Exhaustion Mature content No. 132 Published May 20th, 2020 7:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Still here, but going downhill fast due to a problem that has no solution. I do not know what to do. The dreams are going to continue. Because I already know, the drawings may continue, and as such may follow the layouts I can remember of them. There are not many options now other than carrying forward with my new little world and the comfort it provides daily. The other day I viewed the beginning of that damned episode which originally prompted me to attempt yet another descriptive essay due to the stunning form that graced the screen. The idea is funny, as I am very familiar with the woman (or women, I am not sure) in question and have seen that series so many times over the years. She was always there -- since it first aired in 1990 -- but something changed after discussing Our Man Bashir here some months back and experiencing all those fucking dreams that will not let up. The woman is fictional and somehow connected to the idea of the Cherry 2000 and the Jaime that I created. There are so many little coincidences there that to sort them out might take the rest of my life. The sum may just drive me back to the drawings and that wonderful control I held over them. Right now I do not know. All my shit arrived in the mail so I can do some rebuilding hopefully Saturday. Nice. I do not have my drawings at the moment. Years ago when I seriously considered leaving this world I entrusted them to a close relative for safe keeping. Now that I have embraced the long-term, I will grab them and go over as much detail as I can. When I created those designs so many years ago, the ideas did not stem from dreams. I've gone over that already. Just to be clear, the reasoning behind getting back into the idea of creating more homes is pointed to the dreams. Directly. My imagination runs wild during the dream analysis and trying to learn of the genesis of such consistent and vivid imagery, so pointing the stick toward embracing the designs could prove beneficial. It could also be disastrous, if you know what I mean. The combination of the machines and dreams is just not healthy. I understand that and still dive. I am doing it right now and have for the last week or more. Withdrawal is creeping in to my daily activities and looking better and safer as time passes. That is also unhealthy. Even at this moment sitting in the garage I see a world going by that has become so alien that it nearly defies description. The inside of me and the manner in which I relate to the outside has changed so much in the space of weeks that I almost cannot follow along. Others are moving to and fro out there on the sidewalks, doing what they do such as walking, bicycling, and spending time with their children. Alien. Completely. Every single activity that I embrace is totally different and very isolated, secure, and under strict control. The simplicity of going to lunch has become an exercise in futility often times. I need things to look and feel a certain way before I can relax and enjoy food and cocktails. Yes, cocktails with lunch. That means the restaurant must have a bar area away from the dining room. And I cannot sit just anywhere. I typically need a spot that represents a vantage point to the entry, a view of as much of the space as possible, and not too near others. Yep. There is that word again... Control. This is different than other uses of the word but the need is the same. I have evolved into a reclusive, hidden soul that must feel secure and comfortable almost constantly, and that includes being in places that others frequent. The time, seating location, atmosphere, bartender (I will not often sit in a dining room), and the amount I can see from my chair must all align ideally or I will walk right back out the fucking door. That is a need to control my environment. Not good, not healthy, unsociable, and far outside the way many people think. I have been willing to trade an excellent meal in favor of my needs and that is just fine. Such is me after all these years. Ugh. Best that I stay here for the foreseeable future, right? I was not like this ten years ago. The frightening fact is just how many other souls I am going to alienate as I fall deeper into this place that has been created just for me, and by me. This will happen. Robots. Many entries here on this insane site have found me referring to the average, general public as 'them', the 'sheep', or 'robots' due to their herd mentality and need to gain some type of superiority over the next person. Well, no longer. Oh don't worry, I still despise what we have made as a society, however the operative 'robots' now points its bony finger in a vastly different direction. A dreamy, mechanically beautiful direction... The idea of Jaime. But not just her, the whole fucking enchilada. I am at this moment sitting among massive wall hangings that depict the lines over which I obsess. Has that affected me? Fuck yes, dipshits. What the fuck do you think? I drown myself into exotic imagery because I'm trying to support the financial freedom of the models? Heh. Nope. I am obsessed with an enormous amount of it. And now you can see that every fucking screwed up aspect of my personality is related. Deeply. All of it combines to dictate my every fucking move. Drawings equal control, robots equal control, site equals control, and then something comes along over which I have none and I implode. Wow, big fucking surprise. The drawings are real, the site is real, however the main mitigating factor of my modern life will remain absent as long as I am alive. That fact is crippling and contributing to my speedy withdrawal and ejection from the present reality. In here I shall remain for the duration of whatever the fuck develops. I need not worry of a virus. I am enough. Braces are beautiful Sharp control, to be certain. Nothing else seems to maintain my focus to such an extent. The dreams always fall short -- as they should, I suppose, due to not knowing of the sources of warmth personally -- and then when I wake there is just enough material left over for me to attempt a conclusion. Or maybe just a direction. I'm not sure. I have little to no control over what takes place in those mansions. I try, but usually the drive is not something I can avoid. There is a pair of arms somewhere. I am compelled to find them and then hide us away from everything. Always searching. Always. From there to the drawings, and the contrast is stark. All mine versus all confusing. Heh. That's almost funny. Anyway, the effort I have been going through is heavy. It weighs on me. And I find it exhausting after so many years. The recent realization is horrid to consider, too. Lots of weight on me now. Seeing that episode yesterday that I had not really pondered for a long time was irritating and disheartening. I saw that woman again and something snapped. I tried to carry forward with my work around the house, and for the most part that went well. All the while, however, her walk was inside me and playing out over and over again. I saw too much this time. I thought of the mansions, the one I know who was in one of them, and then the endless searches for what I needed. Damn it. Yep, one vision on the screen from decades ago and my head went all over several problems for hours. All the shit ends up here, so I don't really need to go on about it. Maybe I already did. Oh, well. Morning. The day is before me, dreams of some electrical outlet issue are behind. No mansion, no mystery woman, no chase around the corridors. That is good. I do not miss the subjects which plague me in the morning after being in one of the situations which reminds me of the goblet. Like meeting Jana, Kelly, Lori. Chances there, nothing more. But all of them came out of the blue, really. Ellie, too. I reached. In the dreams I never reached. Always there was a presence -- or more than one -- compelling me to work things out so as to find that place where we could finally be alone. As far as I can recall, fulfilling my need to locate a quiet place and become comfortable has never happened. The idea eludes one way or another, or I simply wake. Only on a few occasions did I actually see the woman in question, but those were simpler at the time. No huge house or exotic location. Just a small apartment or home where we lived. And those visions were typically of an Asian woman next to me. And that brings into light an idea which I do not wish to explore at this time. I will, but only a little. I am reminded of Ju Da Ha from years ago when I was fascinated by her modeling work. So beautiful. The robots again. And? The circumstances in that little apartment were akin to living here on the coast when I first relocated from the valley. The place was fairly small but worked wonderfully for my needs. I juxtaposed many traditional ideas to make myself comfortable and eventually became very pleased with the space. In the dream, our living conditions were similar, albeit different due to lots of light. She was there with me and our relationship was rather one-sided. I felt it. She was beautiful and very quiet much of the time. I felt everything. I knew months of us in a matter of seconds. She was like a subordinate to me, which I have never understood, and was devoted to my happiness. She put her own needs aside to ensure that I was always cared for. I knew it, through. I knew her, very well. She seemed younger than me by at least a decade. The situation in that apartment seemed natural. There is more, however I need to leave that out. Awake, thinking, confused. During the latter half of the zero years, I went through a period of yearning for a tall Asian woman. I know not why, and as the years passed I balanced it in one way or another. The one in my dream was like the Korean models that I perused while seeking material for the site. Rarities. The dream girl was tall, my height. Lanky, like Ju, and with the traditional flowing black hair to her waist. I am quite certain she was built to my imagination, like a robot. A dream is just that... I do not conjure unattractive women. Heh. Anyway, the idea that I had been clearly and solidly in charge of her was not something