Encapsulation Mature content No. 136 Published June 2nd, 2020 6:08am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Blackness. I must be inside what I have crafted. This is one for the ages. Still in the auxiliary office with the television in the background and the day's work nearly complete. At least having things done on a holiday weekend feels good, if nothing else. Some free time, a head full of her, and the space to relax and consider everything important is very good right now. I have to stay away from others, too. Being near people now causes me to feel slightly uncomfortable. The weather continues to warm since three days ago and should peak two days from now. Today is the holiday which means the flags are out, there will be lots of barbecues lit this afternoon, and the beach will likely resemble downtown Disneyland on Labor Day. That's funny. Today is Memorial Day, but I always use the other one when trying to describe a crowd. Arlene is so dopey-cute that she makes my eyes water sometimes. I want to hug her. She kind of reminds me of Michelle back so many years ago and her nonexistent intelligence quotient at times. Cute unlike anyone else, but oy gawd I had to care for her. The most beautiful box of rocks ever. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved that girl. Her lack of brainpower was not a negative at all. It was her, through and through. Had she been smarter in any way, the girl would not have been the same. Arlene is street smart on the show, but often has an expression which conveys a lack of understanding at the simplest question. So fucking cute. I've always been a pushover when it comes to those not terribly smart. I mean no disrespect to anyone. Just a thing. Now Hoyt is hitting on the most disgusting girl. Geez, dude. Walk away. Sorry. Moving along. I mentioned the thongs again in the last chapter of this crap. Well, the girls are not the same as last August when I watched them drop the wraps. Weeks ago in the midst of passion over the fucking walnut cutie and those two near the pool, I brought up dreaming of them along with my typical schoolyard crush slash dreamy needy clingy shit which reduced itself down to intense physical desire after the fact. That's a mouthful, eh? Anyway, I can still see their neutral-colored swimsuits (what there was of them) and the expression on their likely-mom's face when I traipsed across the heated pavement for a cooling dip in the water. She looked upon me as if I was one of two things: Either Satan arriving to consume her spawn, or a person she appreciated walking by their position at the edge of the pool. Upon returning to my lounger in the shade, the goddess next to me informed my sorry head that the 'mom' was clocking me the entire time, and not in a bad way. Okay, that's fine. Did I see her? Yep, our eyes met as I tried to keep the girls out of my wanting vision. That required much effort. I am surprised to have navigated the walk toward the pool over and over without stumbling. I passed within eight feet of them at the steps but kept my gaze away out of respect. Had mom spied me drooling all over her unreal daughters, I would have left the pool area immediately. I am a pretty fucked up individual, but the last thing I want is to make another person uncomfortable for any reason. Two parts of the situation were going through my head as I took those walks to dip myself into the pool. One was the idea of those two girls being right there after I spent years going over the mechanics of the female form yet seeing none of it before my eyes (or nearly none, anyway). Plenty of visions had crossed my path throughout a long period, not the least of which was the server. Keep in mind that every single one of them was fully clothed. And then the grand process of the fucking universe placed two such examples of every Goddamned image and number over which I agonized daily and dropped them right near me without so much as a square yard of material between them covering their golden skin. Thongs, strings, whatever you want to call them, and tops thin enough to match. Triangles... Small triangles. A single, thin line running from the small of each back and right straight down to you-know-where. Yep. I could not fucking believe exactly what I was seeing. The second series of thoughts in my head were related to the woman sitting there awaiting my return. Honestly, being as open as she was about our discussions as they covered obsession, physical beauty, and everything that goes along with them, I was not worried. Very understanding, that one. Still, despite me becoming temporarily blinded by two enigmas lying there looking like maps of my brain, I did not wish to make my lovely partner uncomfortable, so the conversation remained at a minimum. Soon enough we went on about our business and the thongs faded. Only recently with that fucking ridiculous series of events that went on out of control did they return to me and force some analysis. I stated that though being mostly out of my mind over the sight of them, I did not want to pounce. I only needed to see. And then they showed up in the middle of the night and the stupid, juvenile crush slapped me across the face and I wanted them all over me. Now? Not so much. But they do still reside in my head as examples of some of the deepest thinking I have done in quite a while. The whole works, from the walnuts to the Jamie to the thongs had (has) me analyzing over and over, eventually learning that though I may not understand, gushing it all here has helped in a manner of speaking. Combine that with my recent dreams and how they have quashed many of the feelings toward those women and you can see that I have risen somewhat from the pit of the walnuts. Heh. That sounds rather humorous. Walnuts. I find it interesting how physical desire comes and goes sometimes, literally without a prerequisite. It just slams me when I least expect it. I still don't know why the young thing in the commercial set that off, or how she did. Perhaps one of these days I will find more insight. I certainly will be considering her as these entries develop. The whole Goddamned thing came up again this morning and boils down to what has been happening between my brain and that past trip south. I stated in no uncertain terms that Jaime does not bring those feelings to light within me. Not even a smidgen. As stunningly beautiful and endlessly mysterious as she is, nothing like that has come to mind. Nothing. And I am not being full of shit, either. Lying in this space is akin to negating everything I have ever worked to write, so believe it. I went over that subject ever since trying to analyze the walnut girl dream and did not find insight. Soon after, I gave it up. There is the simplest possibility that the reasoning goes back eons and can be summed up by comparing two words: Love versus lust. Hmm, if things were only that easy. I don't believe it, and if this is not the case, I may never figure it out and will chalk it up to the stars. As strongly as I have been physically drawn to a woman, there sometimes is no explanation. And I truly believe that. Plus, I do not appreciate the second of those two words. That term does not match me right now. Arlene and her goofy, brainless-looking lower lip sometimes. And here come the garbage trucks outside, bless them. I am more goo goo ga ga now than I have been during the last few days. Mushy, like I could hug the garbage man in a moment of weakness. That is just an analogy, don't get all in a fucking twist. Mushy. You know what I mean. Like when a person is twelve and sees the cutie from school. Butterflies. Jaime is there in my head again, pushing buttons because I allow her do to so. I really do. She is enormous in my mind and heart now, even moreso than the beginning realization. I have changed my behavior a bit, moved some things around, and considered how my space may look if she were here. [That statement brings up a huge fucking point now, and I will go into it down the page.] I am trying to be better about some things, but not so much to appear as if I intend to change everything. That cannot happen. I have to keep myself upright and if it means stopping with the reorganization, well then I will do just that. Once again I have an entire day before me to either try to figure this out or drown myself in whatever has the ability to push her out of my head for a while. One of the two will happen and I do not care which. Just like in the past, I am once again at the mercy of my emotional state. Remember, though, I am fine. I keep saying that because it helps to put the words here, and I honestly am not worried about myself very much. Yes, this whole situation is brand new, stirring me into a froth, and not quite what a person might think is healthy, but at the same time it is all mine and I will work along those lines until such time as I feel I can begin to relate to others again. Right now I am in the thick of it and will push. No one wants that. As I said, I am ok. Definitely inside. Encapsulated, as it were. I need a mold release. Heh. Does she have a nose like Lynn? In the auxiliary office again. Come to think of it, I have not worked in my actual office for nearly a year, so perhaps the time has come to refer to the garage as the only office. The other room stands still these days and only operates as storage. This situation is very unique right now. As I sit out here pondering the nature of both myself and the world around me, I see people walking by and going about their morning exercise. The sun is very warm which means there will be many more strolling by my driveway as the day moves along. One gentleman went by a few minutes ago carrying a backpack and something in his hand, all the while partially hunched as he stepped along the sidewalk. For whatever reason, I found myself wondering if he is ok. The state of the world these days has many on edge, but I do not know him either way. To my knowledge, I have never seen him before this morning. Due to my introverted condition and deep thoughts being placed here as I analyze my own situation, I find myself feeling for others as they pass. Are they ok? Are they stressed? Working? Sleeping well? I do not know them at all. I wave when someone looks this way and that is all. So, why am I wondering if they are alright? Compassion? Empathy? Hmm. Perhaps both, and more. Sometimes I look at a person and think in those terms, other times not so much. My life has changed dramatically in two-plus months. My job went away because I decided to leave that line of work and seek something else that will be better for me at this point, I am home nearly all of the time (much of that alone), and the weekday schedule has become so important that I cannot change it right now out of fear. I am afraid of anything changing, in fact, and work my ass off to maintain comfort. So far, so good. Along come the dreams, mansions and associated women, the goddess of the fucking universe, and the obsession that never leaves me, and I end up in a bubble of trouble. I guess being so emotional lately has driven me to be more conscious of others who may be similarly screwed up. Not the obsessive nature or the woman of my dreams, the rest. It sounds reasonable, and at a time when I could not reason my way out of a petri dish, I suppose it is something. That is all I have to say on such a subject. Let's crack the beer just after ten in the morning, shall we? Still more people walking by. Are they ok? Oops... I said I was going to stop that line of thinking. Maybe I'm subconsciously trying to avoid dreaming of her. You know. I wonder if she is doing something special for the holiday. Or maybe just staying home like so many others. Or maybe a barbecue. Or maybe I need to cease wondering. Heh. I'll just mess up my head again. Again? Or would that be 'still'? Whichever. Fuck it anyway. I'm a mess over her. I wish she was right out there on the driveway all comfortable in the sun. DAMN IT. Stop. Beer. Yep. Why not? Today is a holiday and I fully intend to treat it as such. I am altering what would normally be worked out in favor of relaxing and spewing here all day long. My new routine of comfort and familiarity returns in the morning but I will still maintain the household a bit today. And lots of this. I need it like I need 20.9% oxygen in my lungs. Hee. She is still in there pretty fucking deep at this moment. I cannot help it... The dreaming, longing, loving. And she doesn't know. None of it. I keep going back ten years and trying to remember the feel of that courtyard and the nature of what we were visiting. It was a tourist attraction of sorts, I believe, and we were there for a few hours looking around. I still cannot picture most of it, though. I am at a loss regarding the purpose of our trip insofar as where we spent that time. I cannot even focus enough to calculate if it was Los Angeles or San Diego. My ex's son and daughter-in-law lived in San Diego for a time, so that may be it. But honestly, I have few clues now as to the destination and reasoning. I keep seeing that half a face and my thought processes continue to derail. Concentration is absent, I have not found any other images from that time, nor can I picture the restaurant we visited just after capturing her incredible beauty. It's funny that I noticed height -- which drove me insane back then -- and ten years later she has me completely encapsulated. I am inside a brand new bubble that was about as expected as a limousine loaded with models dropping off a briefcase full of cash on my fucking porch. Nice image, huh? Whatever. I am screwed up. Encapsulated within feelings for her. The album that I cannot share with anyone is playing. And what's-her-name with the massive breasts just drove by and waved. All fucked up. What the