December 15th, 2020 12:02pm pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning The Code Project read ( words) "12-14. Ok, I do not work for some federal agency -- the years as a contractor to NASA notwithstanding -- but years ago I attempted to create a cryptographic code which might actually be unbreakable. I'm not an expert by any means, although the more I look at it the less I see that someone would be able to decode anything written in such a manner. Basically, each letter of the alphabet or numeral would be represented by a six-digit number, and none of them would ever repeat. The legwork required for coding and decoding could be time consuming, although the system would be used for short messages only. I believe I first came up with the idea in the mid-nineties while designing a tattoo. After that, I basically just sat on it until a few years ago. I entered the previously only paper-written code into MS Excel and organized everything. Now I just look at it from time to time and wonder if the idea may be worth anything. I honestly do not know if anyone would be able to decipher the numbers. I could be wrong. My knowledge of such things is quite limited. It was just an idea. The length of each word could be extreme. Six-digit numbers for each letter? Doesn't seem practical for daily use, maybe just special occasions. An example... 2153631 113417 204478 190367 184639 is a word, and don't be concerned with the some digits being seven numerals long instead of six. Just another little tidbit to make it confusing. I just can't see anyone making sense of it. The tough part is trying to automate the process of coding and decoding. I need software or a basic language program which could generate each character and then reverse the process through a simple search. As of yet, I do not know how to do that. I haven't really put much effort into automation, though. I didn't think I would ever try to do anything with this code. I still don't know. The numbers could also be all run together like one long set. That might be even more confusing... 2153631113417204478190367184639 is the same word. Figure it out. Monday morning, and yesterday went along just as I had expected. Yesterday, indeed. I was not in a very good mood but went to watch football anyway. I kept thinking that some type of change is necessary for me to carry on and feel good about some of myself. Can I take steps? I don't know. No answers, as usual. Everything leads me to be unsure. Yesterday began as the trailing end of the night before, meaning I was not feeling positive at all. The past is grabbing at my ability to cope with such vast changes, even considering the sheer number of years gone by. I don't know how to deal with where I am versus where I was. The promise and possibility are absent now. Too much has transpired for me to simply take others' advice to heart and do something productive. Well, by game time I felt a little better, and most of that rise was due to a need to avoid ruining her day. We had a nice lunch and watched the game, lots of discussion took place, I fell down a few times over imagery... Typical football date. Now? I have the depression with a cherry on top: Issue two. Today I will have to prepare another couple of items to be listed, one of them possibly my second-favorite watch. I wore it yesterday in an attempt to determine whether or not I will miss it enough to cause trouble. I still don't know, however, so it may wait. So far, I have not tossed anything to auction that has any meaning beyond dollars. I've made that mistake several times and must keep it in mind these days. There are still plenty of little things which will add up to decent money. I also have the routine today, keeping an eye on the critters who tried to build a highway into the kitchen (smashed again, thanks to observation and understanding), and then whatever looks good for keeping ahead of the curve. The weather is once again sunny and mild, so any attic or outdoor work will be eased. The Milk Farm... Gone I brought up the code partly because for years I've considered publishing everything in such a manner so as to force others to attempt decoding. That way all of the newest entries since 'Finis...' can be public without worry. Kind of like Superheat. A puzzle. Well, I have yet to calculate just how I can automate the process. With each letter being six characters, one entry here could be several thousand of them. That is just too fucking tedious. Considering the average word length in the English language is 4.7 letters, a 2000 word essay computes to more than 56000 characters using the code I created. Yikes is an understatement. The words must automatically generate the numbers or I'll spend months on one update. Not good. But still, the idea is interesting. I would love to be able to make people think much more than they normally would, both to keep the minds sharp and to be a pain in the ass. I like it. I'll have to come back to the code. Too many things are floating in my head this morning. Nevada is basically closed for business. That would normally be my escape dream of choice, but these days the world is so fucked up that there is nowhere to hide. The whole situation sucks out loud. Words are bothering me, society is bothering me, women and the manner in which some think is bothering me, and the smell of the human and pet-friendly ant spray is bothering me. Stop. 12-15. The coffee is not good for some reason. I effectively cleaned up the ant problem yesterday and learned of the methods they use to enter the crawl space most of the time. This is good. I have a better grasp of where to focus during the cold, wet weather. Some chemicals are going to be procured for dealing with the perimeter of the house. All of the crap was cared for yesterday, my usual routine, and then the goddess visited to watch more of our show. The evening came and went, nice dinner I guess, and the other show as usual. Here and there I checked on my auctions to ensure everything is going smooth, also tapping into a few games. All in all, another day chalked up to my feeling as if I am going nowhere, and even if there is eventually some motivation to go further than I have in the last few months, I do not see a destination which can help or change me for the better. These days the only satisfaction I feel in life is either while cleaning the kitchen, watching one of the shows or preparing food for dinner. Other than that, I am a needle at zero and lacking the magnetic propulsion to move. This is not good. Only those little enjoyments now, and they are waning terribly. Leeta up there this morning, Brooke the first last night (God help me for the thoughts about her character), and one of the many Ashleys graced the screen earlier in the evening. Brooke is going to force me to employ superlatives very soon, something I rather avoid most of the time because they tend to have a note of finality attached. Whatever took place last Christmas when her older film was aired stuck with me, although I did lose track since the beginning of this most difficult period. I was reminded a few nights ago and now can't deal with the sight in the same way. Rationalizing doesn't work now because my reality is so fractured that the other worlds in my head are taking precedence. Brooke is becoming a machine, and one who may end up quite the visual aid during the writing of fiction. I can't help it... Too unique and far too aligned with the structure of Jaime's face. Really? That shit again? Yep, that shit again. As I said, I don't have a lot of options for smiling these days. Withdrawal is key. There are several activities which used to help me to remain grounded through those difficult work weeks, especially during the warmer months. My time off used to fly by so quickly that unloading our tools and heading into a job site felt as if it was happening every five minutes. I would awaken on one of my precious Saturday mornings and absolutely worship the time available to do as I pleased. There was a bit of a schedule involved, mostly to maximize the hours left to me. The activities in question are all gone now. The routine changes sometimes because I have no set schedule due to having more free time than in years. I need not structure everything so tightly these days. I can do as I please, spend time working