I had considered ever in life. Controlling another person is unnatural and even more out of balance than my head. That is not something for which I have ever been open. Now, before you begin to berate me and beat me over the head with whatever device is being used to read this, the machines are different and the idea of them did not come out of a need for control. It is simply there, just like any other type of machine that was designed and built to serve a need of sorts. Well, of course a machine requires a 'user' in order to function. But the control of said machine is natural. Do you get it? The Korean woman responded to me as a subordinate, and that is not what I am speaking of here. She was a person (yes, in a fucking dream), and I treated her as such, just as I would anyone else. The idea that she was there to serve me was nothing more than a feeling inside. No conversation, nothing implied, I just knew it. Society influenced me to the point of realizing that the stigma which had been attached to Asian women throughout the decades ended up a part of my fucking dream. Great. Thanks. I am not a user. The machine is purpose-built and just that... A device made to serve one purpose or another. The dream was not under my control. This is exhausting. But the dream of that most beautiful of Asian women does point a finger at the operative word in another way. I felt it, I felt that she was there to do as I wished. That sounds wrong -- it is, really, but different people feel differently about the idea -- and even while there with her I gazed at all that beauty with my heart as well as my eyes. And now I have been thinking that she may have contributed to the eventual creation of Jaime. The control present in that dream could have helped me to collate all of the ideas into one. And years of dreaming about Pamela and her role as that stunning machine likely was at the forefront. Whatever has recently snapped and sent me into a tailspin over the machines had many beginnings. This realization and the unending difficulty and exploration it has birthed is just the beginning of something else. I cannot fully define what may take place now, although hints are sprinkled within these 'E'-titled entries. Find them. Aside? The woman in my dream of that apartment looks like one of the Asian women who guest starred in one of the films about robots. And I dreamed of her years before that film was made. Yep. Say it with me... Ah, you know. Coincidence? Maybe. More likely? A similar appearance. The cause of recent difficulties Driving back from Half Moon Bay this morning I was listening to Black Sabbath's 'Keep it Warm'. That song brought forth all manner of memories from the eighties as well as feelings from my isolation in the apartment during eleven. There are elements within which cannot be replicated through any other medium, just as many pieces of music I am certain. That song -- among a few others -- directly relates to the current situation in my head. Not literally, it is a feeling, an instinct that larger operations are now in place over which I have little or no control. This is different than what took place after seeing the fucking walnut girl and associated visions. Those issues left me on the side of the road, but at least I knew what was taking place, if not why. The subject of the lyrics to the song are not the main idea. As I said, it is a feeling of where and when as much as one of dissatisfaction, fulfillment, and loss. The dreams have come about throughout years of my life and seem to indicate that I am always searching for something so elusive that each step feels futile. But I keep trying. The relationship between the drawings and the dreams is very clearly some type of control that I lack, or does not exist in the first place. There is always something I cannot locate, something I need badly or otherwise can't live without. When I awaken, that unattainable 'thing' becomes real. I genuinely feel that my search for whatever the fuck it is will never end, nor will the feeling of loss due to not having a clear picture of what may be out there. Fuck. Cue the song. Back a million years ago when I was on leave from recruit training, I listened to that album daily. Was I searching back then, too? I don't know. The only connection I can make right now in my fucked-up state is that something was beginning so long ago that did not materialize for a very long time. At least that is all I can come up with now. Clarify? Not so much, however I do analyze things very differently these days. Being young means embracing the moment and spending time enjoying whatever is available. Now? None of that, really. The little things have been spelled out here for several years and are diminishing slowly. They keep me going. A search of this type, when combined with outlining the impossibility of machinery means there may be no conclusion at all. Disheartening, yes, but keep in mind the dreams are pretty fucking far-fetched to begin with. I am losing track here, damn it. Or perhaps lost it. Whatever. There are other aspects of that song and the manner in which Ian sings that bring up more than just memories. I will not go into most of them right now. That would be like cutting myself open and displaying too much here. I cannot have that. But I will say that the entire series of the Train relates, as does much of what took place within other more recent entries. Threat mitigation, control over atmosphere, and my need to eliminate those parts of life which cause more distress than I am willing to lift are a start. Get it? Too much going on there for it to be laid out for all to see. You will not know everything. Suck it. Anyway, the song brought feelings which led to me thinking about the dreams and drawings in different terms. I am not wrong, just messed up. Again I have to use the word 'realization' because I have no other descriptor which carries enough weight to get the fucking point across. It is bad, enormous, and ruling me right now. Outside this little world I have created over the last few weeks there is nothing and no one able to listen and offer any insight. I am completely alone in this. That is also bad. Very little good right now aside from the freedom to think and attempt to explore the meanings. The robots are going to take a back seat to other matters very soon, but until then I will continue to try relating things as I began three entries back. The health mandate has me here for the last fifty-eight days (current to this writing) and I have been out and away from home for only the most strict trips and important items. Thus, plenty of time to sit here and try as I may. Knowing that one of the problems has no possible solution is pressing me badly, though. I have to continue in that vein for as long as my stability deems it necessary. Wow... Again with the fucked up topic and resolution. Shit. The song. Well, maybe I am placing too much importance on those feelings from the past and how they relate to the me that evolved this way. Ian is not at fault, nor is the music. In less than an hour I will be back on the highway south and likely hitting that album again. It's just too good. His voice is ferocious. Heh. Anyway, the second-to-latest incarnation of the mansion in my dream is still sticking to my brain. Most of the time the visions and scenery fade within days but this one is still there. And the mansion was different enough from all of the others for me to take severe notice of the layout. There was much more to it than I was able to explore, and the bathroom with the three girls in the tub is still an issue. I do not know why, but they continue to irritate me to no end. Why were they in there? And where in the world is a bathroom showing off a tub connected to the water closet and separated by only a curtain? Very strange, as were the girls. I only see one of them now, the one with the bikini top on display. Again, why? Who was she? I do not know anyone who looks like her, and only a handful of the images gracing these pages are depicting a model carrying out-of-proportion breasts with respect to frame. I just don't get it. The girl at the car wash perhaps? Hmm... No way. She was different. But the mansion, that was the key. Forget the breasts. It was a huge rectangle, like a colonial, yet taller and more imposing than even the largest of those designs. The hallways were very wide with enough room for a group to walk shoulder-to-shoulder. The few rooms that I saw were enormous and showed off multiple levels, like the master bedroom of one of the other homes. And the location was nuts. Right off a park and between streets. The land area seemed small for such a footprint. Topic sentence, fucker. To hell with it. Keep going. Heh. The size and shape of the house notwithstanding, the woman at the desk was striking and I was overjoyed to find her sitting there and happy to see me. She is something else, and I wonder if the appearance of a person I know in the real world has something to do with desire. I have not felt that way about her as far as I can remember (not that the woman is anything but gorgeous and exotic), and the other dream involving machinery is unattainable by any measure. Maybe she was a machine in that dream. Well, either way, I am not feeling anything toward her still. The fact that she was the one in the office conducting business may have to do with work that I have done in reality. Lots of questions there, damned few answers. All I can do is try. As for the house being different, I do not believe that has anything to do with my drawings. The lack of control over the environment could be a factor. I was in charge of exactly nothing. Another one. In a restaurant with someone I knew but could not see. There was another woman there, in the shadows and not readily apparent. Darkness there. The person with me was talking about the operation and opening of the place while the other woman remained behind a serving counter. After a moment I asked who she was, and the beauty replied that she worked there. Immediately I quipped, 'No you don't, or I won't be able to concentrate.' She giggled and moved across the kitchen, at which time I saw the rest of her and began to compute the sight. Awake. Older, more