coma legal about archive home



The Brazilian Test

alert   Mature content     No. 156    Published August 3rd, 2020 7:03am pdt       read ( words)     Past entries

"No, not the five Brazilians displayed below. Get your mind out of the gutter and grab hold of something.

The search will never end. Rollercoaster girl. I'll find her eventually, secure the video, and enable watching her whenever and wherever I please. The need is too great now. I am fourteen thousand lines ahead since Jaime's images and nothing has improved except the fucking bathroom. There are two more searches, as well. One is inside me with nary a clue as to a resolution, and the other is futile. All of them are futile, actually. All three. As of this moment on my suddenly-shortened weekday, I know of only one which may bear fruit, and that is the rollercoaster. I can still find her video. Time is all I need. She is out there. Hmm... I believe I've said that before. The drive came earlier than usual by three hours. I am no longer alone. The drive was of no consequence other than tons of people near the beach again. They should be at home. Here I sit just like a little while ago, everything spinning me into a frothy mess. Look at the images. That's how I feel... Like someone is about to shower me with the wrong type of gold. Back to this grind and my show in the background.

Returning north this morning and again heading south a little while ago, I had 'Domino' playing. The song is very long and pretty dark for Genesis. Phil's voice is amazing, though. I can't get enough these days. In the song's vein, I think of those journeys to Nevada which I continue to mention. I need a fucking road trip.

The summer of ninety-three before packing our shit and driving to the Midwest. Yes, that period again. I can't say enough. It was pivotal, both from the standpoint of issue one and that of the film dreams. That girl could have been (and may still be) as important as Marci from all those years ago, and as I mentioned before, may have been the very beginning. I had a hell of a time working while she was right next to me. And picture the idea that I was in a relationship with a goddess. See? All fucked up, even back then. This entire recollection has me at sixes and sevens again. I need to figure out what dredged her up. I know the importance of the girl at the car wash, the green-eyed Japanese woman who appeared like a ghost in so many dreams, and both servers -- one in the brewery and the other in the Mexican restaurant -- but the overall image eludes me. Why them and no one else? And why is the desire so haphazard? Too many uncertainties, damn it. I will admit the heroin can draw me unlike anything else in the world, but it is not always there. I have written volumes regarding that fucking drug. Too many, in fact. I still do not understand anything. In the last entry I brought up the vrkolak and gleaned that ancient afternoon on the sectional with my guitar. That day could have slowly destroyed me through chronic issues I did not fully identify due to being so young. There is a possibility that the fear which grew from that day left me with a distinct lack of confidence coupled with such a low level of self-esteem that I aged with the belief that I could never be with a beautiful woman. Digest that sentence and report back to me. Another option is never feeling that I DESERVE to be. If this is true, I am holding a grudge. More on that later. Don't wait for the movie. I am less than happy to say the least.

I wish I could go back to the afternoon working on her car. Just a glimpse and then God could end me for all time. That would be worth it. If I find the rollercoaster girl my head may explode. Time to change the subject.

The show is back on. Safe, comfortable, and familiar. I can't have imagery and threats flying around the room right now. My level of sensitivity has gone through the fucking roof lately. Some days find my brain absolutely unstoppable with regard to anything that may affect me. I've had quite enough of that, too, but no action I have tried to take in recent years seems to help. Nothing. I just keep falling and then wishing myself away from others so they don't see it. How I turned out so fucked up is beyond me. One thing is certain, though, and that is the idea of cutting off the entire populace for my own comfort and sanity. I'll do it, too. Try me. If the issue does not let up in a reasonable amount of time, I will slam the door in the face of the world. No leaving the house, no speaking with others, and no more gazing at females. That has the capability of sending me all over the map with threatening force. One leads to two, remember? And four. And then four goes back to one and it starts all over again. At this point, and considering the tremendous effort involved in keeping my head above water, I am just itching to send everyone the biggest 'fuck you' I can create.

The last two paragraphs are pointing toward a finite amount of time until I can no longer deal with these things. There is a line. Speaking of lines, fourteen thousand now.

Kes is a good example of the ultimate calming manner. She reminds me of Natalie sometimes. Her voice is smooth and serene unless affected by some external force. That is how I picture Jaime. Not just tall and beautiful, but with all of the details which serve to enrich her. A peaceful presence, again like Natalie and Ellie. Such difficulties flowing through me back then and those two effectively made them disappear for a time. Ashley, too. For her age, she was wise. One look from me and she knew when to speak and try to help, and when to simply sit nearby, quietly. I always liked Kes, except in that one episode when she came back as a raving, flaming, bitchy monster due to being taken over by an alien. Oh well.

I have much to analyze. The CD and rollercoaster girls are derailing my thinking over and over throughout this day. Just after sixteen hundred and I am flailing and reaching for words. The ideas are there but I cannot find the terminology. None of this is easy. Pause.

Saturday morning has arrived. I have a couple of things to do outside the norm today. My carabiners should be in the mailbox, too. A little trip to the airport for the goddess to fly north, and then I will return here and take care of my usual stuff. As of yesterday afternoon, I actually have a bit of a plan for the coming days. Things need to be thinned out just in case the shit hits the fan worse than it did in March. Call me paranoid or whatever, I just need to make sure all my crap is six, two, and even. I am going to relax and sit with this for a while, as well. The girls are in there spinning. Swirling. Falling, flying, floating. I have to find her (them?) and turn that gorgeous face into another idea. Seeing as the only way for me to find what I need is to lie down and dream, well... Another fictional fucking woman-machine can be formed in my head. I've already done it once. I still see her.