on whatever extraneous tasks are available, and pick my relaxation hours whenever I wish. All those years of doing the same thing over and over became ingrained, now feeling even more arduous than perhaps they were in reality, and the little vacations which felt like bliss are now gone for God-knows how long. Just another section of my head excavated and tossed out forever. The simplicity of four days in our hotel of choice and the fold of the gaming culture were much more valuable back then. Now that the atmosphere is all but lost for all time? I have little on the horizon to keep me upright and as positive as possible. The fantasy world is very small, too. I barely fit in there with all the necessities. Leeta's big, beautiful eyes are pulling at me. This episode originally aired at the beginning of ninety-six, when I was working at the glass plant and beginning the first personal computer assembly at home. Ninety six. Damn it. The little world has so many of those moments crammed inside that if I fully embrace the un-reality, I will probably choke to death. Ninety-six. During that year, my buddy and I were excited about the idea of playing some fantastic games which were only available on a PC. We then researched and built our respective machines at considerable expense, after which we acquired the software and were off to the races. I recall taking trips to several suppliers, one big store which is now gone, and visiting one of the holiest places in my universe... Fry's. Yes, that goofy store. God damn did I love going in there. [Aside... The goddess and I have visited the largest two stores just in the last couple of years. We ventured over there for a bit of shopping and I realized that the connection with the computers and working for my parents in the late nineties had a tremendous impact upon my life. No other store has remained so deep in my heart as that big electronics marketplace. Sitting here right now I am dreaming of being able to visit again, although the onset of massive online availability and the shrinking of technology has left that big box in a bad state. I do not know how long it can exist. If and when it disappears, the store will then stand as the disappearance of the final link to my shining years. Not good. I cannot get any feelings back. Too much has changed and even a simple image of the store will bring tears at times.] The cipher project would never have come about if not for my infantile beginnings with this type of coding. Believe it. Creating a web site came about early in ninety-seven to advertise the business my parents were trying to run. They relied upon me to help, and I even built all of the computers in the beginning. Everything is related. Think of the late nineties as another period in which I feel so many emotional connections, just like those four precious years which have been belabored here for months. The Grotto... Gone And I mentioned Leeta's eyes. Well, the past and my warm memories shut her down in a cold minute. Even Brooke the first, one of the most beautiful and unique women in memory (possibly the top of the list now for some reason) took a back seat more quickly than I would have deemed feasible. Those years are climbing to be the most definitive parts of my life. I cannot say enough, but it will suffice that the obsession and all other interests related to females become as ants at the mercy of my memory-induced magnifying glass. Burned away. They are just women, nothing more. And women are not the end-all be-all of human existence. Difficulty, pain, longing and unfulfilled desire which have caused me little good in half a century. I have to hold those years now, tighter than ever. I must explore and explain whenever I can, and as much as possible. The code brought me here. Numbers which I had no idea would cement more of the past than ever before. And here I am in the middle of more recollections than I could have imagined. The day is nearly all mine now. She forgot her phone this morning so at some point I will cruise down the highway and drop it off, afterward visiting the hardware store again. I don't mind going out in the morning these days as the people are fairly scarce. I have the routine in front of me, some other items to consider listing for auction, and plenty of shit in my head to explore through the keyboard. Too bad the likelihood of anyone reading this is nil. I have to keep issue four at bay, as well. Falling off that cliff will not help me to feel better about myself. Between the football the other day, the show yesterday, and the conversations related to both, now is not the time to be concerned about the word 'man'. I need exactly zero reminders of such things. We are now halfway through December -- much to my disappointment in the speedy passage of time -- and that means I need to cherish each second as if it were my last. I wish I had prescient insight into what may lie in wait next year. Nope. Nada. Fuck. I have to pause, I guess, and head down the highway to drop off her phone. The music will help. And back a couple of hours ago. My routine is nearly finished, only a load of dry cleaning in the garage remains. I stopped off at the hardware and grabbed a large bottle of orange oil-based spray to treat the perimeter of the house against possible intrusions. Barely a quarter of the expensive liquid was required to go all the way around. Very good, as I have learned that the little bastards will not tunnel under the foundation in order to escape rain or other threats. They always find a way in near the crawlspace vents or bottom plates resting on the foundation. This house is heading toward seventy years of age, meaning the availability of avenues for entry are many. With the oil spread along the edges continuously, I am not worried about anything taking place for some months, but will remain vigilant in the meantime. I know their behavior, patterns and mannerisms, so keeping them out should be easier this way. One more issue off my tired shoulders. I may head into the new office shortly after lunch and organize a little. Other than that, the plan is to take it easy for the remainder of my alone hours. The holy place... Gone 'Grab your little notepad, mister.' I couldn't think straight enough to save my life at that point. Standing there in the gun room and seeing her all soft and lovely, my head descended so far as to dream of the fact that at no other time in my life had I yearned for my hands cupping those big, round breasts and my head falling to her chest to taste her warm nipples. I could barely stand to think of anything else. She was gorgeous, exotic, and tiny, standing there next to the massive, cold, five-ton high-pressure coupling. My brain was inside her big bra in seconds. I believe she knew it, too, because her demeanor was playful and her dark eyes appeared understanding, as if all of my dreams were entirely up to her. She was very kind, constantly, and held me in high regard despite my need to be all over her skin. She read me like a book. I never faltered, either. Always respectful with every instinct held back, but her little body took me away from clear thinking that morning, and we moved along with the inspection while my desire swam laps inside her clothing. Gorgeous, to the last detail. An Asian and Island hybrid of the highest order. Dark, proportionate, and right there next to me day after day. She knew, and in years I never said or did anything. The one tidbit was her displaying a new bra for me after she recovered from augmentation surgery, a dream she needed to be comfortable within herself. I understood, was fascinated with the idea of increasing her curviness, and she helped me by including me in the mental and emotional parts of the process. In my opinion? She needed nothing altered. To her? It was extremely important. I went along and became enamored with the calm nature of our conversations. She also knew of my then-obsession for the appearance of Asian women, resulting in knowing she was aligned with all of the details over which I gushed. All of them, and then an oversized chest to stick out and force her other features to be exaggerated. I loved her look, head to toe. She appreciated the manner in which I spoke of the same, and we eventually fell into understanding and knowing expressions whenever in the company of the