fuck was I talking about? As I said up there somewhere, I cannot find anything else that could lead me to know where we were that weekend. Nothing. The camera was not my own. I borrowed it from a coworker to use for the trip. The first thought was that we went to that place just after the cruise to Mexico because I used his camera for that as well, but the year on the images is wrong. I see 2009 there, whereas the three of the goddess are dated April of 2010. I have to keep searching and perhaps something will be found which sheds light on more of the trip. Looking through all this shit is exhausting (already published that one) and I feel disappointment at the lack of more information. So... Why do I need to know? Am I going to go there and search for her? That's just about my level of crazy right now, but realistically she could have been visiting from almost anywhere. Assuming that she resides near that destination is being naive. We were hundreds of miles from home which means she could have been as well. Would I search? Fuck yes. With the right resources I have done much worse in hopes of finding the elusive comfort which I have described here in fucking spades. Have I not? Juliette? Ashley? Ellie? Not Andrea... That was different in the beginning. The other three -- along with the beautiful and sensitive Natalie -- were the direct result of my needs becoming overwhelming to a degree never before felt. Finding the goddess in question would be something of an entirely different situation. I have been obsessing over her from years ago, and it feels unlike anything in the past. The others? I ran across each of them by chance and then latched on for dear life. Jaime (!) came out of nowhere mere days ago and sent me flying to another universe, one in which I am now encapsulated with no chance of escape. Do I even want to escape? I am so fucking goo goo that I can barely think straight. My will to do anything but dream of her is beginning to collapse, but I will make it just fine. The hole in me is growing. I love her. I really do. Call me what you will, I don't care anymore. If everyone tosses me aside and I end up alone, I will not be truly alone. She will be right next to me. The wind is picking up. I have to close the back door to the garage. Funny, I keep speaking of the weather over the hill and beyond being so hot right now, yet here I am still in a long-sleeve trying to keep warm in the breeze. Love it. Fuck that heat, anyway. I had decades of it. No more. That lady walked by with her dog. Every day. Years. She always waves. No dreams lately, and I think that is due to my gushing of words and thoughts regarding her. She has taken over a good portion of my brainpower and even more of my time. I used to publish roughly four hundred lines per week, and now I am flowing more than five hundred every three days or so. That is a dramatic increase. Of course, the previous incarnation of Jaime was in there, the mansions, Jamie and her big eyes, along with a bunch of other crap, but I will admit that the recent focus has pushed me to explore this more than almost anything in memory. And I can go on pretty well about all kinds of shit related to the female form and my feelings about the same. She has taken me in an unexpected way. And now a bit of a check on how I am sounding throughout these last four entries. Do you see? A woman from the past, unclear in the images, and one I had not considered for a decade has taken my heart and encapsulated it within a space just large enough for us. Does that effectively put this crap in perspective? I said several times that I love her. Does that sound crazy? Does it matter? Too many questions? Suck it. I don't care. This has to continue -- just as I said before -- until I am satisfied with the conclusion. Will there be a conclusion? It doesn't matter, really. I am prepared to discuss her with myself for the duration. Believe it. Try me. Or smaller, like Gal? There went the other lady that walks to the market every day. We are going to switch gears for a little while. But don't worry, she doesn't leave my thoughts even for a millisecond. Or my aching heart. Well, sort of a switch, anyway. The entire overarching theme of this woman becoming so much to me in a very short period of time combined with the fact that I cannot even know or see all of her brings something to mind. How did this happen? I have been head-over-heels for several women on and off throughout many fucking years. Some right next to me and others merely images. The very idea of feeling so much for her with an enormous void of information leads me to believe that the reason is something lacking within myself. Of course it is. Big surprise? Not at all, and many a therapist has gone in such a direction after listening to me rail on about everything in my head. I am beginning to feel like Tony's comare on the show because she was very needy and clingy. [To the character's credit, though, is the fact that much of her incredible cuteness stemmed from those traits.] I likely share them in spades. I cannot hold myself up (or haven't, anyway) without a woman's loving arms around me. I am supposed to be independent, self-sufficient and all that crap, but the truth is I never have derived my own value without a 'her' right next to me for confirmation. The woman from the trip -- the goddess and end-all be-all of dreamy love -- is now the focus of my feelings and needs. Yes, it sounds insanely weak and wrong, but I need her. I do. That right there is already an indication that she is in me to an enormous degree and I am way off kilter. Heeled. Rolled. Pitched? Whatever. I am there, here, wherever, and she is with me. In my heart and fucked-up head, there she resides. The woman of my dreams and excessive sense of attraction. All her. I am inside. Encapsulated, and there is no more or less. The word is absolute. Crazy? Yep. Of all the million things I do not know, I have little doubt of crazy. Nuts. Unbalanced. Loving an image from a decade ago, and the woman, too. I know nothing of her. I keep looking to my left and seeing the big poster. It has to come down along with all of the others, but when I look, my focus is Briana's face. Her expression is unreal and I do not know why it strikes me so. Jenna was always the one with more attention. She is taller, more famous, etc. But the look on Briana's face takes over the entire composition. It really does. Maybe I can pare down the image to show only her. I don't know, just reaching. I have no compunctions about removing them from my new office. None. And the others, too. When I gaze at her pretty face, I feel a tinge of guilt over it. I mentioned before than I can't have Jaime thinking negatively about me so they must go. So far I haven't changed anything out here but that day is close. I just don't feel like doing anything else right now. I am beaten by this situation and her immense pull upon me. Beaten down, and I am still doing it because I need her like nothing else in this world. Holy fuck does that ever sound bad. More mushy, more goo goo when I see her face, and that means the others are leaving me. Even Jamie and her big eyes. And the other one... Number two on the list of the three most beautiful blonde women to ever grace my vision. All is being focused now. Everything. Briana's face is larger than life thanks to the acreage of that poster, and even her beauty pales when compared to the goddess. That one. Her. The meaning of the pronoun. Damn it all, anyway. I almost need to quote Chris again. I am willing to remove imagery in my fucking garage for a woman who will never see it. Let's think on that for a few minutes. Briana has a face unlike any I have ever seen, and she is going away. I paid money for that poster. I really did. I would pay much more for something else. Say it with me. Encapsulated and enamored. The more I look, the more I see and feel. I just can't believe this. Her. Just her. Olivia d'Abo is on the television but I cannot see her. No video out here. Damn it. I guess that's not so bad. I can't see the other her either, and I would die for a glimpse. Believe it. Holy shit. What is happening to me? Did I really just make that statement above? Yes I did, and I will do it again, God help me. In other matters, the day is warming and the office is temperate. My indicators are still not on the wall because I have not finished that project. Otherwise I could report. Most things that were in the works during my time at home have been left alone due to my being so fucking screwed up and focusing upon this business. The robot dream was the first that I explored after writing out here just over a week ago. There is a guy storing his motorcycle in our garage for some months and he works on it sometimes. When he arrives on Saturdays, I move out here and try to be social. The first entry regarding Jaime the gynoid was partially written while he disassembled the bike to upgrade some things. I remember learning that the work bench is at the ideal height for me to sit and type. That opened up a world of comfort and expanded my feeling of being able to relax while productive in the garage. If the mercury rises too much I can open the back door and cool off. That is rare, but I have the option. Shortly after realizing that all my dreams are impossible, I began to spend more time here watching the world go by. And the legs. Heh. Not funny. The truth is that while in the new office I feel that the easing of my responsibilities is not a bad thing sometimes. I still care for everything and now am able to balance the work of the home with the work of my head. Unfortunately, the deeper I go into the past and the woman of my dreams, the further away other people are pushed. I do see them out there on the street and sidewalks, but I am more referring to those that I know. I haven't seen any for quite some time now. And that is pretty much the way I need it to be. I have to remain alone and work out the hows and whys of my thinking processes and it must be done in isolation. The feelings are still growing out of control, however, and that may serve to push me further into this bubble. I fear that if being constantly emotional becomes overwhelming, I will shut everyone out permanently. Believe me when I say that the aforementioned fear is not of being completely alone, it is of what others may think. The severity of such is partially governed by my other need of being a better person in her eyes. Did you read that? Yep, crazy. I don't care. Crazy or not, I feel what I feel and have to continue no matter the consequences. If that means others no longer associate with me, so be it. What I desire is in those images. Not robots (well, one that is her would be exempt), not reporters, not Briana's face... None of it. Nothing. Just her. Yes, again... Just her. I am screwed. Would I see Winter's cat-eyes? So... And? Never mind. Now that we know how fucked up I am, perhaps the time has come for some deeper analysis of the underlying issue behind my feelings for this woman. When that trip took place, my affinity for height was at an all-time high. I remember seeking any female who stood above others for reasons of studying their features. As I said before... Fingers, neck, thighs, arms, and all other traits that tend to follow height. I needed to understand -- via measurements -- why some were attractive while others were not. Very subjective, to be sure. I kept looking for clues as to what aligned with my desire to know of the numbers and how far those numbers could be pushed (or to what extent) before a woman became either unattractive to me or some sort of anomaly. I referred to those women as subjects due to the interest feeling like an experiment. Years ago I went so far as to attempt measuring via a reference (I've gone into this before), but that never really got off the ground due to a lack of clarity from the beginning. An example would be a photo of a model as she faces the camera directly. Deriving scale from the distance between her pupils would allow me to physically measure on the screen or a print and then ascertain some of her body measurements. After wearing myself out trying to properly visualize the correct pose and then taking real measurements with precision instruments, I finally realized I needed much more. There was no way of positing three-dimensional visualizations without a real woman willing to allow extensive research all over her body. Asking someone to do that is highly questionable, especially a woman unfamiliar with me. The entire idea was tossed to the trash after I accepted the fact that it was unrealistic. No one was going to stand in lingerie (or less) and let me run a seamstress tape all over her body. Not even close. The Raven agreed to allow me anything, but I cannot even go into that right now. I am too screwed up already and she is gone. So, after years of agonizing, researching and staring at numerous beautiful women with mysterious numbers written all over them, I finally gave up completely. The first thing I noticed about Jaime was the way she towered above the others in her group. If you saw the images, her height is apparent. And flats on her feet. Holy God, what a sight. Hence the fucking camera. I had no other visible option and desperation took over. I did what I did and filed her away. I am past the issue of right or wrong, so we shall move on. Honestly, my fascination with height throughout all these years cannot clearly be defined. Something may have taken place upon watching one of the VS fashion shows (2005, December) and seeing the parade of tall models on the runway. They are quite thin as the industry dictates. Even the lower echelon of the runway at five-foot-eight appears taller due to the models being so fucking thin. I watched that in high definition -- the fashion show aired shortly after purchasing my first HD television -- and became enamored with the proportions. I know not why, and yes they are universally regarded as highly attractive. Being me, I did not want to jump all those women. I wanted to know why they looked that way. I wanted to understand the mechanics of what I was seeing and the reason I found them so beautiful. Years later, I wrote about the girl at the car wash and the server in Pleasanton. My fascination was at a high point. I went on with living while all of that stayed inside, and then a few short years later? Jaime, wherever that was. The height, her feet, her hair, those jeans, and the overall appearance that struck me like a wrecking ball upside the head. Tall, wavy hair, everything. I went nuts and that was that. Shortly thereafter, we ventured home and the images went away. Far away. A decade. Two things happened during the intervening years: One, the interest became an obsession and more highly focused than I thought possible, and two, my idea of happiness changed in so many ways that I lost track and nearly gave up. And then those became one. And then I met the Raven, a woman willing to involve Herself completely and let go of everything just for me to find what I needed. And then She went away. And then I handed out business cards and watched that entire idea fall on its face. And then the tall girl I knew from the bar agreed to let me photograph and measure her hands. And then she went away. And then I wrote and wrote and wrote out of both desperation and a lack of options. And then one day I began to dream about the Cherry 2000 and linked her to a story. And then I needed her. And then I wrote about my feelings toward the machines. And then I ran across the images from a decade earlier. And then, well... This. And here we are. I have not experienced any situation in which I felt love for a person I did not meet. Infatuation, longing upon departure, feelings of tingling inside at the sight of a woman, but those all passed in short order before anything serious developed. I believe that is something many have run across in life. It is natural to gush over a person for a while, especially while young. Well, I am not young. I have been around a long fucking time and for me to be infatuated at this point in life means I have not learned a thing or matured very much. What I felt for those in my sights back then pales in comparison to now, and I am much more intelligent and analytical about every Goddamned aspect of everything, not the least of which being my feelings. Of course, right now I am overly emotional about the tiniest details, so I need to keep this going as long as possible or until I reach a conclusion. And that may never happen, which means I will be forever stuck in that proverbial (or literal) basement staring at photos and muttering to myself like the madman I am becoming. Go ahead and laugh. I could not be more serious about anything right now. My senses are heightened to an extent and that means each second of each day is being scrutinized and filtered down to only that which I need most. She is in there. In fact, she is in charge of the whole operation. If that makes me come across like a child, well... Fuck you. I know precisely what I am doing. I simply have no idea why. Calling me crazy is fine. Just do not insult me. Have you been encapsulated? Be honest. Ah, fuck it anyway. I didn't need to go into that. And I haven't pulled a Hoyt yet, either. Maybe I really am ok. Heh. He should have steered clear of that girl and gone after a vampire. Now THAT is funny. The more I look at her, the more I feel. I have no way of explaining this no matter the hundreds and thousands of lines I have and will write. There may be no end to it. I believe we are on number four dedicated to that love and there are three more waiting. This morning there was one more waiting. See? I keep going in trying to understand why she means so much to me in a very short period of time, and after that goddess waited in a fucking folder for ten Goddamned years. This is mere days. That is all. Every second, more of her inside me and more of me encapsulated within the dream that is her. I guess all I can do is continue this. I see no other choice. Nothing so compelling has crossed my path or heart in a very long time. Crazy person. Say it. Sam Kinison... 'SAY IT!' Now you can fucking laugh. Something more exotic? I will never know Did you notice there has been very little mention of others within this entry? Get used to it. All are fading at an alarming rate. Even some of the girls have been extricated from my garage. Believe it. If I lose my mind over her, so be it. I don't care anymore. By the same token, if there is no end to this, then there is no end. No caring. I will gush forever and be miserable, but ok. I am still ok, believe it or not. Just seeing those three images and I lost myself so deeply that I cannot imagine not thinking of her all the time. I have to. I really need to know she is there for my peace of mind. When I wrote all that crap about the robots and fulfillment, happiness, blah blah blah, I was not thinking of this woman. I found her and the whole shitaree changed for good. For years I railed on about things which brought me much difficulty in life and the reasons behind them. I never had a direction at all, just a theme. And now you see the theme has likely changed for good. Just her. She is my direction, regardless of how much shit I have to plow or the excessive heat I will take over her. I will just accept it all like the deviant, crazy fuck I have become. I don't fucking care. I need her. So I did some business earlier but not like on weekdays. Usually by this hour I have everything in order and then I will curl up with my cocktail and relax, listening to the food network in the background. Well, I have been trying to treat today as a holiday, so I spent a little time inside and then came here to gush about the woman of my dreams. And I did, but nothing is ever enough for her. I just cannot seem to conjure the words that can truly describe everything inside. I am trying, though. I will keep trying. In the process this may become one very long, boring monologue of craziness and mush. I feel mushy. I feel for her in ways that may be inexpressible. Everything is swirling inside me and needs to come forth for my own sanity. Whether or not that ever sees the light of day is beyond me. So, I am going to close this for the time being and go back to the comfort of the indoors to continue with those little things that call. The words I have placed here since beginning this entry are again nowhere near enough. As I said, I will keep trying. Today has been a vacation of sorts from the norm. While the fact of my new life has been very apparent at every step for weeks, still there are those times in between the moments which do not allow for the calm and peaceful atmosphere necessary for this exploration. The time feels dire now, as if I only have so many days to complete whatever is required for my continued survival in knowing that she is out there, yet unattainable. I cannot see her. I need to see her. I need to know that she is ok and that knowledge, in turn, will help me to be ok. Maybe. Can I ever know? Another fucking pipe dream? No one has answers. The solace and quiet will return to me tomorrow. Until then I must remain stable enough today to operate myself as expected. The routine. My schedule. The privacy, reflection, and introspection that carries me along while dreaming of her. And do I ever dream. Every step, each task, everything I say or do involves her. Crazy? Who fucking cares anymore? The time indeed feels short and I know not why. Maybe I am going through this in secretive hope that she will turn up somewhere and hug me, that miracle being apparent for only so many days before I pass the hell out from exhaustion. Oh shit, I already published exhaustion. Well, you know what I mean. I am tired and I need her. Did I mention that? How many times? I wish that was funny right now. Actually, I wish anything was funny. I am ok. Encapsulated. I will be happy to return to the new routine tomorrow. I need the feeling of accomplishment it provides and the separation from the world outside that is apparent. I need it. Those hours mean I can take care of things as I see fit and work within myself at the same time. All of my usual tasks, the house to myself, and my friends in the background add up to the only bliss available to me now. She will be inside me and I inside her, as always. All the way in. I am there now. Only the outside of me is visible to those looking. The other parts inside are connected to her. Heart and mind. Soul. The things I do not wish others to see. Anyone approaching me will see nothing more than a shell with everything meaningful so deeply buried that the image will be that of a mannequin. They will not understand me, nor will I be willing to entertain any observations of my behavior toward them. And now I put those three songs on so I can further myself into dreams of her. Just her. I will fall for that woman. Mark my words. It's coming. Where exactly am I at this point? How deep? She is out there." 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
Encapsulation Mature content No. 136 Published June 2nd, 2020 6:08am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Blackness. I must be inside what I have crafted. This is one for the ages. Still in the auxiliary office with the television in the background and the day's work nearly complete. At least having things done on a holiday weekend feels good, if nothing else. Some free time, a head full of her, and the space to relax and consider everything important is very good right now. I have to stay away from others, too. Being near people now causes me to feel slightly uncomfortable. The weather continues to warm since three days ago and should peak two days from now. Today is the holiday which means the flags are out, there will be lots of barbecues lit this afternoon, and the beach will likely resemble downtown Disneyland on Labor Day. That's funny. Today is Memorial Day, but I always use the other one when trying to describe a crowd. Arlene is so dopey-cute that she makes my eyes water sometimes. I want to hug her. She kind of reminds me of Michelle back so many years ago and her nonexistent intelligence quotient at times. Cute unlike anyone else, but oy gawd I had to care for her. The most beautiful box of rocks ever. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved that girl. Her lack of brainpower was not a negative at all. It was her, through and through. Had she been smarter in any way, the girl would not have been the same. Arlene is street smart on the show, but often has an expression which conveys a lack of understanding at the simplest question. So fucking cute. I've always been a pushover when it comes to those not terribly smart. I mean no disrespect to anyone. Just a thing. Now Hoyt is hitting on the most disgusting girl. Geez, dude. Walk away. Sorry. Moving along. I mentioned the thongs again in the last chapter of this crap. Well, the girls are not the same as last August when I watched them drop the wraps. Weeks ago in the midst of passion over the fucking walnut cutie and those two near the pool, I brought up dreaming of them along with my typical schoolyard crush slash dreamy needy clingy shit which reduced itself down to intense physical desire after the fact. That's a mouthful, eh? Anyway, I can still see their neutral-colored swimsuits (what there was of them) and the expression on their likely-mom's face when I traipsed across the heated pavement for a cooling dip in the water. She looked upon me as if I was one of two things: Either Satan arriving to consume her spawn, or a person she appreciated walking by their position at the edge of the pool. Upon returning to my lounger in the shade, the goddess next to me informed my sorry head that the 'mom' was clocking me the entire time, and not in a bad way. Okay, that's fine. Did I see her? Yep, our eyes met as I tried to keep the girls out of my wanting vision. That required much effort. I am surprised to have navigated the walk toward the pool over and over without stumbling. I passed within eight feet of them at the steps but kept my gaze away out of respect. Had mom spied me drooling all over her unreal daughters, I would have left the pool area immediately. I am a pretty fucked up individual, but the last thing I want is to make another person uncomfortable for any reason. Two parts of the situation were going through my head as I took those walks to dip myself into the pool. One was the idea of those two girls being right there after I spent years going over the mechanics of the female form yet seeing none of it before my eyes (or nearly none, anyway). Plenty of visions had crossed my path throughout a long period, not the least of which was the server. Keep in mind that every single one of them was fully clothed. And then the grand process of the fucking universe placed two such examples of every Goddamned image and number over which I agonized daily and dropped them right near me without so much as a square yard of material between them covering their golden skin. Thongs, strings, whatever you want to call them, and tops thin enough to match. Triangles... Small triangles. A single, thin line running from the small of each back and right straight down to you-know-where. Yep. I could not fucking believe exactly what I was seeing. The second series of thoughts in my head were related to the woman sitting there awaiting my return. Honestly, being as open as she was about our discussions as they covered obsession, physical beauty, and everything that goes along with them, I was not