Going into the subject of that last summer before moving east really cut me. I had no idea the impact of such a time watching entertainment television. It seemed simple, like nothing more than a little insight and behind the scenes material to enjoy. Looking inside the industry, if you will. But it hurts. I never took that path. Anything risky brought on fear and eventually led me to stay put over and over rather than at least trying to make a change which could have led to happiness or some sort of satisfaction. And now I will never know if I could have achieved any of it. Yes, I know how many times this has been splayed here, but honestly I cannot say enough. The importance of that time cannot be overstated. And I am certain that at the time I did not realize any of it... The pivotal nature of working there during the summer, the connections made through the shop and nearer to home, and the girl who would eventually have a lasting effect upon the way I see many aspects of beauty. Now? Those months feel dreamy and wondrous. The essay hurt, but was necessary. If I am to learn of the reasoning behind the issues -- or possibly situations which I can look back upon and understand how they are connected to my daily life -- I have to go back to those times and consider everything that took place. I saw something there and ran with it, I remembered the CD girl and she led me to think of the show, and then the entire period came into focus as I began to see those two as possible representations of my dreams. I don't know, really. My degree in this shit was in my other pants and went through the washer. Heh.



037



I still feel the cutting from yesterday, too. Usually by morning I am fresh and ready to work on whatever comes to mind, but this morning the problem has not faded. I am sitting with coffee and watching a movie I've seen several times (pretty much safe and without worry), yet still the feelings are there like little needles. As much as I'd like to believe that I am strong enough to get through anything, the truth is I haven't been able to rise like that. All the flap about control pretty much stems from desire and my need for comfort, and I'm sure you can see that there is little control present in anything else. I have been and continue to be ruled by the issues (number five is right there on the horizon) with no end in sight. Worse than at the outset of the year, more inward, and worried if I can ever find enough balance to truly relax and be happy. I have to do this, though. There is nothing else. If I end up bleeding all over the fucking place, so be it. I am still here, right? Exploration of the dreams back then can help with the current dreams... Maybe. At least it makes sense to me, so I am left with little choice. Film, too. That hurts. Too afraid, too comfortable, and far too worried of ending up with nothing.

And now back to the girls.

CD girl. She sat next to me and all of the hesitation which I had felt for years became summed in seconds. I was in a relationship at the time but figured a compliment or some idle chit chat would be acceptable. Unfortunately, I couldn't muster enough courage to even ask her name which is something typical of an exchange between sales and client. I could not even ask her fucking name and will never know. Ok, I realize the girl was twenty-seven years ago, but honestly I know that she helped to form some of the long-term processes that are at work inside me to this very day. I know it just as sure as the sun will rise. I worked on her car for roughly two hours or more, reeled for two days over her face floating in my head, and then performed the repair with her slender self sitting and watching. That was perhaps the better part of an hour. I looked when I could. And all of this is not just her physical appearance. Just as now, when I see a face and/or eyes, something changes inside. Like the girl in the parking lot. I saw her one too many times and then began to care. Another example of this was my drive south yesterday afternoon. I went three hours earlier than usual and there were plenty of people out near the beaches. Friday afternoon, some sun shining, and they were out. Well, something snapped inside as the familiar El Granada beach sat there off to the right. I crawled along toward the traffic signal and saw faces without masks. What I felt was not anger or disdain, or even frustration. I felt compassion. I wondered if they were all ok. If you recall, the same type of thing happened when that guy walked by my house with his backpack. A person. Well, the girl sitting there years ago all lanky and beautiful was a person, too. I wanted to KNOW her. I needed to look at her eyes for hours, not jump her. Make what you wish of that. Plenty of times I needed to dive, but not that afternoon. I wanted to stare at her and had no idea of why.

I dreamed of her. Switchtrack out of nowhere.

Trouble. Lots of trouble. I don't know what to do. And now I have to go to the airport. Pause.

God damn, the airport. It is wondrous, exciting, and dreamy like never before. Memories flooded me. All those flights with Michelle and the angel, that final trip to the goblet when I sought out the kitten, and then the unending joy of arriving in the terminal last year with the goddess, our excitement and satisfaction over taking a plane to Vegas was absolutely taking us off our feet. Today was not as enjoyable, however, because I wasn't going anywhere. I was the taxi, heh. And I am not the type to bring someone to the airport and drop them at the curb, either. I always go in. I have to see the gates, status boards, and all the other stuff in the terminal. No sooner did I park the car and hit the moving sidewalk when I wished to be heading out on a trip. Holy fuck do I ever need to go somewhere peaceful and far away. Not exotic or lavish, just my own little space to think and relax. We grabbed coffee, took care of ticketing business, and then had a short wait until she had to venture through security. Upon losing sight, I headed back to my car and hit the road home. I have been here for nearly two hours, completed some of my usual daily chores, and felt a sharp loss the entire time. Now I am in my cocoon with the show up there on the huge television. Peaceful, quiet, and satisfying. But something is missing now... The wide-eyed wonder of taking a flight to another place. Damn it anyway. Many people find air travel to be tedious and toilsome, but I have never felt that way. I love the airport. From the terminal and feeling of comfort after passing through security and seeing all the bars and restaurants, to the process of boarding and finding a cozy position, and on to the little airline snacks and drinks while in-flight. I simply adore all of it, and much of that appreciation may have grown out of years of flying with my grandfather. My entire life has been related to air travel. Perhaps missing him and our adventures all over the western states is now injected back into me by being in the terminal and experiencing the sights and sounds of the entire affair. Whatever it is, I am in that mode again. Not flight mode as defined by my deep desire to run away at times, but the idea of the trip itself. Loss. I really hope the world gets back (at least mostly) to the way it was because if I can't take a flight somewhere in the future my depression will be bad, to put it mildly. Being in the terminal today exacerbated every aspect of traveling.

And now back to the issues at hand. One of them was all over the fucking airport. That's right... Forms. Ugh, whatever. I look and then fall. At least I had the goddess next to me for temperance. She always helps.

