.

Along the fucked up slow drive through Los Angeles, I realized that my phone had been buried within luggage for the entire drive. Naturally, the one person who I would have hoped to hear from was unavailable, so the feeling of being out of touch did not matter much. I was not even curious as to what may have taken place at home once I hit the road. Nothing could help, and I would not allow anyone inside my head any longer. So I drove along south toward the only comfort I could imagine. The South Coast. I knew I could melt into that bloated shopping district without issue, and there would be no one to bother me in any way. The populous in that area are so stuck upon themselves that if they do not know you already (from the club or whatever) you do not exist. Perfect, because I had no wish to exist for much longer. They would ignore me, and I them.

The South Coast welcomed me nicely, and my first order of business was to secure some comfort for a few nights. I valet parked the car next to Scott's and inquired of the hostess as to availability. She smiled and told me that I arrived between the huge conventions and the place was sitting empty for the most part. As she spoke to me her eyes sparkled, and I could not help but notice her beautifully sloping nose and sharp shoulders. I immediately began to spin downward due to the past few weeks' activities and where they left me emotionally. Before I could get the simplicity of the check in process complete, she asked if I was alright. I responded quietly that I needed to be alone and snagged the room key and apologized for being elsewhere. She smiled and offered whatever I may have needed. I do not know how, but she managed to look upon me with understanding and compassion. How could that be possible? The woman had the face of an angel and a soft way of speaking which did not help me in the least.

What the fuck happened to me?

The dreamy proportions of extreme rarity

I managed to get into the hotel room just in time to grab at the tissue and hit the bed for a few calming moments. The sight of the hostess was overwhelming due to her demeanor toward a wayward traveler with whom she was not familiar. I was floored by the beauty in that gesture and considering all of the rollercoaster rides in recent days, the effort required in causing me to fall into a pit was minimal. She did not know of the person in front of her, nor could she have had any idea that I was dangerously close to giving up on everything and everyone. The smallest difficulty set before me had the ability to kill me instantly. There was no good, no up, and no joy to be found. Being around others seemed like the only option, and then the woman looked at me and I immediately needed to fall right into her arms and cry. Jesus. By the time I arrrived at that beautiful hotel I felt like nothing more than a small, injured bird facing a giant machine bent upon my destruction.

After composing myself somewhat and freshening up, I decided to meander down to the hotel bar and become more physically comfortable. The plan after that was to crash again and see if the next morning would allow me to maintain myself around others. Not likely, but it was worth a shot. My only other option was to head out to Dana and drown into la mer. Fuck it anyway. At least I would not feel the need to fall all over every woman I saw. To the fucking bar I went.

And I was the only patron there on a barstool. Nice.

A few drinks in, and the bartender occasionally asked how I was doing. I politely told him that I was on a private getaway and his discretion would be appreciated. He shook my hand firmly and assured me that during my stay I would be virtually invisible. That type of service is fairly common in the business world -- mostly due to the galavanting business traveler and his/her wandering nature. For me, that bar and staff fit the bill perfectly and I ran into few others throughout the next couple of hours. Plus... thank Christ the bartender was not a female. Those were in good supply in the goblet, but seldom does the attraction pan out toward anything good. Ugh... and yikes. Male staff? Ideal. There were no issues nor worries about sitting there for a little while and enjoying the silence. As cozy and warm as that bar had become, the entirety of the outside world had become one huge swirling cloud of memories and longing. Not even the Brunette and the related uplifting thoughts which she had always drilled into me could pull me from the pit. Michelle turned out to be one of the most wondrous souls I could have imagined, and the end of our time together was destroying my insides and causing me to feel as if I needed to die at any second just to clear it all out of my head and heart. Every few moments my feelings and mood would drop through the fucking floor, the bartender would glance in my direction with concern, and then the fall would pass for a little while. I could not understand how the depth began to take me over and disallow any normal functioning, nor could I reach for any handle to pull my sorry ass out of such a chasm. There just seemed to be no end to the up and down, and over time the exercise was beginning to leave me totally exhausted. Even when a few attractive females entered the bar and gestured hello, I felt the extreme need to hide my face and avoid inflicting my terrible situation upon another soul. God.

Another drink, another concerned glance from the bartender, and I decided to sleep. Out the door and away before I fell further.

And she never hesitated to enthrall

And there in my bag -- next to the shaving kit -- the knife. Seconds of staring at the blood groove and I began to realize that everything could go away. All of the pain, fear, longing, and stabbing feelings in my chest could be wiped away, never to return. And then the impulse left me and I felt as if I could still find some comfort here and there. Alcohol, some decent atmosphere, a bit of conversation, scenery... anything. The thought was maybe I could still enjoy enough to keep me out of the ground. And then the return of the tears and the need to die. Damn it all. Something had to be changed, and soon.

But what?

Just like in the street so many days before, and similar to the feeling outside Michelle's apartment on that terrible day... back and forth and back and forth. Die. Live. Nothing can ever change. Good may come. Weak. Strong.

There was no answer, and the lack of clarity was sending me into a tailspin. My mind would not calm and I found myself pacing around the room in the middle of the night, half in the fucking bag as always. The knife was there on the bed in its sheath, and in passing the blade over and over I began to twitch toward grabbing it. I stopped, began to shake, and pulled the Buck out of its leather home and set it on the desk. Back to pacing. Michelle... the Brunette, my family... everything began to spin and I dashed to the balcony to stop it and feel the cool air. All at once I wanted to flop over the railing and down to the concrete of the garden below. Back into the room and away from the fall. Back to glancing at the knife awaiting my decision. And then back to the balcony. And then over to the bed. I simply had no exit other than to end myself and all of the thoughts which would not let up. My greatest need at that point was to feel her next to me, holding me, and providing that comfort which was so distant. Knowing she was gone from me had begun to leave me in a giant hole and without the strength to make any decision about living or dying. I ran back out to the railing and that sweet air to try and get out of such a wrenching situation. Flip and then flop and then flip again. The concrete called me a second time and I went back inside to see the blade awaiting my weakness. I could feel the cold sharpness despite my keeping a space between me and the end it could provide. And then more fear drove me outside. And that would be the last time I flopped. I steeled and forced myself to realize that there would always be the possibility of up, and I needed to know that. As difficult as it was to find anything positive while the weight of the planet was sitting upon my bruised heart, I had to maintain that position for as long as I could stand it. As I began to cry for the millionth time, I slowly slid myself to the deck and rolled over. At that point I felt more defeated and destroyed than any other time during my life. The options began to widen but I still knew any happiness would remain nonexistent for a time. I stayed there in the cool air, surrounded by stucco, and over and over the thoughts of Michelle swirled. She could not be next to me, however I felt her nonetheless.

She would not allow me to harm myself, and once I conjured the strength to really know that again, I slowly drifted into sleep.

God help me.


I needed Michelle's coziness

I awakened in the cold some hours later with a sharp need to get out of that downtrodden room and be near others. Unfortunately, the sun was not yet available so the bed seemed a good alternative. More sleep, with a somewhat calmer heart. My head had not been swimming quite like the previous night. Comfort was developing.

Mid morning came around and I ventured back into the car in search of something to eat. And the South Coast had just the destination. With an enormous lounge, plush furnishings, and an endless menu, the Claim Jumper seemed appropriate for sliding in for a while. Long or short, the visit did not matter because I was still trying to think on my feet and could not decide upon many aspects of daily life. The idea of hauling down highway 55 at high speed and ramming the k-rails at the south end still was appealing, just as a quick walk off anything tall enough to get the job done. I figured that the longer I was able to remain around others, the better chance I had to seek out a way of living with the things in my head. And Michelle was at the top of the list. So, the south coast was perfect for hours of thought and relaxation.

And again the bartender was male, though a good portion of the staff was female. I did my best to sit tight and think things through, and the only way to accomplish any of it was to shut out the voices around me and keep my eyes off the girls.

After sitting a while with a cocktail and salad, the television drew my interest and need for distraction. The bar slowly became more and more full, including a couple of very well-dressed women who took seats directly to my left. The occasional glance told me that they were there to enjoy the company and refreshments. I kept to myself for the most part, offering a comment here or there when asked about the menu. I was looked upon as if the whole of me was a product to be tested, so my comments soon came to an end. After several glasses of wine, the woman next to me turned from patron to predator. As lovely as she was sitting there in a cocktail dress and showing off flowing hair and precision nails upon long fingers, I began to feel the need to get the fuck out before anything took place. I knew that my exit would only prompt her to search for someone else. Out of the chair and toward the door I went, and then popped back next to her for a second. She turned, somewhat surprised, and I proceeded to tell her in a whisper that she was gorgeous, and I was very sorry to be called away. Her hand briefly on my cheek, a genuine smile, and I dashed. That was easy, but to sit there and stare a while longer would have been quite nice. Unfortunately, there was no possibility of spending time with another person due to my butchered feelings and unstable nature. That would have been completely unfair to anyone.

After leaving the restaurant I decided to stroll around that huge mall and look at some things. I still had another two nights at the hotel and plenty of time to explore.

During the walk I tried to reconcile all that had taken place throughout the past few weeks. The world looked so different after all of the trials with the Brunette and subsequent heavenly days with Michelle, and despite all of the effort in attempting to keep my mind in order and pointed toward moving forward, I could not easily put any of it aside and find clarity. Just so different. Others walking about pressed me to dreaming of how much I wished to be free of every thought and every negative impulse. Michelle's loving words and demeanor toward me had left all of the damaging considerations by the wayside for a while -- I could not harm myself while with her -- but the resulting situation with her out of the picture had left me with far too much time for regret and remorse. I had caused much emotional harm to others and left them behind without a word. With my head full of selfish and self-defeating ideas, those others were minus one intelligent soul and plus one massive issue. All of that added up to my near complete inability to see myself in any positive light. Years had passed without problems caused by me due to shoving everything deep down and into a dark hole. And then I flew the coop more than once and all of it was set ablaze within me. Everything came to the surface and my need to be within a huge fantasy became more appealing and more comfortable than I could have imagined. I dumped my entire life on the ground and ran like the wind. Those who cared for me were left to wonder. Nice.

I walked, swirled, and continued to try and make sense of everything.

All of the words, and still they fail

Along the way my eyes darted about and took in the scenery of that huge mall. And then in front of me... a shape similar to Michelle. She was a gazelle, and the compound radii of her thighs began to tattoo themselves onto my brain. God, not at that time. I could not deal with another goddess-like image nor could I process it. I had reached my limit, but could not look away. She was human art of the highest level so I followed along for a bit. Back and forth, plus and minus. When she turned and paused, I needed to move away or say something, but nothing was there. My intellect had been reduced to the very core of that unending obsession. Everything began to point me out the door, so I took a long look, tapped her wrist, said hello, and turned around. I heard her say 'hi' as I trotted away at maximum speed. 'Hello?' Nope, I had to go. I wanted to swallow her whole and turn off my thoughts, however too many times had that endeavor left me crushed and working to feel like I simply would not survive.

I left the mall, dropped into the slipper, and hauled ass back to the hotel. Once there, I checked out and ran away from my enormous desires. Bristol, 55, then 5.


