The Two Women, the Fringe, and the Frying Pan Mature content No. 18 Published September 26th, 2016 6:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries "She strolled by us smiling. We smiled back, and at that moment we realized she was uncommon. Her gait and stride were amazing, and that was merely the beginning. Her jeans allowed clear view of a stallion's legs beneath. She walked by several times and the world rotated in reverse during those moments. Dark hair, dark eyes, and the flowing symmetrical gait of a goddess painted from the sum history of beauty. The heels were three-inches high which placed her roughly even with our height. Eye to eye was the result and her gaze created a disturbance within us which still remains to this moment, next to the memory. It is a cyclone of sorts, one which may have no end. Her slender beauty and flowing movements somewhat matched the Raven. The resulting feelings drove us insane. We are still there at this moment. The memory and vision of Her will not leave us at all. We cannot shake them. The difficulty inherent in thinking of Her permeates every aspect of life -- a minute or two each day finds distraction, however the feelings return, and quickly. Once in there, She becomes everything. One more pass and time stopped briefly while our lives took a breath. And then She smiled again. And the world flattened, collapsed upon itself, and burned. The decay left behind is us... Remembering. Here we are, again. This place created by us, for us, and for all time. Mired within memory, floating near the mass and hiding in plain sight. Buried in the detritus left behind and in constant need of reasons unfound and unavailable. We are far gone but somehow still here. Where? We do not know and no one knows. They are already dead with just a slight delay to the soil. We can only wish to be as blind as them. Those fucking people. Them... And their endless bliss. The fridge is full and the heads are empty. There is no longer the potential upside as in passed years. We close everything off and attempt to drown within the available noise, however the noise cannot overpower inner violence. There continues to be a different method and the result is the same. Dirt. The dirt awaits. We will continue to smash ourselves against the ignorant norm and try to build the noise level into the Goddamned stratosphere. At some point a part of the decrepit machine will fail and explode, and the remaining shards will cover us with no respite. As we build, the noise will rise just as the feelings soar out of our failing control. The woman who walked near that day reminded us of Her. This is a problem of a magnitude we cannot comprehend. Fuck. We no longer have hope in the direction of the form. The Raven left us more than a year ago and the feelings continue to slide downward. There seems to be only temporary relief and distraction from our current state, and afterward the drop resumes. Our twice-yearly venture to the mountains does hold wonder even after following the same path throughout these many trips. We get there and sink into comforts and excess similar to that of the Promised Land (albeit cheaper). The atmosphere up there helps as much as it is able. We can actually lose thought for a short time due to the resort and associated outings. Copious amounts of alcohol are also involved just as in days passed. Strolling, drinking, eating, gambling, and gazing in the direction of others who may share similarities to the original. Naturally, each sighting causes stirred thoughts and pounding heart, but the benefit seems to outweigh the pitfalls. We are there among the sex of society and for whatever reason the understanding exists that what we are seeing is a universe away. She was right next to us, among us, inside us, but nowhere else has this been possible. So the fucking fallout continues undeterred... Heart destroyed beyond repair... And we are living out on the fringe. Emily has Her shoulders The falls occasionally take place and just days ago was yet another example. This was a woman with whom we have occasional contact, and she was at a local bar after work. Just short of the moment we saw her, we were doing ok. The day was a Friday and many gather at the bar for an afternoon drink to begin the weekend. We noticed her as she walked to the restroom and were reminded of working with one of her relatives. She strode, we gazed. We stared, amazed. She stopped to say hello and the shit began to cloud our heads like nothing else. Some conversation and a hug later, we were finished. The thoughts of Her flowed into our consciousness due to this woman's chiseled features and dark eyes. The Raven, illustrated to a point. The fucking situation became crippling very quickly, and we cannot simply push these thoughts aside, no matter the circumstances. We cannot, and that is the end of it. Others have attempted to help, persuade, assist, advise -- all for naught. Nothing comes of it. We are still in that gulag which began at 10am last July 29th. This fact is in stone like nothing else. And we reside there, on the fringe, despite the efforts of others. And the woman in question has no idea. And things will remain as such. There is no reason to push, pull, disrupt, annoy, or upfuck anything. This is our issue and will stay