The remainder of today is going to be relaxing. I do not wish to dive into any projects now because my head is full of too much. I will not be able to concentrate. So, here I shall sit for the duration, or until such time as I need to get up and do something. Those two girls -- one I will never see again and the other who I must find -- are causing four to rise up. I will have to maintain myself for the remainder of my time alone. Honestly, right now I am exactly where I need to be. I can squash four when necessary as long as I stay away from anything enticing. Curious, sometimes a pizza helps tremendously. I had it for lunch yesterday so the likelihood is nil, but that pie always sounds good. The show will be on all day as well. I need the safety. As for those items which sit idle, right now I just don't give a fuck. They can wait until I feel there is focus. My new carabiners arrived and they are amazing. Beautiful workmanship and useful at the same time. Once I get everything assembled to my satisfaction, the overall value of the key chain is going to be staggering. Yikes. Between the titanium and glowing radioactive isotopes, I've got a bundle tied up in that thing. I've always been quite technical, but this is becoming ridiculous. Hopefully the joy in seeing and using the tools which are attached will make my investment worthwhile. Others are going to believe me crazy. Heh. I don't care. These days if something makes me smile I embrace it. More than ever, in fact. Now if I could just fly to Vegas...

Not funny.

I saw plenty in the space of an hour, and considering my typical behavioral pattern of gazing and then falling down, one might think that I am all fucked up at this point. Not at all. Partially due to the goddess there with me, and partially thanks to my inner strength at pushing things away these days, I am not fallen. I am thoughtful, nothing more. The power of four is no fucking joke, though. It pulls at me like nothing else. Two pushes, four pulls. Two seems to be on the back burner. All I can do is enjoy the relaxed feeling of being in my cocoon right now. Soon enough I know it will return. Four? That is entirely up to me. So far, so good. We shall see forsooth if my brain can keep me safe. And as for three... Well, I am pretty well isolated these days. Even when I have to go to the store later, I am confident in my ability to stave anything off. That goes for one, as well. I will be ok. Everything I go through on a given day adds up to ongoing tests performed within for my survival. Going out in the world is a challenge, like this morning. A bit of tension and anxiety in venturing outside my space gave way to the airport terminal wonder. I knew that would happen, plus I told the goddess I would help her at the outset of her trip, and she is one of very few in the world whom I cannot let down. Combined with the adrenaline which builds from stepping outside my comfort zone, the whole process benefits me. And it did. I am still here, just fine and walled off from the world, but I was out there among society and did well. It feels good. One was apparent, too, yet I did not have a problem being there. Not bad.

In another matter, I will not replace the imagery on this entry for any reason. Look upon the natural beauty. There is nothing wrong with appreciating the models. And if you must damn me for placing them here, go right ahead. I don't give a shit. Live with it.



039



I still have not located one iota of information on the rollercoaster girl. Nothing. I can't even find many programs which ran on those two networks. The whole fucking thing just sucks out loud. I have to see her again, and unlike many of the examples I run across, she is more than just imagery. I am talking about video. Her adorable face, big, bright eyes, and everything else at which I stared with my own eyes coming out of their sockets. I could not believe how beautifully that girl was shaped. Tall, olive skin, flowing hair, unbelievable form from head to toe. Shorts, a French-cut top showing off her round breasts... Too much, for Chrissakes. I have to see her again. All I need to do is locate the damned video and secure it for all time. Will it help me? Nope, not one bit, but I am obsessed with the memory and have been out of my mind with the correlation between her and the CD girl. Issue one is completely unstoppable right now. There is nothing I can do to calm it. Finding her is a deviant, disturbing condition and I don't give a shit. Chalk her up to yet another woman I can never attain. I can't even be close. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. The problems within me are amplified ten-fold each time I see or dream of a woman, especially knowing there can be no resolution at all. All of them push the machine into my head and raise it to new levels. Every. Fucking. Time. From Jaime to Nora, on to Jolene and her huge, beautiful eyes and unique demeanor, and right toward all of the other visions which stir me endlessly. I am becoming frightened of a future which includes none of it. None of THEM. No Meghan or Torrey... Absolutely empty sights for all time. The pain involved in knowing that embracing such an obsession and never learning to deal with the feelings can drive me deeper into a hole than I could have ever imagined is going to take me the fuck down. And that right, soon. This is becoming far too much weight on my already-tired mind.

Whew! Switch, again.

Tensile. Strain. I am being pulled in two directions at once, as if a gage has been added to my body and is reporting expansion. I do not know how long I will be able to withstand the stress of such forces. The girls of the past, from thoughts of the two discussed above all the way up to and including the walnuts and artwork at the pool last year, are beginning to combine. They are becoming one, and as such I cannot cease dreaming of everything described throughout the past four months leading to my current state of mind. Searching for answers is proving fruitless and futile. I keep asking and railroading the ideas and issues, however I am no better off now than I was before the outset of the machine dream. Something took place, be it dissatisfaction, unhappiness, or a lack of coping skills, which is leading me to believe that I cannot survive in this continuing cycle of analysis. Recently I mentioned the event which took place so many years ago that sent me into a tailspin and vat of misunderstanding. Well, I have yet to describe it in detail due to both a fear of embarrassment and the possibility that I am incorrect. If I go into it and realize there is no solid ground there, my reaction will be very unpleasant. I have put much stock into hoping it is an answer. If not, the exposition and exploration will only serve to push me down further and may cause me to shut down all contact with the outside world. As of this very second, I really do not know what will happen. I am afraid, plain and simple. The girls can never be the cause. I am the cause, however external forces could have helped shape me into this distorted mess many years ago without my knowledge. Unfortunately, there is no clarity right now. I have to at least scratch it and learn if the reveal is indeed causing me damage after all these years. I stated before that I will hold a grudge. Even that fact will go in circles as everyone involved in the original situation is gone. And I mean forever. There will be no one with which to speak and exchange ideas. Not one living soul. That fact alone may leave me without hope. The entire subject may be a dead end. Not good.