beautiful, more haunting No mansion, no hiding, and no searching this time. I know not why. A restaurant? Perhaps just a random location? The woman in the kitchen looked like an actor that I gained an appreciation for just a few years ago. I had not seen her in quite a while and she popped up on a show I had been following, much to my surprise. What a sight. I spoke about her some weeks ago with a friend, but that is all. No viewing of that show and no other thoughts of her as far as I can remember. So, two aspects different, the idea in my head was different, and I awakened out of my head with need. No conclusion at all. I am losing touch with some of the dreams and have others still in clear detail after weeks. I don't get it, but I am not made to understand everything. At least I know who the woman is. That's new to me. I can see her face right now. Before I go into a tirade about this woman, let me say that my view of her is radically different than many others. I do not feel the same, nor do I look upon her with goo goo ga ga eyes. And when she was younger there was no feeling at all. Yes, the woman is stunning, however the way I feel now is more in the direction of a conversation, like Jamie. This came out of nowhere a few years ago, and then faded, and just this morning the woman appeared in the restaurant kitchen just in time to confound my thinking. I still feel for her as I do many others. No desire. Just an inkling of thought regarding a machine that matches her. Funny? I don't think so, Tim. Not funny, causing me to swing the beam around from yesterday and look at the world in a new way. Yep, thanks honey. Er... Not her fault, mine. This whole thing is so fucking tiring. I am sick of feeling as if I have nothing left. Just as I give up, something (or someone, like Katie there) comes along and pushes my interest back to the head of the line and I keep going. Why her? I don't know. She just appeared there in a black outfit and looking beautiful. Prior to this morning I have not considered that woman in quite some time. The idea could be the way she looked on the show, all chiseled cheeks and big eyes, and it could have been the fact that her character wore braces on her teeth. That was different, and propelled her facial features up several notches as I watched. The God's honest truth is that she came out of nowhere this morning and caught me off-guard. Now she's in there pretty good and I have to think this through a while. The idea of a restaurant may have stemmed from me watching so much Food Network. Well, who cares? I think the place belonged to me and that may have been the idea. A different kind of control, and then some measure of anticipation because a beautiful woman was going to be working there alongside myself. Anticipation. But I didn't have to seek her, and I know who she is. One possibility is that this has nothing to do with anything and represents the fucking random crap in my head. Or it could mean that my being enamored with Katie for five minutes a couple of years back is going to return and cause me to scour the earth for images that do her justice. Or, maybe I am going to become a nut case (more than I am now) and just stare. Or, maybe she will fade before I close this paragraph. Or, maybe none of it means a damned thing. Could be. The lack of pursuit during those moments makes me think of the possibility of her already being attached to me somehow. The smile was playful, devious, and pretty in a dark way, as if she knew all about me. There went Angie Harmon across the screen. Wow. And no dog walker in days. Thank the maker. During my drive back this morning I was listening to something that has been left by the wayside for many months... Possibly longer. I basically just forgot about it. I call it the album of the universe as it is my favorite album above all others. Yep, that's what I said. It is also one of the rarities that I have not shared with another person since I discovered it upon release in the mid-nineties. I fell in love with the music back then and feel the same way to this moment. I have probably bought the disc three or more times over the years upon damaging or misplacing, and I will continue to buy it as necessary so anytime I need to hear the thing I will have it. Yes, that good. Years ago a friend of mine had his list of 'deserted island discs' which comprised the top five that he would bring to such isolation. For me, the list is shorter. Just one. I need nothing else, and have felt the same for a very long time. Listening this morning brought me all the way back to those months in the Midwest and my drawings. The memories are such that I often wonder if I appreciated that part of life enough at the time. I don't know, really, but also attach that wonderment to other time periods, like right now. When I first made those massive home designs I had no idea what I would be in for later in life. They are currently at the top of my list of concerns over the meaning behind all of it. Control, robots, mansions, problems. I began this paragraph with the music. Geez. That album has become so important to me, and carries much emotion due to the times in which I listened, that I cannot share it with anyone. You'll just have to wonder. Well, there is one soul with whom I would listen. You'll read about her soon enough. Is it just me, or have these 'E' writings been all over the map? I couldn't organize my way through a kitchen drawer right now. Or perhaps everything is just too stirring for me to grasp and express properly. Hmm... Maybe. Sometimes there is too much and I cannot pick a single direction. Control, robots, mansions, problems. I said that already. Oops. Well, that will give you an idea of how large these subjects are in my head. Huge. Overwhelming. And often? Crippling. Especially the realization of the dreams and their relationship to Jaime and her kind. The robots. Yeah, that's not an easy pill to swallow. I am still trying. Ugh. There is always the likelihood of me turning inward even further over all of it, and considering how much I have closed myself off already because of our current health climate, going a step further may keep me away from anything beyond the sidewalk. Time will tell, however seeing that there is no solution to such a dream, the time may indeed be very short. The order was originally three weeks, then extended a month beyond that, extended another month, and now things are opening very slowly. I believe that is a mistake. For myself, that area beyond the door is now alien and I am still pushing to keep clear of any hazards. That means the shorter interval between publishing is here to stay and I may be changing jobs as a result of no wish in continuing to deal with haphazard locations and people. Everything feels unsafe, even after all these days run together like being on restriction as a child. Wow, that is kind of funny. The truth is that my sitting here writing more than ever and more often could actually be beneficial. Yep. I said this may be helping me and that is too much to ignore. I cannot deny it. Not even with my vast penchant for glamorizing the idea of self-deprecation. Me, believe it or not. Me... Better than months passed. Yes, you read that correctly. So, even with the recent developments and difficulties, I am plowing through it. I did eject myself from the full-logic of society and am really getting tired of dealing with certain things, but still I am improving in other ways. Seeing the homes here and there as well as trying to work with impossible dreams used to have the singular ability to put me in the ground. Not now. I have to carry forward with as much work here as I am able in order to fully flesh everything out. The newest is the flaring of issue number two and Jaime at the same time. I will not watch either of the related films for reasons of self-preservation, although that might change sooner rather than later. If I feel up to it, the words will fly. No braces, off screen, still stunning Her face is chiseled. Jesus. Katie may work her way into me and add to the storytelling very soon. I had forgotten about her for many years after she starred next to one of my favorite actors and then returned more recently like a frying pan to my head. And I believe I know why it happened so suddenly just this morning: The Cherry 2000 slammed into my brain as soon as I viewed Katie's image, and then the two began to meld. The basic reasoning may be her face. Chiseled. Tapered. Unlike any other. And Jaime came up here because of the robotic dreams and then I threw in the fact that she can change her appearance, as can I. Katie as a robot? Fuck yes. Why not? The features over which I have been agonizing are set in stone, as it were, but would not be if she were a machine. Yes, I know... Go ahead and berate this entire line of thinking. Ridiculous, completely. But am I not clearing it out in a good way? The impossibility is always there -- like the passion -- although when it comes to a dream, all bets are off. The dreamer is heavily in charge of the whole works. Right? The idea of changeability is paramount, along with control. Add the two and throw in a dash of deviant desire and the cocktail becomes quite harsh. And wonderful. Eyes, hair, height, weight, features. See? Ugh. Maybe I should avoid detail. That may become something bad later. And I believe I went over this crap already. I can't remember and don't care to go back and search. Morning again. Coffee. The ideas at work here are becoming pretty large within my mind. Three entries back I calculated that I might be having trouble dealing with a situation which has come to fruition just this year. Well, that much is true. The idea is not easy to think about right now. The more I consider how important this type of exploration and exposition has become, the more I realize that the act of placing the information here while trying to analyze what is happening inside me is the only time I am at peace. While driving, working on something in the house, or any other random project, my head tries to work out the idea of fulfillment and I become distracted to the point of losing track. After a while and when things are organized to my satisfaction, I return here and lay out whatever