that way. Eventually, we will have no need to concern others as they will not be there. We will just bury the entirety of it so deeply that no one will find it. Except us. We are out here, alone among the mass of others, and watching everyone, everything, everywhere... Constantly searching and seeking that which eludes us. The outside... IThe in-between... The fucking fringe of society. Alone. This feels similar to the cave yet without the security. Even the office cannot match that. The fringe we know well. We know it by rote. We are intimately close and related on a deep level. A low level, really. This is a place within which we resided for decades, however in these late days the experience has changed somehow. It is different likely due to the realization of the most compelling dream. The Raven brought us to the heights of emotion and detached passion the likes of which cannot be duplicated. Now, and due to the cloudy warmth within which She enveloped our souls, the fringe has become a place of deep depression and exploration. And the darkest of negatives. This is like a lateral shift through the blacks and grays. Drifting alone yet mired within the sheep around us. We float there... Hanging between tangibility and thick gaseous thought. Everything seems to swirl around us and remain at arm's length for some reason. We cannot reach out and find purpose, nor can we cling to anything in the positive. The fog is within and all around. This is the ether we have created. The climate outside does not help, either. It is crap. Diana, displaying a few aspects of the Raven The weather is heading uphill again due to the fucked up location of the pre-fall jetstream. We are at this moment sweltering, although the temperature outside is not over eighty. The wind moving in the wrong direction forces these changes upon the planet and the result is very uncomfortable. Near the ocean there is no real need for central air. Some homes have it due to their location up the hill where the sun is even more prominent, however the climate in this area is quite cool when compared to the interior valleys and flatlands. Still, the warmth creeps in and forces us to sit near the fans. We should be in Ketchikan for fuck's sake. The mobile platform will open doors, but still there are many variables in such a situation. As nice as it might feel to reside in a cooler climate, we do need accessibility -- now more than ever. The glass between us and the outside world will have to be good enough for the time being. At least inside this little cocoon the temperature does not travel too far beyond our comfort level. The calendar now indicates fall, but as regular readers already know, there is no 'fall' here, really. The weather simply tapers off from summer and then remains warm until late October. Just crap. There is no line from one part of the year to the next. We railed on about this (so did Reiko) back during the days of the park -- as well as 1236 and the valley -- and our conclusions then were similar: Stick it the fuck out. Yes, the weather is warm most of the time and the whole thing sucks, but at least we traveled toward the sea which is a drop in the average. Other places have so much appeal at times, right? Of course they do. However they are far away and difficult with which to enmesh. The forest has been there for us all the way back to the pre-NASA days and that quickly became the pinnacle of destinations during that period. We sat and splayed our feelings across the Internet due to the unending need to travel into that forest and find the past. It was out there -- probably still is there in many ways -- and the weather is agreeable as well. We just never made the trip. Oh, we threatened to leave constantly, but the actual adventure never materialized in the slightest. The hope then was to separate ourselves from the herd and maintain a relationship with a simpler, more natural time on this planet. Also, the weather there reflects a connection with the history, and this means our comfort would not only align with the locale due to the ancient aspects of the area, but also with the cool nature of the latitude. The extreme end of this area being further North was never really a possibility. More recently the desire for a cooler climate has been driven by our need to escape the 'everyday' and seek solitude, and the extreme necessity of finding a place where we can be immersed in the memory of the Raven. She fulfilled parts of life we did not know existed and to live here in these late days has become an exercise in futility. Each part of life has become a wait for... Something. Yes, there is the hope that another like Her is out there wandering and this leaves us in a very uncomfortable place. The possibility cannot be denied, yet the simple fact is that we may never know at all. This planet is covered with souls of all types but we are unable to search in any effective way. Thus, moving ourselves to another locale may at least help to alleviate the loss in one way -- we will no longer be in areas which remind us of actually being near Her. They are haunted in the worst way. The clavicle recesses The Raven is missed so deeply that we very nearly cannot function. Society did not deserve to hold such a gorgeous, caring soul, and now that She is gone