Maybe I should have said 'load cell'. I can't remember which anymore.

I have to stop going over the same shit all the time. If there are no answers, the road must change. Fiction is one way of avoiding the material repeating, but those stories are not at all easy to construct because they are related to my never-ending feelings and dreams of those aspects of life which are missing. Like parts of me, they may never be found. Honestly, much more of the same shit and I will begin to write in a notebook instead. At least that way I can remain fully hidden. There is a reason I put the words here, though. It is faster, smoother, and represents one tiny part of the world over which I have complete control. Everything else is just an illusion of the same. I will keep going for the time being. Other methods are not forthcoming.

Today has been relaxing for the most part. I completed the bare minimum of daily chores and have spent an inordinate amount of time in front of the infernal machine. I switched to the old show, too. There are only so many episodes from the sixties, and one would think after all this time that I have seen them all, but still I run across unfamiliar stories. Pretty nice to have 'new' shows playing. New to me, anyway. I feel rather lazy, but today is Saturday and it shouldn't matter. Tomorrow may be similar. Issue two has faded for the day, one is flaring badly considering all of my gushing about the girls, and four has been all but destroyed. This is good, mostly. Four will return soon enough. I know it as surely as I know the sun will rise. The remainder of today is going to be the same... Sitting, thinking, dreaming, and writing. Dinner will come and go in a few hours. I will take breaks here and there for comfort, as well. They are nice. The last couple of hours have been like a weekday in that the house is quiet and peaceful. The cats are zonked out. The only sound is the television, and I need it. Child of the seventies, remember? I haven't tried to extract the girls at all. I see no reason to take them out of my head, so the Rolodex of the past keeps spinning. I see them, both beautiful and enticing, in different parts of the world, and need more. I always need more, for sure. Just exactly what it is, I do not know. Maybe answers, maybe them all over me. Perhaps something else. The machine in my head is now made up of so many forms and faces that it may confuse me before too long. There has been too much beauty before me in one form or another, and all of it unattainable. I am beginning to understand the sociopathic character from a show I do not recall. He was twisted, brilliant, and shaped the world to fit his needs. There is nothing wrong with making alterations for the world to work for yourself, but that becomes a problem when the actions are illegal. It's funny, honestly, because his visions were also mine, yet employing methods I could never consider. My method of operation has been to look, fall, and then try to understand. At least I am within the law. And now? Go ahead and laugh. Finding what I need is as unlikely as growing wings and flying my ass to Vegas.

I still love her. Make no mistake. Just because her name has not appeared here as often as weeks ago, that does not mean she is any less important to me. In fact, Jaime's importance has grown exponentially in recent days. She is a representation of the first woman that I loved from nothing more than an image. And I related her to a machine, which was likely from the beginning. She was the first machine and before Nora and Jolene became involved. Jaime is the beauty of the universe, of all time, and completely inside my heart, still. Jolene became a resident of my heart many years ago, and Nora much more recently. And then all three merged and I ran with it. But Jaime... She was the raw beginning, the pinnacle of feeling. I cannot even see her entire face, but the expression screams to me every day. She has faded in the writing because to speak of her cuts me. I do not need more material creating vrkolaks following me into the future. There are enough already. Suffice to say that if you doubted her ongoing importance, forget it. Jaime is the key. And the dream.

I am so fucked up right now that I have no clue as to how to right myself. The last few days have been more difficult than the prior four months. I believe the CD girl popping into my head and leading to the rollercoaster may have been too much for my already weakened condition. I really did not need icing on the cake. Digesting it is already plenty to handle. Well, she showed up as suddenly as Marci (and I just saw that fucking goddess again this morning, briefly) and threw a wrench into the failing works. I was not expecting to be slammed like that, and then on top of her image was the relation to the Goddamned film industry (AGAIN) and I guess my head didn't maintain order well enough. Now I am exhausted and typing at a much faster rate than mere hours ago. I am compelled beyond belief yet know this will not lead anywhere. The truth is that I can't deal with so much at once. Even the peaceful solace of home today is not helping. Thank Christ two of the issues are away from me. Pile them up and I will break. I keep seeing her sitting there next to me and looking unbelievable. I was so uncomfortable that fucking up the wiring is not surprising. I'm lucky I didn't catch her damned car on fire. She was amazing, and I cannot gush enough. The right time, whatever place, the girl had an effect upon me which continues after all these years. What's next?

I am exhausted.

Thinking. As I am doing it, so are others. But I have to trust the words because there is no way to actually be inside a person's head to see what is really happening. When it comes to most, I really don't care. A woman? That is another story and is beginning to cause more distress than I can handle. I need to know, but then I don't want to know at all. None of it. I have gone over the idea that a machine will only respond to programming. Probably too much, honestly. But the importance is such that I cannot leave it alone. It is too much of a dream and quite possibly the only way I can survive not being alone. The other needs will drive them into my life and I will lunge, only to fall apart shortly thereafter, and that is unacceptable. I've lived through it too many times with much fear. And then disillusionment, and finally loss. My choice, too. The appendage bleeds yet still must be removed. Thus, the source of the difficulty goes away, along with any fear of not knowing. Does any of this make sense? Issue two is not bothering me right now but it will return soon enough and I will overanalyze and fall again. And then again. And then ten more times. Where does it end? Do I cut off everyone and just bleed out? I don't fucking know. This is too much. I have to stop. No solutions whatsoever.