worried. Very understanding, that one. Still, despite me becoming temporarily blinded by two enigmas lying there looking like maps of my brain, I did not wish to make my lovely partner uncomfortable, so the conversation remained at a minimum. Soon enough we went on about our business and the thongs faded. Only recently with that fucking ridiculous series of events that went on out of control did they return to me and force some analysis. I stated that though being mostly out of my mind over the sight of them, I did not want to pounce. I only needed to see. And then they showed up in the middle of the night and the stupid, juvenile crush slapped me across the face and I wanted them all over me. Now? Not so much. But they do still reside in my head as examples of some of the deepest thinking I have done in quite a while. The whole works, from the walnuts to the Jamie to the thongs had (has) me analyzing over and over, eventually learning that though I may not understand, gushing it all here has helped in a manner of speaking. Combine that with my recent dreams and how they have quashed many of the feelings toward those women and you can see that I have risen somewhat from the pit of the walnuts. Heh. That sounds rather humorous. Walnuts. I find it interesting how physical desire comes and goes sometimes, literally without a prerequisite. It just slams me when I least expect it. I still don't know why the young thing in the commercial set that off, or how she did. Perhaps one of these days I will find more insight. I certainly will be considering her as these entries develop. The whole Goddamned thing came up again this morning and boils down to what has been happening between my brain and that past trip south. I stated in no uncertain terms that Jaime does not bring those feelings to light within me. Not even a smidgen. As stunningly beautiful and endlessly mysterious as she is, nothing like that has come to mind. Nothing. And I am not being full of shit, either. Lying in this space is akin to negating everything I have ever worked to write, so believe it. I went over that subject ever since trying to analyze the walnut girl dream and did not find insight. Soon after, I gave it up. There is the simplest possibility that the reasoning goes back eons and can be summed up by comparing two words: Love versus lust. Hmm, if things were only that easy. I don't believe it, and if this is not the case, I may never figure it out and will chalk it up to the stars. As strongly as I have been physically drawn to a woman, there sometimes is no explanation. And I truly believe that. Plus, I do not appreciate the second of those two words. That term does not match me right now. Arlene and her goofy, brainless-looking lower lip sometimes. And here come the garbage trucks outside, bless them. I am more goo goo ga ga now than I have been during the last few days. Mushy, like I could hug the garbage man in a moment of weakness. That is just an analogy, don't get all in a fucking twist. Mushy. You know what I mean. Like when a person is twelve and sees the cutie from school. Butterflies. Jaime is there in my head again, pushing buttons because I allow her do to so. I really do. She is enormous in my mind and heart now, even moreso than the beginning realization. I have changed my behavior a bit, moved some things around, and considered how my space may look if she were here. [That statement brings up a huge fucking point now, and I will go into it down the page.] I am trying to be better about some things, but not so much to appear as if I intend to change everything. That cannot happen. I have to keep myself upright and if it means stopping with the reorganization, well then I will do just that. Once again I have an entire day before me to either try to figure this out or drown myself in whatever has the ability to push her out of my head for a while. One of the two will happen and I do not care which. Just like in the past, I am once again at the mercy of my emotional state. Remember, though, I am fine. I keep saying that because it helps to put the words here, and I honestly am not worried about myself very much. Yes, this whole situation is brand new, stirring me into a froth, and not quite what a person might think is healthy, but at the same time it is all mine and I will work along those lines until such time as I feel I can begin to relate to others again. Right now I am in the thick of it and will push. No one wants that. As I said, I am ok. Definitely inside. Encapsulated, as it were. I need a mold release. Heh. Does she have a nose like Lynn? In the auxiliary office again. Come to think of it, I have not worked in my actual office for nearly a year, so perhaps the time has come to refer to the garage as the only office. The other room stands still these days and only operates as storage. This situation is very unique right now. As I sit out here pondering the nature of both myself and the world around me, I see people walking by and going about their morning exercise. The sun is very warm which means there will be many more strolling by my driveway as the day moves along. One gentleman went by a few minutes ago carrying a backpack and something in his hand, all the while partially hunched as he stepped along the sidewalk. For whatever reason, I found myself wondering if he is ok. The state of the world these days has many on edge, but I do not know him either way. To my knowledge, I have never seen him before this morning. Due to my introverted condition and deep thoughts being placed here as I analyze my own situation, I find myself feeling for others as they pass. Are they ok? Are they stressed? Working? Sleeping well? I do not know them at all. I wave when someone looks this way and that is all. So, why am I wondering if they are alright? Compassion? Empathy? Hmm. Perhaps both, and more. Sometimes I look at a person and think in those terms, other times not so much. My life has changed dramatically in two-plus months. My job went away because I decided to leave that line of work and seek something else that will be better for me at this point, I am home nearly all of the time (much of that alone), and the weekday schedule has become so important that I cannot change it right now out of fear. I am afraid of anything changing, in fact, and work my ass off to maintain comfort. So far, so good. Along come the dreams, mansions and associated women, the goddess of the fucking universe, and the obsession that never leaves me, and I end up in a bubble of trouble. I guess being so emotional lately has driven me to be more conscious of others who may be similarly screwed up. Not the obsessive nature or the woman of my dreams, the rest. It sounds reasonable, and at a time when I could not reason my way out of a petri dish, I suppose it is something. That is all I have to say on such a subject. Let's crack the beer just after ten in the morning, shall we? Still more people walking by. Are they ok? Oops... I said I was going to stop that line of thinking. Maybe I'm subconsciously trying to avoid dreaming of her. You know. I wonder if she is doing something special for the holiday. Or maybe just staying home like so many others. Or maybe a barbecue. Or maybe I need to cease wondering. Heh. I'll just mess up my head again. Again? Or would that be 'still'? Whichever. Fuck it anyway. I'm a mess over her. I wish she was right out there on the driveway all comfortable in the sun. DAMN IT. Stop. Beer. Yep. Why not? Today is a holiday and I fully intend to treat it as such. I am altering what would normally be worked out in favor of relaxing and spewing here all day long. My new routine of comfort and familiarity returns in the morning but I will still maintain the household a bit today. And lots of this. I need it like I need 20.9% oxygen in my lungs. Hee. She is still in there pretty fucking deep at this moment. I cannot help it... The dreaming, longing, loving. And she doesn't know. None of it. I keep going back ten years and trying to remember the feel of that courtyard and the nature of what we were visiting. It was a tourist attraction of sorts, I believe, and we were there for a few hours looking around. I still cannot picture most of it, though. I am at a loss regarding the purpose of our trip insofar as where we spent that time. I cannot even focus enough to calculate if it was Los Angeles or San Diego. My ex's son and daughter-in-law lived in San Diego for a time, so that may be it. But honestly, I have few clues now as to the destination and reasoning. I keep seeing that half a face and my thought processes continue to derail. Concentration is absent, I have not found any other images from that time, nor can I picture the restaurant we visited just after capturing her incredible beauty. It's funny that I noticed height -- which drove me insane back then -- and ten years later she has me completely encapsulated. I am inside a brand new bubble that was about as expected as a limousine loaded with models dropping off a briefcase full of cash on my fucking porch. Nice image, huh? Whatever. I am screwed up. Encapsulated within feelings for her. The album that I cannot share with anyone is playing. And what's-her-name with the massive breasts just drove by and waved. All fucked up. What the fuck was I talking about? As I said up there somewhere, I cannot find anything else that could lead me to know where we were that weekend. Nothing. The camera was not my own. I borrowed it from a coworker to use for the trip. The first thought was that we went to that place just after the cruise to Mexico because I used his camera for that as well, but the year on the images is wrong. I see 2009 there, whereas the three of the goddess are dated April of 2010. I have to keep searching and perhaps something will be found which sheds light on more of the trip. Looking through all this shit is exhausting (already published that one) and I feel disappointment at the lack of more information. So... Why do I need to know? Am I going to go there and search for her? That's just about my level of crazy right now, but realistically she could have been visiting from almost anywhere. Assuming that she resides near that destination is being naive. We were hundreds of miles from home which means she could have been as well. Would I search? Fuck yes. With the right resources I have done much worse in hopes of finding the elusive comfort which I have described here in fucking spades. Have I not? Juliette? Ashley? Ellie? Not Andrea... That was different in the beginning. The other three -- along with the beautiful and sensitive Natalie -- were the direct result of my needs becoming overwhelming to a degree never before felt. Finding the goddess in question would be something of an entirely different situation. I have been obsessing over her from years ago, and it feels unlike anything in the past. The others? I ran across each of them by chance and then latched on for dear life. Jaime (!) came out of nowhere mere days ago and sent me flying to another universe, one in which I am now encapsulated with no chance of escape. Do I even want to escape? I am so fucking goo goo that I can barely think straight. My will to do anything but dream of her is beginning to collapse, but I will make it just fine. The hole in me is growing. I love her. I really do. Call me what you will, I don't care anymore. If everyone tosses me aside and I end up alone, I will not be truly alone. She will be right next to me. The wind is picking up. I have to close the back door to the garage. Funny, I keep speaking of the weather over the hill and beyond being so hot right now, yet here I am still in a long-sleeve trying to keep warm in the breeze. Love it. Fuck that heat, anyway. I had decades of it. No more. That lady walked by with her dog. Every day. Years. She always waves. No dreams lately, and I think that is due to my gushing of words and thoughts regarding her. She has taken over a good portion of my brainpower and even more of my time. I used to publish roughly four hundred lines per week, and now I am flowing more than five hundred every three days or so. That is a dramatic increase. Of course, the previous incarnation of Jaime was in there, the mansions, Jamie and her big eyes, along with a bunch of other crap, but I will admit that the recent focus has pushed me to explore this more than almost anything in memory. And I can go on pretty well about all kinds of shit related to the female form and my feelings about the same. She has taken me in an unexpected way. And now a bit of a check on how I am sounding throughout these last four entries. Do you see? A woman from the past, unclear in the images, and one I had not considered for a decade has taken my heart and encapsulated it within a space just large enough for us. Does that effectively put this crap in perspective? I said several times that I love her. Does that sound crazy? Does it matter? Too many questions? Suck it. I don't care. This has to continue -- just as I said before -- until I am satisfied with the conclusion. Will there be a conclusion? It doesn't matter, really. I am prepared to discuss her with myself for the duration. Believe it. Try me. Or smaller, like Gal? There went the other lady that walks to the market every day. We are going to switch gears for a little while. But don't worry, she doesn't leave my thoughts even for a millisecond. Or my aching heart. Well, sort of a switch, anyway. The entire overarching theme of this woman becoming so much to me in a very short period of time combined with the fact that I cannot even know or see all of her brings something to mind. How did this happen? I have been head-over-heels for several women on and off throughout many fucking years. Some right next to me and others merely images. The very idea