Soon I was back near Tejon, refueled, and kept going. Cigarettes and coffee were my only companions, along with a sharp mental image of myself appreciating her thighs and then walking into the ocean. Again... god help me. I had become a basket case for the umpteenth time and had to keep myself in one piece to find solace. Fuck me.

Highway... just highway and oil derricks. And grass. And a waning fraction of a person with both hands on the wheel and thoughts mixed up like hell in a blender.

Lost Hills again. I stopped to find a snack and wound up realizing that the night was approaching. That place is bereft of anything decent, so I turned east and ended up in a cozy inn near Wasco. Checking in was rather humorous, because I appeared somewhat flamboyant in a silk shirt and covered in jewelry. The girl at the desk could not have been over twenty years of age and looked at me as if she was standing in front of the devil himself. Heh. I said nothing unnecessary and walked out of the office toward my little room. Even the slipper looked out of place among so many pickups.

Once I regrouped, I went back to the office to ask her if there was anything in town or nearby which provided both food and alcohol. She told me about a cantina not far off the highway so I rolled there and proceeded to drown myself in margaritas. Naturally, whenever I combined booze and thoughts, things had a good chance of going awry. The cantina was little different from that mix, but the bartender helped. She looked at me and asked what I was running from or toward. That caught me a little off guard, but I could hardly blame her. I informed her that I was in the midst of a futile attempt to run from my own head, to which she replied, 'Yep. I can see it.' I began to realize that nothing was going to help me get away from anything at all. I told her that she had beautiful, dark eyes and a fascinating personality, and that was nearly the end of the evening. Her smile was real, and once again I had lifted someone slightly before running. I thanked her and we gently shook hands. Next to me was an older gentleman who looked at both of us as if he was seeing magic. Honestly, anyone may have reacted similarly. The bartender showed me her lovely smile once again and I made my way to the motel and some haphazard sleep.

Morning arrived and I drove like the wind yet again.

Along the nearly straight interstate, I began to formulate a plan for relocating myself near the ocean. The life I had left behind was still sitting on my shoulders and I needed to put some of that holy hell in order. The ideas floated around a while and eventually I calculated that my most important path would be to avoid anything which could flare the obsession and get myself physically organized, and in a place filled with calm. I had hoped some good could come of my efforts. Yes, hope. Unbelievable.

Yes, all of that beauty... gone

The drive was peaceful because I felt as if I was moving away from difficulties I failed to fall into, and toward something which could keep me alive. Rolling along with music blaring helped to maintain my stability and kept my mind focused upon the goal. Michelle popped in there from time to time and I could not help but fall a bit at each thought. She had become far too much for me to simply let slide into the past. That woman was a universe all her own. Jesus.

I arrived at my previous home to gather a few things and contact the management where I was hoping to settle for a while. She invited me to secure everything via the internet so I did that prior to heading toward the coast. During all of my logistical steps, the thought of the goblet being there and awaiting another escape started to wind its way into my formidable stockpile of needs. Over and over I had to push it away because the cost of dashing back there could have been enormous -- financially, and, more importantly, emotionally. The whole fucking scene would be one stratospheric dream of Michelle, and falling into that would likely have left me in the ground. And there is no doubt of that... she brought a sense of everything which cannot be compared to any other aspect of life, and it was something I could not deny. To move forward seemed a journey of which I could never be capable. Too much had taken place for any type of rise, and all of it placed in a line appeared as a pathway to hell.

To the ocean I ventured, with just enough belongings to get a simple start. All the while during that drive from the valley, every single thought process was a haphazard melange of the Brunette, Michelle, death, that massive obsession, and the wondrous, fulfilling life I threw to the wind."

[08:15 pst 12/15/2017 CE, 1513354500 E]

The saga continues, no matter the damage to admin's mind. We just go with it due to the overwhelming importance laid out by the man himself. Just like the long tale brought forth last year at this time, this one ranks as reality at its worst. The trials and battles of that time will no longer be held back. All of it will eventually be here, and with a cohesion previously unfound. Thought follows thought with fluidity and excruciating detail. We salute the effort.

The removal of so many previous sections of this content has brought up the idea of cutting the last non-blog part of such a vast space. Yes, we may cease to operate the Clodmaster section due to admin's wish for a single-themed site. The issue of taking away all of that work and passion troubles the staff but we do understand that the need of the present emotional exploration has become overwhelming for such a detailed individual. We will bow to the desires of the owner, but the loss will be felt deeply.


Three Doors Down

Part Seven

"Death, life. One or the other, but no in-between.

The smell of the ocean brought me to a calm state until thoughts of the time spent there with the Brunette. I could not help but consider all that had transpired between us. That would have been as impossible as forgetting that I was inches away from dying on the concrete at the Westin. Everything... all of it... from the first glance of the Brunette's big, beautiful eyes, to the depressed arrival at my previous home, was floating around in my mind during the meeting at the new apartment. I was trying to listen to the leasing agent but I continued to wander off mentally and leave her with delayed answers to her questions. Once the paperwork was completed, she handed me a key and asked -- tentatively -- if I was alright. I told her that the past several months had been the most difficult of my life, and I needed to be alone in the new abode. We shook hands, I thanked her, and went up the stairs which had carried me to the Brunette's cave so many times with excitement.

Yes, I rented an apartment nearly next to hers. Huh? Yeah. I fucking ran right to where the whole series of events began.

I strolled in to my new home and walked straight through to the balcony. At that point I realized something was missing... a celebration. Wait. What? Really? Whatever I had felt throughout those many days, the fact remained that I secured a new place to live and needed to at least enjoy being there for the first time. Down to the market I walked, only to return with some whiskey and cigarettes. Nice. Up to the balcony again where I stood, staring at the ocean, and drinking right out of the bottle. My temporary denial of everything was in full swing so I donned the V6s and blasted some damaging music. For a little while all seemed that it would be ok because I felt comfortable being there. No one knew of my location save for the ex, and the knowledge that I could not be contacted in any way was very satisfying. I did know that at some point I had to inform the Brunette that I had selfishly invaded her space (in a manner of speaking), and I did my damndest to push that thought far away. I closed it off and kept drinking. Another first-class decision from a depressed and suicidal individual. Splendid.

Michelle and her devilish playfulness

Cut to an hour later and I realized my judgement was waning just like the level of whiskey in the bottle. No matter, I had no other place to be. I just wished to be there alone and relax. My phone was in the kitchen all by itself and making no sound whatsoever. That was very nice, considering how much it went crazy every time I took off for Nevada. As soon as I was out of contact for a couple of hours, others would get the idea that I had done something dangerous and then the calls flew around like a flock of undecided birds. The fact that it was just sitting there quiet was nice. I had no worries about being out of touch any longer. The apartment was there to keep me grounded and with a place I could remain calm and thoughtful.

I sat and enjoyed the silence a while longer. When I ventured to the kitchen to get a sip of water out of the faucet, I noticed several missed calls -- all from the Brunette. Well, I thought the phone was quiet, anyway. Apparently, she had arrived home after being out and saw the slipper parked in the space reserved for the leasing office. Oops. And there was no mistaking my car for any other. I knew that was going to open an enormous discussion but I could not ignore her. I sent a message requesting that she head left down the hall and address the third door. A bit cryptic, yes, but the Brunette was very intelligent and swift at working things out in her head.

And a few moments later... knock knock. God help me.

I opened the door to see her unreal face once again. I had not had the pleasure of being near her for some time, so to gaze at that beauty standing before me was beyond belief. She smiled with that expression from heaven, and I asked her to enter. We embraced and she asked of my well-being. I could not be honest because that would have sent her into a tailspin, so I simply went around everything in my head and told her I was fine, if nervous about being there. There were no ill feelings whatsoever, so we went into the living room and sat next to each other on the floor for a time. I could not believe that we were there together and so close to her space which had held both good and bad memories. And she looked so gorgeous that I had to stare.

After telling me with teary eyes that she thought I was gone forever, we held each other again for a long while and I told her that though my mind was unable to process all that had taken place, and considering my historically unstable nature, I was never terribly close to ending myself (bullshit, but necessary). She likely saw right through me, naturally, but would not say it out loud. We were too similar for things to be that easy.

That endless collection of gorgeous lingerie

After a little while of speaking with each other and gazing, she decided to go home and let me be. I did have much to do, after all, so why not get started before I fell all the way in to the bottle. A smooch and she was out the door. And I realized all of the worry which had been generated once I secured the apartment was for naught. How could I have forgotten what a wonderfully understanding soul the Brunette was? Such a person.

At the closing of the door, I went back out to the balcony and returned my lips to the whiskey. Much time passed as I watched the sun closing in on the surface of the sea, and all the while everything swirled within me like a cyclone. Vegas, Michelle, the flights which were warm and loving like nothing else, her hair flowing around my face... and then all of the drops from on high took over. The hotel in Costa Mesa, the drive out of there, and my rush to return home. Jesus. One after the other, the isolated situations which the three of us had lived through for days and days were slamming my mind and pressing me into a mold once again. And then the worst of it -- Michelle's departure from my sight in front of her home. God help me. Could I live on and make something of my life from that point, and with all of the sadness which continued to creep in? I did not know, and I failed to make any good come from any of it throughout the following days. I just kept running in whatever direction seemed like it would help, but nothing changed. I stood there, staring at the ocean, and in the exact same condition which brought my sordid mind to all of those brushes with death. As much as I wished to be well in some manner, it did not happen.

The whiskey was getting low, and I was becoming worse. Back into the freshly cleaned and empty apartment I stumbled, and onto the carpet.

Swirling, spinning, falling... there seemed no bottom to any of it. Or me. Apparently I had not yet reached the lowest point possible short of dying, and so the downward slide proceeded. After lying there for what felt an eternity, I grabbed at the whiskey yet again and continued to dive. Why not? I had zero expectations of surviving all of it anyway. There was little reason to avoid being drunk. The thoughts kept invading. I saw Michelle over and over in all her glorious and all-encompassing beauty, and many of those visions brought a stabbing pain into my chest. She had become so much that my out-of-balance nature was in full force. I sat there knowing that I was not a complete person without her in my life. And if that is not a warning sign, nothing can be.

I eventually dropped into sleep with a head full of hell.

Her height led to wonderful features

There she stood... next to the Nile and looking every bit the goddess. She smiled at me and my heart leaped so dramatically that I thought I was having an attack. And she strolled over toward me with those long, slender legs... eyes affixed upon mine... hair bouncing behind her like some gorgeous show horse's mane... breasts straining to remain within her silk blouse and pushing upward with every step... lips pursing into a sexual smile unlike anything in the world... hips defying the narrowness of her waist... closer and closer her tall frame flowed across the carpet... closer... almost to me...

...and then I awoke on the living room floor in the blackness. And I mean blackness... all around me and within me. She was gone again. Jesus, it was the worst slam back to reality and one that had the capability of driving me into the ground with all haste. I nearly could not handle seeing her briefly and while we were in the middle of bliss, and then coming back to the real world knowing I would never see that slow-motion and dreamy walk again in my life.

I arose, wiped away the many tears, and realized I needed to get a bed in there. The floor was not that comfortable, nor was the thought of Michelle invading my dreams. She again became the entire world, but one I could no longer inhabit. It was far away and would not return. What the fuck to do? I did not know, and the only path I could see was to drink myself to death. Why the fuck not? What else was there? Nothing. But maybe a bed would help.