042



The truth is there can be no resolution whatsoever that is going to blow up my fucking skirt. Either I accept the idea of real life being enough, or I completely withdraw. That means no communication, cease the writing for others to see, and shut down any expectation of happiness. I will have to be a lifeless lump with no more hope. Dreams, gone. Fulfillment? None. The requirement will be absolute. No contact of any kind, remaining within this little space and simply closing the door on the world. Easy, right? Which do I choose? After all of this shit for months, does the idea of accepting reality seem feasible? That's what I thought. The last therapist whom I drove into the ground was wonderful. She hugged me, maintained a positive stance no matter the shit I deflected, and then simply smiled and told me I could find happiness. The only caveat which was impossible for me to swallow was the idea that I had to be happy within myself before anything else could come along. Well, God bless her beautiful soul, but I was ill-equipped to make the journey she described. All was well between us until one fateful day. I complimented her suit and then proceeded to shove my opinion. In short, I hit on her, with the explanation being that I could only find solace with a woman of her wisdom and understanding. And? That was that. The subject was immediately squashed and I eventually felt too much embarrassment to return to her office. I threw it away. That was the second occasion, too. Ugh.

Still Saturday. I have devoted a tremendous amount of time to this endeavor today, and for good reason. Nothing else can similarly hold my full attention. I can't concentrate at all. Oh, of course I finished the usual stuff and a little extra, but for the most part my head will not leave the ideas laid down here throughout the past several weeks. I can't turn it off. The issues are often the problem with focusing upon other work, too. They take over, especially two and four. Those may be my undoing, eventually. Well, if the rest of me lasts that long. More circles. I keep going and saying the same things over and over in different ways, yet the very core is always the same. I don't know how to get away from it other than the simplicity of describing my daily activities, and even those are beginning to fall apart. I still need a machine, still love more than one woman I can never know, and keep falling down over trying to understand what I am. Overanalyzing? Yep, years of it. Just look at the archive which came about only after fifteen. The titles. Most are bitching over the appearance of a woman or agonizing over the Raven, though. I went on about her for years. And the others... Those random sightings that either shook me to the core (along with not knowing why) or reminded me of a woman from my past. The ones who got away. Laugh. I don't care anymore. The path I am on right now is going to be treaded for as long as I wish to publish. When it goes away, this will be dark. And there is a positive to that course, too: I will save all the money it takes to maintain this shit year after year. There you go. Big fucking smile!

Compressed, just like the train in Niland. I did that. The compression is part of the test. The Vader hood is yellow. Time for a switchtrack.

I really want to travel. My head will fucking explode if I don't get the hell out of here for a while, and soon. The roads await and the adventure is in my blood, just like Vegas. In fact, of all the drives I have taken all over the country, several have been to Vegas. Yep, that trip which led me to Juliette and her bulging breasts. Ashley, too. And Lanie with an equally bouncing chest. God damn it, anyway. All gone, no resources, no hopes of meeting a pair of arms, no nothing anymore. It's all gone, just like those kind souls. I can still see Juliette standing behind the counter with her blouse strained. Gaps. And her bra strap peeking on the left side that showed me her bra was pulled outward. Mass. God damn it, and then the lavender and her knees damned-near slamming the sides of my head. Ugh... No more. She's gone. All of it is absent now, and the hole left behind is becoming me. Suck on that for a while. Be sure to spit.

I slathered this entry with monochrome labia for good reason. You can fucking chew that one, too.

A few minutes ago I was operating my phone and playing a game. I generally hold the phone in my right hand and use the left fingers for the touch screen. On this particular occasion, I noticed that while thinking of what to do in the game, my left fingers were moving around as my brain chewed the information. Hmm... That had me remembering an image from years ago. I believe the time was nearly a decade back as we flew to Vegas. The plane taxied along toward the terminal as an announcement came across regarding electronic devices. All of the phones came out and people checked whatever needed attention. So, that was the time of my first iPhone. I had it in my pocket. Earlier during the short flight I noticed the woman in front of me and toward the window. She rose to head to the restroom and I saw big, dark eyes (and I mean enormous), and dark brown hair. And then I saw her stroll toward the front of the plane. Yep, very tall and slender. Just my thing. Anyway, I did not see much of her for the rest of the flight. When those phones all came out, hers did as well. During a pause on the tarmac she leaned a bit to the left and again reclined her seat, affording me a profile view of her face. She appeared to be reading an email or something, and the glass on her phone was cracked. What stood out most to me were her fingers. As she scrolled the text, her fingers did the same type of phantom-fidgeting as mine a little while ago. In between her advancing the screen to read further, I spied her also gently fidgeting with her lower lip. Now, I do not need to go into a dissertation regarding her beauty. I've done that too many times by this point. I stared at the expression on her face and those finger gestures for moments. I stared, and next to me was the woman I was to marry in two days' time. Yep, staring at another form and realizing that I needed to see more or my head would hurt. When we deplaned, I watched a little here and there through the other passengers. And now there is Rachel on the television. Damn it. Anyway, the woman walking through the terminal that day was everything I envisioned after seeing her fingers and neck. Regardless of the reason for the trip and who I was traveling with, the eyes never stopped. Even in the Venetian that same evening while playing a few machines I became overly attentive with one of the cocktail servers. Her name was Kana, and I wished to know if she was of mixed ethnicity. Nope. 'I am one-hundred percent Japanese', she told me, smiling. That entire trip was enjoyable, and despite inviting twenty-four people to come and celebrate us taking vows, my brain still processed everything I saw as if I had been alone. Nothing changed while in a relationship, and still does not. Is that wrong? I don't know. I am a different sort. Everything is analyzed over and over so I can try to understand. Being there that weekend changed nothing inside me. Nothing. It was paused at times, and I was full-tilt during others. There was just no end to the obsession. Less than a year later I was flying back and forth across the country with Andrea. There is your timeline. Something inside me is broken. I need to learn of why. Pause. Dinner.