of feeling so much for her with an enormous void of information leads me to believe that the reason is something lacking within myself. Of course it is. Big surprise? Not at all, and many a therapist has gone in such a direction after listening to me rail on about everything in my head. I am beginning to feel like Tony's comare on the show because she was very needy and clingy. [To the character's credit, though, is the fact that much of her incredible cuteness stemmed from those traits.] I likely share them in spades. I cannot hold myself up (or haven't, anyway) without a woman's loving arms around me. I am supposed to be independent, self-sufficient and all that crap, but the truth is I never have derived my own value without a 'her' right next to me for confirmation. The woman from the trip -- the goddess and end-all be-all of dreamy love -- is now the focus of my feelings and needs. Yes, it sounds insanely weak and wrong, but I need her. I do. That right there is already an indication that she is in me to an enormous degree and I am way off kilter. Heeled. Rolled. Pitched? Whatever. I am there, here, wherever, and she is with me. In my heart and fucked-up head, there she resides. The woman of my dreams and excessive sense of attraction. All her. I am inside. Encapsulated, and there is no more or less. The word is absolute. Crazy? Yep. Of all the million things I do not know, I have little doubt of crazy. Nuts. Unbalanced. Loving an image from a decade ago, and the woman, too. I know nothing of her. I keep looking to my left and seeing the big poster. It has to come down along with all of the others, but when I look, my focus is Briana's face. Her expression is unreal and I do not know why it strikes me so. Jenna was always the one with more attention. She is taller, more famous, etc. But the look on Briana's face takes over the entire composition. It really does. Maybe I can pare down the image to show only her. I don't know, just reaching. I have no compunctions about removing them from my new office. None. And the others, too. When I gaze at her pretty face, I feel a tinge of guilt over it. I mentioned before than I can't have Jaime thinking negatively about me so they must go. So far I haven't changed anything out here but that day is close. I just don't feel like doing anything else right now. I am beaten by this situation and her immense pull upon me. Beaten down, and I am still doing it because I need her like nothing else in this world. Holy fuck does that ever sound bad. More mushy, more goo goo when I see her face, and that means the others are leaving me. Even Jamie and her big eyes. And the other one... Number two on the list of the three most beautiful blonde women to ever grace my vision. All is being focused now. Everything. Briana's face is larger than life thanks to the acreage of that poster, and even her beauty pales when compared to the goddess. That one. Her. The meaning of the pronoun. Damn it all, anyway. I almost need to quote Chris again. I am willing to remove imagery in my fucking garage for a woman who will never see it. Let's think on that for a few minutes. Briana has a face unlike any I have ever seen, and she is going away. I paid money for that poster. I really did. I would pay much more for something else. Say it with me. Encapsulated and enamored. The more I look, the more I see and feel. I just can't believe this. Her. Just her. Olivia d'Abo is on the television but I cannot see her. No video out here. Damn it. I guess that's not so bad. I can't see the other her either, and I would die for a glimpse. Believe it. Holy shit. What is happening to me? Did I really just make that statement above? Yes I did, and I will do it again, God help me. In other matters, the day is warming and the office is temperate. My indicators are still not on the wall because I have not finished that project. Otherwise I could report. Most things that were in the works during my time at home have been left alone due to my being so fucking screwed up and focusing upon this business. The robot dream was the first that I explored after writing out here just over a week ago. There is a guy storing his motorcycle in our garage for some months and he works on it sometimes. When he arrives on Saturdays, I move out here and try to be social. The first entry regarding Jaime the gynoid was partially written while he disassembled the bike to upgrade some things. I remember learning that the work bench is at the ideal height for me to sit and type. That opened up a world of comfort and expanded my feeling of being able to relax while productive in the garage. If the mercury rises too much I can open the back door and cool off. That is rare, but I have the option. Shortly after realizing that all my dreams are impossible, I began to spend more time here watching the world go by. And the legs. Heh. Not funny. The truth is that while in the new office I feel that the easing of my responsibilities is not a bad thing sometimes. I still care for everything and now am able to balance the work of the home with the work of my head. Unfortunately, the deeper I go into the past and the woman of my dreams, the further away other people are pushed. I do see them out there on the street and sidewalks, but I am more referring to those that I know. I haven't seen any for quite some time now. And that is pretty much the way I need it to be. I have to remain alone and work out the hows and whys of my thinking processes and it must be done in isolation. The feelings are still growing out of control, however, and that may serve to push me further into this bubble. I fear that if being constantly emotional becomes overwhelming, I will shut everyone out permanently. Believe me when I say that the aforementioned fear is not of being completely alone, it is of what others may think. The severity of such is partially governed by my other need of being a better person in her eyes. Did you read that? Yep, crazy. I don't care. Crazy or not, I feel what I feel and have to continue no matter the consequences. If that means others no longer associate with me, so be it. What I desire is in those images. Not robots (well, one that is her would be exempt), not reporters, not Briana's face... None of it. Nothing. Just her. Yes, again... Just her. I am screwed. Would I see Winter's cat-eyes? So... And? Never mind. Now that we know how fucked up I am, perhaps the time has come for some deeper analysis of the underlying issue behind my feelings for this woman. When that trip took place, my affinity for height was at an all-time high. I remember seeking any female who stood above others for reasons of studying their features. As I said before... Fingers, neck, thighs, arms, and all other traits that tend to follow height. I needed to understand -- via measurements -- why some were attractive while others were not. Very subjective, to be sure. I kept looking for clues as to what aligned with my desire to know of the numbers and how far those numbers could be pushed (or to what extent) before a woman became either unattractive to me or some sort of anomaly. I referred to those women as subjects due to the interest feeling like an experiment. Years ago I went so far as to attempt measuring via a reference (I've gone into this before), but that never really got off the ground due to a lack of clarity from the beginning. An example would be a photo of a model as she faces the camera directly. Deriving scale from the distance between her pupils would allow me to physically measure on the screen or a print and then ascertain some of her body measurements. After wearing myself out trying to properly visualize the correct pose and then taking real measurements with precision instruments, I finally realized I needed much more. There was no way of positing three-dimensional visualizations without a real woman willing to allow extensive research all over her body. Asking someone to do that is highly questionable, especially a woman unfamiliar with me. The entire idea was tossed to the trash after I accepted the fact that it was unrealistic. No one was going to stand in lingerie (or less) and let me run a seamstress tape all over her body. Not even close. The Raven agreed to allow me anything, but I cannot even go into that right now. I am too screwed up already and she is gone. So, after years of agonizing, researching and staring at numerous beautiful women with mysterious numbers written all over them, I finally gave up completely. The first thing I noticed about Jaime was the way she towered above the others in her group. If you saw the images, her height is apparent. And flats on her feet. Holy God, what a sight. Hence the fucking camera. I had no other visible option and desperation took over. I did what I did and filed her away. I am past the issue of right or wrong, so we shall move on. Honestly, my fascination with height throughout all these years cannot clearly be defined. Something may have taken place upon watching one of the VS fashion shows (2005, December) and seeing the parade of tall models on the runway. They are quite thin as the industry dictates. Even the lower echelon of the runway at five-foot-eight appears taller due to the models being so fucking thin. I watched that in high definition -- the fashion show aired shortly after purchasing my first HD television -- and became enamored with the proportions. I know not why, and yes they are universally regarded as highly attractive. Being me, I did not want to jump all those women. I wanted to know why they looked that way. I wanted to understand the mechanics of what I was seeing and the reason I found them so beautiful. Years later, I wrote about the girl at the car wash and the server in Pleasanton. My fascination was at a high point. I went on with living while all of that stayed inside, and then a few short years later? Jaime, wherever that was. The height, her feet, her hair, those jeans, and the overall appearance that struck me like a wrecking ball upside the head. Tall, wavy hair, everything. I went nuts and that was that. Shortly thereafter, we ventured home and the images went away. Far away. A decade. Two things happened during the intervening years: One, the interest became an obsession and more highly focused than I thought possible, and two, my idea of happiness changed in so many ways that I lost track and nearly gave up. And then those became one. And then I met the Raven, a woman willing to involve Herself completely and let go of everything just for me to find what I needed. And then She went away. And then I handed out business cards and watched that entire idea fall on its face. And then the tall girl I knew from the bar agreed to let me photograph and measure her hands. And then she went away. And then I wrote and wrote and wrote out of both desperation and a lack of options. And then one day I began to dream about the Cherry 2000 and linked her to a story. And then I needed her. And then I wrote about my feelings toward the machines. And then I ran across the images from a decade earlier. And then, well... This. And here we are. I have not experienced any situation in which I felt love for a person I did not meet. Infatuation, longing upon departure, feelings of tingling inside at the sight of a woman, but those all passed in short order before anything serious developed. I believe that is something many have run across in life. It is natural to gush over a person for a while, especially while young. Well, I am not young. I have been around a long fucking time and for me to be infatuated at this point in life means I have not learned a thing or matured very much. What I felt for those in my sights back then pales in comparison to now, and I am much more intelligent and analytical about every Goddamned aspect of everything, not the least of which being my feelings. Of course, right now I am overly emotional about the tiniest details, so I need to keep this going as long as possible or until I reach a conclusion. And that may never happen, which means I will be forever stuck in that proverbial (or literal) basement staring at photos and muttering to myself like the madman I am becoming. Go ahead and laugh. I could not be more serious about anything right now. My senses are heightened to an extent and that means each second of each day is being scrutinized and filtered down to only that which I need most. She is in there. In fact, she is in charge of the whole operation. If that makes me come across like a child, well... Fuck you. I know precisely what I am doing. I simply have no idea why. Calling me crazy is fine. Just do not insult me. Have you been encapsulated? Be honest. Ah, fuck it anyway. I didn't need to go into that. And I haven't pulled a Hoyt yet, either. Maybe I really am ok. Heh. He should have steered clear of that girl and gone after a vampire. Now THAT is funny. The more I look at her, the more I feel. I have no way of explaining this no matter the hundreds and thousands of lines I have and will write. There may be no end to it. I believe we are on number four dedicated to that love and there are three more waiting. This morning there was one more waiting. See? I keep going in trying to understand why she means so much to me in a very short period of time, and after that goddess waited in a fucking folder for ten Goddamned years. This is mere days. That is all. Every second, more of her inside me and more of me encapsulated within the dream that is her. I guess all I can do is continue this. I see no other choice. Nothing so compelling has crossed my path or heart in a very long time. Crazy person. Say it. Sam Kinison... 