other. Nothing more, however. A few short years later, that career ended and I have not seen her since. My loss, not hers. The inspection that morning was right smack dab in the middle of the Asian thingy. Her hybrid nature coupled with such a kind personality had me at sixes and sevens during every single visit. They were quite often, too. I had to concentrate each day when I knew she was coming to one of our buildings. I used to dream nightly about us being all over each other in one of the many hiding places in those old locations. By the time I was tossed to the curb by management, my fascination with slender Asian women with long, dark hair had faded almost completely. Never again would I be so close to a sweet woman with such a unique appearance coupled with complete understanding. Again... My loss. A big one. I can still see her standing there, all black curly hair and smooth skin, and smiling at me in the knowledge that I appreciated all of her, inside and out. Damn it all, anyway. I still have the little notepad. Why am I remembering her now? I don't know, but the images of us going about our weekly business together are warm. That time is when I created the code, partially because I wished to covertly communicate with another person, but no one in particular. This morning on the ride back from dropping off the phone, there was a woman on the side of the highway yapping into her phone while awaiting either a car service or the bus. A flash of adventure popped into my head, much like those trips to the goblet in which my primary mission was to hide and relax completely out of the reach of others. I had often dreamed of a confidant of sorts -- a woman -- who was similarly in need of getting away from everyone and everything. The code relates to the person on the highway this morning in that I was reminded of searching for someone and communicating in a manner consistent with keeping us secret. Crazy, I know, but I felt it nonetheless, and those dreams from so many years ago are still strong. I believe my friend the safety engineer was a prime suspect in dreaming of running off somewhere isolated and going about our business (like at work) in a very covert way. The code relates to so many feelings over such a long period of time that I have been slammed with memories just since seeing the spreadsheet yesterday. The leverage I need right now One other interesting feeling as it relates to the idea of others' eyes on me is the fact that many years ago (the beginning of my time with NASA) I drove a small wagon with deep tint on the windows due to the sheer square footage of glass inherent in such a vehicle. I didn't want anyone seeing me, although the front door windows needed to be lighter in avoidance of a citation. The law in California is such that there can be nothing darker than factory tinted glass forward of the driver's shoulder. Well, I stretched it a bit with roughly twenty percent. I was never cited for the darkness and found comfort in the fact that the gray helped to create quite the glare on the outside during bright days and that meant less eyes upon me. Nice. Well, my discomfort with people looking at me extended to dining out, believe it or not. I spent a few seconds in a restaurant spying the most isolated area for seating, and if nothing was available, I generally opted to create 'cover' around me if in the middle of the dining room. Glasses, a napkin holder, centerpiece, or other distractions were immediately moved in order to create a circle of sorts, like blocking people from seeing the space directly in front of me. Silly, I realize, but the fear was real enough to force me into hiding as much as was feasible given the openness of most restaurants. The car ended up being a tad uncomfortable when I drove to work in the morning. The hour was very early as we lived quite a distance away. In fact, even during summer, by the time I reached work more than an hour after departing from home, the sky was still black. Headlights began to irritate and pushed me to think that the light coming in the sides and rear of the car was illuminating me even after going to such lengths with the tint. So, I grabbed some Duvatine -- very expensive light-blocking fabric used for photography and laser projection -- from work and hung a 'curtain' of sorts along the top of everything behind my shoulder. No more headlights. The inside of the car was very dark, to say the least. The curtain was on cup hooks and could be removed and folded for storage in a matter of minutes. Yes, I know how nuts I was over the idea of being hidden, but such was my apprehension regarding eyes on me. The comfort was very important at the time but soon faded after we moved roughly halfway closer to my place of work. Other aspects of life got in the way and the importance of being unseen while driving went away (mostly). My code project was just another way of keeping my inner workings from being exposed to other people. Simple, I suppose. Unfortunately, I never had occasion to use it in the manner for which it was originally created -- to secretly communicate with a woman who felt as I. These days I have little reason to believe any situation such as I have described will ever come to pass. Technology has sidestepped everything I have created in my life. Now? I am hiding in the house just as the last nearly nine months since the initial shelter order and my subsequent exit from work. Yes, hiding. Even while outside spraying the orange oil around the house, I felt a tinge of discomfort for being exposed. Of course, this type of thing comes and goes as I have spent many days, weeks, months... Years in bars and gatherings with tons of other people. I believe now, after holing up in this space for so long, the fear has returned with some force. My cipher idea is old now, too, but still a touch compelling. The woman on the side of the road pushed memories of those ancient dreams into my head, all the way back to dreaming of a young girl named 'Shilo', after the song by Neil. She was not real, but lived in my head as a fantasy born of my inability to fit in and be just another kid in school. I was not, am still not, and will probably retract even further into the wonder of those impossible situations which seem the only avenue to true comfort in life." This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
December 15th, 2020 12:02pm pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning The Code Project read ( words) "12-14. Ok, I do not work for some federal agency -- the years as a contractor to NASA notwithstanding -- but years ago I attempted to create a cryptographic code which might actually be unbreakable. I'm not an expert by any means, although the more I look at it the less I see that someone would be able to decode anything written in such a manner. Basically, each letter of the alphabet or numeral would be represented by a six-digit number, and none of them would ever repeat. The legwork required for coding and decoding could be time consuming, although the system would be used for short messages only. I believe I first came up with the idea in the mid-nineties while designing a tattoo. After that, I basically just sat on it until a few years ago. I entered the previously only paper-written code into MS Excel and organized everything. Now I just look at it from time to time and wonder if the idea may be worth anything. I honestly do not know if anyone would be able to decipher the numbers. I could be wrong. My knowledge of such things is quite limited. It was just an idea. The length of each word could be extreme. Six-digit numbers for each letter? Doesn't seem practical for daily use, maybe just special occasions. An example... 2153631 113417 204478 190367 184639 is a word, and don't be concerned with the some digits being seven numerals long instead of six. Just another little tidbit to make it confusing. I just can't see anyone making sense of it. The tough part is trying to automate the process of coding and decoding. I need software or a basic language program which could generate each character and then reverse the process through a simple search. As of yet, I do not know how to do that. I haven't really put much effort into automation, though. I didn't think I would ever try to do anything with this code. I still don't know. The numbers could also be all run together like one long set. That might be even more confusing... 2153631113417204478190367184639 is the same word. Figure it out. Monday morning, and yesterday went along just as I had expected. Yesterday, indeed. I was not in a very good mood but went to watch football anyway. I kept thinking that some type of change is necessary for me to carry on and feel good about some of myself. Can I take steps? I don't know. No answers, as usual. Everything leads me to be unsure. Yesterday began as the trailing end of the night before, meaning I was not feeling positive at all. The past is grabbing at my ability to cope with such vast changes, even considering the sheer number of years gone by. I don't know how to deal with where I am versus where I was. The promise and possibility are absent now. Too much has transpired for me to simply take others' advice to heart and do something productive. Well, by game time I felt a little better, and most of that rise was due to a need to avoid ruining her day. We had a nice lunch and watched the game, lots of discussion took place, I fell down a few times over imagery... Typical football date. Now? I have the depression with a cherry on top: Issue two. Today I will have to prepare another couple of items to be listed, one of them possibly my second-favorite watch. I wore it yesterday in an attempt to determine whether or not I will miss it enough to cause trouble. I still don't know, however, so it may wait. So far, I have not tossed anything to auction that has any meaning beyond dollars. I've made that mistake several times and must keep it in mind these days. There are still plenty of little things which will add up to decent money. I also have the routine today, keeping an eye on the critters who tried to build a highway into the kitchen (smashed again, thanks to observation and understanding), and then whatever looks good for keeping ahead of the curve. The weather is once again sunny and mild, so any attic or outdoor work will be eased. The Milk Farm... Gone I brought up the code partly because for years I've considered publishing everything in such a manner so as to force others to attempt decoding. That way all of the newest entries since 'Finis...' can be public without worry. Kind of like Superheat. A puzzle. Well, I have yet to calculate just how I can automate the process. With each letter being six characters, one entry here could be several thousand of them. That is just too fucking tedious. Considering the average word length in the English language is 4.7 letters, a 2000 word essay computes to more than 56000 characters using the code I created. Yikes is an understatement. The words must automatically generate the numbers or I'll spend months on one update. Not good. But still, the idea is interesting. I would love to be able to make people think much more than they normally would, both to keep the minds sharp and to be a pain in the ass. I like it. I'll have to come back to the code. Too many things are floating in my head this morning. Nevada is basically closed for business. That would normally be my escape dream of choice, but these days the world is so fucked up that there is nowhere to hide. The whole situation sucks out loud. Words are bothering me, society is bothering me, women and the manner in which some think is bothering me, and the smell of the human and pet-friendly ant spray is bothering me. Stop. 12-15. The coffee is not good for some reason. I effectively cleaned up the ant problem yesterday and learned of the methods they use to enter the crawl space most of the time. This is good. I have a better grasp of where to focus during the cold, wet weather. Some chemicals are going to be procured for dealing with the perimeter of the house. All of the crap was cared for yesterday, my usual routine, and then the goddess visited to watch more of our show. The evening came and went, nice dinner I guess, and the other show as usual. Here and there I checked on my auctions to ensure everything is going smooth, also tapping into a few games. All in all, another day chalked up to my feeling as if I am going nowhere, and even if there is eventually some motivation to go further than I have in the last few months, I do not see a destination which can help or change me for the better. These days the only satisfaction I feel in life is either while cleaning the kitchen, watching one of the shows or preparing food for dinner. Other than that, I am a needle at zero and lacking the magnetic propulsion to move. This is not good. Only those little enjoyments now, and they are waning terribly. Leeta up there this morning, Brooke the first last night (God help me for the thoughts about her character), and one of the many Ashleys graced the screen earlier in the evening. Brooke is going to force me to employ superlatives very soon, something I rather avoid most of the time because they tend to have a note of finality attached. Whatever took place last Christmas when her older film was aired stuck with me, although I did lose track since the beginning of this most difficult period. I was reminded a few nights ago and now can't deal with the sight in the same way. Rationalizing doesn't work now because my reality is so fractured that the other worlds in my head are taking precedence. Brooke is becoming a machine, and one who may end up quite the visual aid during the writing of fiction. I can't help it... Too unique and far too aligned with the structure of Jaime's face. Really? That shit again? Yep, that shit again. As I said, I don't have a lot of options for smiling these days. Withdrawal is key. There are several activities which used to help me to remain grounded through those difficult work weeks, especially during the warmer months. My time off used to fly by so quickly that unloading our tools and heading into a job site felt as if it was happening every five minutes. I would awaken on one of my precious Saturday mornings and absolutely worship the time available to do as I pleased. There was a bit of a schedule involved, mostly to maximize the hours left to me. The activities in question are all gone now. The routine changes sometimes because I have no set schedule due to having more free time than in years. I need not structure everything so tightly these days. I can do as I please, spend time working on whatever extraneous tasks are available, and pick my relaxation hours whenever I wish. All those years of doing the same thing over and over became ingrained, now feeling even more arduous than perhaps they were in reality, and the little vacations which felt like bliss are now gone for God-knows how long. Just another section of my head excavated and tossed out forever. The simplicity of four days in our hotel of choice and the fold of the gaming culture were much more valuable back then. Now that the atmosphere is all but lost for all time? I have little on the horizon to keep me upright and as positive as possible. The fantasy world is very small, too. I barely fit in there with all the necessities. Leeta's big, beautiful eyes are pulling at me. This episode originally aired at the beginning of ninety-six, when I was working at the glass plant and beginning the first personal computer assembly at home. Ninety six. Damn it. The little world has so many of those moments crammed inside that if I fully embrace the un-reality, I will probably choke to death. Ninety-six. During that year, my buddy and I were excited about the idea of playing some fantastic games which were only available on a PC. We then researched and built our respective machines at considerable expense, after which we acquired the software and were off to the races. I recall taking trips to several suppliers, one big store which is now gone, and visiting one of the holiest places in my universe... Fry's. Yes, that goofy store. God damn did I love going in there. [Aside... The goddess and I have visited the largest two stores just in the last couple of years. We ventured over there for a bit of shopping and I realized that the connection with the computers and working for my parents in the late nineties had a tremendous impact upon my life. No other store has remained so deep in my heart as that big electronics marketplace. Sitting here right now I am dreaming of being able to visit again, although the onset of massive online availability and the shrinking of technology has left that big box in a bad state. I do not know how long it can exist. If and when it disappears, the store will then stand as the disappearance of the final link to my shining years. Not good. I cannot get any feelings back. Too much has changed and even a simple image of the store will bring tears at times.] The cipher project would never have come about if not for my infantile beginnings with this type of coding. Believe it. Creating a web site came about early in ninety-seven to advertise the business my parents were trying to run. They relied upon me to help, and I even built all of the computers in the beginning. Everything is related. Think of the late nineties as another period in which I feel so many emotional connections, just like those four precious years which have been belabored here for months. The Grotto... Gone And I mentioned Leeta's eyes. Well, the past and my warm memories shut her down in a cold minute. Even Brooke the first, one of the most beautiful and unique women in memory (possibly the top of the list now for some reason) took a back seat more quickly than I would have deemed feasible. Those years are climbing to be the most definitive parts of my life. I cannot say enough, but it will suffice that the obsession and all other interests related to females become as ants at the mercy of my memory-induced magnifying glass. Burned away. They are just women, nothing more. And women are not the end-all be-all of human existence. Difficulty, pain, longing and unfulfilled desire which have caused me little good in half a century. I have to hold those years now, tighter than ever. I must explore and explain whenever I can, and as much as possible. The code brought me here. Numbers which I had no idea would cement more of the past than ever before. And here I am in the middle of more recollections than I could have imagined. The day is nearly all mine now. She forgot her phone this morning so at some point I will cruise down the highway and drop it off, afterward visiting the hardware store again. I don't mind going out in the morning these days as the people are fairly scarce. I have the routine in front of me, some other items to consider listing for auction, and plenty of shit in my head to explore through the keyboard. Too bad the likelihood of anyone reading this is nil. I have to keep issue four at bay, as well. Falling off that cliff will not help me to feel better about myself. Between the football the other day, the show yesterday, and the conversations related to both, now is not the time to be concerned about the word 'man'. I need exactly zero reminders of such things. We are now halfway through December -- much to my disappointment in the speedy passage of time -- and that means I need to cherish each second as if it were my last. I wish I had prescient insight into what may lie in wait next year. Nope. Nada. Fuck. I have to pause, I guess, and head down the highway to drop off her phone. The music will help. And back a couple of hours ago. My routine is nearly finished, only a load of dry cleaning in the garage remains. I stopped off at the hardware and grabbed a large bottle of orange oil-based spray to treat the perimeter of the house against possible intrusions. Barely a quarter of the expensive liquid was required to go all the way around. Very good, as I have learned that the little bastards will not tunnel under the foundation in order to escape rain or other threats. They always find a way in near the crawlspace vents or bottom plates resting on the foundation. This house is heading toward seventy years of age, meaning the availability of avenues for entry are many. With the oil spread along the edges continuously, I am not worried about anything taking place for some months, but will remain vigilant in the meantime. I know their behavior, patterns and mannerisms, so keeping them out should be easier this way. One more issue off my tired shoulders. I may head into the new office shortly after lunch and organize a little. Other than that, the plan is to take it easy for the remainder of my alone hours. The holy place... Gone 'Grab your little notepad, mister.' I couldn't think straight enough to save my life at that point. Standing there in the gun room and seeing her all soft and lovely, my head descended so far as to dream of the fact that at no other time in my life had I yearned for my hands cupping those big, round breasts and my head falling to her chest to taste her warm nipples. I could barely stand to think of anything else. She was gorgeous, exotic, and tiny, standing there next to the massive, cold, five-ton high-pressure coupling. My brain was inside her big bra in seconds. I believe she knew it, too, because her demeanor was playful and her dark eyes appeared understanding, as if all of my dreams were entirely up to her. She was very kind, constantly, and held me in high regard despite my need to be all over her skin. She read me like a book. I never faltered, either. Always respectful with every instinct held back, but her little body took me away from clear thinking that morning, and we moved along with the inspection while my desire swam laps inside her clothing. Gorgeous, to the last detail. An Asian and Island hybrid of the highest order. Dark, proportionate, and right there next to me day after day. She knew, and in years I never said or did anything. The one tidbit was her displaying a new bra for me after she recovered from augmentation surgery, a dream she needed to be comfortable within herself. I understood, was fascinated with the idea of increasing her curviness, and she helped me by including me in the mental and emotional parts of the process. In my opinion? She needed nothing altered. To her? It was extremely important. I went along and became enamored with the calm nature of our conversations. She also knew of my then-obsession for the appearance of Asian women, resulting in knowing she was aligned with all of the details over which I gushed. All of them, and then an oversized chest to stick out and force her other features to be exaggerated. I loved her look, head to toe. She appreciated the manner in which I spoke of the same, and we eventually fell into understanding and knowing expressions whenever in the company of the other. Nothing more, however. A few short years later, that career ended and I have not seen her since. My loss, not hers. The inspection that morning was right smack dab in the middle of the Asian thingy. Her hybrid nature coupled with such a kind personality had me at sixes and sevens during every single visit. They were quite often, too. I had to concentrate each day when I knew she was coming to one of our buildings. I used to dream nightly about us being all over each other in one of the many hiding places in those old locations. By the time I was tossed to the curb by management, my fascination with slender Asian women with long, dark hair had faded almost completely. Never again would I be so close to a sweet woman with such a unique appearance coupled with complete understanding. Again... My loss. A big one. I can still see her standing there, all black curly hair and smooth skin, and smiling at me in the knowledge that I appreciated all of her, inside and out. Damn it all, anyway. I still have the little notepad. Why am I remembering her now? I don't know, but the images of us going about our weekly business together are warm. That time is when I created the code, partially because I wished to covertly communicate with another person, but no one in particular. This morning on the ride back from dropping off the phone, there was a woman on the side of the highway yapping into her phone while awaiting either a car service or the bus. A flash of adventure popped into my head, much like those trips to the goblet in which my primary mission was to hide and relax completely out of the reach of others. I had often dreamed of a confidant of sorts -- a woman -- who was similarly in need of getting away from everyone and everything. The code relates to the person on the highway this morning in that I was reminded of searching for someone and communicating in a manner consistent with keeping us secret. Crazy, I know, but I felt it nonetheless, and those