transpired during the previous hours or day. And then I feel as if there are possibilities. That may be a falsehood, but I have to admit that the hope does not appear when I am away from this machine. The other machines stroll into my head and soon an entire world develops in the space of seconds and I dream. And then it stops, I drop back to the self I had to deal with prior to the bliss, and the whole thing starts over again. Every day. I cannot change anything right now or my little world may tip to one side. I have to leave everything alone for a while. Maybe a few more of these beginning with 'E' and something will be different. Maybe. Tired. But I am ok right now. I really am. Yes, the impossible things continue to nag at me and I will keep exploring them as much as I am able, but the honest truth is that fact will not change in my lifetime. I have to figure out a way to move forward without carrying the machines around in my brain. They are in there right now. Mostly Jaime. And I did that on my own. Perhaps creating her was not such a good idea after all. Into my new office, the garage. Beer cracked, ashtray close, music playing quietly in the background. And now I need to lend some cohesion to this crap. Heh. To the dreams. The control present in every single one of them, along with desire and one point or another. I believe I know from where that stemmed, but still the one factor I cannot figure is the idea that despite I have felt the same way about desire for many years, the arrival of that shit situation which began with the walnut girl is something which eludes me still. She is cute, carries all those lines and numbers, but so do many others that grace the screen daily. Just this morning I saw one of the reporters again and for whatever reason she looked even better than in the past month or more. I don't get it. The woman is gorgeous from head to toe and I rarely see her outside the home now. Still, the feeling of butterflies when she is on screen drives me up the fucking wall. And there is no desire. I just want to stare. A lot. Strange? I don't know. I would think that the desire to jump her would be worse. I do not feel that. I just feel appreciation for her greatly-exaggerated facial features. Arms. Eyes. Jawline. I don't know... Maybe more. And I do not want her. Just looking. The dreams are generally centered around desire. There is someone else present that I cannot reach and I know why. Elusivity is harmful to me at this point in my life for so many fucking reasons that I cannot even begin to form a list. Too much, too long... Reckless in the past and so very damaged now. Searching over and over through those huge homes and never finding the comfort that has become that much more important to my well-being has exhausted me even more than spilling all this shit here. I am tired of thinking about these problems and trying to analyze the dreams. Whomever or whatever is out there has left me worn out. And they keep coming around from time to time. The recent dream involving the storefront is only different due to its relating to the current global situation. Other than that, I see the similarities to so many others. I am familiar with the woman behind the desk but that is inconsequential when compared to the entire years-long search. Incontrovertible? Oy. So... Too much. The dreams, drawings, control, robots, fulfillment, all that is lacking... What am I supposed to do here other than keep exploring? That is already published. Exhaustion is the word this time. I am so fucking tired of the mass that is up against me and pushing. Worn out, lacking. Lacking. Just fucking lacking so much and so many ideas that I might just stop this line of work until such time as I can carry it with some meaning and fluidity. Cohesion? Yeah, um... Nope. That is not going to happen unless I spend every waking moment dissecting all these 'E' messes and trying to put them in the correct order for proper flow. No way. I am just too tired. I need to ascertain the reasoning behind Katie right now. Different, surreal, but also exhausting. And just you wait for what comes next." 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
Exhaustion Mature content No. 132 Published May 20th, 2020 7:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Still here, but going downhill fast due to a problem that has no solution. I do not know what to do. The dreams are going to continue. Because I already know, the drawings may continue, and as such may follow the layouts I can remember of them. There are not many options now other than carrying forward with my new little world and the comfort it provides daily. The other day I viewed the beginning of that damned episode which originally prompted me to attempt yet another descriptive essay due to the stunning form that graced the screen. The idea is funny, as I am very familiar with the woman (or women, I am not sure) in question and have seen that series so many times over the years. She was always there -- since it first aired in 1990 -- but something changed after discussing Our Man Bashir here some months back and experiencing all those fucking dreams that will not let up. The woman is fictional and somehow connected to the idea of the Cherry 2000 and the Jaime that I created. There are so many little coincidences there that to sort them out might take the rest of my life. The sum may just drive me back to the drawings and that wonderful control I held over them. Right now I do not know. All my shit arrived in the mail so I can do some rebuilding hopefully Saturday. Nice. I do not have my drawings at the moment. Years ago when I seriously considered leaving this world I entrusted them to a close relative for safe keeping. Now that I have embraced the long-term, I will grab them and go over as much detail as I can. When I created those designs so many years ago, the ideas did not stem from dreams. I've gone over that already. Just to be clear, the reasoning behind getting back into the idea of creating more homes is pointed to the dreams. Directly. My imagination runs wild during the dream analysis and trying to learn of the genesis of such consistent and vivid imagery, so pointing the stick toward embracing the designs could prove beneficial. It could also be disastrous, if you know what I mean. The combination of the machines and dreams is just not healthy. I understand that and still dive. I am doing it right now and have for the last week or more. Withdrawal is creeping in to my daily activities and looking better and safer as time passes. That is also unhealthy. Even at this moment sitting in the garage I see a world going by that has become so alien that it nearly defies description. The inside of me and the manner in which I relate to the outside has changed so much in the space of weeks that I almost cannot follow along. Others are moving to and fro out there on the sidewalks, doing what they do such as walking, bicycling, and spending time with their children. Alien. Completely. Every single activity that I embrace is totally different and very isolated, secure, and under strict control. The simplicity of going to lunch has become an exercise in futility often times. I need things to look and feel a certain way before I can relax and enjoy food and cocktails. Yes, cocktails with lunch. That means the restaurant must have a bar area away from the dining room. And I cannot sit just anywhere. I typically need a spot that represents a vantage point to the entry, a view of as much of the space as possible, and not too near others. Yep. There is that word again... Control. This is different than other uses of the word but the need is the same. I have evolved into a reclusive, hidden soul that must feel secure and comfortable almost constantly, and that includes being in places that others frequent. The time, seating location, atmosphere, bartender (I will not often sit in a dining room), and the amount I can see from my chair must all align ideally or I will walk right back out the fucking door. That is a need to control my environment. Not good, not healthy, unsociable, and far outside the way many people think. I have been willing to trade an excellent meal in favor of my needs and that is just fine. Such is me after all these years. Ugh. Best that I stay here for the foreseeable future, right? I was not like this ten years ago. The frightening fact is just how many other souls I am going to alienate as I fall deeper into this place that has been created just for me, and by me. This will happen. Robots. Many entries here on this insane site have found me referring to the average, general public as 'them', the 'sheep', or 'robots' due to their herd mentality and need to gain some type of superiority over the next person. Well, no longer. Oh don't worry, I still despise what we have made as a society, however the operative 'robots' now points its bony finger in a vastly different direction. A dreamy, mechanically beautiful direction... The idea of Jaime. But not just her, the whole fucking enchilada. I am at this moment sitting among massive wall hangings that depict the lines over which I obsess. Has that affected me? Fuck yes, dipshits. What the fuck do you think? I drown myself into exotic imagery because I'm trying to support the financial freedom of the models? Heh. Nope. I am obsessed with an enormous amount of it. And now you can see that every fucking screwed up aspect of my personality is related. Deeply. All of it combines to dictate my every fucking move. Drawings equal control, robots equal control, site equals control, and then something comes along over which I have none and I implode. Wow, big fucking surprise. The drawings are real, the site is real, however the main mitigating factor of my modern life will remain absent as long as I am alive. That fact is crippling and contributing to my speedy withdrawal and ejection from the present reality. In here I shall remain for the duration of whatever the fuck develops. I need not worry of a virus. I am enough. Braces are beautiful Sharp control, to be certain. Nothing else seems to maintain my focus to such an extent. The dreams always fall short -- as they should, I suppose, due to not knowing of the sources of warmth