Another knock at the door. That time it was the leasing agent, and upon seeing me she immediately asked if I was ok. I lied through my teeth for what seemed the billionth time and told her that everything was fine. She simply needed a bit more information and was also there to drop off my second key. Hmm. Two keys, but only one damaged individual living there. Nice. She exited and I decided to bring some things into the place to satisfy a few basic needs other than taking another step toward being completely nonfunctional and wrecked. Yeah, whatever.

I took to the garage and emptied the car into my new abode, and then headed back out to the valley to secure a few more things. Along the way I passed the exit which led to Michelle's home and again the water works took me by full force. I had to pull over and rest my heart for a few minutes. Back to the road again and I completed my business. When I arrived at the coast again I sighted the Brunette taking her diminutive dog for a short walk and did my best not to draw her attention. Everything was driving me into the ground and I had no intention of sharing. I knew not what to do nor which direction to turn, but I knew that the less I inflicted myself upon others the better off they would be. So I hid myself until such time as I could appear stable around others. Through the door, blinds closed, deadbolt thrown, and out to the balcony. All of the things I brought along remained in the slipper. The basics would have to wait until such time as I could be outside near others.

Liquid sex... from any angle

The hours passed as always, and eventually the knife came out of my bag and sat on the kitchen counter. I could not help but display the blade, because for whatever reason it brought me comfort. Knowing that I could exit and end all of the flames in my head and heart helped me to maintain the ability to carry forward. The exit was illuminated so many times that I became accustomed to the feeling. And then the thought of the cut caused me to flinch, and again I would walk away. That action, repeated over and over for many days, meant that I was perhaps destined to leave the weapon in its sheath.


Still, I felt the tremendous draw of death often enough to avoid others. One word in the wrong direction, or one expression toward the Brunette, and the authorities would be at my door. I knew it all too well. That situation took place during my time in her apartment, and eventually led to some of the harshest and most demanding debates I had ever experienced. It also led to my being escorted to the emergency more than once over a very short period of time. I had no desire to repeat such a thing, and I had to avoid showing the wrong emotions to the Brunette. Placing myself so close to her home did provide me with much reason for remaining stable, however, and the avoidance mentioned above began to allow me to relax and shift focus to more productive aspects of slipping into a new home. Over the next several days I saw her only a few times in passing, and the increasing chances of seeing her face and connecting helped me to push some things aside and just live. Eventually, that led me to a place of comfort.

Things began to take shape in my new place... sleeping, cooking, and keeping the apartment in order while I brought more and more of my possessions home really kept me away from the knife and associated feelings of dread. I started to enjoy being there -- hidden for the most part -- and made the space into a haven within which I could stretch out and attempt to collate all of the recent events. Michelle still floated around in my head, the Brunette stayed in my heart, and the life I threw to the wind began to ease its push on me to die. All of it added up to the realization that I could get through the difficulties and make a life out of the forced changes. Yes, I was feeling the up approaching. Unbelievable.

Organization and streamlining of my space continued for weeks, just as the heavenly visits with the Brunette. I let her be, for the most part, and only moved in her direction when I felt she would respond in kind.

And every inch the model

Eventually I fell into somewhat of a routine at home. Coffee in the morning, and cooking light meals with my simplistic array of kitchen materials. The Brunette visited now and again, and we went out together on short excursions with the cameras. During one outing she asked if I wished to visit a photography club as a guest to see if it would be something I could embrace. The following week I went with her, and to be within the confines of her car brought me a comfort I had not felt since the outset of our long trip a few months earlier. She took my hand from time to time while driving, allowing me to feel the closeness I had missed for quite a stretch. Her affection was genuine, just as those big eyes confirmed when she looked in my direction.

The club was pleasant. Others welcomed me and asked of my interest and experiences behind the camera. Soon after I did indeed join in and began to look at photography as more than just a hobby. The Brunette and I embraced the club's monthly outings and participated in all of the activities made available. We submitted images for consideration, brought snacks on various nights, and took to the roads for more exploration and subsequent injection into our lenses. We communicated daily... even after she returned to work at the close of being on leave for months. [My leave from work had not yet ended and I was beginning to look forward to returning in order to cut down my free time.] The photography and club trips were an effective distraction, just as the wonder of spending so much time within the viewfinder. The situation between her and I had smoothed considerably, too. All of the days with the club and the few evenings we spent together became very pleasant and lacked all of the drama which seemed to define our early relationship. Things continued in such a manner for months. My time away from her was spent strictly alone and would eventually lead to a tremendous fear of being around others. Ugh. I needed to go back to work for both financing life and to get my mind back into being sociable to a point, but little did I know that fact was about to go south with the geese. Fuck.

Very soon after getting my living space in complete order and filing paperwork to find approval for working, I received a forwarded letter from my previous residence. It stated that the position I held for the government was no longer necessary and I was being laid off. And that was the finest example of timing that I could have imagined. I was dropped outside the gate and left to fend for myself. Fucking hell, anyway. The thought of going to work and leaving myself less time to think was a huge push upward and something I felt could get me the rest of the way out of the ground. Once that was taken away, things changed and I began to realize that my decisions were going to place me underground for some time. And goddamn if I was ready for anything to be taken away. The upward climb had been kicking in nicely, my relationship with the Brunette had stabilized wonderfully, and I had a warm, comfortable place to live. With the snap of two fingers, all of it was placed at risk.

Fuck me, fuck them, and just fuck."

[15:11 pst 12/23/2017 CE, 1514070660 E]

As of this entry, the entire archive has been reversed and reformatted to ease readability. The backward chronological system did not prove friendly, however throughout so many years it spiraled out of control. Just since the onset of 2015, the archive has grown tremendously and readers had difficulty understanding why. Well, that is that.

Also, the long-neglected archive from 2002 has been completely revamped and organized for later publication. That content has been offline since early 2011 and the idea of rolling it back into the eyes of the world is a tad frightening. There is no current plan to launch that archive, but the updating leads us to believe that it will happen in the near future.


The Illness and the Isolation

Part Eight

"And things would not soon improve. I stayed within my little cocoon for days and collected the disability checks. My absence from work was health-related, and due to the high wage I had been earning up to the point of my departure, the income was equally high. It allowed me to have the things I needed for daily life and much comfort (read: food and alcohol), and provided a cushion to be spent on frivolous items which helped to distract me from the reality of all that had taken place along with the fact that work was not returning. In such a situation, the prudent path would have been to seek employment and bank as much as possible to maintain living expenses, but my sordid mind did the opposite. I dove in just as Michelle and I did in the goblet -- I created yet another illusion to keep myself afloat both mentally and emotionally. Deep down I knew that I was heading in a horrible direction, however I did not care. The denial which brought me all over the state and occasionally into Nevada was an enormous draw toward avoiding the trials I wanted to wish away. None of it was healthy, nothing was positive, and I pushed myself into a darker place yet again.

The letter informing me of the position being eliminated was shredded just like all of the feelings regarding my possible survival.

The Brunette reacted to my lack of a return to work with understanding, and she could also sense my drop. I had been hiding anything over a 'normal' supply of alcohol within my apartment and eventually hid any drinking from her in order to avoid turmoil between us. She knew full well what that substance could do to my mind (and hers as well), so I had to keep it from her completely. Yes, more denial, more drinking, and more of what brought me to the edge on too many occasions to count. Goddamn it all anyway. I did not know what else to do. The thought of seeking work in an unfamiliar place and around people I wished to avoid was too much for my sensitive head. My previous place of work had become a haven of comfort, familiarity, and a location within which I felt at home. The career fit me to a tee, from coworkers to the physical environment. Trying to duplicate such a perfect match was a hill I simply could not climb. Downhill had become my only direction yet again.

Days passed and I focused myself within a pattern of seeing her when she allowed it, and remaining within my space and making it into what I needed. And then the fateful day arrived... I began to receive messages from the Brunette that she was not well and had been visiting the doctor often in order to learn of the source. Over time she realized there was something happening which would take her away from me so she could care for herself. I cannot detail the reasoning nor the issue, but suffice to say it was enough to force her into the necessity of shifting attention almost entirely toward herself. Much to my dismay (but not my surprise), this led me to realize once again that my decisions had been wrong and I was placing my value upon another. I was in exactly the same frame as in previous months. Nothing had really improved at all, and for the millionth time I felt the need to escape everything. Fuck me.

Her incredible body, right in front of me

There I sat, within the little apartment, and constantly awaiting any communication from the Brunette. I was filled daily with my own discomfort over all that had been removed from my life via my own actions, combined with worry over her health. I saw her on the occasions when she was feeling fairly well, and went for long periods with nothing more than a short message asking about my condition. Over time the feeling of being holed up began to bring me a necessary solace. I was in that space nearly every moment, save for when I walked down the hill for things from the market. My computer began to feel like a friend and kept me company while I moved about and decorated the walls with my thoughts. I ventured to the store for black paint and eventually isolated myself until such time as I was happy with the messages and symbols surrounding me. The apartment began to bring me enough comfort to where I had no desire to be around others. And that led me to even more isolation from the outside world. Within months I began to fear traveling beyond my front door. The laundry and market were the only two places which would get me to release the deadbolt.

From time to time the Brunette would speak with me, and she seemed to be getting more of a handle on her illness as the days burned away. And despite my joy in learning of her improvement, my situation was worsening by the second. Eventually the disability ran out and I opted to collect money from the state since I was not working. That kept my needs coming, and still provided the resources for maintaining the interior of my space in the manner I required, and to keep myself above the soil. It was not much, but sufficient for the time being. I did not spend one moment on any given day planning for what might come next. I simply remained there and drowned myself, all the while wallowing in tremendous regret and remorse over everything. And I found less and less reason to go outside. The fear never let up.

One quiet morning I received a message from her asking if I was home. When I responded she arrived at my door in seconds and knocked. The sound startled me, and upon opening the door to what had become an alien world, I saw her in front of me in tears, and clutching a bottle of pills. To that point I had not been exposed to the depth of her illness, and when she informed me that she did not have the strength to open the bottle, I fell through the floor. What had happened? And why? God help that woman. I opened it and she fell into my arms momentarily. And then she apologized. Huh? Wow. Yes, she told me she was sorry that I had to see her that way. Jesus god that was a blow. The Brunette then exited my space and left me there to wonder. And worry. And wallow even more than I already had. Fuck me, what a situation.

So I decided to drink everything away yet again.

Michelle, the life I threw away, the Brunette, the Knife, the goblet, the dream of dropping from that balcony, the drive... all of it began to put so much pressure upon my head and heart that the exit was illuminated yet again. One of the necessities that I had brought into my home was a safe, and within that safe was the revolver -- right next to my beloved blade. The firearm looked inviting like never before. Everything pushed me around that little apartment with no respite. I spiraled within the thoughts like I was flailing to survive a cyclone. It was nearly too much at any given moment, so the alcohol and tissue became a daily routine.