all that remains is endless thought and disdain. Life is a void, just as the beautiful shoulders above. We have written words to such an effect for more than a year now and we see no change in the foreseeable future. There is just no reason and very little possibility. We needed and need Her like nothing else in this sordid, stinking world. She was the fulfillment of everything, and to replace that in any way is the tallest of orders. Others suggest we push forward with the good memories and remember all of the positives She represented. Of course, they should be correct (and they are in some ways), however we do not operate in such a manner. We will remember and loathe the present because all that is left behind is shit. As wonderful as the time with Her was, there is the slimmest of chances that we can ever enjoy anything remotely close. No one can understand the visceral and emotional need. We cannot expect them to understand. And that is the most accepting we can be toward others' feelings and wishes. Fuck them anyway. In fact, we ARE pushing forward at this moment. We are above ground and the revolver sits idle. There is always an exit (as stated in both words and images on this site for many years). We have avoided that exit due to the possibility of distraction and comfort. Both arrive unexpectedly and at those moments we realize the need. When things are at their worst, we still seem able to cling to those moments and lift ourselves slightly -- generally just enough elevation to maintain air (remember The Air?). Hopefully, one of these long hellish days will bring us to the realization that we CAN get to where we need... That place the Raven provided but now is more elusive than a calm reality. Perhaps we will find it, and perhaps we will not. Who the fuck knows. Until then, we shall dream, long, mire, and plod. And, write." 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The Two Women, the Fringe, and the Frying Pan Mature content No. 18 Published September 26th, 2016 6:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries "She strolled by us smiling. We smiled back, and at that moment we realized she was uncommon. Her gait and stride were amazing, and that was merely the beginning. Her jeans allowed clear view of a stallion's legs beneath. She walked by several times and the world rotated in reverse during those moments. Dark hair, dark eyes, and the flowing symmetrical gait of a goddess painted from the sum history of beauty. The heels were three-inches high which placed her roughly even with our height. Eye to eye was the result and her gaze created a disturbance within us which still remains to this moment, next to the memory. It is a cyclone of sorts, one which may have no end. Her slender beauty and flowing movements somewhat matched the Raven. The resulting feelings drove us insane. We are still there at this moment. The memory and vision of Her will not leave us at all. We cannot shake them. The difficulty inherent in thinking of Her permeates every aspect of life -- a minute or two each day finds distraction, however the feelings return, and quickly. Once in there, She becomes everything. One more pass and time stopped briefly while our lives took a breath. And then She smiled again. And the world flattened, collapsed upon itself, and burned. The decay left behind is us... Remembering. Here we are, again. This place created by us, for us, and for all time. Mired within memory, floating near the mass and hiding in plain sight. Buried in the detritus left behind and in constant need of reasons unfound and unavailable. We are far gone but somehow still here. Where? We do not know and no one knows. They are already dead with just a slight delay to the soil. We can only wish to be as blind as them. Those fucking people. Them... And their endless bliss. The fridge is full and the heads are empty. There is no longer the potential upside as in passed years. We close everything off and attempt to drown within the available noise, however the noise cannot overpower inner violence. There continues to be a different method and the result is the same. Dirt. The dirt awaits. We will continue to smash ourselves against the ignorant norm and try to build the noise level into the Goddamned stratosphere. At some point a part of the decrepit machine will fail and explode, and the remaining shards will cover us with no respite. As we build, the noise will rise just as the feelings soar out of our failing control. The woman who walked near that day reminded us of Her. This is a problem of a magnitude we cannot comprehend. Fuck. We no longer have hope in the direction of the form. The Raven left us more than a year ago and the feelings continue to slide downward. There seems to be only temporary relief and distraction from our current state, and afterward the drop resumes. Our twice-yearly venture to the mountains does hold wonder even after following the same path throughout these many trips. We get there and sink into comforts and excess similar to that of the Promised Land (albeit cheaper). The atmosphere up there helps as much as it is able. We can actually lose thought for a short time due to the resort and associated outings. Copious amounts of alcohol are also involved just as in days passed. Strolling, drinking, eating, gambling, and gazing in the direction of others who may share similarities to the original. Naturally, each sighting causes stirred thoughts and pounding heart, but the benefit seems to outweigh the pitfalls. We are there among the sex of society and for whatever reason the understanding exists that what we are seeing is a universe away. She was right next to us, among us, inside us, but nowhere else has this been possible. So the fucking fallout continues undeterred... Heart destroyed beyond repair... And we are living out on the fringe. Emily has Her shoulders The falls occasionally take place and just days ago was yet another example. This was a woman with whom we have occasional contact, and she was at a local bar after work. Just short of the moment we saw her, we were doing ok. The day was a Friday and many gather at the bar for an afternoon drink to begin the weekend. We noticed her as she walked to the restroom and were reminded of working with one of her relatives. She strode, we gazed. We stared, amazed. She stopped to say hello and the shit began to cloud our heads like nothing else. Some conversation and a hug later, we were finished. The thoughts of Her flowed into our consciousness due to this woman's chiseled features and dark eyes. The Raven, illustrated to a point. The fucking situation became crippling very quickly, and we cannot simply push these thoughts aside, no matter the circumstances. We cannot, and that is the end of it. Others have attempted to help, persuade, assist, advise -- all for naught. Nothing comes of it. We are still in that gulag which began at 10am last July 29th. This fact is in stone like nothing else. And we reside there, on the fringe, despite the efforts of others. And the woman in question has no idea. And things will remain as such. There is no reason to push, pull, disrupt, annoy, or upfuck anything. This is our issue and will stay that way. Eventually, we will have no need to concern others as they will not be there. We will just bury the entirety of it so deeply that no one will find it. Except us. We are out here, alone among the mass of others, and watching everyone, everything, everywhere... Constantly searching and seeking that which eludes us. The outside... IThe in-between... The fucking fringe of society. Alone. This feels similar to the cave yet without the security. Even the office cannot match that. The fringe we know well. We know it by rote. We are intimately close and related on a deep level. A low level, really. This is a place within which we resided for decades, however in these late days the experience has changed somehow. It is different likely due to the realization of the most compelling dream. The Raven brought us to the heights of emotion and detached passion the likes of which cannot be duplicated. Now, and due to the cloudy warmth within which She enveloped our souls, the fringe has become a place of deep depression and exploration. And the darkest of negatives. This is like a lateral shift through the blacks and grays. Drifting alone yet mired within the sheep around us. We float there... Hanging between tangibility and thick gaseous thought. Everything seems to swirl around us and remain at arm's length for some reason. We cannot reach out and find purpose, nor can we cling to anything in the positive. The fog is within and all around. This is the ether we have created. The climate outside does not help, either. It is crap. Diana, displaying a few aspects of the Raven The weather is heading uphill again due to the fucked up location of the pre-fall jetstream. We are at this moment sweltering, although the temperature outside is not over eighty. The wind moving in the wrong direction forces these changes upon the planet and the result is very uncomfortable. Near the ocean there is no real need for central air. Some homes have it due to their location up the hill where the sun is even more prominent, however the climate in this area is quite cool when compared to the interior valleys and flatlands. Still, the warmth creeps in and forces us to sit near the fans. We should be in Ketchikan for fuck's sake. The mobile platform will open doors, but still there are many variables in such a situation. As nice as it might feel to reside in a cooler climate, we do need accessibility -- now more than ever. The glass between us and the outside world will have to be good enough for the time being. At least inside this little cocoon the temperature does not travel too far beyond our comfort level. The calendar now indicates fall, but as regular readers already know, there is no 'fall' here, really. The weather simply tapers off from summer and then remains warm until late October. Just crap. There is no line from one part of the year to the next. We railed on about this (so did Reiko) back during the days of the park -- as well as 1236 and the valley -- and our conclusions then were similar: Stick it the fuck out. Yes, the weather is warm most of the time and the whole thing sucks, but at least we traveled toward the sea which is a drop in the average. Other places have so much appeal at times, right? Of course they do. However they are far away and difficult with which to enmesh. The forest has been there for us all the way back to the pre-NASA days and that quickly became the pinnacle of destinations during that period. We sat and splayed our feelings across the Internet due to the unending need to travel into that forest and find the past. It was out there -- probably still is there in many ways -- and the weather is agreeable as well. We just never made the trip. Oh, we threatened to leave constantly, but the actual adventure never materialized in the slightest. The hope then was to separate ourselves from the herd and maintain a relationship with a simpler, more natural time on this planet. Also, the weather there reflects a connection with the history, and this means our comfort would not only align with the locale due to the ancient aspects of the area, but also with the cool nature of the latitude. The extreme end of this area being further North was never really a possibility. More recently the desire for a cooler climate has been driven by our need to escape the 'everyday' and seek solitude, and the extreme necessity of finding a place where we can be immersed in the memory of the Raven. She fulfilled parts of life we did not know existed and to live here in these late days has become an exercise in futility. Each part of life has become a wait for... Something. Yes, there is the hope that another like Her is out there wandering and this leaves us in a very uncomfortable place. The possibility cannot be denied, yet the simple fact is that we may never know at all. This planet is covered with souls of all types but we are unable to search in any effective way. Thus, moving ourselves to another locale may at least help to alleviate the loss in one way -- we will no longer be in areas which remind us of actually being near Her. They are haunted in the worst way. The clavicle recesses The Raven is missed so deeply that we very nearly cannot function. Society did not deserve to hold such a gorgeous, caring soul, and now that She is gone all that remains is endless thought and disdain. Life is a void, just as the beautiful shoulders above. We have written words to such an effect for more than a year now and we see no change in the foreseeable future. There is just no reason and very little possibility. We needed and need Her like nothing else in this sordid, stinking world. She was the fulfillment of everything, and to replace that in any way is the tallest of orders. Others suggest we push forward with the good memories and remember all of the positives She represented. Of course, they should be correct (and they are in some ways), however we do not operate in such a manner. We will remember and loathe the present because all that is left behind is shit. As wonderful as the time with Her was, there is the slimmest of chances that we can ever enjoy anything remotely close. No one can understand the visceral and emotional need. We cannot expect them to understand. And that is the most accepting we can be toward others' feelings and wishes. Fuck them anyway. In fact, we ARE pushing forward at this moment. We are above ground and the revolver sits idle. There is always an exit (as stated in both words and images on this site for many years). We have avoided that exit due to the possibility of distraction and comfort. Both arrive unexpectedly and at those moments we realize the need. When things are at their worst, we still seem able to cling to those moments and lift ourselves slightly -- generally just enough elevation to maintain air (remember The Air?). Hopefully, one of these long hellish days will bring us to the realization that we CAN get to where we need... That place the Raven provided but now is more elusive than a calm reality. Perhaps we will find it, and perhaps we will not. Who the fuck knows. Until then, we shall dream, long, mire, and plod. And, write."
The Two Women, the Fringe, and the Frying Pan
Mature content No. 18 Published September 26th, 2016 6:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"She strolled by us smiling. We smiled back, and at that moment we realized she was uncommon. Her gait and stride were amazing, and that was merely the beginning. Her jeans allowed clear view of a stallion's legs beneath. She walked by several times and the world rotated in reverse during those moments. Dark hair, dark eyes, and the flowing symmetrical gait of a goddess painted from the sum history of beauty. The heels were three-inches high which placed her roughly even with our height. Eye to eye was the result and her gaze created a disturbance within us which still remains to this moment, next to the memory. It is a cyclone of sorts, one which may have no end. Her slender beauty and flowing movements somewhat matched the Raven. The resulting feelings drove us insane. We are still there at this moment. The memory and vision of Her will not leave us at all. We cannot shake them. The difficulty inherent in thinking of Her permeates every aspect of life -- a minute or two each day finds distraction, however the feelings return, and quickly. Once in there, She becomes everything. One more pass and time stopped briefly while our lives took a breath. And then She smiled again. And the world flattened, collapsed upon itself, and burned. The decay left behind is us... Remembering. Here we are, again. This place created by us, for us, and for all time. Mired within memory, floating near the mass and hiding in plain sight. Buried in the detritus left behind and in constant need of reasons unfound and unavailable. We are far gone but somehow still here. Where? We do not know and no one knows. They are already dead with just a slight delay to the soil. We can only wish to be as blind as them. Those fucking people. Them... And their endless bliss. The fridge is full and the heads are empty. There is no longer the potential upside as in passed years. We close everything off and attempt to drown within the available noise, however the noise cannot overpower inner violence. There continues to be a different method and the result is the same. Dirt. The dirt awaits. We will continue to smash ourselves against the ignorant norm and try to build the noise level into the Goddamned stratosphere. At some point a part of the decrepit machine will fail and explode, and the remaining shards will cover us with no respite. As we build, the noise will rise just as the feelings soar out of our failing control. The woman who walked near that day reminded us of Her. This is a problem of a magnitude we cannot comprehend. Fuck. We no longer have hope in the direction of the form. The Raven left us more than a year ago and the feelings continue to slide downward. There seems to be only temporary relief and distraction from our current state, and afterward the drop resumes. Our twice-yearly venture to the mountains does hold wonder even after following the same path throughout these many trips. We get there and sink into comforts and excess similar to that of the Promised Land (albeit cheaper). The atmosphere up there helps as much as it is able. We can actually lose thought for a short time due to the resort and associated outings. Copious amounts of alcohol are also involved just as in days passed. Strolling, drinking, eating, gambling, and gazing in the direction of others who may share similarities to the original. Naturally, each sighting causes stirred thoughts and pounding heart, but the benefit seems to outweigh the pitfalls. We are there among the sex of society and for whatever reason the understanding exists that what we are seeing is a universe away. She was right next to us, among us, inside us, but nowhere else has this been possible. So the fucking fallout continues undeterred... Heart destroyed beyond repair... And we are living out on the fringe.
Emily has Her shoulders
The falls occasionally take place and just days ago was yet another example. This was a woman with whom we have occasional contact, and she was at a local bar after work. Just short of the moment we saw her, we were doing ok. The day was a Friday and many gather at the bar for an afternoon drink to begin the weekend. We noticed her as she walked to the restroom and were reminded of working with one of her relatives. She strode, we gazed. We stared, amazed. She stopped to say hello and the shit began to cloud our heads like nothing else. Some conversation and a hug later, we were finished. The thoughts of Her flowed into our consciousness due to this woman's chiseled features and dark eyes. The Raven, illustrated to a point. The fucking situation became crippling very quickly, and we cannot simply push these thoughts aside, no matter the circumstances. We cannot, and that is the end of it. Others have attempted to help, persuade, assist, advise -- all for naught. Nothing comes of it. We are still in that gulag which began at 10am last July 29th. This fact is in stone like nothing else. And we reside there, on the fringe, despite the efforts of others. And the woman in question has no idea. And things will remain as such. There is no reason to push, pull, disrupt, annoy, or upfuck anything. This is our issue and will stay that way. Eventually, we will have no need to concern others as they will not be there. We will just bury the entirety of it so deeply that no one will find it. Except us. We are out here, alone among the mass of others, and watching everyone, everything, everywhere... Constantly searching and seeking that which eludes us. The outside... IThe in-between... The fucking fringe of society. Alone. This feels similar to the cave yet without the security. Even the office cannot match that. The fringe we know well. We know it by rote. We are intimately close and related on a deep level. A low level, really. This is a place within which we resided for decades, however in these late days the experience has changed somehow. It is different likely due to the realization of the most compelling dream. The Raven brought us to the heights of emotion and detached passion the likes of which cannot be duplicated. Now, and due to the cloudy warmth within which She enveloped our souls, the fringe has become a place of deep depression and exploration. And the darkest of negatives. This is like a lateral shift through the blacks and grays. Drifting alone yet mired within the sheep around us. We float there... Hanging between tangibility and thick gaseous thought. Everything seems to swirl around us and remain at arm's length for some reason. We cannot reach out and find purpose, nor can we cling to anything in the positive. The fog is within and all around. This is the ether we have created. The climate outside does not help, either. It is crap.
Diana, displaying a few aspects of the Raven
The weather is heading uphill again due to the fucked up location of the pre-fall jetstream. We are at this moment sweltering, although the temperature outside is not over eighty. The wind moving in the wrong direction forces these changes upon the planet and the result is very uncomfortable. Near the ocean there is no real need for central air. Some homes have it due to their location up the hill where the sun is even more prominent, however the climate in this area is quite cool when compared to the interior valleys and flatlands. Still, the warmth creeps in and forces us to sit near the fans. We should be in Ketchikan for fuck's sake. The mobile platform will open doors, but still there are many variables in such a situation. As nice as it might feel to reside in a cooler climate, we do need accessibility -- now more than ever. The glass between us and the outside world will have to be good enough for the time being. At least inside this little cocoon the temperature does not travel too far beyond our comfort level. The calendar now indicates fall, but as regular readers already know, there is no 'fall' here, really. The weather simply tapers off from summer and then remains warm until late October. Just crap. There is no line from one part of the year to the next. We railed on about this (so did Reiko) back during the days of the park -- as well as 1236 and the valley -- and our conclusions then were similar: Stick it the fuck out. Yes, the weather is warm most of the time and the whole thing sucks, but at least we traveled toward the sea which is a drop in the average. Other places have so much appeal at times, right? Of course they do. However they are far away and difficult with which to enmesh. The forest has been there for us all the way back to the pre-NASA days and that quickly became the pinnacle of destinations during that period. We sat and splayed our feelings across the Internet due to the unending need to travel into that forest and find the past. It was out there -- probably still is there in many ways -- and the weather is agreeable as well. We just never made the trip. Oh, we threatened to leave constantly, but the actual adventure never materialized in the slightest. The hope then was to separate ourselves from the herd and maintain a relationship with a simpler, more natural time on this planet. Also, the weather there reflects a connection with the history, and this means our comfort would not only align with the locale due to the ancient aspects of the area, but also with the cool nature of the latitude. The extreme end of this area being further North was never really a possibility. More recently the desire for a cooler climate has been driven by our need to escape the 'everyday' and seek solitude, and the extreme necessity of finding a place where we can be immersed in the memory of the Raven. She fulfilled parts of life we did not know existed and to live here in these late days has become an exercise in futility. Each part of life has become a wait for... Something. Yes, there is the hope that another like Her is out there wandering and this leaves us in a very uncomfortable place. The possibility cannot be denied, yet the simple fact is that we may never know at all. This planet is covered with souls of all types but we are unable to search in any effective way. Thus, moving ourselves to another locale may at least help to alleviate the loss in one way -- we will no longer be in areas which remind us of actually being near Her. They are haunted in the worst way.
The clavicle recesses
The Raven is missed so deeply that we very nearly cannot function. Society did not deserve to hold such a gorgeous, caring soul, and now that She is gone all that remains is endless thought and disdain. Life is a void, just as the beautiful shoulders above. We have written words to such an effect for more than a year now and we see no change in the foreseeable future. There is just no reason and very little possibility. We needed and need Her like nothing else in this sordid, stinking world. She was the fulfillment of everything, and to replace that in any way is the tallest of orders. Others suggest we push forward with the good memories and remember all of the positives She represented. Of course, they should be correct (and they are in some ways), however we do not operate in such a manner. We will remember and loathe the present because all that is left behind is shit. As wonderful as the time with Her was, there is the slimmest of chances that we can ever enjoy anything remotely close. No one can understand the visceral and emotional need. We cannot expect them to understand. And that is the most accepting we can be toward others' feelings and wishes. Fuck them anyway. In fact, we ARE pushing forward at this moment. We are above ground and the revolver sits idle. There is always an exit (as stated in both words and images on this site for many years). We have avoided that exit due to the possibility of distraction and comfort. Both arrive unexpectedly and at those moments we realize the need. When things are at their worst, we still seem able to cling to those moments and lift ourselves slightly -- generally just enough elevation to maintain air (remember The Air?). Hopefully, one of these long hellish days will bring us to the realization that we CAN get to where we need... That place the Raven provided but now is more elusive than a calm reality. Perhaps we will find it, and perhaps we will not. Who the fuck knows. Until then, we shall dream, long, mire, and plod. And, write."
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