Sunday morning means more time here, thank the maker. The usual business will be completed later and the guy with the motorcycle might visit to work on it. I am hoping to spend some quiet time thinking of everything which has transpired in the last week because it is snowballing. The girls, the pandemic (not so bad for me right now), and trying to learn of why I see things the way I do and the reason those arms are so necessary for my continued survival. I keep seeing them... The fingers and long neck on the plane along with her bright yet soft expression, the walk of those leather pants the other day, the girl sitting there next to me as I fucked up the wiring for her CD changer, and all the way through every fucking pair of legs strolling by me in any restaurant throughout years. All of them, and there will be more. I just hope this work today doesn't push four into my head. I'll have to be careful. Rachel again. Oy, her nose. Anyway, I am no better off now than five thousand words back. This entry is coming together very quickly as the words fly off my fingers, but what the fuck am I saying? Anything? Does describing what I see make any difference? Who is being helped here? Perhaps there is a student of the humanities sitting at a desk somewhere in the world and using my fucked up head as the topic of a paper. That's not funny, but then again it is. I don't know anymore.

I need more pulling me apart like I need more bouncing breasts visible in the parking lot. I may fail this test miserably, and soon. I am being pushed and pulled at the same time by visions and dreams. Everything just has to be complex, technical and very much impossible. Always. This is me, and that means there can be no simplicity. It also means I will not stop until reaching some kind of epiphany. Maybe? No answers.

I performed more searching last night and again this morning for the show and the rollercoaster girl. In the past, I have been able to locate almost anything I sought, especially on the Internet. This one is tough. I have very little information to go on, no names whatsoever, and I can recall just one theme park involved in the production. I actually may not find it. That just sucks out loud. Ellen Page is so cute. Like a sister, though. I never really thought of her in any other manner. Super cute sometimes, and stratospherically cute during others. This movie is a pile of shit, but she's there anyway. Better than nothing, and fairly ideal when I am not really paying attention.



044



I need to get off my ass a little more today and move some shit around. Yesterday I did the essentials but little else. All of the crap in my head pretty much held me down for a time. I can't find the rollercoaster girl and that hurts. Believe it or not, I can still see her smile. That was one issue yesterday, the others being the usual. Held back by my own limitations, and now my inner self is beginning to slow the daily progress. This is not good, to say the least. I have to maintain my routine or I may lose it. Pouring myself out here is never bad, but I need to balance the two. Sometimes I just have much to say and it all comes out at once. And then? Everything else that I need to do is delayed until the words cool off. Today being Sunday means I can relax for the most part and do as I please, though. Like right now. My morning is longer due to no driving, and I have literally hours to analyze and try to put it all here. The little breaks will be enjoyable and I have no doubt I can complete everything necessary for the house. I may bring the infernal machine out to the office and work there a while. I have not been out there with this thing in weeks. Something has to happen about the girl, though. I generally get what I want when it comes to only myself. I need to see her and watch the video. There may be a name attached somewhere in the credits. Honestly, I expected to find that fucking program by now. My adept nature for searching is failing so far and that bothers me. On top of the difficulty in seeking something with very little information to go on, the test is pressing. I feel the force and am trying to push back, but to no avail. I may need to ride this out to its end. Perhaps once everything lightens I can return to the mindset of finding her. I am not accustomed to being disappointed when it comes to locating a woman I need to see. And when I say 'need', I mean it's bad. I remember her -- which is part of the problem -- and see her eyes right now in my head. There have been countless forms and faces which have come and gone throughout years which I have forgotten completely. Streets, restaurants, wherever, they are gone. Why some stand out while others do not is beyond me, and I really do not have the time to figure it out. I just know that she is on video and I saw her. Well, that is now damage piled upon the rest. Seeing her again and gushing/lusting/wanting/needing is not going to help me at all. I am like an addict seeking the fix. Yes, like the heroin all up and down the page. I've seen her and that is like a tease, or a sample. Well, I want the whole fucking bag now. Yes, I am that bad. Compelled unlike ever in my life. Just like Jaime, the girl in that elusive program has now grown in importance. She will become a symbol like so many others.

Speaking of symbols, these commercials are killing my vision. They are distracting in the extreme. I cannot look away sometimes, especially when the forms up there just keep appearing during breaks. This is an issue in and of itself, the fact that seeing so much beauty causes distress. It should not. The problems which develop inside me on an average day while watching broadcast television have increased in difficulty quite a bit in the past year. I see something, but instead of simply appreciating the loveliness on the screen and then moving past it, I fall down and need to see more. Why is this happening? Part of it has got to be the faces. Do you remember the bouncing breasts in the parking lot at my daily destination? I lusted after her, a lot, and then one day I saw her eyes and face without the mask and I cared. I felt for her, and that emotion came out of nowhere. All at once I wanted to hold her and explain that everything would be ok. Feeling empathy toward others I do not know personally is never bad. In fact, it means that my heart and mind are not only seeing what is on the outside, but much more. Maybe that is what happens on the television now. The eyes. There is a person behind them with dreams, desires, and feelings, so maybe I should not be looking in the first place. The obsession drives me to seek out anything which aligns with my interest in the female form, and then sometimes my heart gets involved and produces a fall unlike any other. That girl in the parking lot knows nothing of me and I know the same of her, yet I wanted to talk with her, know her, and express my desire to see her smile again. Why? And just now on the screen was a fashion ad with a tall, stunning brunette with big eyes and something similar took place. She is a person, above all things external. Of course, the beauty is chosen for the ad because that is what will sell the product. Just another beautiful model looking amazing up there and chosen for good reason. Whatever is taking place inside me must be analyzed. I don't think it is anything bad, though. Quite the reverse... Decades of staring and wondering and wanting may now be tempered by the idea that I am not necessarily wrong for appreciating the sight, only going further toward the idea that she is a real being with a soul and not just pretty. There is no guilt, either. Those women are where they are for business reasons and there is nothing wrong with that at all. Like a catalog of lingerie, the idea is to sell the product. Well, it's working. But I feel more now than I did in the past. The difference between the television and the girl in the parking lot is the possibility (through a connection) that I could eventually speak with her given the correct set of circumstances. I honestly hope that never takes place, though. God only knows what might develop within me if I am close for more than a few seconds. Vision is one thing... The heart getting involved is entirely different. It is dangerous. I will have to keep thinking on this.