personally -- and then when I wake there is just enough material left over for me to attempt a conclusion. Or maybe just a direction. I'm not sure. I have little to no control over what takes place in those mansions. I try, but usually the drive is not something I can avoid. There is a pair of arms somewhere. I am compelled to find them and then hide us away from everything. Always searching. Always. From there to the drawings, and the contrast is stark. All mine versus all confusing. Heh. That's almost funny. Anyway, the effort I have been going through is heavy. It weighs on me. And I find it exhausting after so many years. The recent realization is horrid to consider, too. Lots of weight on me now. Seeing that episode yesterday that I had not really pondered for a long time was irritating and disheartening. I saw that woman again and something snapped. I tried to carry forward with my work around the house, and for the most part that went well. All the while, however, her walk was inside me and playing out over and over again. I saw too much this time. I thought of the mansions, the one I know who was in one of them, and then the endless searches for what I needed. Damn it. Yep, one vision on the screen from decades ago and my head went all over several problems for hours. All the shit ends up here, so I don't really need to go on about it. Maybe I already did. Oh, well. Morning. The day is before me, dreams of some electrical outlet issue are behind. No mansion, no mystery woman, no chase around the corridors. That is good. I do not miss the subjects which plague me in the morning after being in one of the situations which reminds me of the goblet. Like meeting Jana, Kelly, Lori. Chances there, nothing more. But all of them came out of the blue, really. Ellie, too. I reached. In the dreams I never reached. Always there was a presence -- or more than one -- compelling me to work things out so as to find that place where we could finally be alone. As far as I can recall, fulfilling my need to locate a quiet place and become comfortable has never happened. The idea eludes one way or another, or I simply wake. Only on a few occasions did I actually see the woman in question, but those were simpler at the time. No huge house or exotic location. Just a small apartment or home where we lived. And those visions were typically of an Asian woman next to me. And that brings into light an idea which I do not wish to explore at this time. I will, but only a little. I am reminded of Ju Da Ha from years ago when I was fascinated by her modeling work. So beautiful. The robots again. And? The circumstances in that little apartment were akin to living here on the coast when I first relocated from the valley. The place was fairly small but worked wonderfully for my needs. I juxtaposed many traditional ideas to make myself comfortable and eventually became very pleased with the space. In the dream, our living conditions were similar, albeit different due to lots of light. She was there with me and our relationship was rather one-sided. I felt it. She was beautiful and very quiet much of the time. I felt everything. I knew months of us in a matter of seconds. She was like a subordinate to me, which I have never understood, and was devoted to my happiness. She put her own needs aside to ensure that I was always cared for. I knew it, through. I knew her, very well. She seemed younger than me by at least a decade. The situation in that apartment seemed natural. There is more, however I need to leave that out. Awake, thinking, confused. During the latter half of the zero years, I went through a period of yearning for a tall Asian woman. I know not why, and as the years passed I balanced it in one way or another. The one in my dream was like the Korean models that I perused while seeking material for the site. Rarities. The dream girl was tall, my height. Lanky, like Ju, and with the traditional flowing black hair to her waist. I am quite certain she was built to my imagination, like a robot. A dream is just that... I do not conjure unattractive women. Heh. Anyway, the idea that I had been clearly and solidly in charge of her was not something I had considered ever in life. Controlling another person is unnatural and even more out of balance than my head. That is not something for which I have ever been open. Now, before you begin to berate me and beat me over the head with whatever device is being used to read this, the machines are different and the idea of them did not come out of a need for control. It is simply there, just like any other type of machine that was designed and built to serve a need of sorts. Well, of course a machine requires a 'user' in order to function. But the control of said machine is natural. Do you get it? The Korean woman responded to me as a subordinate, and that is not what I am speaking of here. She was a person (yes, in a fucking dream), and I treated her as such, just as I would anyone else. The idea that she was there to serve me was nothing more than a feeling inside. No conversation, nothing implied, I just knew it. Society influenced me to the point of realizing that the stigma which had been attached to Asian women throughout the decades ended up a part of my fucking dream. Great. Thanks. I am not a user. The machine is purpose-built and just that... A device made to serve one purpose or another. The dream was not under my control. This is exhausting. But the dream of that most beautiful of Asian women does point a finger at the operative word in another way. I felt it, I felt that she was there to do as I wished. That sounds wrong -- it is, really, but different people feel differently about the idea -- and even while there with her I gazed at all that beauty with my heart as well as my eyes. And now I have been thinking that she may have contributed to the eventual creation of Jaime. The control present in that dream could have helped me to collate all of the ideas into one. And years of dreaming about Pamela and her role as that stunning machine likely was at the forefront. Whatever has recently snapped and sent me into a tailspin over the machines had many beginnings. This realization and the unending difficulty and exploration it has birthed is just the beginning of something else. I cannot fully define what may take place now, although hints are sprinkled within these 'E'-titled entries. Find them. Aside? The woman in my dream of that apartment looks like one of the Asian women who guest starred in one of the films about robots. And I dreamed of her years before that film was made. Yep. Say it with me... Ah, you know. Coincidence? Maybe. More likely? A similar appearance. The cause of recent difficulties Driving back from Half Moon Bay this morning I was listening to Black Sabbath's 'Keep it Warm'. That song brought forth all manner of memories from the eighties as well as feelings from my isolation in the apartment during eleven. There are elements within which cannot be replicated through any other medium, just as many pieces of music I am certain. That song -- among a few others -- directly relates to the current situation in my head. Not literally, it is a feeling, an instinct that larger operations are now in place over which I have little or no control. This is different than what took place after seeing the fucking walnut girl and associated visions. Those issues left me on the side of the road, but at least I knew what was taking place, if not why. The subject of the lyrics to the song are not the main idea. As I said, it is a feeling of where and when as much as one of dissatisfaction, fulfillment, and loss. The dreams have come about throughout years of my life and seem to indicate that I am always searching for something so elusive that each step feels futile. But I keep trying. The relationship between the drawings and the dreams is very clearly some type of control that I lack, or does not exist in the first place. There is always something I cannot locate, something I need badly or otherwise can't live without. When I awaken, that unattainable 'thing' becomes real. I genuinely feel that my search for whatever the fuck it is will never end, nor will the feeling of loss due to not having a clear picture of what may be out there. Fuck. Cue the song. Back a million years ago when I was on leave from recruit training, I listened to that album daily. Was I searching back then, too? I don't know. The only connection I can make right now in my fucked-up state is that something was beginning so long ago that did not materialize for a very long time. At least that is all I can come up with now. Clarify? Not so much, however I do analyze things very differently these days. Being young means embracing the moment and spending time enjoying whatever is available. Now? None of that, really. The little things have been spelled out here for several years and are diminishing slowly. They keep me going. A search of this type, when combined with outlining the impossibility of machinery means there may be no conclusion at all. Disheartening, yes, but keep in mind the dreams are pretty fucking far-fetched to begin with. I am losing track here, damn it. Or perhaps lost it. Whatever. There are other aspects of that song and the manner in which Ian sings that bring up more than just memories. I will not go into most of them right now. That would be like cutting myself open and displaying too much here. I cannot have that. But I will say that the entire series of the Train relates, as does much of what took place within other more recent entries. Threat mitigation, control over atmosphere, and my need to eliminate those parts of life which cause more distress than I am willing to lift are a start. Get it? Too much going on there for it to be laid out for all to see. You will not know everything. Suck it. Anyway, the song brought feelings which led to me thinking about the dreams and drawings in different terms. I am not wrong, just messed up. Again I have to use the word 'realization' because I have no other descriptor which carries enough weight to get the fucking point across. It is bad, enormous, and ruling me right now. Outside this little world I have created over the last few weeks there is nothing and