Both of them floating in my sordid head

Each morning became like the last... coffee, gazes toward my massive paintings, and then tears. I failed to find reasons for anything outside that routine. I failed all of the typical thoughts that one may run across which brought semblance of normalcy. My days became an endless exercise in finding anything which kept my finger off the trigger. Most of the time by the early afternoon I was drunk and stumbling around with the V6s on my ears and a glass which hardly left my hand. Hours would pass as I walked about the rooms lacking any reason or clarity. I often ventured out onto the balcony to look at the sea and calculate how I could survive a walk among others to be closer to the water. But to no avail... I simply could not be away from the weapons which had the ability to deliver me out of my mental and emotional hell. I needed to remain within striking distance of my own mortality. And I did just that. Every single day for months, all I could focus upon was some light food and the walk down to the market for more whiskey.

I was nearly a complete wreck and suicidal like never before.

The Brunette visited less and less, I dropped myself out of the photography club, and all of my hobbies went by the wayside in favor of the increasing amounts of alcohol and decreasing meals. I had become a fraction of myself again. And I felt no need for anything whatsoever. There was no drive in any direction nor was there any ambition to pick myself up or attempt to recover. Understanding was as far away as the nearest black hole. The only thing which felt close was my desire to cut the rope which connected me to my own consciousness and leave the world behind.

As the months passed, I began to run short of resources, and the decision was made to simplify and streamline my possessions in order to continue living there and remaining as the drunken, drowned, and depressed half-person I had created. Things which I cherished made their way into the mail so I could recover monies thrown to the wind on booze and frivolity. My high-on-the-hog trips and wayward sense came to an end so I could stay in my apartment. I sold off nearly every item which was either purchased after the move or brought from my previous residence. That included many keepsakes and trophies from better days. I was blinded in the extreme. Nothing looked valuable except the space within which I spun and fell. Eventually all that remained was the safe and weapons, the bed, and my computer which was a friend. An entire life of things which once were important went away quickly and only furthered my depression. All of it -- from watches to furniture to technology -- out the door and gone forever.

Along with any common sense which may have still been accessible. Splendid.

The Weapon
The carrier I failed to grab

The one item sold which quickly brought me to my knees was my beloved camera which had been my companion all over the state, and which held memories I could not begin to describe. Once I boxed everything and delivered it to the buyer in Hawaii I fell through the floor and into a place which felt unrecoverable. That was bad. And I had to inform the Brunette of my circumstances at the first invitation to go out shooting when she was feeling better. Again... it was bad. At that point she learned of my true situation and felt compelled to assist me with daily needs. When I considered her compassion and understanding, I again felt as if hope was not impossible. All at once I wished to embrace her... to ravage her... to go back to a place where we were alone and reckless with our desires. I needed her to feel the same, but knew full well such a thing was unlikely. Her kindness and unending caring was overwhelming and nearly brought me to my knees, literally. I broke down in front of her gorgeous eyes and began to babble terribly of all that had taken place and expressed to her my need to die just for the freedom from everything.

And the latest fall, chasm, hell -- whatever -- began. God damn all of it and every single fucking detail of those many months. God damn it.

Jesus fucking Christ I could not have collapsed at a worse time. The Brunette needed precisely nothing negative during that time, and even moreso she did not need me being a fucking basket case. Unfortunately, I was a champion at falling toward the grave. And she knew it very well. She stood there beside me and wondered if she could keep herself healthy and me alive. My eyes told the entire story before she asked... 'Hey. Are you going to be ok?' And then again... 'Hey.' She then told me of how much she loved me and the fact that it never ceased. She also said she needed me but her time alone was taking priority over everything. Her eyes were so huge and emotional, and she looked like the most beautiful angel I had ever seen. Upon gazing into those lovely windows for a moment, it began. At that point I could no longer hold back, so I unloaded my misery and plight right in front of her eyes and all over the carpet. I fell, literally, onto the floor and into a mumbling puddle of tears and anger. I writhed and yelled, then curled up and sobbed like a child, then back to the yelling. I lashed out at the world, at myself, and at my lack of strength to grab the revolver. Or the knife. The whole scene was one of bloody hatred for my decisions and actions, regret over everything I had decided, and a massive lamenting of what I had become. For what seemed an eternity, I continued to throw myself around the room, smashing my head into the sheetrock and falling over and over to the floor. I ran into the kitchen and she followed, grabbing at my arms and hands to keep me away from anything which could harm me.

Flailing... screaming... crying.

The situation forced her to take control of me and wrestle my trembling self to the floor. She held me there for a long while and caressed my hair, all the while whispering and sobbing. She told me over and over that everything would be fine and she would not let me go until I felt myself returning from the black. I have no idea of how much time passed, but eventually we made our way to my bed and lay there for the remainder of the day. And then she informed me of how much she could identify with such horrible feelings and actions. The Brunette had gone through so much before I ever knew of her, and she proceeded to lay down a story I would not soon forget.

Evening. Darkness. Love. Caring.

What a fucking day. And in the end I realized it all catalyzed over a camera and the many wonderful memories it lived through.


Her huge, loving eyes took me back to myself

God fucking damn it what a person the Brunette was. She lived right there -- three doors down -- and maintained herself despite the illness. And she took the time to look after me. God. And I brought to her a mess of a person who could barely keep it together from one moment to the next.

In the early morning I awakened to find the other side of my bed empty. In the space that gorgeous creature inhabited the night before was a note -- 'Be well. I'll come see you after work.' The writing also outlined a bit of a plan for me to follow in the coming days, and one that she wished me to confirm. 'Just stay out of the bottom of the bottle. The middle is fine. Just the bottom should be avoided.'


I composed myself a bit and staggered down to the market for some staples. Upon the return I made a light breakfast and sat on the balcony feeling weaker and more frail than ever. The thoughts continued to invade, and they forced me to think over and over of the prior evening's events. I just could not help but rehash all of it in my mind. I did remain calm, however, and realized that as long as I could see her from time to time, and stay occupied for the most part, there was a possibility of traveling beyond that terrible situation. There was no work to keep me busy, and all of my things had flown out the door. I had to focus on something, and the computer seemed the only option.

After relaxing outside a bit longer, I decided to turn my full attention to the machine inside and make it work for me. I researched and worked out a plan for some changes which would require me to venture out of the little cocoon. That was a bit too much to consider after being a complete wreck so recently, so I merely kept on with the research and planning. The rest of that day was spent reflecting, communicating here and there with the woman who saved me (again), and preparing meals. I watched a handful of shows on the computer and tried to get myself mentally prepared to take a drive the following day.

A little measure of upward, a shitload of emotional support from that beautiful soul down the hall, and a small plan for the coming days, and I began to pull my sorry ass out of the ground and into the world.

Such as it was."

[06:37 pst 12/28/2017 CE, 1514471820 E]

The recent backend work has proven fruitful. Our markup remains valid throughout the most-used pages, and some of the older sections of the main content have been cleaned out and aligned to the master page. Other changes are minor, including the general information being amended slightly, and the master page footer seeing some alterations for maintaining legality as well as ease of access. The ASP.NET nod has become important to the owner and is a small add for recognition of what that framework has allowed this site to enjoy. The Clodmaster section is still being voted upon from both sides of the river. The staff would like to see it remain in place, but admin is still focused on a single-purpose site. We will keep trying.

With a new year approaching, we are bracing for impact. That time of the year is never happy around here and all we can do is sit and wait for the fallout. The third part of the 2017 archive has turned out to be the entire saga since October, so the indexing for those titles can stay pretty. Unfortunately, the next up is 2018, and the issues which seem to arise after the first day of the year can be difficult for all. We shall see what develops.


The Transition and the Trial

Part Nine

"As the months burned away, I saw the Brunette less and less, and my apartment emptied out more and more. Most of the furniture remained, but many of the smaller everyday items were disappearing -- just as my diminishing hope for a secure future. And despite the renewed interest in writing and computer work, I did not feel as if my situation would improve. The year was approaching its end, and as my satisfaction with life headed downward, I decided to make my way down toward the market and into the bar two doors away. The only visits to that venue were more than a year earlier with the Brunette and it had since changed ownership. The look was very inviting and much more friendly than I had remembered. So, I strolled in on a Saturday night and took a seat.

The bartender was friendly and the music quite loud. The crowd seemed preoccupied with dancing and carrying on, so I made sure to remain in the rear of the room to avoid conversation. I did not stay long due to drinking most of the early evening. In fact, I was only there less than an hour. The previous many months in hibernation had placed me in a heightened state of awareness around others. Sitting in that room near so many people forced me into a defensive mental state and I knew that leaving without engaging anyone would be my best option. I closed out and said thank you, and out the door to my cave.

That first short excursion into a social atmosphere was very uncomfortable, and made the return to my apartment feel quite good. I wished to stay in there forever but knew that the financial situation was soon going to force me to do something different. I had some time before anything became dire, so in the coming days I looked around for other options. And one of them was work. I had no wish to be outside my much-needed comfort but the money was running out and something had to change.

Beauty with which I was unfamiliar

The woman stood outside the bar, cigarette in hand, looking as gorgeous as possible, and approaching a level which left me unable to remain at a distance. We spoke briefly, and ended up connecting at a later time. Once that took place, her eyes started to work their way into my damaged heart. More and more we connected as time went by. And the bar became our link of choice, if not my apartment. I could not help but be drawn to her, of course, because I was still dealing with the massive holes in myself which felt perpetually crippling. Spending time with someone so gorgeous and bright was both a good and bad idea, and unfortunately early on I continued to drown myself over all that had taken place and she was there to see the occasional drops. The entire time spent away from my cocoon and with her began to resemble a very peaceful place with which I had been unfamiliar for some time. We visited other bars in town, I met some of her friends, and we spent time in my home. Closer and closer we became over a very short period of time, and all the while my head proceeded to push me back toward the company of the Brunette. That was bad. Period. Many times I flip-flopped over where to be. I did so thinking of myself, but rarely thinking of what sort of effect my fucked up actions might have upon others. Day after day I was confused and extremely needy, and coupled with the haphazard (and sometimes quite sudden) feelings that I should leave the world behind and let everyone carry on without my problems became apparent to others. Suicide never really left my list of options. It simply went a step or two down the list before returning to the top.

My discomfort and random falls through the floor began to affect the Brunette again, just as they had driven a wedge between us so many times in the past. And the new person I was next to started to see it all, too. Many times my electronic conversations with the Brunette pushed my limits and the poor phone went flying in whatever direction seemed most damaging. We talked often and I gathered that she felt threatened by the presence of that younger woman. And all of that despite the fact that the Brunette and I were no longer considering ourselves in a romantic relationship. That only pressed me down further, and when the young one carried me home and to my senses, the guilt over being helped along pressed more. I could not win no matter my decisions nor actions. There seemed no solution to anything, and with the money going away my path to the knife was once again illuminated. The thought of that path became comforting, too. There was an exit which could help me and everyone else. And I mean help, in every sense of the word, because I still was not able to make a good decision to save my own fucking life. The back-and-forth between the young one and the Brunette was making me look like a terrible person, and it was affecting both of them badly. All of those facts continued to make my exit seem the best idea.

Unfortunately, the young one was beginning to care for me, deeply, and the Brunette was becoming more understanding. Huh?

Thoughts from the darkness

As my necessary departure from the endless comfort of my apartment approached, the Brunette was spending less and less time with me as I chose more time with the young one. The bar became increasingly friendly, too. I ventured there nearly every night and remained until closing. I was a wreck inside -- still seriously considering ending myself -- but kept most of the problems away from others. I had no desire to draw that type of attention, nor did I wish to open to anyone other than the young one. She welcomed me sharing my feelings and the unknown people in the bar were just furniture. There was only so much I could do to keep my fucked up mind hidden away, but the necessity of staying within my head enabled me to falsify myself completely. Lesser of two fears.

As time moved along, the condition of my mind eased a bit due to the warm compassion of the young one. She wished me to be happy and comfortable, and the closer I came to leaving the cocoon the more she calculated how to help keep me in town. My options were few -- one of them being a destination far away to live with relatives (not a promising road). I went over the idea of leaving town and at no time was it appealing to me or the young one. She wished me to stay and be with her, and I simply wished to find a way to either sort everything out or walk into the goddamned ocean. Failing the latter, a place to live was fast becoming my highest priority. And the young one proceeded to ask a question which I was not expecting.

Yes, she invited me to share her home to both allow me to stabilize as well as assist her with living expenses. How could I resist? I could not.

Over the next month or so I began to get things in order for the move. I was happy to remain in town but nervous at the same time. I did not know the extent of her feelings for me, and being in the same place with her meant I would need to decide whether or not to return the affection. And the Brunette would be pushed away yet again. The combination of all the facts nearly sent me into yet another tailspin, and I did not wish to inflict myself on the young one any more than I already had. She had a huge heart and a very considerate nature which brought me to my knees time and time again. Thinking of having such a wondrous and open heart right next to me started to seem dreamy, so the move went forward.

Once there, the Brunette seemed relieved that I found a comfortable living situation but she also felt as if we were drifting apart at the same time. I could not help but feel for her due to all that had taken place, honestly. I had no wish to cause her any more difficulty. The young one understood all of it, too. She was warm and welcoming. I slid into her home and made myself available to her heart.

But not all was well by any stretch of the word.

...and even the blackness

Shortly after becoming more attached to both the young one and her home, I began to yearn for the exotic nature of the Brunette. And this took place after the young one expressed to me that she was feeling love. Ugh. I could not resist her gorgeous eyes and comforting warmth, but the Brunette maintained a draw I could not deny. Her playfulness and fantastic look combined with the fact that she knew me so deeply added up to my inability to stay away. We spent a bit if time together again and despite my knowing that the young one would be hurt by my actions I just did not resist. It was a short period of time within months of me moving in, and one which was destined to end badly. And regardless of my need for a place to live, I blinded myself for the millionth time and ran to the Brunette over and over. We went to a few restaurants together, spent time in her apartment, and all the while my head was worse off than in months. On one occasion, we sat upon her balcony -- which overlooked the alleyway behind the bar -- and I could see the young one outside the back door and looking up toward us. Jesus fucking Harold Christ that was one of the most damaging feelings ever. I knew full well that I was hurting her and the resulting drop within me was deep. The Brunette could see how torn I was over the situation and did her best to distance herself for a while. She knew of my nature, and that I would not react well to making such a tragic mistake.

Everything soon came to a head on one fateful evening at the bar, combined with far too much alcohol (for both of us). I had been with the Brunette at a local restaurant, and we then decided to venture to the bar for a bit of dancing and more drinks. We were already half in the bag so any decision was ill-fated. Lo and behold who else was there, but none other than the young one, looking both hurt and very angry. We stayed for a while and drank more, and at some point my mind began to fall and I felt the need to get out of there.

Cut to a little while later and I wound up part way home lying on my back on the side of the highway and physically hurt. I had attempted to get across the massive k-rails and failed to make it all the way to the other side of the lanes. I do remember a vehicle stopped not far from my position, and as I saw the lights I was able to get to my feet and locate my poor phone in the gravel. From there I continued to walk a few miles back to the new home and found the young one awaiting my arrival -- none too happy to say the least. Fuck. I did it again... made a decision and carried out actions which alienated not one but two individuals -- both of whom cared for me. What the fuck was wrong with me? Everything.

The young one proceeded to care for me over the next few days, all the while remaining cold and at arm's length. She fed me and attended my injuries despite my lack of sense. Unbelievable? Yes. Heartwarming? Fuck yes. Did I deserve such behavior? Fuck no. I was an idiot yet again, and living with someone who was honest, open, understanding, and loved me regardless of my haphazard and hurtful actions. She was unreal, and I was a fucking hole.

Helga is a reminder

That portion of time and the resulting difficulty I had caused soon forced me to reconsider my position in life. I was able to push forward with some effort, find work, and begin to show the young one much more respect and appreciation. The alternative would have been quite bad. Over time things smoothed out with her somewhat, and I had less and less contact with the Brunette -- a situation which seemed to benefit both. The decision to maintain some distance was one of the best of my recent years. In fact, to this day I cannot believe that I took a position to help anyone other than myself or Michelle. At the time that was just not the way I generally handled other people's feelings. Oy.

Months into living in yet another residence, a new cave began to take shape. The computer found its home in the office and the powerful setup enjoyed much more real estate. [And thus this site was expanded and improved greatly.] The young one understood the importance of having our own separate activities and time alone. She enjoyed her free time at home just as I. Time and time again we went into our own little worlds and left the other alone. That greatly helped me to reflect upon things and explore my own needs and desires through writing. The release cannot be overstated. I ended up thoroughly connected to the new office and enough space to be myself. My financial condition was still not good due to so many reckless and uncaring maneuvers for such a long period, but she helped that as well -- I knew in my heart that if I practiced being a considerate and caring individual I had nothing to fear.

And 'our' home began to feel as if I had been there years. Everything was comfortable, save for those deep discussions in which my past reared its head and drove me into the bottle more deeply than was healthy. Those were, of course, in fairly short supply, and the young one knew of the damage I had caused and did her best to be understanding and unbiased. She felt love for me which helped constantly. Day in and day out I tried to return that love and be as open to her feelings as I was able. After the short-lived yet heavenly relationship with Michelle, I simply could not offer anything except appreciation and openness to such a wonderful person. The young one showed me just how much she could set aside in order to be with me, and I had to keep such things in mind as often as possible.

Slowly but surely things stabilized and a routine began to form with regard to our lives becoming so attached to each other. Daily work, dinner together, and caring for the house took up most of our time, and the garage which was never really touched upon started to resemble a shop in support of my hobbies. The laundry area was reconfigured for ease of use, and the comfort of the house plus everyday life set in nicely. Things were good between us and our social nature brought us back to the bar often. Friends whom I met through the bar and through the young one embraced us as a couple and we were accepted graciously.

Eventually I received a message from the Brunette informing me that she was moving out of state, and the relief to both the young one and myself was positive enough to help our relationship reach a level of which we had hoped.

Our lives went onward and upward, and into a place of utter coziness and mutual love. We had become a couple, intertwined and happy, and looking forward to all of the things in life which were so much better shared.

Michelle's never-ending thrall

And then a trial like I had never imagined. Difficulty, heartache, discomfort, and uncertainty took over both our lives and at a time when such an event did not seem possible. The culmination of my obsession grappled me and took my sense away yet again. A work of art had happened along allowing me to finally explore all that was pushed aside for years. All of the words and disconcerting writings were tossed on their sides and the reality that a subject could come along and help my dream slammed me to the walls and enabled yet more fucked up decision-making. And I ran toward her like the wind. I shoved my life and livelihood aside to be near her. I ignored all that had been ingrained and learned so that she could help me fulfill the most deviant and dangerous of desires... she wanted to help... she allowed me anything... she opened all of herself to me and my needs...



The Raven."

[15:55 pst 12/30/2017 CE, 1514678100 E]

Due to the end of the year, the continuing sage which began in October (April, on the backend) will not conclude until into 2018. Admin has attempted to speed the publishing interval, however the difficulty in bringing this story to the public domain has created a few mental roadblocks. We are not certain how many more sections will be tossed to the staff for editing and subsequent production. We continue to await the saga's end.

Other than that, the site remains as-is. Some code work is in process, but nothing dramatic.


The Raven and the Rage

Part Ten

"The beginning of my time with the Raven has been chronicled (slightly) here. What is not included in that entry is just exactly how much I fucked everything up, the proximity to losing the young one forever, and to losing my job as well. The two of us together quickly became a syndrome of sorts. We found it difficult to be apart, yet when near each other things turned to drunken recklessness, danger, and a massive issue which never seemed to be avoided. She was one of the most beautiful women I could have ever imagined, possessed an enormous level of compassion, and held within her a huge heart without limit. We were very alike in that we loved the idea of hiding, avoiding anything family-friendly, and embracing the fringe of living. That was a very sketchy combination for two people dealing with emotional issues -- and we shared those in abundance.

After meeting and becoming more acquainted, the Raven and I connected from time to time at a few different restaurants to speak in person. Her situation in life was not well, and I did my best to be a calming ear. Throughout the meetings between us, an understanding and compassionate relationship began to form. The physical attraction was overwhelming at times and led each of us to remain guarded and in the public eye. Even though we preferred to be alone much of the time, the need to keep the sexuality at bay pressed us to meet up in bars and restaurants only. We generally spoke quietly, gazed at each other and left the others in the background. Over and over we met at a few usual places and enjoyed conversation which ran the gamut of life, and occasionally slid into the territory of love and physical attractiveness. During those times when my deep obsession was glanced, she became enthralled and wished to fully engage the subject. And me.


For the most part, we discussed all manner of things -- our relationships, work, and society. We also tended to identify with each other on the subject of family and how our roles within society can be influenced by lousy learnings from the past. That was one of the toughest conversations to bear in past experience, and that fact was due to my feelings toward the state of progress and our fucked up herd mentality. The Raven pushed forth with her unique outlook and her methods of dealing with all of the other people with whom she interacted daily. Those thoughts left me wondering how she could be so brutally cutting and yet still carry herself with such a loving warmth which was continuously expressed by those huge, beautiful eyes. The more we spoke, the more I became overcome by everything which made up such a unique person.

Thin... and that was the beginning of the draw

And during each visit... my head swam with thoughts of the near past. All of it, from the beginnings with the Brunette and that terrible exit from my life to the blissful and wondrous days with the goddess herself. In between? Rising, falling, flailing, and trying to figure a way to quickly leave the world behind. I spun through the whole affair over and over while also considering the feelings of the loving young one at home. For days and days I ran around a mental track and proceeded to wear myself out emotionally. The thoughtful, patient learning and understanding I had achieved throughout the past few years in my new home had been effectively processed like a turkey before Thanksgiving. My mind spun out of control just as a blender with far too much voltage. The more I considered her sharp mind and features, the more I sank into a pit of confusion. But I could not stay away. The draw was too much for my weakened state.

So I kept seeing her whenever possible.

Eventually we settled into a routine of longing and desire while holding ourselves back to maintain a quality of life and living. The desire was mounting, but we did not allow each other to slide. On more than one occasion we ventured outside our usual spots and galavanted throughout the city. Late into the evenings we strolled -- hand in hand -- from one watering hole to another, while smiling and wondering what may happen if we were to derail. Many nights were spent in each other's company and with little regard as to what may be taking place outside the world we created. The feeling reminded me of that fucking goddess and the space we inhabited at any given moment. The Raven was wonderful to be near, and the heat between us was nearly too much to bear. I knew something was going to happen but felt powerless to avoid the damage. She was becoming the universe.

Sound familiar? Yep. Idiot.

Soon enough we pushed the boundaries (and I pushed the young one beyond what she could tolerate). Once that took place, the next question I received from the Raven was, 'Are we too dangerous to be near each other?' Well, yes, no shit, but I did not respond as such. I told her we just needed to keep others in mind and try to avoid situations which could become out of our control. Um... yeah. Ok. No problem.

Her own relationship had been strained up to the point in time when we were able to first meet in person, and outside the office (Val's). She did her best to tell me of the issues. My response to her pushed her to feel more for me and she began to rethink the situations as they related to each other. Her impending marriage could have been negatively affected by the two of us spending time alone, so she tried to let everything go and just remain coworkers. Nothing outside of work would have been explored, however for her... well, she needed an outlet of sorts and I fit the bill. By no fault of ours, that strained relationship fell apart soon after, and she moved away from it. Her family was very supportive but disappointed at what had taken place. I was not known to anyone save for her.

Her form was unreal

After that major change in her life, I allowed some time for her to settle before much contact. I had no wish to be a burden, and in the grand scheme her family was the priority -- just as her own needs.

Once again time passed and I missed her terribly, but the space allowed me to focus upon other things. The young one was not terribly worried, although she had met the Raven once and knew of my desire to fulfill the obsession. She also knew that the Raven was more than willing to allow whatever I wished, including photographs and illustrations. The young one also knew of my love and devotion to her as it had grown since the last horseshit I had caused with the Brunette. We had settled nicely together and I had no wish to disrupt things and create another bad situation. She was a very loving, caring, and considerate person toward everyone... and toward me most of all. None of the crap of which I had been capable should have been sent in her direction, nor should it have affected her negatively. Regardless, I spent as much free time with the Raven as was feasible without causing a rift for anyone. Once her living arrangement had been more comfortable, we again met at the same restaurant to carry on whatever it was we were feeling. There was no up or down to the events prior to me leaving the apartment anymore, and the Raven enjoyed the fact that my life seemed to be coming together after years of difficulty. I still had not found the time or space to study her in the manner I needed, but there were no worries about that type of thing. She was all for it, and assured me that whatever I wished would happen. 'All in good time.'

Throughout the days when we were together, I began to see what was happening to her feelings as they related to others' view of her. She was not perfect, and the first time I stated that to her in no uncertain terms, she collapsed -- teary-eyed -- into my arms for several minutes. All the Raven wished was to be seen as a person above all things. Not a model, not a princess, not perfect... just a woman. And that was all I wished to express to her, day after day. There was a heart and mind which had become damaged due to the empty platitudes as they related to her appearance. Even when I unveiled to her a descriptive essay, she again sobbed openly and told me that it was ok coming from me. Anyone else? 'Fuck no.' From me? No worries.

Well, the worries were coming, and by the truckload.

The darkest of beauty

We met on one particular afternoon and the time ran away from us. The initial trip has been chronicled, but some details were left alone. The two of us visited a restaurant attached to the train station for a bite of food along with cocktails. Later we walked around the downtown area and into a local bar for more drinks. We sat there for a bit before she became uncomfortable around the others. From there we headed back toward the station and that is where the trouble began. Too much alcohol made each of us overly emotional and in clear mind of our issues. That situation led her to nearly sexually attack me in an alley until I convinced her it was not a good idea. The conversation went on for several minutes and it took all of me to calm her mind and body. She held me tightly as we began to stroll to the restaurant where the drinking started. Once back at the bar, the Raven was clearly not under good control and we began to argue regarding leaving and getting some rest. After a few remarks from her, I decided to get some air and walked out. At some point moments later, she exited the bar and disappeared. I would not see her again until the following work day.

And then things escalated.

Along with the Raven, my keys and sunglasses left the scene. That was a major issue because I drove to the station in the afternoon (which was absolute bliss at the time). I could do nothing more than call her every few minutes in an attempt to learn what had happened. Our discussion was uncomfortable and rather drunken, but I had not thought that she would take off without me. Over and over I tried to call and message her for more than an hour. When I finally heard back, she told me she boarded the train and traveled an hour further south. To my dismay, she had apparently gone to a friend's house to sleep it off. Ugh. So, my only option was to grab a taxi all the way back home and leave the car behind.

Upon finally reaching our house, the young one was waiting and none too happy. I could not blame her, and my drunken state did not help matters in the least. My explanation that my keys and glasses were eighty miles south of home, and my car was at the train station two towns away did not go over very well either. The entire discussion was horrendous and ran the gamut of calm to fierce and back again several times. I tried to tell her that the end of the night was not my fault, but the truth was both myself and the Raven were responsible for every second of that fateful day. Needless to say, the young one was hardly receptive to my claims and story, and that resulted in several days of very few words. The only upside was the quiet in our home. Much time needed to pass before we could converse about that night calmly and without rankor.

From that point forward, the Raven and I decided to keep our outings close to home and for shorter durations. We rarely saw each other at work. When we were able to meet up, the visits were still filled with the warmth and wonder just as before that huge blowup a while back. Conversation, gazing, and the comfort we previously enjoyed... hand-in-hand. Only after several drinks did we part ways and await the next opportunity to see each other. Over a period of weeks, we only drew closer to each other, and the time spent together pulled us in lovingly. Her demeanor toward me was incredibly kind and considerate, and I did my best to return the feelings. We continued to discuss all manner of things, including what may take place if each of us threw our lives into the wind to be together.

Big, beautiful limpid pools

That would never happen. I began to realize that the life I would be putting at risk was wonderful and I had been blinded for the billionth time as to what path I should choose. No shit, huh? Yeah. Well, aside from the common sense of the situation which felt like a miracle being injected into my head by forces from above, I still wanted to be with her. There was just too much between us leaving me unable to function properly within daily life without the thought of the Raven all over me. Yep... danger. Why the fuck not? That was my method of operation during prior years, so what the fuck kind of difference was there?

The young one had become broken up over the whole thing due to my expressions of love for the Raven. She did not deserve to be pushed in any other direction but I nearly made it happen anyway. And the idea that I left the young one with the thought that I did not know who to choose nearly destroyed her. Nice. Very nice. I was an asshole yet again -- just as she had told me during that wonderful day at the bar -- and in addition she was left without knowing what I was going to do. The hits just kept coming from all directions (me). Days passed and I spent exactly zero time with the Raven in order to clear my head. Since I was living within the house owned by the young one, each evening after work was less than comfortable to put it mildly.

Eventually, I met with the Raven in our usual spot and told her that aside from her being my subject, I needed to remain where I was. She reacted very well, and told me that was her wish from the word go. Though she felt deeply for me, she knew we could not be happy together and she wished for two things: my happiness, no matter the cost, and no more pain or difficulty for the woman who became an innocent victim. The entire conversation that day turned into a catharsis of sorts and left us both wiser and humbled by each other's loving words. We parted for the time being and I went home to crawl on the floor and profess how much remorse was flowing through me.

The young one was overjoyed.

But that would not be the last time the connection between the Raven and I would be a problem.

The most incredible shape to ever stand before me

As life went on in our little home, all of the trials and issues seemed to fade with time. The young one and I carried ourselves day to day with work, the house, and plans for outings and vacations. We worked together on the house sometimes, and other times I did small projects to make our daily lives easier. The two of us found comfort once again.

My visits with the Raven were fewer and fewer, but we kept in close contact electronically. We conversed almost daily, and sometimes the back-and-forth became quite intense. She was finding her work environment dissatisfying, and began to seek another position elsewhere. Her life outside work was mostly unknown to me aside from when we met at the restaurant, which was fine. The less I knew, the less I may have felt toward her being with someone else. I wanted her to be as happy as she could be, but I still felt a bit of pain at knowing we could not be together other than friendship. Naturally that feeling faded as time went by. The young one and I were strong again. Work was busy and home was comfortable. Things were good. And in my head was the form of the Raven... swirling, spinning, grasping at my every thought.

And then we met at the Third Eye for lunch.

What a fucking day. The restaurant was close enough to roll there in a matter of minutes, and on a Saturday it was deserted. We met behind the strip mall and embraced for a long while before sliding into their diminutive bar area. She ordered two drinks for us and we began the conversation. While she spoke to me, her enormous and beautiful eyes seemed to be composing their own message. 'Come inside. Warm in here.' Gawd damn the world anyway. The Raven sat there perched on the stool, and looking every bit the fucking model. I hesitated to state anything about her appearance due to all of the protracted conversation regarding perfection. After gazing for a while and reporting how each of us had been getting along, she took my face into her hands and said, 'You are the only one, my love. The only person in this fucked up world who can look at me and speak to me however you wish. In that way, I am yours and will never belong to anyone else.' Christ knows how my mind was able to function after hearing that and seeing it expressed through her unreal eyes, but I had to carry on.

I briefly told her of my feelings, and that was that. I left it alone and she followed suit, all the while displaying a devilish and very playful smile. At that point in time, I could have walked into traffic with nary a regret. She had -- in one sentence -- sent me flying and forced into my head all of how she felt about me. All of it. For fuck's sake I could not concentrate on conversation very well after such an exchange. Sitting there gazing into her big, beautiful eyes was enough to satisfy me for the time being. I would not push her in any direction... just knowing that we could not move in any direction other than sideways really hurt, but was very necessary. I had to remain where I was, dealing with all that had taken place and building a new life with the young one, and the Raven needed her own space to live. The situation was sad, however our appreciation for each other was at a high point. I began to realize that I would have to live without the dream.

A few hours into our time at the Eye and the Raven was getting very drunk. She could not function well, and expressed to me her discomfort at sitting there while the restaurant manager stared at her beauty from across the room. I could not blame her, but the leering was not a big deal. We decided to leave. I could see that she was falling into a pit and I had to choose my words carefully. The look on her face expressed both sadness and fear. Upon reaching my car, she told me that her situation needed to be dealt with immediately -- she wanted to run from her home and stay with a relative far away, and it had to happen that night. Ugh. Her speech was slurred and she continued to spout over her dissatisfaction with the living arrangements and split relationship. Cursing, talking with her hands repeatedly, and constantly grabbing at me to hold her while I drove left me worrying considerably. She stated that I would bring her home so she could grab clothes and her cat, say goodbye to her mother and then take off for someplace to sleep. My fears and discomfort began to roll up like a snowball. My mind raced to find a solution as she was losing control.

Tears flowed like a waterfall in spring.

Dark and magical

I pulled the car up to her house and she dashed out toward the door before I could stop the engine. Damn. I followed her inside where her mother sat on the couch looking very startled. They argued briefly, and then the Raven dropped a bomb. 'This is my new lover and we are leaving town right this minute.' Oh god, I did not need to be in the room when those words were spoken. Her mother snapped and they yelled at each other for several minutes before the Raven ran to her bedroom. I stood there, frightened and flabbergasted at her words, and her mother spoke to me quietly about the issue. She had teary eyes as she asked me to care for her daughter, no matter where we may end up. She also asked that I let her know if and when I could calm things. The living room was warm and inviting, but the atmosphere was icy and heavy. I did not know what to do but did my best to formulate a plan for stabilizing that gorgeous creature.