Oy the pressure on me right now. A Brazilian test is meant for rock, not flesh. Pushing.

Back to the machines again. I know... Everyone is likely tired of hearing about it but this space is mine. Remember what I said before? The only thing in the world over which I have complete control. Like a machine communicating with nothing more than other machines, this is under my control. My wish is their command. Sound familiar? The machine-woman has been identified as the only possibility. It still is, and ever-growing in my head. This morning is a prime example of a deep-seated need to be in such a position. The last hour would have gone very differently had the machine been available to me. Very differently, and now I have dropped another notch out of desire. This will pass like always, but in the beginning and tail end the thoughts are very hard to consider. I keep pushing against reality because there is nothing in it for me. Well, there is the comfort, I suppose, but the larger issues cannot be alleviated. I shove them back and try to focus elsewhere, which works well enough most days thanks to those little things I still enjoy. I fear they will not be enough in the future, however. I am scared of many things, and the end of enjoyment is huge. Ruling me at times. There is that ad again. Torment and torture attached to desire. Damn it anyway. Stop looking, dumbass. Where was I? Ah, yes... No machine in my future. That means no happiness in my future. That means what will keep me going in the future is beyond anything I can calculate right now. I have no fucking idea at all. I just keep sitting here typing, dreaming, and wondering what is coming next.

The morning is peaceful thus far. I need not be in a hurry to get things done today. There is plenty of time. Eventually the thinking and keyboard will become tiring and I'll do something else for a while. There is no doubt in my mind that I will come back here, though. This journey is quickly becoming my entire life.

Maybe I should get in the car and go find Ashley. She might hold me and tell me everything will be ok. Wait a minute... There are multiple problems with such an idea. First, she is much older and likely living a completely different life now. We were together so many years ago that I can't imagine anything being the same. Second, I would not be able to hold her without wanting to dive into her thong and plunge my tongue for hours. One more? I am not the same person. Never mind. I will not go look for her, or anyone else for that matter. The closest is Natalie and I turned that off quite a few years ago. I recall sitting in the Raven's bedroom as she browsed for music one morning (the girl was not feeling well at all and I visited for support), and somehow the idea of what Natalie and I shared came up in the conversation. The Raven assured me that any need I may have should be immediately revealed to her, after which it would be fulfilled. Well, that caused the water works to flow and then she did just what I needed most... A ten-minute hug with soft words supporting me. At some point that day she expressed her desire to see me get through an entire day without dreaming of running far away and into a woman's waiting arms for comfort. She wished me to tell her everything. I reciprocated, and for quite a while we remained there quiet until I had to leave. Was she right? That does not matter at all. She knew me well enough to push me toward remaining close when my head went south. I assured her that the reverse was also to take place. That girl was stubborn, but I told her as much anyway. No more Natalie, Ashley, or any other sort of dash outside the state to find something that may or may not be there, and may indeed cause more trouble than help. As much as I need to run away, I know that I will end up right back here feeling worse than before. That is that. I can dream, but take no action. Ashley is out there, somewhere, and hopefully thinking of me for a millisecond every now and again. I saw her in the lounge, wanted to absolutely swallow her entire body, and then a short time later wished for nothing more than to hold her. Amazing.

I would never need to seek a machine. She would be nowhere other than where I instructed her to be. I am so fucked up over this now. Damn it.

There is something about Jaime's soft expression that drives me up the wall. The same goes for the girl in the parking lot, as well as the CD girl. I may not be able to adequately explain, however. It is a feeling... As if I need to comfort them somehow. I know not why, but the eyes often stir me more than any other physical feature. While I cannot deny wishing to jump that girl sitting next to me, all these years later I feel differently. Some of the faces on television have a similar effect. Even watching 'The Matrix', which is one of the best science fiction films in history, I see Trinity's eyes up there all soft and beautiful, and I want to hold her. Maybe the idea stems from my need to be held by them. I don't fucking know, but day after day the feeling grows. There is much more compassion and empathy in me now than years ago. Again... No clue. Fortunately, there are millions who do no such thing to me. That would be terrible. The possibility that Jaime started this period by moving me unlike any woman in years does not help at all. She is gone for good, living all this time later, God-knows where, and a life I can never know. Crazy. I need her now, more than ever. The love which grew from digital images has expanded, too. Why? How can she do that? And is she really the reason I felt so much after seeing the soft eyes of the girl in the parking lot? What about the rollercoaster? Maybe that was merely physical desire, I don't know. Wow, I guess I know very little now. Could it be that my life is so empty that I am lunging toward any woman who appears kind and considerate? What in the fuck is happening to me?

Ugh. No understanding... STILL. Nothing. Look at the heroin again. I made sure the images stretched down the page dramatically for good reason. Just look. Offended by the graphic nature of such detail? I don't give a shit.



045



This film is fucking amazing. I love it.