dreams from so many years ago are still strong. I believe my friend the safety engineer was a prime suspect in dreaming of running off somewhere isolated and going about our business (like at work) in a very covert way. The code relates to so many feelings over such a long period of time that I have been slammed with memories just since seeing the spreadsheet yesterday. The leverage I need right now One other interesting feeling as it relates to the idea of others' eyes on me is the fact that many years ago (the beginning of my time with NASA) I drove a small wagon with deep tint on the windows due to the sheer square footage of glass inherent in such a vehicle. I didn't want anyone seeing me, although the front door windows needed to be lighter in avoidance of a citation. The law in California is such that there can be nothing darker than factory tinted glass forward of the driver's shoulder. Well, I stretched it a bit with roughly twenty percent. I was never cited for the darkness and found comfort in the fact that the gray helped to create quite the glare on the outside during bright days and that meant less eyes upon me. Nice. Well, my discomfort with people looking at me extended to dining out, believe it or not. I spent a few seconds in a restaurant spying the most isolated area for seating, and if nothing was available, I generally opted to create 'cover' around me if in the middle of the dining room. Glasses, a napkin holder, centerpiece, or other distractions were immediately moved in order to create a circle of sorts, like blocking people from seeing the space directly in front of me. Silly, I realize, but the fear was real enough to force me into hiding as much as was feasible given the openness of most restaurants. The car ended up being a tad uncomfortable when I drove to work in the morning. The hour was very early as we lived quite a distance away. In fact, even during summer, by the time I reached work more than an hour after departing from home, the sky was still black. Headlights began to irritate and pushed me to think that the light coming in the sides and rear of the car was illuminating me even after going to such lengths with the tint. So, I grabbed some Duvatine -- very expensive light-blocking fabric used for photography and laser projection -- from work and hung a 'curtain' of sorts along the top of everything behind my shoulder. No more headlights. The inside of the car was very dark, to say the least. The curtain was on cup hooks and could be removed and folded for storage in a matter of minutes. Yes, I know how nuts I was over the idea of being hidden, but such was my apprehension regarding eyes on me. The comfort was very important at the time but soon faded after we moved roughly halfway closer to my place of work. Other aspects of life got in the way and the importance of being unseen while driving went away (mostly). My code project was just another way of keeping my inner workings from being exposed to other people. Simple, I suppose. Unfortunately, I never had occasion to use it in the manner for which it was originally created -- to secretly communicate with a woman who felt as I. These days I have little reason to believe any situation such as I have described will ever come to pass. Technology has sidestepped everything I have created in my life. Now? I am hiding in the house just as the last nearly nine months since the initial shelter order and my subsequent exit from work. Yes, hiding. Even while outside spraying the orange oil around the house, I felt a tinge of discomfort for being exposed. Of course, this type of thing comes and goes as I have spent many days, weeks, months... Years in bars and gatherings with tons of other people. I believe now, after holing up in this space for so long, the fear has returned with some force. My cipher idea is old now, too, but still a touch compelling. The woman on the side of the road pushed memories of those ancient dreams into my head, all the way back to dreaming of a young girl named 'Shilo', after the song by Neil. She was not real, but lived in my head as a fantasy born of my inability to fit in and be just another kid in school. I was not, am still not, and will probably retract even further into the wonder of those impossible situations which seem the only avenue to true comfort in life."
December 15th, 2020 12:02pm pst
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning
The Code Project
read ( words)
"12-14. Ok, I do not work for some federal agency -- the years as a contractor to NASA notwithstanding -- but years ago I attempted to create a cryptographic code which might actually be unbreakable. I'm not an expert by any means, although the more I look at it the less I see that someone would be able to decode anything written in such a manner. Basically, each letter of the alphabet or numeral would be represented by a six-digit number, and none of them would ever repeat. The legwork required for coding and decoding could be time consuming, although the system would be used for short messages only. I believe I first came up with the idea in the mid-nineties while designing a tattoo. After that, I basically just sat on it until a few years ago. I entered the previously only paper-written code into MS Excel and organized everything. Now I just look at it from time to time and wonder if the idea may be worth anything. I honestly do not know if anyone would be able to decipher the numbers. I could be wrong. My knowledge of such things is quite limited. It was just an idea. The length of each word could be extreme. Six-digit numbers for each letter? Doesn't seem practical for daily use, maybe just special occasions. An example... 2153631 113417 204478 190367 184639 is a word, and don't be concerned with the some digits being seven numerals long instead of six. Just another little tidbit to make it confusing. I just can't see anyone making sense of it. The tough part is trying to automate the process of coding and decoding. I need software or a basic language program which could generate each character and then reverse the process through a simple search. As of yet, I do not know how to do that. I haven't really put much effort into automation, though. I didn't think I would ever try to do anything with this code. I still don't know. The numbers could also be all run together like one long set. That might be even more confusing... 2153631113417204478190367184639 is the same word. Figure it out. Monday morning, and yesterday went along just as I had expected. Yesterday, indeed. I was not in a very good mood but went to watch football anyway. I kept thinking that some type of change is necessary for me to carry on and feel good about some of myself. Can I take steps? I don't know. No answers, as usual. Everything leads me to be unsure. Yesterday began as the trailing end of the night before, meaning I was not feeling positive at all. The past is grabbing at my ability to cope with such vast changes, even considering the sheer number of years gone by. I don't know how to deal with where I am versus where I was. The promise and possibility are absent now. Too much has transpired for me to simply take others' advice to heart and do something productive. Well, by game time I felt a little better, and most of that rise was due to a need to avoid ruining her day. We had a nice lunch and watched the game, lots of discussion took place, I fell down a few times over imagery... Typical football date. Now? I have the depression with a cherry on top: Issue two. Today I will have to prepare another couple of items to be listed, one of them possibly my second-favorite watch. I wore it yesterday in an attempt to determine whether or not I will miss it enough to cause trouble. I still don't know, however, so it may wait. So far, I have not tossed anything to auction that has any meaning beyond dollars. I've made that mistake several times and must keep it in mind these days. There are still plenty of little things which will add up to decent money. I also have the routine today, keeping an eye on the critters who tried to build a highway into the kitchen (smashed again, thanks to observation and understanding), and then whatever looks good for keeping ahead of the curve. The weather is once again sunny and mild, so any attic or outdoor work will be eased.