'SAY IT!' Now you can fucking laugh. Something more exotic? I will never know Did you notice there has been very little mention of others within this entry? Get used to it. All are fading at an alarming rate. Even some of the girls have been extricated from my garage. Believe it. If I lose my mind over her, so be it. I don't care anymore. By the same token, if there is no end to this, then there is no end. No caring. I will gush forever and be miserable, but ok. I am still ok, believe it or not. Just seeing those three images and I lost myself so deeply that I cannot imagine not thinking of her all the time. I have to. I really need to know she is there for my peace of mind. When I wrote all that crap about the robots and fulfillment, happiness, blah blah blah, I was not thinking of this woman. I found her and the whole shitaree changed for good. For years I railed on about things which brought me much difficulty in life and the reasons behind them. I never had a direction at all, just a theme. And now you see the theme has likely changed for good. Just her. She is my direction, regardless of how much shit I have to plow or the excessive heat I will take over her. I will just accept it all like the deviant, crazy fuck I have become. I don't fucking care. I need her. So I did some business earlier but not like on weekdays. Usually by this hour I have everything in order and then I will curl up with my cocktail and relax, listening to the food network in the background. Well, I have been trying to treat today as a holiday, so I spent a little time inside and then came here to gush about the woman of my dreams. And I did, but nothing is ever enough for her. I just cannot seem to conjure the words that can truly describe everything inside. I am trying, though. I will keep trying. In the process this may become one very long, boring monologue of craziness and mush. I feel mushy. I feel for her in ways that may be inexpressible. Everything is swirling inside me and needs to come forth for my own sanity. Whether or not that ever sees the light of day is beyond me. So, I am going to close this for the time being and go back to the comfort of the indoors to continue with those little things that call. The words I have placed here since beginning this entry are again nowhere near enough. As I said, I will keep trying. Today has been a vacation of sorts from the norm. While the fact of my new life has been very apparent at every step for weeks, still there are those times in between the moments which do not allow for the calm and peaceful atmosphere necessary for this exploration. The time feels dire now, as if I only have so many days to complete whatever is required for my continued survival in knowing that she is out there, yet unattainable. I cannot see her. I need to see her. I need to know that she is ok and that knowledge, in turn, will help me to be ok. Maybe. Can I ever know? Another fucking pipe dream? No one has answers. The solace and quiet will return to me tomorrow. Until then I must remain stable enough today to operate myself as expected. The routine. My schedule. The privacy, reflection, and introspection that carries me along while dreaming of her. And do I ever dream. Every step, each task, everything I say or do involves her. Crazy? Who fucking cares anymore? The time indeed feels short and I know not why. Maybe I am going through this in secretive hope that she will turn up somewhere and hug me, that miracle being apparent for only so many days before I pass the hell out from exhaustion. Oh shit, I already published exhaustion. Well, you know what I mean. I am tired and I need her. Did I mention that? How many times? I wish that was funny right now. Actually, I wish anything was funny. I am ok. Encapsulated. I will be happy to return to the new routine tomorrow. I need the feeling of accomplishment it provides and the separation from the world outside that is apparent. I need it. Those hours mean I can take care of things as I see fit and work within myself at the same time. All of my usual tasks, the house to myself, and my friends in the background add up to the only bliss available to me now. She will be inside me and I inside her, as always. All the way in. I am there now. Only the outside of me is visible to those looking. The other parts inside are connected to her. Heart and mind. Soul. The things I do not wish others to see. Anyone approaching me will see nothing more than a shell with everything meaningful so deeply buried that the image will be that of a mannequin. They will not understand me, nor will I be willing to entertain any observations of my behavior toward them. And now I put those three songs on so I can further myself into dreams of her. Just her. I will fall for that woman. Mark my words. It's coming. Where exactly am I at this point? How deep? She is out there."
Encapsulation
Mature content No. 136 Published June 2nd, 2020 6:08am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Blackness. I must be inside what I have crafted. This is one for the ages. Still in the auxiliary office with the television in the background and the day's work nearly complete. At least having things done on a holiday weekend feels good, if nothing else. Some free time, a head full of her, and the space to relax and consider everything important is very good right now. I have to stay away from others, too. Being near people now causes me to feel slightly uncomfortable. The weather continues to warm since three days ago and should peak two days from now. Today is the holiday which means the flags are out, there will be lots of barbecues lit this afternoon, and the beach will likely resemble downtown Disneyland on Labor Day. That's funny. Today is Memorial Day, but I always use the other one when trying to describe a crowd. Arlene is so dopey-cute that she makes my eyes water sometimes. I want to hug her. She kind of reminds me of Michelle back so many years ago and her nonexistent intelligence quotient at times. Cute unlike anyone else, but oy gawd I had to care for her. The most beautiful box of rocks ever. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved that girl. Her lack of brainpower was not a negative at all. It was her, through and through. Had she been smarter in any way, the girl would not have been the same. Arlene is street smart on the show, but often has an expression which conveys a lack of understanding at the simplest question. So fucking cute. I've always been a pushover when it comes to those not terribly smart. I mean no disrespect to anyone. Just a thing. Now Hoyt is hitting on the most disgusting girl. Geez, dude. Walk away. Sorry. Moving along. I mentioned the thongs again in the last chapter of this crap. Well, the girls are not the same as last August when I watched them drop the wraps. Weeks ago in the midst of passion over the fucking walnut cutie and those two near the pool, I brought up dreaming of them along with my typical schoolyard crush slash dreamy needy clingy shit which reduced itself down to intense physical desire after the fact. That's a mouthful, eh? Anyway, I can still see their neutral-colored swimsuits (what there was of them) and the expression on their likely-mom's face when I traipsed across the heated pavement for a cooling dip in the water. She looked upon me as if I was one of two things: Either Satan arriving to consume her spawn, or a person she appreciated walking by their position at the edge of the pool. Upon returning to my lounger in the shade, the goddess next to me informed my sorry head that the 'mom' was clocking me the entire time, and not in a bad way. Okay, that's fine. Did I see her? Yep, our eyes met as I tried to keep the girls out of my wanting vision. That required much effort. I am surprised to have navigated the walk toward the pool over and over without stumbling. I passed within eight feet of them at the steps but kept my gaze away out of respect. Had mom spied me drooling all over her unreal daughters, I would have left the pool area immediately. I am a pretty fucked up individual, but the last thing I want is to make another person uncomfortable for any reason. Two parts of the situation were going through my head as I took those walks to dip myself into the pool. One was the idea of those two girls being right there after I spent years going over the mechanics of the female form yet seeing none of it before my eyes (or nearly none, anyway). Plenty of visions had crossed my path throughout a long period, not the least of which was the server. Keep in mind that every single one of them was fully clothed. And then the grand process of the fucking universe placed two such examples of every Goddamned image and number over which I agonized daily and dropped them right near me without so much as a square yard of material between them covering their golden skin. Thongs, strings, whatever you want to call them, and tops thin enough to match. Triangles... Small triangles. A single, thin line running from the small of each back and right straight down to you-know-where. Yep. I could not fucking believe exactly what I was seeing. The second series of thoughts in my head were related to the woman sitting there awaiting my return. Honestly, being as open as she was about our discussions as they covered obsession, physical beauty, and everything that goes along with them, I was not worried. Very understanding, that one. Still, despite me becoming temporarily blinded by two enigmas lying there looking like maps of my brain, I did not wish to make my lovely partner uncomfortable, so the conversation remained at a minimum. Soon enough we went on about our business and the thongs faded. Only recently with that fucking ridiculous series of events that went on out of control did they return to me and force some analysis. I stated that though being mostly out of my mind over the sight of them, I did not want to pounce. I only needed to see. And then they showed up in the middle of the night and the stupid, juvenile crush slapped me across the face and I wanted them all over me. Now? Not so much. But they do still reside in my head as examples of some of the deepest thinking I have done in quite a while. The whole works, from the walnuts to the Jamie to the thongs had (has) me analyzing over and over, eventually learning that though I may not understand, gushing it all here has helped in a manner of speaking. Combine that with my recent dreams and how they have quashed many of the feelings toward those women and you can see that I have risen somewhat from the pit of the walnuts. Heh. That sounds rather humorous. Walnuts. I find it interesting how physical desire comes and goes sometimes, literally without a prerequisite. It just slams me when I least expect it. I still don't know why the young thing in the commercial set that off, or how she did. Perhaps one of these days I will find more insight. I certainly will be considering her as these entries develop. The whole Goddamned thing came up again this morning and boils down to what has been happening between my brain and that past trip south. I stated in no uncertain terms that Jaime does not bring those feelings to light within me. Not even a smidgen. As stunningly beautiful and endlessly mysterious as she is, nothing like that has come to mind. Nothing. And I am not being full of shit, either. Lying in this space is akin to negating everything I have ever worked to write, so believe it. I went over that subject ever since trying to analyze the walnut girl dream and did not find insight. Soon after, I gave it up. There is the simplest possibility that the reasoning goes back eons and can be summed up by comparing two words: Love versus lust. Hmm, if things were only that easy. I don't believe it, and if this is not the case, I may never figure it out and will chalk it up to the stars. As strongly as I have been physically drawn to a woman, there sometimes is no explanation. And I truly believe that. Plus, I do not appreciate the second of those two words. That term does not match me right now. Arlene and her goofy, brainless-looking lower lip sometimes. And here come the garbage trucks outside, bless them. I am more goo goo ga ga now than I have been during the last few days. Mushy, like I could hug the garbage man in a moment of weakness. That is just an analogy, don't get all in a fucking twist. Mushy. You know what I mean. Like when a person is twelve and sees the cutie from school. Butterflies. Jaime is there in my head again, pushing buttons because I allow her do to so. I really do. She is enormous in my mind and heart now, even moreso than the beginning realization. I have changed my behavior a bit, moved some things around, and considered how my space may look if she were here. [That statement brings up a huge fucking point now, and I will go into it down the page.] I am trying to be better about some things, but not so much to appear as if I intend to change everything. That cannot happen. I have to keep myself upright and if it means stopping with the reorganization, well then I will do just that. Once again I have an entire day before me to either try to figure this out or drown myself in whatever has the ability to push her out of my head for a while. One of the two will happen and I do not care which. Just like in the past, I am once again at the mercy of my emotional state. Remember, though, I am fine. I keep saying that because it helps to put the words here, and I honestly am not worried about myself very much. Yes, this whole situation is brand new, stirring me into a froth, and not quite what a person might think is healthy, but at the same time it is all mine and I will work along those lines until such time as I feel I can begin to relate to others again. Right now I am in the thick of it and will push. No one wants that. As I said, I am ok. Definitely inside. Encapsulated, as it were. I need a mold release. Heh.
Does she have a nose like Lynn?