no one able to listen and offer any insight. I am completely alone in this. That is also bad. Very little good right now aside from the freedom to think and attempt to explore the meanings. The robots are going to take a back seat to other matters very soon, but until then I will continue to try relating things as I began three entries back. The health mandate has me here for the last fifty-eight days (current to this writing) and I have been out and away from home for only the most strict trips and important items. Thus, plenty of time to sit here and try as I may. Knowing that one of the problems has no possible solution is pressing me badly, though. I have to continue in that vein for as long as my stability deems it necessary. Wow... Again with the fucked up topic and resolution. Shit. The song. Well, maybe I am placing too much importance on those feelings from the past and how they relate to the me that evolved this way. Ian is not at fault, nor is the music. In less than an hour I will be back on the highway south and likely hitting that album again. It's just too good. His voice is ferocious. Heh. Anyway, the second-to-latest incarnation of the mansion in my dream is still sticking to my brain. Most of the time the visions and scenery fade within days but this one is still there. And the mansion was different enough from all of the others for me to take severe notice of the layout. There was much more to it than I was able to explore, and the bathroom with the three girls in the tub is still an issue. I do not know why, but they continue to irritate me to no end. Why were they in there? And where in the world is a bathroom showing off a tub connected to the water closet and separated by only a curtain? Very strange, as were the girls. I only see one of them now, the one with the bikini top on display. Again, why? Who was she? I do not know anyone who looks like her, and only a handful of the images gracing these pages are depicting a model carrying out-of-proportion breasts with respect to frame. I just don't get it. The girl at the car wash perhaps? Hmm... No way. She was different. But the mansion, that was the key. Forget the breasts. It was a huge rectangle, like a colonial, yet taller and more imposing than even the largest of those designs. The hallways were very wide with enough room for a group to walk shoulder-to-shoulder. The few rooms that I saw were enormous and showed off multiple levels, like the master bedroom of one of the other homes. And the location was nuts. Right off a park and between streets. The land area seemed small for such a footprint. Topic sentence, fucker. To hell with it. Keep going. Heh. The size and shape of the house notwithstanding, the woman at the desk was striking and I was overjoyed to find her sitting there and happy to see me. She is something else, and I wonder if the appearance of a person I know in the real world has something to do with desire. I have not felt that way about her as far as I can remember (not that the woman is anything but gorgeous and exotic), and the other dream involving machinery is unattainable by any measure. Maybe she was a machine in that dream. Well, either way, I am not feeling anything toward her still. The fact that she was the one in the office conducting business may have to do with work that I have done in reality. Lots of questions there, damned few answers. All I can do is try. As for the house being different, I do not believe that has anything to do with my drawings. The lack of control over the environment could be a factor. I was in charge of exactly nothing. Another one. In a restaurant with someone I knew but could not see. There was another woman there, in the shadows and not readily apparent. Darkness there. The person with me was talking about the operation and opening of the place while the other woman remained behind a serving counter. After a moment I asked who she was, and the beauty replied that she worked there. Immediately I quipped, 'No you don't, or I won't be able to concentrate.' She giggled and moved across the kitchen, at which time I saw the rest of her and began to compute the sight. Awake. Older, more beautiful, more haunting No mansion, no hiding, and no searching this time. I know not why. A restaurant? Perhaps just a random location? The woman in the kitchen looked like an actor that I gained an appreciation for just a few years ago. I had not seen her in quite a while and she popped up on a show I had been following, much to my surprise. What a sight. I spoke about her some weeks ago with a friend, but that is all. No viewing of that show and no other thoughts of her as far as I can remember. So, two aspects different, the idea in my head was different, and I awakened out of my head with need. No conclusion at all. I am losing touch with some of the dreams and have others still in clear detail after weeks. I don't get it, but I am not made to understand everything. At least I know who the woman is. That's new to me. I can see her face right now. Before I go into a tirade about this woman, let me say that my view of her is radically different than many others. I do not feel the same, nor do I look upon her with goo goo ga ga eyes. And when she was younger there was no feeling at all. Yes, the woman is stunning, however the way I feel now is more in the direction of a conversation, like Jamie. This came out of nowhere a few years ago, and then faded, and just this morning the woman appeared in the restaurant kitchen just in time to confound my thinking. I still feel for her as I do many others. No desire. Just an inkling of thought regarding a machine that matches her. Funny? I don't think so, Tim. Not funny, causing me to swing the beam around from yesterday and look at the world in a new way. Yep, thanks honey. Er... Not her fault, mine. This whole thing is so fucking tiring. I am sick of feeling as if I have nothing left. Just as I give up, something (or someone, like Katie there) comes along and pushes my interest back to the head of the line and I keep going. Why her? I don't know. She just appeared there in a black outfit and looking beautiful. Prior to this morning I have not considered that woman in quite some time. The idea could be the way she looked on the show, all chiseled cheeks and big eyes, and it could have been the fact that her character wore braces on her teeth. That was different, and propelled her facial features up several notches as I watched. The God's honest truth is that she came out of nowhere this morning and caught me off-guard. Now she's in there pretty good and I have to think this through a while. The idea of a restaurant may have stemmed from me watching so much Food Network. Well, who cares? I think the place belonged to me and that may have been the idea. A different kind of control, and then some measure of anticipation because a beautiful woman was going to be working there alongside myself. Anticipation. But I didn't have to seek her, and I know who she is. One possibility is that this has nothing to do with anything and represents the fucking random crap in my head. Or it could mean that my being enamored with Katie for five minutes a couple of years back is going to return and cause me to scour the earth for images that do her justice. Or, maybe I am going to become a nut case (more than I am now) and just stare. Or, maybe she will fade before I close this paragraph. Or, maybe none of it means a damned thing. Could be. The lack of pursuit during those moments makes me think of the possibility of her already being attached to me somehow. The smile was playful, devious, and pretty in a dark way, as if she knew all about me. There went Angie Harmon across the screen. Wow. And no dog walker in days. Thank the maker. During my drive back this morning I was listening to something that has been left by the wayside for many months... Possibly longer. I basically just forgot about it. I call it the album of the universe as it is my favorite album above all others. Yep, that's what I said. It is also one of the rarities that I have not shared with another person since I discovered it upon release in the mid-nineties. I fell in love with the music back then and feel the same way to this moment. I have probably bought the disc three or more times over the years upon damaging or misplacing, and I will continue to buy it as necessary so anytime I need to hear the thing I will have it. Yes, that good. Years ago a friend of mine had his list of 'deserted island discs' which comprised the top five that he would bring to such isolation. For me, the list is shorter. Just one. I need nothing else, and have felt the same for a very long time. Listening this morning brought me all the way back to those months in the Midwest and my drawings. The memories are such that I often wonder if I appreciated that part of life enough at the time. I don't know, really, but also attach that wonderment to other time periods, like right now. When I first made those massive home designs I had no idea what I would be in for later in life. They are currently at the top of my list of concerns over the meaning behind all of it. Control, robots, mansions, problems. I began this paragraph with the music. Geez. That album has become so important to me, and carries much emotion due to the times in which I listened, that I cannot share it with anyone. You'll just have to wonder. Well, there is one soul with whom I would listen. You'll read about her soon enough. Is it just me, or have these 'E' writings been all over the map? I couldn't organize my way through a kitchen drawer right now. Or perhaps everything is just too stirring for me to grasp and express properly. Hmm... Maybe. Sometimes there is too much and I cannot pick a single direction. Control, robots, mansions, problems. I said that already. Oops. Well, that will give you an idea of how large these subjects are in my head. Huge. Overwhelming. And often? Crippling. Especially the realization of the dreams and their relationship to Jaime and her kind. The robots. Yeah, that's not an easy pill to swallow. I am still trying. Ugh. There is always the likelihood of me turning inward even further over all of it, and considering how much I have closed myself off already because of our current health climate, going a step further may keep me away from anything beyond the sidewalk. Time will tell, however seeing that there is no solution to such a dream, the time may indeed be very short. The order was originally three weeks, then extended a month beyond that, extended another month, and now things are opening very slowly. I believe that is a mistake. For myself, that area beyond the door is now alien and I am still pushing to keep clear of any hazards. That means the shorter interval between publishing is here to stay and I may be changing jobs as a result of no wish in continuing to deal with haphazard locations and people. Everything feels unsafe, even after all these days run together like being on restriction as a child. Wow, that is kind of funny. The truth is that my sitting here writing more than ever and more often could actually be beneficial. Yep. I said this may be helping me and that is too much to ignore. I cannot deny it. Not even with my vast penchant for glamorizing the idea of self-deprecation. Me, believe it or not. Me... Better than months passed. Yes, you read that correctly. So, even with the recent developments and difficulties, I am plowing through it. I did eject myself from the full-logic of society and am really getting tired of dealing with certain things, but still I am improving in other ways. Seeing the homes here and there as well as trying to work with impossible dreams used to have the singular ability to put me in the ground. Not now. I have to carry forward with as much work here as I am able in order to fully flesh everything out. The newest is the flaring of issue number two and Jaime at the same time. I will not watch either of the related films for reasons of self-preservation, although that might change sooner rather than later. If I feel up to it, the words will fly. No braces, off screen, still stunning Her face is chiseled. Jesus. Katie may work her way into me and add to the storytelling very soon. I had forgotten about her for many years after she starred next to one of my favorite actors and then returned more recently like a frying pan to my head. And I believe I know why it happened so suddenly just this morning: The Cherry 2000 slammed into my brain as soon as I viewed Katie's image, and then the two began to meld. The basic reasoning may be her face. Chiseled. Tapered. Unlike any other. And Jaime came up here because of the robotic dreams and then I threw in the fact that she can change her appearance, as can I. Katie as a robot? Fuck yes. Why not? The features over which I have been agonizing are set in stone, as it were, but would not be if she were a machine. Yes, I know... Go ahead and berate this entire line of thinking. Ridiculous, completely. But am I not clearing it out in a good way? The impossibility is always there -- like the passion -- although when it comes to a dream, all bets are off. The dreamer is heavily in charge of the whole works. Right? The idea of changeability is paramount, along with control. Add the two and throw in a dash of deviant desire and the cocktail becomes quite harsh. And wonderful. Eyes, hair, height, weight, features. See? Ugh. Maybe I should avoid detail. That may become something bad later. And I believe I went over this crap already. I can't remember and don't care to go back and search. Morning again. Coffee. The ideas at work here are becoming pretty large within my mind. Three entries back I calculated that I might be having trouble dealing with a situation which has come to fruition just this year. Well, that much is true. The idea is not easy to think about right now. The more I consider how important this type of exploration and exposition has become, the more I realize that the act of placing the information here while trying to analyze what is happening inside me is the only time I am at peace. While driving, working on something in the house, or any other random project, my head tries to work out the idea of fulfillment and I become distracted to the point of losing track. After a while and when things are organized to my satisfaction, I return here and lay out whatever transpired during the previous hours or day. And then I feel as if there are possibilities. That may be a falsehood, but I have to admit that the hope does not appear when I am away from this machine. The other machines stroll into my head and soon an entire world develops in the space of seconds and I dream. And then it stops, I drop back to the self I had to deal with prior to the bliss, and the whole thing starts over again. Every day. I cannot change anything right now or my little world may tip to one side. I have to leave everything alone for a while. Maybe a few more of these beginning with 'E' and something will be different. Maybe. Tired. But I am ok right now. I really am. Yes, the impossible things continue to nag at me and I will keep exploring them as much as I am able, but the honest truth is that fact will not change in my lifetime. I have to figure out a way to move forward without carrying the machines around in my brain. They are in there right now. Mostly Jaime. And I did that on my own. Perhaps creating her was not such a good idea after all. Into my new office, the garage. Beer cracked, ashtray close, music playing quietly in the background. And now I need to lend some cohesion to this crap. Heh. To the dreams. The control present in every single one of them, along with desire and one point or another. I believe I know from where that stemmed, but still the one factor I cannot figure is the idea that despite I have felt the same way about desire for many years, the arrival of that shit situation which began with the walnut girl is something which eludes me still. She is cute, carries all those lines and numbers, but so do many others that grace the screen daily. Just this morning I saw one of the reporters again and for whatever reason she looked even better than in the past month or more. I don't get it. The woman is gorgeous from head to toe and I rarely see her outside the home now. Still, the feeling of butterflies when she is on screen drives me up the fucking wall. And there is no desire. I just want to stare. A lot. Strange? I don't know. I would think that the desire to jump her would be worse. I do not feel that. I just feel appreciation for her greatly-exaggerated facial features. Arms. Eyes. Jawline. I don't know... Maybe more. And I do not want her. Just looking. The dreams are generally centered around desire. There is someone else present that I cannot reach and I know why. Elusivity is harmful to me at this point in my life for so many fucking reasons that I cannot even begin to form a list. Too much, too long... Reckless in the past and so very damaged now. Searching over and over through those huge homes and never finding the comfort that has become that much more important to my well-being has exhausted me even more than spilling all this shit here. I am tired of thinking about these problems and trying to analyze the dreams. Whomever or whatever is out there has left me worn out. And they keep coming around from time to time. The recent dream involving the storefront is only different due to its relating to the current global situation. Other than that, I see the similarities to so many others. I am familiar with the woman behind the desk but that is inconsequential when compared to the entire years-long search. Incontrovertible? Oy. So... Too much. The dreams, drawings, control, robots, fulfillment, all that is lacking... What am I supposed to do here other than keep exploring? That is already published. Exhaustion is the word this time. I am so fucking tired of the mass that is up against me and pushing. Worn out, lacking. Lacking. Just fucking lacking so much and so many ideas that I might just stop this line of work until such time as I can carry it with some meaning and fluidity. Cohesion? Yeah, um... Nope. That is not going to happen unless I spend every waking moment dissecting all these 'E' messes and trying to put them in the correct order for proper flow. No way. I am just too tired. I need to ascertain the reasoning behind Katie right now. Different, surreal, but also exhausting. And just you wait for what comes next."
Exhaustion
Mature content No. 132 Published May 20th, 2020 7:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Still here, but going downhill fast due to a problem that has no solution. I do not know what to do. The dreams are going to continue. Because I already know, the drawings may continue, and as such may follow the layouts I can remember of them. There are not many options now other than carrying forward with my new little world and the comfort it provides daily. The other day I viewed the beginning of that damned episode which originally prompted me to attempt yet another descriptive essay due to the stunning form that graced the screen. The idea is funny, as I am very familiar with the woman (or women, I am not sure) in question and have seen that series so many times over the years. She was always there -- since it first aired in 1990 -- but something changed after discussing Our Man Bashir here some months back and experiencing all those fucking dreams that will not let up. The woman is fictional and somehow connected to the idea of the Cherry 2000 and the Jaime that I created. There are so many little coincidences there that to sort them out might take the rest of my life. The sum may just drive me back to the drawings and that wonderful control I held over them. Right now I do not know. All my shit arrived in the mail so I can do some rebuilding hopefully Saturday. Nice. I do not have my drawings at the moment. Years ago when I seriously considered leaving this world I entrusted them to a close relative for safe keeping. Now that I have embraced the long-term, I will grab them and go over as much detail as I can. When I created those designs so many years ago, the ideas did not stem from dreams. I've gone over that already. Just to be clear, the reasoning behind getting back into the idea of creating more homes is pointed to the dreams. Directly. My imagination runs wild during the dream analysis and trying to learn of