The Milk Farm... Gone
I brought up the code partly because for years I've considered publishing everything in such a manner so as to force others to attempt decoding. That way all of the newest entries since 'Finis...' can be public without worry. Kind of like Superheat. A puzzle. Well, I have yet to calculate just how I can automate the process. With each letter being six characters, one entry here could be several thousand of them. That is just too fucking tedious. Considering the average word length in the English language is 4.7 letters, a 2000 word essay computes to more than 56000 characters using the code I created. Yikes is an understatement. The words must automatically generate the numbers or I'll spend months on one update. Not good. But still, the idea is interesting. I would love to be able to make people think much more than they normally would, both to keep the minds sharp and to be a pain in the ass. I like it. I'll have to come back to the code. Too many things are floating in my head this morning. Nevada is basically closed for business. That would normally be my escape dream of choice, but these days the world is so fucked up that there is nowhere to hide. The whole situation sucks out loud. Words are bothering me, society is bothering me, women and the manner in which some think is bothering me, and the smell of the human and pet-friendly ant spray is bothering me. Stop. 12-15. The coffee is not good for some reason. I effectively cleaned up the ant problem yesterday and learned of the methods they use to enter the crawl space most of the time. This is good. I have a better grasp of where to focus during the cold, wet weather. Some chemicals are going to be procured for dealing with the perimeter of the house. All of the crap was cared for yesterday, my usual routine, and then the goddess visited to watch more of our show. The evening came and went, nice dinner I guess, and the other show as usual. Here and there I checked on my auctions to ensure everything is going smooth, also tapping into a few games. All in all, another day chalked up to my feeling as if I am going nowhere, and even if there is eventually some motivation to go further than I have in the last few months, I do not see a destination which can help or change me for the better. These days the only satisfaction I feel in life is either while cleaning the kitchen, watching one of the shows or preparing food for dinner. Other than that, I am a needle at zero and lacking the magnetic propulsion to move. This is not good. Only those little enjoyments now, and they are waning terribly. Leeta up there this morning, Brooke the first last night (God help me for the thoughts about her character), and one of the many Ashleys graced the screen earlier in the evening. Brooke is going to force me to employ superlatives very soon, something I rather avoid most of the time because they tend to have a note of finality attached. Whatever took place last Christmas when her older film was aired stuck with me, although I did lose track since the beginning of this most difficult period. I was reminded a few nights ago and now can't deal with the sight in the same way. Rationalizing doesn't work now because my reality is so fractured that the other worlds in my head are taking precedence. Brooke is becoming a machine, and one who may end up quite the visual aid during the writing of fiction. I can't help it... Too unique and far too aligned with the structure of Jaime's face. Really? That shit again? Yep, that shit again. As I said, I don't have a lot of options for smiling these days. Withdrawal is key. There are several activities which used to help me to remain grounded through those difficult work weeks, especially during the warmer months. My time off used to fly by so quickly that unloading our tools and heading into a job site felt as if it was happening every five minutes. I would awaken on one of my precious Saturday mornings and absolutely worship the time available to do as I pleased. There was a bit of a schedule involved, mostly to maximize the hours left to me. The activities in question are all gone now. The routine changes sometimes because I have no set schedule due to having more free time than in years. I need not structure everything so tightly these days. I can do as I please, spend time working on whatever extraneous tasks are available, and pick my relaxation hours whenever I wish. All those years of doing the same thing over and over became ingrained, now feeling even more arduous than perhaps they were in reality, and the little vacations which felt like bliss are now gone for God-knows how long. Just another section of my head excavated and tossed out forever. The simplicity of four days in our hotel of choice and the fold of the gaming culture were much more valuable back then. Now that the atmosphere is all but lost for all time? I have little on the horizon to keep me upright and as positive as possible. The fantasy world is very small, too. I barely fit in there with all the necessities. Leeta's big, beautiful eyes are pulling at me. This episode originally aired at the beginning of ninety-six, when I was working at the glass plant and beginning the first personal computer assembly at home. Ninety six. Damn it. The little world has so many of those moments crammed inside that if I fully embrace the un-reality, I will probably choke to death. Ninety-six. During that year, my buddy and I were excited about the idea of playing some fantastic games which were only available on a PC. We then researched and built our respective machines at considerable expense, after which we acquired the software and were off to the races. I recall taking trips to several suppliers, one big store which is now gone, and visiting one of the holiest places in my universe... Fry's. Yes, that goofy store. God damn did I love going in there. [Aside... The goddess and I have visited the largest two stores just in the last couple of years. We ventured over there for a bit of shopping and I realized that the connection with the computers and working for my parents in the late nineties had a tremendous impact upon my life. No other store has remained so deep in my heart as that big electronics marketplace. Sitting here right now I am dreaming of being able to visit again, although the onset of massive online availability and the shrinking of technology has left that big box in a bad state. I do not know how long it can exist. If and when it disappears, the store will then stand as the disappearance of the final link to my shining years. Not good. I cannot get any feelings back. Too much has changed and even a simple image of the store will bring tears at times.] The cipher project would never have come about if not for my infantile beginnings with this type of coding. Believe it. Creating a web site came about early in ninety-seven to advertise the business my parents were trying to run. They relied upon me to help, and I even built all of the computers in the beginning. Everything is related. Think of the late nineties as another period in which I feel so many emotional connections, just like those four precious years which have been belabored here for months.
The Grotto... Gone
And I mentioned Leeta's eyes. Well, the past and my warm memories shut her down in a cold minute. Even Brooke the first, one of the most beautiful and unique women in memory (possibly the top of the list now for some reason) took a back seat more quickly than I would have deemed feasible. Those years are climbing to be the most definitive parts of my life. I cannot say enough, but it will suffice that the obsession and all other interests related to females become as ants at the mercy of my memory-induced magnifying glass. Burned away. They are just women, nothing more. And women are not the end-all be-all of human existence. Difficulty, pain, longing and unfulfilled desire which have caused me little good in half a century. I have to hold those years now, tighter than ever. I must explore and explain whenever I can, and as much as possible. The code brought me here. Numbers which I had no idea would cement more of the past than ever before. And here I am in the middle of more recollections than I could have imagined. The day is nearly all mine now. She forgot her phone this morning so at some point I will cruise down the highway and drop it off, afterward visiting the hardware store again. I don't mind going out in the morning these days as the people are fairly scarce. I have the routine in front of me, some other items to consider listing for auction, and plenty of shit in my head to explore through the keyboard. Too bad the likelihood of anyone reading this is nil. I have to keep issue four at bay, as well. Falling off that cliff will not help me to feel better about myself. Between the football the other day, the show yesterday, and the conversations related to both, now is not the time to be concerned about the word 'man'. I need exactly zero reminders of such things. We are now halfway through December -- much to my disappointment in the speedy passage of time -- and that means I need to cherish each second as if it were my last. I wish I had prescient insight into what may lie in wait next year. Nope. Nada. Fuck. I have to pause, I guess, and head down the highway to drop off her phone. The music will help. And back a couple of hours ago. My routine is nearly finished, only a load of dry cleaning in the garage remains. I stopped off at the hardware and grabbed a large bottle of orange oil-based spray to treat the perimeter of the house against possible intrusions. Barely a quarter of the expensive liquid was required to go all the way around. Very good, as I have learned that the little bastards will not tunnel under the foundation in order to escape rain or other threats. They always find a way in near the crawlspace vents or bottom plates resting on the foundation. This house is heading toward seventy years of age, meaning the availability of avenues for entry are many. With the oil spread along the edges continuously, I am not worried about anything taking place for some months, but will remain vigilant in the meantime. I know their behavior, patterns and mannerisms, so keeping them out should be easier this way. One more issue off my tired shoulders. I may head into the new office shortly after lunch and organize a little. Other than that, the plan is to take it easy for the remainder of my alone hours.