Moments later the Raven emerged with a small bag and her cat in her arms. She trotted right past both me and her mother and continued right out the door, heels clicking on the wood floor. I looked at her sullen mother with emotional eyes and assured her that I would not let anything bad happen. She took my hand and thanked me, and to the car I rushed. The Raven awaited, still crying. As we headed toward the boulevard, she instructed me to drive all the way to Sonora. Huh? Yikes. I did my best to remain calm and try to talk her into staying somewhere closer to home. She was adamant, but I kept pushing her not to dash halfway across California that night. I pulled the car into the nearest parking lot and realized that the hour was getting late and I had to think of something soon. She clawed at my arm and shoulder and continued with the water works. My heart was breaking just thinking of how she must have felt with so many changes taking place in a very short period of time. Her relationship, unhappy working conditions, pressure from family, and need to be near me were adding up to a massive breakdown. I could see it approaching at ramming speed, and the thought pushed me to an idea to find her some comfort.

I stepped from the car and told her I needed to line up some items before going any further. She clutched the cat and leaned into the door, sobbing. I called the young one and told her of all that was happening. She was very understanding and said I should come home -- along with the Raven -- and look to the morning for a solution. God love her. That was something I had not considered. Her invitation was both caring and brilliant. I figured that once the Raven slept for a time and let the alcohol wear off it would be easier for her to think rationally. I returned to the car and told her the plan, with which she agreed. Back to the road.

As I drove up the hill toward home, I struggled with everything while offering comforting thoughts to the beautiful wreck next to me. Closer to the house we drove, and closer to her easing up on the full-court press of leaving town. Eventually my words found a home in her heart and she calmed dramatically. She asked me to park a second time so we could talk a bit without the road being a distraction. The Raven then put my mind at more ease than I could have ever imagined. She asked me to turn the car and head back to her mother's house to drop her off. Holy fucking shit was that ever a relief. I told her I needed to inform the young one of the change, to which she responded with a loving kiss to my hand. I sent a quick message that we would not be there as planned and I would later return alone.

We pulled up at the house for the second time, and she dashed out of the car -- cat in hand -- and ran to the door. Her mother opened the door in tears and embraced the Raven tightly. I took a hint by way of the look on her mother's face and brought the Raven's things to the doorstep. I only saw one face before leaving, and it expressed sincere gratitude. I turned, walked to the car, and waved. And then home. Fuck me, that was one of the most difficult nights ever, and one I knew had the capability of causing more trouble than had already taken place. On the drive back I went from relieved to happy to sad, and back to relieved. The young one awaited my arrival and held me tightly at the door. Thank Christ that situation found its end, and I found my place -- both in my heart and in that house.

The morning came quickly after sleeping like I was in hibernation. I heard not word one from the Raven, and next to me slept the young one. Coffee, soft music, and reflection made up the bulk of that Sunday.

I felt as if the previous day had been some sort of a dream and none of it really happened. The woman I left on the other side of the hill was so out of clarity that I could not help but worry. Although the knowledge that she was in the best possible place physically helped, I still was very concerned for what may happen next. Her deeply distraught nature was something I completely understood considering the many months I had spent wondering if I was better off alive or not. All of the falls through the floor were tied up into a huge ball of depression for so long that it took quite a bit of time for me to realize that my place with the young one was where I needed to be. I needed to hold that thought, always.

The sharpest of radii

Over the next few days I conversed with the Raven very little as she sorted out life and living. We met less and less, and as the heat between us faded the comfort and love with the young one increased. I had learned that being with her was very good for me, and I provided her with the same. Our relationship was stable, unlike the danger of being with the Raven.

Work and daily life continued, and eventually I found that the Raven had begun a relationship with another. The tinge of jealousy was sharp and cutting in the beginning and only slightly faded over time. I could not help but feel as such due to the fact that my love for her never subsided (and has not as of this writing, but that is another story which necessitates the consumption of alcohol). That woman was the very definition of everything I had sought on every single level and we were very close to throwing all to the fire to be what and where we desired. That did not happen, but the feelings remained. Our messages were still filled with love and tenderness, no matter how much distance was apparent. Her feelings toward me had not changed, nor did mine for her. The Raven was one of the most unique and wondrous souls I could have imagined, and she added things to my life which had seemed impossible.

More time passed, and then something happened which destroyed me.

Work had brought us to a job in Brisbane some weeks earlier. We were there taking care of business in the middle of the large project when my coworker received a call from the office. He left the area and wandered into the street to speak in private, and such a move was unusual considering it seemed to be related to our job. Some minutes later he returned and told me to take a break outside. I was surprised since our typical break time was more than an hour away. No matter, I thought, and ventured to the deck for a cigarette. The summer breeze was winding its way through the tall trees, birds darted from place to place, and the squirrels were carrying out their daily activities. I took a seat on the steps and waited to hear what the office could have wanted with us.

My coworker then addressed me with a serious look to his eyes, and a tentative voice. He informed me that the Raven had taken her own life the night before and he did not know how to get that across other than to blurt it. My cigarette fell, the world caved in, and I sat there, stunned and saddened, with so many thoughts blinding any possibility of clarity. Shaking hands, teary eyes, sweaty forehead, and a heart which had just been destroyed. I knew not which way to move. I was a trembling fraction of a person with nothing operating properly within. The fucking sum of the world had taken her from me and the perpetual wind from my life. God damn everything, and fuck everyone. I was left sitting and lacking in every sense of the word.

He asked me if I needed to go home and my eyes answered him clearly and immediately. Off we drove back over the hill where I proceeded to drown in the sunny backyard with a head full of anything but good. Black metal spewed forth from the Bose towers with nary a possibility of relief. Beer cans flew about the yard just as the endless expletives off my dry lips. Everything and anything went through my head... from drinking unto my death, to exposing the revolver and making a statement of my own. My destructive and suicidal nature had returned in a matter of moments. Back and forth I paced across the patio, beer in hand and tears in eyes. I had not the first clue as to what I could or should do with myself after such a horrible morning and worse news. The thought of her dark and beautiful smile right in front of me floated about my broken head. In the next second her eyes looked upon me full of fright and I could not calm them. I could no longer do anything to help that soul. The world had been reduced to a heap of ash, and she was gone.

Fucking helpless, fucking ruined, and fucking drunk. There was nothing else any longer."

[08:11 pst 02/05/2018 CE, 1517847060 E]

Status quo.

We continue to attempt expansion of this little empire through spidering a bit in every direction. The security of multiple domains keeps everything calm during the quiet periods of the year and helps to maintain organization. The final chapter of the months-long story is below, and despite the difficulty in bringing such a tale to fruition, another multiple-entry saga is being crafted as we type these words. Stay tuned.

Word from on high informs us that the truck content will remain untouched and expand slightly over the next few months. We are happy to comply. Not since the addition of Reiko have we looked forward to anything quite as much. The only change we plan there is a new index page to replace the convoluted menu system which seems to be carrying far too many links for simple navigation.

Also, this entry marks the first diversion from the normal archival indexing used here from the beginning. We have included the final chapter of the saga attached to the end of last year rather than continuing in order. The necessity of fluidity for that long story outweighs the need for maintaining order. This may happen again in the future.


The Chair, the Project, and the Perpetual Aftermath

Part Eleven

"Sitting. Nothing.

In the wake of the forced walk from the goddess, and the subsequent loss of another fucking goddess, I had no idea what kept me upright. Both of those gorgeous souls brought a wonder into my life which had been missing. And I had no idea where to find any relief from the severe feelings. After all of the events, all of the fucking sobbing and screaming, and the moments of comfort brought to me by the young one, I still did not know which way to turn. I had thrown so much away that the thought of everything combined was crippling my head. I sat -- day after day -- and wondered if I could survive all of the haunting thoughts.

The routine between work, home, and visits to the bar became as comfortable as it could, but still the swirling carried me away from myself over and over.

[The bags of shit I mentioned on the internet years ago are still tied to me, and pulling at me with every step.]

Yes, thrown everything away which was important. And the career began to become the worst aspect of those decisions. I ended up stuck in a toilsome and tiring job which served to pay expenses but offered little else. As I was aging, the physical aspects of the work were wearing me down at a tremendous pace. Combined with my mental exhaustion, the exit was illuminated many times and during quiet moments. Reflection did not help me to learn a fucking thing. All I could do was wallow and miss those examples of inner and outer beauty. And then write about it in such a manner so as to keep the details compressed and hidden. The exhaustion continued without relief.

The upside had become an exploration and catharsis through the web editor. Typing and wallowing were all I had, but at least the exit was kept at bay from time to time. The writing became a massive distraction due to being so technical. I had to engineer the entire site from scratch, and by the time all of the events with the Raven had passed into history, the site had developed into a very professional-looking space. After streamlining and building things into a representation of the inside of my head, the continuance took much less work and allowed for much more exploration. And then the time in front of the code worked its way into me just like a therapist.

Yes... the Chair.

The numbers which began to paralyze me

The editor quickly became the only way for me to deal with the fucking obsession. Aside from the wonderful feeling of the Raven allowing me to do anything I wanted or needed, and the goddess being willing to do the same, any real furthering of that facet of my being was decidedly unavailable. I had nothing else. So, soon after transferring all of the site content into active server pages, the direction of everything turned sharply to become the all-encompassing need to find reason. Day after miserable day I sat in that infernal chair continually expressing all manner of dissatisfaction with an empty future and nothing else aside from ramming my head repeatedly onto the internet.

And right there next to the keyboard sat the alcohol. Plenty of it. From beginning to end, each entry fell further into a hole and propelled me downward without mercy. Writing about all of the fantastic models from around the world, the occasional example of mathematical beauty which strolled by my eyes, and then placing all of the frustration and difficulty on the screen alongside monochrome imagery had become my only source of any type of relief. There was simply nothing in the physical world to which I could cling. Words, images, the downward thoughts. That was all of it. Every night was spent wallowing at the bottom of the glass, and each new day brought more visions and less reason. While in the city the examples were often many and unbelievable. Each occasion pushed me further down and created tension between what I needed and all that was lacking. The outlet became more and more of a crutch during those times, as well. The situation began to snowball, and during the most arduous moments I found myself clinging to thoughts of the Westin balcony, the knife, and the traffic. Over and over I rose up in the morning to do my best, and fell down in the evening when all of the thoughts flowed unchallenged.

The goddess and the Raven. The Brunette and her eyes. All of it pushed at me without end. Sex and wonder, exploration and discovery, passion and unending physical desire. The goddess. Those days... that beautiful soul with the curves of Venus and Aphrodite combined. Everything of which I dreamed daily was in front of me and mine.

And then nothing and no one. Cards? Nope. Needs? Yep. Outlet? Chair... because the project I worked so hard toward had been ignored like all of the words which poured out for years. The essays became more and more frustrating to produce, and the fucking editor just stared back at me like so many striking women floating about the streets of the city. Fuck it. All that remained was the chair.

The dramatic curves of dreams

At some point I had to force a change. I had to reach out to someone and ask. But there was just no easy way to approach a stranger and open up to them about such a subject and interest. I would have been labeled some sort of deviant and avoided like the plague. I tried to say something on more than one occasion, and even went so far as to reveal part of the obsession to a close friend whom I felt could be trusted. That entire idea went up in smoke, but at least it did not travel beyond one person.

I did not know what to do next, other than continue to drink and write. An option popped into my head soon after. I figured that if I could place a simple thought onto an invitation and then hand it out like a business card, perhaps someone would respond and at least communicate with me about such a project. That facet of the site could explain the relationship between mathematics and physical attractiveness in a formal and professional manner. I had cards manufactured and sent to me, and months later actually handed one of them to a woman. Some time later, another card was given. And then another. In total, six cards had been distributed to picturesque women in various places, all of whom were asked to keep the card from others and destroy it if they were not interested. No response of any kind from any of the subjects. Big fucking surprise.

Further down I fell, and even moreso due to the knowledge that nothing would ever come to light. Back into the fucking glass, and that goddamned chair which was my only apparent companion to such a strange desire."

The Meantime
n. the moment of realization that your quintessential future self is not ever going to show up, which forces the role to fall upon the understudy -- the gawky kid for whom nothing is easy -- who spent years mouthing their lines in the wings before being shoved into the glare of your life, which is already well into its second act.

"Well, there it is for fuck's sake. Spoken clearly and to the point, nothing would satisfy or become wondrous any longer. The Raven was the last opportunity and she was most decidedly gone for good. Before her... Michelle. Gone. Fuck me. How I allowed such a situation to develop is beyond consideration. Michelle was a draw unlike all others. Her beauty extended so deep inside that a simple glance of understanding was enough to satiate the remainder of my life's drive. The dream of watching her walk toward me at the Mandalay Bay was nearly too much at the time, and later became the sad film of my seemingly unavoidable demise. The Westin balcony began to look more and more appealing, as did the traffic patterns within downtown San Francisco. Anything which could have come along had the ability to help. Anything.


Private radii... unknown to anyone

So, deeper into the code I went. The young one enjoyed her space as I dove in on a daily basis. We still went out together and galavanted just as before, but the editor was where I needed to be, always. Without a working model, writing was all I could do. And the feelings flew off the keyboard just as the period when flame was pointed toward the others. Complaining was the order of the time and every word ended up looking like every other. Similar to 1236 and the black MySpace days, the compositions fell further down into a depressive abyss.

I expanded the site to include indexing for all of the new titles, and amended the informational page as a warning to readers. That was probably not the best idea, but I figured a disclaimer was overrated and overused, so a bit of text about the direction and nature of the site content seemed necessary -- despite the creative control which came with ownership. Whatever. I put it in there no matter the consequences.

Happiness flew from me like blackbirds from a hawk. I did not have a direction nor any idea of how to deal with all of the mounting feelings regarding the mechanics. Along came the never-ending slew of picturesque women on a near-daily basis, and my desire increased ten fold. Couple that with the damage I had caused myself over years of having no release whatsoever, and I somehow knew the cards would never bear fruit. No one would contact me. No one. I had to deal with the fact that everything was at the same fucking dead end I had been slamming into for all that time.

Soon after the realization that the dream would never come to light, I began to abandon hope of other projects and hobbies in favor of focusing upon the continuous bitching. All of the essays started to resemble each other... nothing positive, nothing lit, nothing hopeful. The days were bleeding into one another and the only saving throw was the early morning sessions on Saturdays to sit in front of the singular comfort of the keyboard. That was bad. Outings with others were slowly morphing into simply exercising the killing of time, and work dragged like never before. I had become a fraction of my intelligent, engineering self. The site had worked its way into me as the one force to keep me alive and moving forward at any trajectory other than the sea. Drinking, typing, drowning in thought. Nothing else was real any longer.

The more those quiet mornings came and went, the more important they felt to me. I soon dreamed of them beginning with Monday morning and through the rest of the week, as I pushed others aside and sparingly held on to anyone's attention. Daily life had boiled down to a simmering slurry of obsession and need, and on those occasions when an example of such mathematical beauty would stroll by in front of me, well... things went south further. Heart palpitations, sweaty palms, nervousness, hypoglycemia brought on by extreme discomfort in watching a dream walk away. The fear continued to mount and grip me like nothing else. That was my routine. Each day dragged. The weeks dragged. The months dragged.

My life dragged.

Curves leading me into an asylum

The questions flowed like the muddy Stanislaus River in spring, and I went even deeper into that damaging and deviant obsession. Daily dreams of what I had seen and experienced only served to push me further down, and all of the words spewed across the internet like a cloud of blackbirds obscuring the sun. Essays amplified in magnitude and frequency. The keyboard clicked with the depressive thoughts I could not avoid. The gorgeous and sexually-charged images were edited, scrutinized, and added to each week's writing like billboards advertising my strange and overwhelming needs. The women displayed upon the piling pages became the only souls who seemed to hear me. Numbers of the site statistics fell steadily, just as my involvement in normal thought. Everything pushed, everything hurt, and nothing brought me up in any manner.

The mornings in front of the editor became a cocoon. Just like an addict of any substance, all of the content and the process of developing and publishing became like a needle in my arm -- scarring me each week and leaving the following session necessary for my survival. I hid in the big chair with headphones on and brain riding a narrow rail at high speed. I had to get the words forward and into production, lest I make the sordid decision to return to any of the suicidal scenes. Michelle's beauty and enormous eyes flashed within me over and over, and the Raven's loveliness and huge heart kept my ass welded to the fucking display. Over and over and over... further and further down... typing and drinking and typing. I was a sitting syndrome. Fuck me.

And then... that morning.

The typical combination of coffee and keyboard was happening, with me cozy in my big chair and words flying. I was the only one home with no other plans for the day, which meant I was free to remain glued to the seat with my eyes connected to the twin displays. Along the way -- mid-morning -- I decided to delude myself a bit and add alcohol to the thought processes. Such an idea was wonderful in the beginning, and cut to a few minutes later and I found myself pulling in the scent of the whiskey as it chilled over ice next to the mouse. The more I smelled the smoky-sweet enticement, the more the words began to twist. Soon I was swilling fairly quickly with the keys responding to enhanced heart rate and slurred thought. Before long I was sliding into that familiar hole and defending my position out loud as the damage appeared within the code. I yelled at the window, at the displays, and at myself. I dropped the chair and reclined as far as was feasible, all the while addressing ears which were not present. I reached forward to the keyboard and realized the chair was far too relaxed, and that enraged my distorted thought to the point of refilling the glass and proceeding out to the yard for a cigarette. Pacing, drinking, smoking, and yelling to myself... 'why?'.

Back to the desk and the freshly topped-off cocktail I stumbled. And the words continued to float off the keys -- tormenting, obsessing, longing, and pointed toward myself like the blade which accompanied me on all of the long trips around the state. I swore out loud while typing, threw items around the office, and slammed the chair to its recline limit in order to drop the whiskey down my throat as quickly as possible. I was absolutely poisoning myself with every available substance... words, chemicals... any sort of abuse I could find within reach. And the resulting feelings of pain and loss soon drove me back to the beginning.

To the knife.

The beginning of the end

I slowly closed the multitude of programs on the computer, filled my glass yet again, and proceeded out to the yard to find reason. I searched myself over and over, called upon every sordid memory, and felt the need to put a sharp end to all of the losses and voids which had rolled over any upward feelings without remorse. All of the events leading up to that moment had collapsed my outlet and pushed me into a space where only death seemed an option for removing the cutting thoughts and disjointed reality in which I lived. I ran across the yard, back and forth several times, and then back into the office to locate weapons. The keyboard sat there screaming at me but to no avail. Outside again with knife in hand and tears in eyes. I stumbled at the step and lost my glass of whiskey, and following the trail of liquid I crawled toward the grass seeking anything. Crying. Flailing about yet again. Screaming.

Help me.


Eventually I lay there, half out of my shirt and all the way out of my mind, but the knife would not move. I licked at the sunny sky and told myself there was no other way. The yard rolled around in my sight as I scrambled to find reason and will. The loungers in the backyard called for me to slow my pace and breathe, and several moments later I fell into one of them and tried to find calm. Just as in Costa Mesa, the overwhelming confusion and lack of direction had allowed me to seek out the weakness necessary for harming myself. All of the prior issues came to mind and I began to think of my trip back up the state and out of the glitz that was the south coast. I made it... all the way home without much difficulty (other than the bartender's beautiful eyes) and had a bit of time pass before the next frightening episode. How? Who knows. Slipping up and allowing myself to be near the beauty in the world was always a conscious decision. A bad decision, to be certain, but the simple fact is that my need outweighed any possibility of falling determinedly into the bottle and wallowing through an ocean of gorgeous and shapely visions. Add that up and throw in the effects of hurting others and there was nary a path I could see clearly other than death. The whiskey afternoon had brought me back to myself and helped me to realize that the fucking finger was always right there in front of me... pointing you-know-where.

The Raven would not have been happy about my flying fits, but her exit further enabled my ability to remain upright in any manner. When she pressed, I complied... and the reverse was also true. Stronger together? Maybe. However during those moments in the drunken backyard stupor, the Raven was only a part of the reasoning for ceasing my hellish desires. The slight goddamned positive was the fact that I needed the possibility of someone hearing me. Someone. Anyone.

No one.

Fuck you.

All of the whys... rolling over me

Back to the chair and the ill-conceived project I went.

I continued in a similar vein for what seemed an eternity, all the while trying to avoid the wondrous and lovely issues which popped up sporadically and pressed me into the hole. The cards proved useless and I began to feel as if the idea of soliciting subjects appeared too deviant for the average person to absorb. So I kept the remaining QRs in the safe. At least that way I did not need to worry about any sort of backlash from a real person -- only myself (no shit). Cards pulled, ass in chair, whiskey in glass, keyboard at hand. That became all I could be... all of the brilliant engineering, structured interests, and years of education coupled with endless possibilities... no more. And the chair eventually turned into the sole place in the world where I could make no apparent mistakes and create that which became this: a coma.

The project seemed dead and/or dying, but no decision to force any type of change was made. I could not veer from the path I had created, nor could I entertain anyone else's suggestions regarding how to improve my situation. I simply needed to stay within the dream and spew my thoughts out at the world. Blame was always toward myself, but on occasion I did lash out with accusations in the direction of others before coming to my senses (somewhat) and realizing that I needed to keep all of it to myself. People appeared to me as sheep, but still I knew of the genesis of my issues. All. Me. The Raven had told me of my value during one of our quiet moments, and she further informed me that I was disallowed the idea of steering myself toward harm. I survived the apartment, the Westin, the highway, and the moments between those dramatic demonstrations of weakness. Over time I knew I had to stay alive and continue whatever it was I had began. The images flew through the drives and the keyboard clicked away without pause. The chair held me and provided the little comfort it could despite the ongoing aches within. There I sat.

Cut to the present.

Now I am in the perpetual aftermath of all of the events and issues which have combined to mold me into a compulsive and depressed individual incapable of rising above and out of the din. Hence, all of it. Sideways, upside down, left, center, broken, wanting, needing... nothing. Fucking nothing. And I did it, alone. I made it happen throughout more than a decade of desire. Images, calculations, words, dreams, and shit. This is what I am now -- a hole -- void of drive, ambition, and hope.



To 2018


Maltese Cross