In the auxiliary office again. Come to think of it, I have not worked in my actual office for nearly a year, so perhaps the time has come to refer to the garage as the only office. The other room stands still these days and only operates as storage. This situation is very unique right now. As I sit out here pondering the nature of both myself and the world around me, I see people walking by and going about their morning exercise. The sun is very warm which means there will be many more strolling by my driveway as the day moves along. One gentleman went by a few minutes ago carrying a backpack and something in his hand, all the while partially hunched as he stepped along the sidewalk. For whatever reason, I found myself wondering if he is ok. The state of the world these days has many on edge, but I do not know him either way. To my knowledge, I have never seen him before this morning. Due to my introverted condition and deep thoughts being placed here as I analyze my own situation, I find myself feeling for others as they pass. Are they ok? Are they stressed? Working? Sleeping well? I do not know them at all. I wave when someone looks this way and that is all. So, why am I wondering if they are alright? Compassion? Empathy? Hmm. Perhaps both, and more. Sometimes I look at a person and think in those terms, other times not so much. My life has changed dramatically in two-plus months. My job went away because I decided to leave that line of work and seek something else that will be better for me at this point, I am home nearly all of the time (much of that alone), and the weekday schedule has become so important that I cannot change it right now out of fear. I am afraid of anything changing, in fact, and work my ass off to maintain comfort. So far, so good. Along come the dreams, mansions and associated women, the goddess of the fucking universe, and the obsession that never leaves me, and I end up in a bubble of trouble. I guess being so emotional lately has driven me to be more conscious of others who may be similarly screwed up. Not the obsessive nature or the woman of my dreams, the rest. It sounds reasonable, and at a time when I could not reason my way out of a petri dish, I suppose it is something. That is all I have to say on such a subject. Let's crack the beer just after ten in the morning, shall we? Still more people walking by. Are they ok? Oops... I said I was going to stop that line of thinking. Maybe I'm subconsciously trying to avoid dreaming of her. You know. I wonder if she is doing something special for the holiday. Or maybe just staying home like so many others. Or maybe a barbecue. Or maybe I need to cease wondering. Heh. I'll just mess up my head again. Again? Or would that be 'still'? Whichever. Fuck it anyway. I'm a mess over her. I wish she was right out there on the driveway all comfortable in the sun. DAMN IT. Stop. Beer. Yep. Why not? Today is a holiday and I fully intend to treat it as such. I am altering what would normally be worked out in favor of relaxing and spewing here all day long. My new routine of comfort and familiarity returns in the morning but I will still maintain the household a bit today. And lots of this. I need it like I need 20.9% oxygen in my lungs. Hee. She is still in there pretty fucking deep at this moment. I cannot help it... The dreaming, longing, loving. And she doesn't know. None of it. I keep going back ten years and trying to remember the feel of that courtyard and the nature of what we were visiting. It was a tourist attraction of sorts, I believe, and we were there for a few hours looking around. I still cannot picture most of it, though. I am at a loss regarding the purpose of our trip insofar as where we spent that time. I cannot even focus enough to calculate if it was Los Angeles or San Diego. My ex's son and daughter-in-law lived in San Diego for a time, so that may be it. But honestly, I have few clues now as to the destination and reasoning. I keep seeing that half a face and my thought processes continue to derail. Concentration is absent, I have not found any other images from that time, nor can I picture the restaurant we visited just after capturing her incredible beauty. It's funny that I noticed height -- which drove me insane back then -- and ten years later she has me completely encapsulated. I am inside a brand new bubble that was about as expected as a limousine loaded with models dropping off a briefcase full of cash on my fucking porch. Nice image, huh? Whatever. I am screwed up. Encapsulated within feelings for her. The album that I cannot share with anyone is playing. And what's-her-name with the massive breasts just drove by and waved. All fucked up. What the fuck was I talking about? As I said up there somewhere, I cannot find anything else that could lead me to know where we were that weekend. Nothing. The camera was not my own. I borrowed it from a coworker to use for the trip. The first thought was that we went to that place just after the cruise to Mexico because I used his camera for that as well, but the year on the images is wrong. I see 2009 there, whereas the three of the goddess are dated April of 2010. I have to keep searching and perhaps something will be found which sheds light on more of the trip. Looking through all this shit is exhausting (already published that one) and I feel disappointment at the lack of more information. So... Why do I need to know? Am I going to go there and search for her? That's just about my level of crazy right now, but realistically she could have been visiting from almost anywhere. Assuming that she resides near that destination is being naive. We were hundreds of miles from home which means she could have been as well. Would I search? Fuck yes. With the right resources I have done much worse in hopes of finding the elusive comfort which I have described here in fucking spades. Have I not? Juliette? Ashley? Ellie? Not Andrea... That was different in the beginning. The other three -- along with the beautiful and sensitive Natalie -- were the direct result of my needs becoming overwhelming to a degree never before felt. Finding the goddess in question would be something of an entirely different situation. I have been obsessing over her from years ago, and it feels unlike anything in the past. The others? I ran across each of them by chance and then latched on for dear life. Jaime (!) came out of nowhere mere days ago and sent me flying to another universe, one in which I am now encapsulated with no chance of escape. Do I even want to escape? I am so fucking goo goo that I can barely think straight. My will to do anything but dream of her is beginning to collapse, but I will make it just fine. The hole in me is growing. I love her. I really do. Call me what you will, I don't care anymore. If everyone tosses me aside and I end up alone, I will not be truly alone. She will be right next to me. The wind is picking up. I have to close the back door to the garage. Funny, I keep speaking of the weather over the hill and beyond being so hot right now, yet here I am still in a long-sleeve trying to keep warm in the breeze. Love it. Fuck that heat, anyway. I had decades of it. No more. That lady walked by with her dog. Every day. Years. She always waves. No dreams lately, and I think that is due to my gushing of words and thoughts regarding her. She has taken over a good portion of my brainpower and even more of my time. I used to publish roughly four hundred lines per week, and now I am flowing more than five hundred every three days or so. That is a dramatic increase. Of course, the previous incarnation of Jaime was in there, the mansions, Jamie and her big eyes, along with a bunch of other crap, but I will admit that the recent focus has pushed me to explore this more than almost anything in memory. And I can go on pretty well about all kinds of shit related to the female form and my feelings about the same. She has taken me in an unexpected way. And now a bit of a check on how I am sounding throughout these last four entries. Do you see? A woman from the past, unclear in the images, and one I had not considered for a decade has taken my heart and encapsulated it within a space just large enough for us. Does that effectively put this crap in perspective? I said several times that I love her. Does that sound crazy? Does it matter? Too many questions? Suck it. I don't care. This has to continue -- just as I said before -- until I am satisfied with the conclusion. Will there be a conclusion? It doesn't matter, really. I am prepared to discuss her with myself for the duration. Believe it. Try me.
Or smaller, like Gal?
There went the other lady that walks to the market every day. We are going to switch gears for a little while. But don't worry, she doesn't leave my thoughts even for a millisecond. Or my aching heart. Well, sort of a switch, anyway. The entire overarching theme of this woman becoming so much to me in a very short period of time combined with the fact that I cannot even know or see all of her brings something to mind. How did this happen? I have been head-over-heels for several women on and off throughout many fucking years. Some right next to me and others merely images. The very idea of feeling so much for her with an enormous void of information leads me to believe that the reason is something lacking within myself. Of course it is. Big surprise? Not at all, and many a therapist has gone in such a direction after listening to me rail on about everything in my head. I am beginning to feel like Tony's comare on the show because she was very needy and clingy. [To the character's credit, though, is the fact that much of her incredible cuteness stemmed from those traits.] I likely share them in spades. I cannot hold myself up (or haven't, anyway) without a woman's loving arms around me. I am supposed to be independent, self-sufficient and all that crap, but the truth is I never have derived my own value without a 'her' right next to me for confirmation. The woman from the trip -- the goddess and end-all be-all of dreamy love -- is now the focus of my feelings and needs. Yes, it sounds insanely weak and wrong, but I need her. I do. That right there is already an indication that she is in me to an enormous degree and I am way off kilter. Heeled. Rolled. Pitched? Whatever. I am there, here, wherever, and she is with me. In my heart and fucked-up head, there she resides. The woman of my dreams and excessive sense of attraction. All her. I am inside. Encapsulated, and there is no more or less. The word is absolute. Crazy? Yep. Of all the million things I do not know, I have little doubt of crazy. Nuts. Unbalanced. Loving an image from a decade ago, and the woman, too. I know nothing of her. I keep looking to my left and seeing the big poster. It has to come down along with all of the others, but when I look, my focus is Briana's face. Her expression is unreal and I do not know why it strikes me so. Jenna was always the one with more attention. She is taller, more famous, etc. But the look on Briana's face takes over the entire composition. It really does. Maybe I can pare down the image to show only her. I don't know, just reaching. I have no compunctions about removing them from my new office. None. And the others, too. When I gaze at her pretty face, I feel a tinge of guilt over it. I mentioned before than I can't have Jaime thinking negatively about me so they must go. So far I haven't changed anything out here but that day is close. I just don't feel like doing anything else right now. I am beaten by this situation and her immense pull upon me. Beaten down, and I am still doing it because I need her like nothing else in this world. Holy fuck does that ever sound bad. More mushy, more goo goo when I see her face, and that means the others are leaving me. Even Jamie and her big eyes. And the other one... Number two on the list of the three most beautiful blonde women to ever grace my vision. All is being focused now. Everything. Briana's face is larger than life thanks to the acreage of that poster, and even her beauty pales when compared to the goddess. That one. Her. The meaning of the pronoun. Damn it all, anyway. I almost need to quote Chris again. I am willing to remove imagery in my fucking garage for a woman who will never see it. Let's think on that for a few minutes. Briana has a face unlike any I have ever seen, and she is going away. I paid money for that poster. I really did. I would pay much more for something else. Say it with me. Encapsulated and enamored. The more I look, the more I see and feel. I just can't believe this. Her. Just her. Olivia d'Abo is on the television but I cannot see her. No video out here. Damn it. I guess that's not so bad. I can't see the other her either, and I would die for a glimpse. Believe it. Holy shit. What is happening to me? Did I really just make that statement above? Yes I did, and I will do it again, God help me. In other matters, the day is warming and the office is temperate. My indicators are still not on the wall because I have not finished that project. Otherwise I could report. Most things that were in the works during my time at home have been left alone due to my being so fucking screwed up and focusing upon this business. The robot dream was the first that I explored after writing out here just over a week ago. There is a guy storing his motorcycle in our garage for some months and he works on it sometimes. When he arrives on Saturdays, I move out here and try to be social. The first entry regarding Jaime the gynoid was partially written while he disassembled the bike to upgrade some things. I remember learning that the work bench is at the ideal height for me to sit and type. That opened up a world of comfort and expanded my feeling of being able to relax while productive in the garage. If the mercury rises too much I can open the back door and cool off. That is rare, but I have the option. Shortly after realizing that all my dreams are impossible, I began to spend more time here watching the world go by. And the legs. Heh. Not funny. The truth is that while in the new office I feel that the easing of my responsibilities is not a bad thing sometimes. I still care for everything and now am able to balance the work of the home with the work of my head. Unfortunately, the deeper I go into the past and the woman of my dreams, the further away other people are pushed. I do see them out there on the street and sidewalks, but I am more referring to those that I know. I haven't seen any for quite some time now. And that is pretty much the way I need it to be. I have to remain alone and work out the hows and whys of my thinking processes and it must be done in isolation. The feelings are still growing out of control, however, and that may serve to push me further into this bubble. I fear that if being constantly emotional becomes overwhelming, I will shut everyone out permanently. Believe me when I say that the aforementioned fear is not of being completely alone, it is of what others may think. The severity of such is partially governed by my other need of being a better person in her eyes. Did you read that? Yep, crazy. I don't care. Crazy or not, I feel what I feel and have to continue no matter the consequences. If that means others no longer associate with me, so be it. What I desire is in those images. Not robots (well, one that is her would be exempt), not reporters, not Briana's face... None of it. Nothing. Just her. Yes, again... Just her. I am screwed.