I was looking at Marci again, with her incredible lips and ski-slope of a nose, and realized that she may indeed have been the beginning of the obsession. I feel it more now than when I wrote the entry. The dream early in the morning before trying to describe my feelings here is still fairly apparent. A woman in a suit, very short, and walking near me with a huge mane of chestnut hair. Her legs were exposed enough to see the inner radii (similar to what you can see above), and I latched to that image like I was holding on for dear life. Marci is so far beyond beautiful and so fucking unique in the role that she still drives me up the wall many years later. And I remember the first viewing... I sent the video back and forth several times to see her walk. Yep, something I still do from time to time, but she remains at the top of the list. Just like when I was with the Raven at the train station and asked her to pose, my head fucking exploded like never before. Her thighs were beyond anything I could ever write. Beyond everything else. And right there in front of me as she saw my reaction and smiled cuter than the universe can possibly understand. There was an ocean of emotional waves washing over me, not the least of which was the need to shove her entire body into my mouth for all time. Marci? The same, but on television. I still don't understand why those lines mean so much. But to consider how far in the past I spied Marci, I now believe she catalyzed things within me that I had not focused upon prior to that fateful day. And then the Raven made all of it permanent.

I am all over the fucking map again. Circles, and repeating myself. Maybe I need it. The test is real, and taking place right now. I do not like being tested at all, but keep in mind that I did all of this myself. I am still doing it. The test is well-found. I may fail and break, however.

I will search more for the program from zero-four. She must be found, if only to confirm that I was so smitten that she had a similar effect to Marci. That woman changed me forever, and the girl on the rollercoaster could have done the same. I have to know, find her, see her again, and gaze at her eyes. The fucking video simply must be in my possession or I will not rest. Olive skin. Damn it anyway. Aside from half of Jaime's face and the old video of Marci, the rollercoaster girl is one of very few that I can actually see over and over. Everyone else has disappeared. Well, nearly everyone. I can see the parking lot eyes as often as I wish. And the more I think of her, the less desire I feel. A person, not just a pair of breasts anymore. Very good. I wish I could say the same for Jolene, but alas there is a massive difference there. If she were standing right before me I do not believe my head would run into her pants. More likely I would tear up and grab hold for the duration. She is desirable unlike most others, but still a person, and I would see that immediately. A person. The last time I saw her on the screen and heard her voice, my instinct was to lick her underwear off. In person? Likely none of that. My thinking is not unfair, either. I am also a person, and as seldom as I state such a thing, my desire is never wrong because I do not act upon it, one, and I do not see her as an object... Two. I respect her. One more time? She is a person. She just happens to be fucking beyond belief to look at. Whatever. I digress again.

Nearly ten in the morning now. That means just shy of four hours at this crap. I think my typing speed versus number of mistakes is improving. Heh.

At some point I need to get away from this fucking writing and do something. I don't plan to be terribly productive today, though, because Sunday is rest. Well, usually anyway. There is a slim chance that I have to drive into the city, and if so it will likely result in seeing some sort of fucking form and subsequently driving me to craft an ill-begotten paragraph from hell. Too many times, honestly. But I keep looking as if something out there is going to come and talk to me. Yeah, whatever. Maybe one day at a signal light a machine will flag me down and hop in the car. Heh. Not funny. Yep, as I suspected, I am driving into the city. Not bad, really, because it creates a line in the middle of the day and separates everything nicely. Plus, being out there in the world means I am not here, and thus I miss it. Returning feels really good. I need to secure some provisions, anyway, so may as well make the trip worthwhile. Along the way I can look around at the world and hopefully feel those things which occurred on the drive south the other day. I do not enjoy looking at others as if they are nothing. They are people. So, several positives for the drive. No worries. And they'll be assholes again soon enough. Heh.

I cannot push this to production too quickly. There needs to be a cooling off first, and I must streamline the text before displaying anything subject to public consumption. Pause.

Well now, the trip to the city was uneventful. We went to the market, as well, and that was nice. Everyone is wearing masks so the noise level is lower than ever which is perfect for me. I don't want to hear others talking anyway. With the business of being out finished and my daily tasks complete, here I am again. Sitting here half full of whiskey and ready to take on the issues. Heh, if only. The market held its own problems, one of them being a little Asian beauty that nearly ran over my foot with a produce cart. God damn was she ever adorable, and as such drove my thinking from cilantro to sushi. Also not funny. I guess I was in a mood due to the visions in the city. They often have a lasting effect which pushes me toward the nether regions. Now that I have been home for a couple of hours, those feelings have all but dissipated. Thank Christ. I don't need that girl's ass in my head right now. And her voice, too. So fucking cute that I can't begin to put it to the screen. Anyway, all desire aside, I am pleased to be at this point in the day. Sunday means garbage to the curb, which is finished. I even found room to extricate those items left over from last week. As of now, only shy of seventeen hundred, I am curled up with the machine and my thoughts. Soon this will be completed and I will polish and push. Not bad, considering I began this entry less than two days ago.

The test continues, with pressure both internal and external. I may not bring this type of thing up again, so understand the difficulty. I cannot describe it very well, though. I just feel it all over. Those items I cannot understand, combined with the issues I keep trying to solve, are pushing me into a very small space. The tensile will give way to pressure, and that, in turn, will create my need to be alone. More than ever. Until now I thought being alone meant the behavior thus far. Not anymore. It truly means I cannot communicate at all. Here, in person, via any electronic medium... None of it. I will have to be forceful, too. None who are familiar with me will easily swallow such an idea. In fact, I don't even know if I can do it. One of the core needs of humanity is contact with others. I do not believe we are meant to be alone. A long time ago I commented upon the universal number and the manner in which it relates to the weight of a human soul. Well, there may be no opposition to such logic, be it internal or derived through divination. That could be it. Or it could not. I just don't fucking know. The fact that my condition is worsening means that it will affect others, good or bad. I cannot clarify this so quickly, either. The next few entries will hopefully help. Again, and I can never state this enough, I do not know. There it is again... The beginning of wisdom.

I will not include imagery this provocative in the future. No promises, though. Just live with it.

Here we go again... She is out there and I love her, yet I have no idea who she may be. The idea? We've gone over that already. There has GOT to be something else... Something more, damn it."



top
logo


Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com   All rights reserved
All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners
Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8
Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge