[12:40 pst 02/10/2018 CE, 1518295200 E]

The beginning of the year is never good. Early on the staff complained about zero two, zero three, and zero four, but now we are facing eighteen and the time which has passed has left admin in a hole like never before. Zero three was the worst during the beginning of this, but this year's outset has left him a pile of bad things.


Other sections of the site left us last year, and the remaining sections are all about the feelings. Hopefully things will soon improve for all of us.

The Israeli and the Isolated Slide

read ( words)

"Down, down, down we go... Into the familiar pit from which everything in the world seems bright. We are in the dim, dank void yet again. The girl at the show, the girl on Russian Hill, and the rest have become representations of the unending obsession which we cannot shake. And our recent partial exploration of the failing fantasy and that nonexistent aspect of life are disallowing any grip to cease or slow this slide into hell. So we continue without control.

Throughout the past few years, we have successfully pressed the issues and unrealized needs into a compartment. Said space was then disregarded (for the most part) and not explored until we found ourselves in front of this infernal editor. Lately, however, the effort required in keeping the negativity and depressive thought processes behind a partition has become overwhelming and we are now on our way down the fucking hill and into the detritus. For whatever reason, The Israeli became known to us and everything seemed to be put on its side. We nearly could not function. How does this happen? She is just another model, so the truth may be that her appearance in front of our eyes was merely timing. In this type of situation, anything can be a trigger. We were ready to slide and there she was.

Bright and beautiful, and with the hope and positivity which will likely carry her far in this life. Yes, the opposite of our current position. None of our shit is her fault, of course... The whole fucking mess is just the aforementioned timing. We have little control over what may pass before us on a given day, and here we are living the Goddamned result. Everything seems to be downhill, but we have been here before, right? Why should the passage of time be any different? Right? Yes. The Israeli came into our view just like all the others. Timing. And her form is so similar to the Raven that we just had to stop other aspects of life and explore. She is so fucking picturesque that we are nearly losing our minds over her. Where did she come from? And why did we have to run across an image of her which led us to insanity? Jesus she is unreal, and the more we gaze, the more we see. And then the pain of not knowing begins and we end up here... As always.


So we isolate like nothing else. We need to be alone and the idea of spending time in the company of others begins to become alien. The landscape has changed and pressed us into a situation similar to the days of the cave. That time has been described here. The difference between then and now is the desire and need. During the year spent within that space, our first priority was comfort. Now, the focus has shifted to something over which we have no control whatsoever. Everything aside from the daily trials of living has grown into an arduous climb up to... Something. We do not know. The Israeli displayed here is yet another impossible vision which is assisting in our slide down into hell. We sit and gaze at her -- and she is beyond any worded description -- and the thoughts are in every conceivable direction. All of the needs become rolled into a ball and injected into us like never before. We have become frustrated, full of desires beyond belief, and shoved into a mental space the likes of which are very damaging. Much of the difficulty stems from her images here (and many more), but we cannot look away nor can we forget any of it. The massive obsession has now become related to the failing fantasy, and the combination is close to driving us into the ground at terminal speed.

Again... Where from here?

The Israeli is here on the page, looking gorgeous and physically dominating our thought processes, and despite the unending trials her images have forced upon us, we cannot avoid any of it at all. We can only sit and stare and slide. And we are so alone on the slope that any possibility of upward is too much to consider. She is absolutely and positively one of the most desirable models that we have ever seen, and within us the trouble is mounting. The longer we hold this fucking position, the closer the option of putting it all away approaches. And we mean all of it for fuck's sake. Everything. It is just too much now.

Jesus fucking Christ, why did we have to be exposed to this model, and at the worst possible time. Everything is just bad and the slide is unending.

We are in a very bad place right now. With all of these issues rolling into each other and combining in ways with which we are having so much difficulty dealing, the slide is leading us into some very dangerous territory. The thoughts are now desperate and some of the avenues we are considering are both damaging and desperate. We have been here before but the 'now' is quite amplified when compared to the 'then'.


Her name is Maria. Just to place her.

And just as we have stated within this entry as well as many others, the issues are not her doing. She is a model and going about her business making a living and enjoying life. She is a person, above all things, and to blame her or anyone else is both a waste of space and false. We will not do that, ever. The slide is our doing (despite the fact that we are also human and feelings are never right or wrong... They simply exist) and we know this. And that is part of the frustration -- the idea that we are feeling these things and there is seemingly no solution. This outlet helps at times, but in the end it is also an expansion of our desires. The obsession increases in magnitude, the needs overwhelm, and the outlet fails. There is just no satisfaction anywhere, nor at any time. The small pleasures are decreasing and the drowning continues.

So we just fucking sit here and think and think and think.

Michelle knew all about it and was open to anything we wished. For whatever reason, and from whatever place, our needs also helped her to feel as if she was important. And we are not speaking of her beauty or willingness to model. We are speaking of her wishes to connect emotionally and find a person capable of validating her feelings as a human being. Her heart was open to all of it, and she found what she sought in us. That situation was wonderful, however it still remains as one which created the slide. The isolation is necessary. Despite our connection to Michelle, we just cannot and will not involve another person and expand our diminishing ability to remain standing. Unfair. Just unfair.

And there is Maria and her big, bright, gorgeous eyes, looking outward toward anyone who is receptive. God damn the desires and the obsession. God damn the need, too. It is all damaging and physically crippling now.

Well, the coffee is still warm and the keyboard does as we wish. So to continue this shit is all we have. Welling inside is the aforementioned risky direction. It is close, by God, very close and we are scared. Do we go out and find it? Will it hurt us? Will it become too dangerous and cause others emotional harm? Or can it be worked in such a manner to help in some way? Who the fuck knows. We certainly do not know a fucking thing. But it may become the only way to get out of this crap and stay clear of la mer. Naturally we do not want that to happen... Or do we? Maybe that is the only solution. As we stated here many years ago, there is an exit. The door is there and everything we are living within would be most decidedly left in the fucking dust. And then the wake will arrive and we will become an issue to others rather than to ourselves. Oy. Nope. Not now, and not soon.


Maria is painful to gaze upon. She is so beautiful that things within us get twisted into knots and we cannot fully function. Her fucking thigh radii are unreal to the last, and her narrow waist pushes at our psyche like the snowplow on a locomotive. It just presses with unrelenting force. We stare and stare and she only goes higher on the list of needs. And she nearly tops the obsession. Who made her? God must be a fucking genius. He broke the mold with that fucking woman.

Anyway, we are still here. Still writing, drinking, wallowing, needing, wanting, and forever bitching like a Bloomingdale's customer with a defective handbag. Why? Whatever. Being reduced to a complaining pile of shit is not something we had in mind during these late days. The sordid space still awaits the wordsmithing so we just go with it. And we go with the slide in our desperate isolation. And Maria stands with her amazing beauty and does not deserve to be a part of our emptiness. Fortunately, she is half a world away and knows nothing of this crap. For fuck's sake... What is going to happen? Anything?

Too many fucking questions.

The outlet is failing, and our desire to find what we need is growing out of control. The idea of seeking something could work in our favor, or it could end in disaster. The Raven knew this and helped in many ways, however we could not expand in the short time with her. The whole shitaree needs to be handled by ourselves, not by outside influence. Had we embraced the Raven when the time was available, who knows how things could have progressed. Or, how they may have fallen. There is just no knowing because she is most decidedly gone. And that may have been our only chance to find understanding within ourselves. So sad, yet it happened. Now, and not by a damned sight, we are all the way in and heading downward at an alarming rate. Even this very moment, and on this present day, another hash mark has appeared upon our gunstock. Yes, another.


A line we shall employ every fucking time... Where from here? There is seemingly no up. Every time something comes along which brings us a moment's peace and happiness, the moment fades and we are back at square zero. And we mean zero. Those times arrive in which we are paralyzed within the office or otherwise. The walls begin to look stale and our outlook narrows to the point of pain. We are there now, and have been for some time. Normally this time of year -- the master season -- is one of hopeful thoughts and planning. This time, it is just as summer: shit, crap, and little else. We have the editor, the interface, and the alcohol, but then we look upon the images and realize the feelings and then the slide resumes.

And there is Maria and her absolutely amazing inner thighs.

So... Here we are again (always). Those little moments which provide the boost had better come along soon, or we will end up too far down to recover. No blissful Saturday morning will be enough any longer."