The holy place... Gone
'Grab your little notepad, mister.' I couldn't think straight enough to save my life at that point. Standing there in the gun room and seeing her all soft and lovely, my head descended so far as to dream of the fact that at no other time in my life had I yearned for my hands cupping those big, round breasts and my head falling to her chest to taste her warm nipples. I could barely stand to think of anything else. She was gorgeous, exotic, and tiny, standing there next to the massive, cold, five-ton high-pressure coupling. My brain was inside her big bra in seconds. I believe she knew it, too, because her demeanor was playful and her dark eyes appeared understanding, as if all of my dreams were entirely up to her. She was very kind, constantly, and held me in high regard despite my need to be all over her skin. She read me like a book. I never faltered, either. Always respectful with every instinct held back, but her little body took me away from clear thinking that morning, and we moved along with the inspection while my desire swam laps inside her clothing. Gorgeous, to the last detail. An Asian and Island hybrid of the highest order. Dark, proportionate, and right there next to me day after day. She knew, and in years I never said or did anything. The one tidbit was her displaying a new bra for me after she recovered from augmentation surgery, a dream she needed to be comfortable within herself. I understood, was fascinated with the idea of increasing her curviness, and she helped me by including me in the mental and emotional parts of the process. In my opinion? She needed nothing altered. To her? It was extremely important. I went along and became enamored with the calm nature of our conversations. She also knew of my then-obsession for the appearance of Asian women, resulting in knowing she was aligned with all of the details over which I gushed. All of them, and then an oversized chest to stick out and force her other features to be exaggerated. I loved her look, head to toe. She appreciated the manner in which I spoke of the same, and we eventually fell into understanding and knowing expressions whenever in the company of the other. Nothing more, however. A few short years later, that career ended and I have not seen her since. My loss, not hers. The inspection that morning was right smack dab in the middle of the Asian thingy. Her hybrid nature coupled with such a kind personality had me at sixes and sevens during every single visit. They were quite often, too. I had to concentrate each day when I knew she was coming to one of our buildings. I used to dream nightly about us being all over each other in one of the many hiding places in those old locations. By the time I was tossed to the curb by management, my fascination with slender Asian women with long, dark hair had faded almost completely. Never again would I be so close to a sweet woman with such a unique appearance coupled with complete understanding. Again... My loss. A big one. I can still see her standing there, all black curly hair and smooth skin, and smiling at me in the knowledge that I appreciated all of her, inside and out. Damn it all, anyway. I still have the little notepad. Why am I remembering her now? I don't know, but the images of us going about our weekly business together are warm. That time is when I created the code, partially because I wished to covertly communicate with another person, but no one in particular. This morning on the ride back from dropping off the phone, there was a woman on the side of the highway yapping into her phone while awaiting either a car service or the bus. A flash of adventure popped into my head, much like those trips to the goblet in which my primary mission was to hide and relax completely out of the reach of others. I had often dreamed of a confidant of sorts -- a woman -- who was similarly in need of getting away from everyone and everything. The code relates to the person on the highway this morning in that I was reminded of searching for someone and communicating in a manner consistent with keeping us secret. Crazy, I know, but I felt it nonetheless, and those dreams from so many years ago are still strong. I believe my friend the safety engineer was a prime suspect in dreaming of running off somewhere isolated and going about our business (like at work) in a very covert way. The code relates to so many feelings over such a long period of time that I have been slammed with memories just since seeing the spreadsheet yesterday.
The leverage I need right now
One other interesting feeling as it relates to the idea of others' eyes on me is the fact that many years ago (the beginning of my time with NASA) I drove a small wagon with deep tint on the windows due to the sheer square footage of glass inherent in such a vehicle. I didn't want anyone seeing me, although the front door windows needed to be lighter in avoidance of a citation. The law in California is such that there can be nothing darker than factory tinted glass forward of the driver's shoulder. Well, I stretched it a bit with roughly twenty percent. I was never cited for the darkness and found comfort in the fact that the gray helped to create quite the glare on the outside during bright days and that meant less eyes upon me. Nice. Well, my discomfort with people looking at me extended to dining out, believe it or not. I spent a few seconds in a restaurant spying the most isolated area for seating, and if nothing was available, I generally opted to create 'cover' around me if in the middle of the dining room. Glasses, a napkin holder, centerpiece, or other distractions were immediately moved in order to create a circle of sorts, like blocking people from seeing the space directly in front of me. Silly, I realize, but the fear was real enough to force me into hiding as much as was feasible given the openness of most restaurants. The car ended up being a tad uncomfortable when I drove to work in the morning. The hour was very early as we lived quite a distance away. In fact, even during summer, by the time I reached work more than an hour after departing from home, the sky was still black. Headlights began to irritate and pushed me to think that the light coming in the sides and rear of the car was illuminating me even after going to such lengths with the tint. So, I grabbed some Duvatine -- very expensive light-blocking fabric used for photography and laser projection -- from work and hung a 'curtain' of sorts along the top of everything behind my shoulder. No more headlights. The inside of the car was very dark, to say the least. The curtain was on cup hooks and could be removed and folded for storage in a matter of minutes. Yes, I know how nuts I was over the idea of being hidden, but such was my apprehension regarding eyes on me. The comfort was very important at the time but soon faded after we moved roughly halfway closer to my place of work. Other aspects of life got in the way and the importance of being unseen while driving went away (mostly). My code project was just another way of keeping my inner workings from being exposed to other people. Simple, I suppose. Unfortunately, I never had occasion to use it in the manner for which it was originally created -- to secretly communicate with a woman who felt as I. These days I have little reason to believe any situation such as I have described will ever come to pass. Technology has sidestepped everything I have created in my life. Now? I am hiding in the house just as the last nearly nine months since the initial shelter order and my subsequent exit from work. Yes, hiding. Even while outside spraying the orange oil around the house, I felt a tinge of discomfort for being exposed. Of course, this type of thing comes and goes as I have spent many days, weeks, months... Years in bars and gatherings with tons of other people. I believe now, after holing up in this space for so long, the fear has returned with some force. My cipher idea is old now, too, but still a touch compelling. The woman on the side of the road pushed memories of those ancient dreams into my head, all the way back to dreaming of a young girl named 'Shilo', after the song by Neil. She was not real, but lived in my head as a fantasy born of my inability to fit in and be just another kid in school. I was not, am still not, and will probably retract even further into the wonder of those impossible situations which seem the only avenue to true comfort in life."
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