Would I see Winter's cat-eyes?
So... And? Never mind. Now that we know how fucked up I am, perhaps the time has come for some deeper analysis of the underlying issue behind my feelings for this woman. When that trip took place, my affinity for height was at an all-time high. I remember seeking any female who stood above others for reasons of studying their features. As I said before... Fingers, neck, thighs, arms, and all other traits that tend to follow height. I needed to understand -- via measurements -- why some were attractive while others were not. Very subjective, to be sure. I kept looking for clues as to what aligned with my desire to know of the numbers and how far those numbers could be pushed (or to what extent) before a woman became either unattractive to me or some sort of anomaly. I referred to those women as subjects due to the interest feeling like an experiment. Years ago I went so far as to attempt measuring via a reference (I've gone into this before), but that never really got off the ground due to a lack of clarity from the beginning. An example would be a photo of a model as she faces the camera directly. Deriving scale from the distance between her pupils would allow me to physically measure on the screen or a print and then ascertain some of her body measurements. After wearing myself out trying to properly visualize the correct pose and then taking real measurements with precision instruments, I finally realized I needed much more. There was no way of positing three-dimensional visualizations without a real woman willing to allow extensive research all over her body. Asking someone to do that is highly questionable, especially a woman unfamiliar with me. The entire idea was tossed to the trash after I accepted the fact that it was unrealistic. No one was going to stand in lingerie (or less) and let me run a seamstress tape all over her body. Not even close. The Raven agreed to allow me anything, but I cannot even go into that right now. I am too screwed up already and she is gone. So, after years of agonizing, researching and staring at numerous beautiful women with mysterious numbers written all over them, I finally gave up completely. The first thing I noticed about Jaime was the way she towered above the others in her group. If you saw the images, her height is apparent. And flats on her feet. Holy God, what a sight. Hence the fucking camera. I had no other visible option and desperation took over. I did what I did and filed her away. I am past the issue of right or wrong, so we shall move on. Honestly, my fascination with height throughout all these years cannot clearly be defined. Something may have taken place upon watching one of the VS fashion shows (2005, December) and seeing the parade of tall models on the runway. They are quite thin as the industry dictates. Even the lower echelon of the runway at five-foot-eight appears taller due to the models being so fucking thin. I watched that in high definition -- the fashion show aired shortly after purchasing my first HD television -- and became enamored with the proportions. I know not why, and yes they are universally regarded as highly attractive. Being me, I did not want to jump all those women. I wanted to know why they looked that way. I wanted to understand the mechanics of what I was seeing and the reason I found them so beautiful. Years later, I wrote about the girl at the car wash and the server in Pleasanton. My fascination was at a high point. I went on with living while all of that stayed inside, and then a few short years later? Jaime, wherever that was. The height, her feet, her hair, those jeans, and the overall appearance that struck me like a wrecking ball upside the head. Tall, wavy hair, everything. I went nuts and that was that. Shortly thereafter, we ventured home and the images went away. Far away. A decade. Two things happened during the intervening years: One, the interest became an obsession and more highly focused than I thought possible, and two, my idea of happiness changed in so many ways that I lost track and nearly gave up. And then those became one. And then I met the Raven, a woman willing to involve Herself completely and let go of everything just for me to find what I needed. And then She went away. And then I handed out business cards and watched that entire idea fall on its face. And then the tall girl I knew from the bar agreed to let me photograph and measure her hands. And then she went away. And then I wrote and wrote and wrote out of both desperation and a lack of options. And then one day I began to dream about the Cherry 2000 and linked her to a story. And then I needed her. And then I wrote about my feelings toward the machines. And then I ran across the images from a decade earlier. And then, well... This. And here we are. I have not experienced any situation in which I felt love for a person I did not meet. Infatuation, longing upon departure, feelings of tingling inside at the sight of a woman, but those all passed in short order before anything serious developed. I believe that is something many have run across in life. It is natural to gush over a person for a while, especially while young. Well, I am not young. I have been around a long fucking time and for me to be infatuated at this point in life means I have not learned a thing or matured very much. What I felt for those in my sights back then pales in comparison to now, and I am much more intelligent and analytical about every Goddamned aspect of everything, not the least of which being my feelings. Of course, right now I am overly emotional about the tiniest details, so I need to keep this going as long as possible or until I reach a conclusion. And that may never happen, which means I will be forever stuck in that proverbial (or literal) basement staring at photos and muttering to myself like the madman I am becoming. Go ahead and laugh. I could not be more serious about anything right now. My senses are heightened to an extent and that means each second of each day is being scrutinized and filtered down to only that which I need most. She is in there. In fact, she is in charge of the whole operation. If that makes me come across like a child, well... Fuck you. I know precisely what I am doing. I simply have no idea why. Calling me crazy is fine. Just do not insult me. Have you been encapsulated? Be honest. Ah, fuck it anyway. I didn't need to go into that. And I haven't pulled a Hoyt yet, either. Maybe I really am ok. Heh. He should have steered clear of that girl and gone after a vampire. Now THAT is funny. The more I look at her, the more I feel. I have no way of explaining this no matter the hundreds and thousands of lines I have and will write. There may be no end to it. I believe we are on number four dedicated to that love and there are three more waiting. This morning there was one more waiting. See? I keep going in trying to understand why she means so much to me in a very short period of time, and after that goddess waited in a fucking folder for ten Goddamned years. This is mere days. That is all. Every second, more of her inside me and more of me encapsulated within the dream that is her. I guess all I can do is continue this. I see no other choice. Nothing so compelling has crossed my path or heart in a very long time. Crazy person. Say it. Sam Kinison... 'SAY IT!' Now you can fucking laugh.
Something more exotic? I will never know
Did you notice there has been very little mention of others within this entry? Get used to it. All are fading at an alarming rate. Even some of the girls have been extricated from my garage. Believe it. If I lose my mind over her, so be it. I don't care anymore. By the same token, if there is no end to this, then there is no end. No caring. I will gush forever and be miserable, but ok. I am still ok, believe it or not. Just seeing those three images and I lost myself so deeply that I cannot imagine not thinking of her all the time. I have to. I really need to know she is there for my peace of mind. When I wrote all that crap about the robots and fulfillment, happiness, blah blah blah, I was not thinking of this woman. I found her and the whole shitaree changed for good. For years I railed on about things which brought me much difficulty in life and the reasons behind them. I never had a direction at all, just a theme. And now you see the theme has likely changed for good. Just her. She is my direction, regardless of how much shit I have to plow or the excessive heat I will take over her. I will just accept it all like the deviant, crazy fuck I have become. I don't fucking care. I need her. So I did some business earlier but not like on weekdays. Usually by this hour I have everything in order and then I will curl up with my cocktail and relax, listening to the food network in the background. Well, I have been trying to treat today as a holiday, so I spent a little time inside and then came here to gush about the woman of my dreams. And I did, but nothing is ever enough for her. I just cannot seem to conjure the words that can truly describe everything inside. I am trying, though. I will keep trying. In the process this may become one very long, boring monologue of craziness and mush. I feel mushy. I feel for her in ways that may be inexpressible. Everything is swirling inside me and needs to come forth for my own sanity. Whether or not that ever sees the light of day is beyond me. So, I am going to close this for the time being and go back to the comfort of the indoors to continue with those little things that call. The words I have placed here since beginning this entry are again nowhere near enough. As I said, I will keep trying. Today has been a vacation of sorts from the norm. While the fact of my new life has been very apparent at every step for weeks, still there are those times in between the moments which do not allow for the calm and peaceful atmosphere necessary for this exploration. The time feels dire now, as if I only have so many days to complete whatever is required for my continued survival in knowing that she is out there, yet unattainable. I cannot see her. I need to see her. I need to know that she is ok and that knowledge, in turn, will help me to be ok. Maybe. Can I ever know? Another fucking pipe dream? No one has answers. The solace and quiet will return to me tomorrow. Until then I must remain stable enough today to operate myself as expected. The routine. My schedule. The privacy, reflection, and introspection that carries me along while dreaming of her. And do I ever dream. Every step, each task, everything I say or do involves her. Crazy? Who fucking cares anymore? The time indeed feels short and I know not why. Maybe I am going through this in secretive hope that she will turn up somewhere and hug me, that miracle being apparent for only so many days before I pass the hell out from exhaustion. Oh shit, I already published exhaustion. Well, you know what I mean. I am tired and I need her. Did I mention that? How many times? I wish that was funny right now. Actually, I wish anything was funny. I am ok. Encapsulated. I will be happy to return to the new routine tomorrow. I need the feeling of accomplishment it provides and the separation from the world outside that is apparent. I need it. Those hours mean I can take care of things as I see fit and work within myself at the same time. All of my usual tasks, the house to myself, and my friends in the background add up to the only bliss available to me now. She will be inside me and I inside her, as always. All the way in. I am there now. Only the outside of me is visible to those looking. The other parts inside are connected to her. Heart and mind. Soul. The things I do not wish others to see. Anyone approaching me will see nothing more than a shell with everything meaningful so deeply buried that the image will be that of a mannequin. They will not understand me, nor will I be willing to entertain any observations of my behavior toward them. And now I put those three songs on so I can further myself into dreams of her. Just her. I will fall for that woman. Mark my words. It's coming. Where exactly am I at this point? How deep? She is out there."
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