the genesis of such consistent and vivid imagery, so pointing the stick toward embracing the designs could prove beneficial. It could also be disastrous, if you know what I mean. The combination of the machines and dreams is just not healthy. I understand that and still dive. I am doing it right now and have for the last week or more. Withdrawal is creeping in to my daily activities and looking better and safer as time passes. That is also unhealthy. Even at this moment sitting in the garage I see a world going by that has become so alien that it nearly defies description. The inside of me and the manner in which I relate to the outside has changed so much in the space of weeks that I almost cannot follow along. Others are moving to and fro out there on the sidewalks, doing what they do such as walking, bicycling, and spending time with their children. Alien. Completely. Every single activity that I embrace is totally different and very isolated, secure, and under strict control. The simplicity of going to lunch has become an exercise in futility often times. I need things to look and feel a certain way before I can relax and enjoy food and cocktails. Yes, cocktails with lunch. That means the restaurant must have a bar area away from the dining room. And I cannot sit just anywhere. I typically need a spot that represents a vantage point to the entry, a view of as much of the space as possible, and not too near others. Yep. There is that word again... Control. This is different than other uses of the word but the need is the same. I have evolved into a reclusive, hidden soul that must feel secure and comfortable almost constantly, and that includes being in places that others frequent. The time, seating location, atmosphere, bartender (I will not often sit in a dining room), and the amount I can see from my chair must all align ideally or I will walk right back out the fucking door. That is a need to control my environment. Not good, not healthy, unsociable, and far outside the way many people think. I have been willing to trade an excellent meal in favor of my needs and that is just fine. Such is me after all these years. Ugh. Best that I stay here for the foreseeable future, right? I was not like this ten years ago. The frightening fact is just how many other souls I am going to alienate as I fall deeper into this place that has been created just for me, and by me. This will happen. Robots. Many entries here on this insane site have found me referring to the average, general public as 'them', the 'sheep', or 'robots' due to their herd mentality and need to gain some type of superiority over the next person. Well, no longer. Oh don't worry, I still despise what we have made as a society, however the operative 'robots' now points its bony finger in a vastly different direction. A dreamy, mechanically beautiful direction... The idea of Jaime. But not just her, the whole fucking enchilada. I am at this moment sitting among massive wall hangings that depict the lines over which I obsess. Has that affected me? Fuck yes, dipshits. What the fuck do you think? I drown myself into exotic imagery because I'm trying to support the financial freedom of the models? Heh. Nope. I am obsessed with an enormous amount of it. And now you can see that every fucking screwed up aspect of my personality is related. Deeply. All of it combines to dictate my every fucking move. Drawings equal control, robots equal control, site equals control, and then something comes along over which I have none and I implode. Wow, big fucking surprise. The drawings are real, the site is real, however the main mitigating factor of my modern life will remain absent as long as I am alive. That fact is crippling and contributing to my speedy withdrawal and ejection from the present reality. In here I shall remain for the duration of whatever the fuck develops. I need not worry of a virus. I am enough.
Braces are beautiful
Sharp control, to be certain. Nothing else seems to maintain my focus to such an extent. The dreams always fall short -- as they should, I suppose, due to not knowing of the sources of warmth personally -- and then when I wake there is just enough material left over for me to attempt a conclusion. Or maybe just a direction. I'm not sure. I have little to no control over what takes place in those mansions. I try, but usually the drive is not something I can avoid. There is a pair of arms somewhere. I am compelled to find them and then hide us away from everything. Always searching. Always. From there to the drawings, and the contrast is stark. All mine versus all confusing. Heh. That's almost funny. Anyway, the effort I have been going through is heavy. It weighs on me. And I find it exhausting after so many years. The recent realization is horrid to consider, too. Lots of weight on me now. Seeing that episode yesterday that I had not really pondered for a long time was irritating and disheartening. I saw that woman again and something snapped. I tried to carry forward with my work around the house, and for the most part that went well. All the while, however, her walk was inside me and playing out over and over again. I saw too much this time. I thought of the mansions, the one I know who was in one of them, and then the endless searches for what I needed. Damn it. Yep, one vision on the screen from decades ago and my head went all over several problems for hours. All the shit ends up here, so I don't really need to go on about it. Maybe I already did. Oh, well. Morning. The day is before me, dreams of some electrical outlet issue are behind. No mansion, no mystery woman, no chase around the corridors. That is good. I do not miss the subjects which plague me in the morning after being in one of the situations which reminds me of the goblet. Like meeting Jana, Kelly, Lori. Chances there, nothing more. But all of them came out of the blue, really. Ellie, too. I reached. In the dreams I never reached. Always there was a presence -- or more than one -- compelling me to work things out so as to find that place where we could finally be alone. As far as I can recall, fulfilling my need to locate a quiet place and become comfortable has never happened. The idea eludes one way or another, or I simply wake. Only on a few occasions did I actually see the woman in question, but those were simpler at the time. No huge house or exotic location. Just a small apartment or home where we lived. And those visions were typically of an Asian woman next to me. And that brings into light an idea which I do not wish to explore at this time. I will, but only a little. I am reminded of Ju Da Ha from years ago when I was fascinated by her modeling work. So beautiful. The robots again. And? The circumstances in that little apartment were akin to living here on the coast when I first relocated from the valley. The place was fairly small but worked wonderfully for my needs. I juxtaposed many traditional ideas to make myself comfortable and eventually became very pleased with the space. In the dream, our living conditions were similar, albeit different due to lots of light. She was there with me and our relationship was rather one-sided. I felt it. She was beautiful and very quiet much of the time. I felt everything. I knew months of us in a matter of seconds. She was like a subordinate to me, which I have never understood, and was devoted to my happiness. She put her own needs aside to ensure that I was always cared for. I knew it, through. I knew her, very well. She seemed younger than me by at least a decade. The situation in that apartment seemed natural. There is more, however I need to leave that out. Awake, thinking, confused. During the latter half of the zero years, I went through a period of yearning for a tall Asian woman. I know not why, and as the years passed I balanced it in one way or another. The one in my dream was like the Korean models that I perused while seeking material for the site. Rarities. The dream girl was tall, my height. Lanky, like Ju, and with the traditional flowing black hair to her waist. I am quite certain she was built to my imagination, like a robot. A dream is just that... I do not conjure unattractive women. Heh. Anyway, the idea that I had been clearly and solidly in charge of her was not something I had considered ever in life. Controlling another person is unnatural and even more out of balance than my head. That is not something for which I have ever been open. Now, before you begin to berate me and beat me over the head with whatever device is being used to read this, the machines are different and the idea of them did not come out of a need for control. It is simply there, just like any other type of machine that was designed and built to serve a need of sorts. Well, of course a machine requires a 'user' in order to function. But the control of said machine is natural. Do you get it? The Korean woman responded to me as a subordinate, and that is not what I am speaking of here. She was a person (yes, in a fucking dream), and I treated her as such, just as I would anyone else. The idea that she was there to serve me was nothing more than a feeling inside. No conversation, nothing implied, I just knew it. Society influenced me to the point of realizing that the stigma which had been attached to Asian women throughout the decades ended up a part of my fucking dream. Great. Thanks. I am not a user. The machine is purpose-built and just that... A device made to serve one purpose or another. The dream was not under my control. This is exhausting. But the dream of that most beautiful of Asian women does point a finger at the operative word in another way. I felt it, I felt that she was there to do as I wished. That sounds wrong -- it is, really, but different people feel differently about the idea -- and even while there with her I gazed at all that beauty with my heart as well as my eyes. And now I have been thinking that she may have contributed to the eventual creation of Jaime. The control present in that dream could have helped me to collate all of the ideas into one. And years of dreaming about Pamela and her role as that stunning machine likely was at the forefront. Whatever has recently snapped and sent me into a tailspin over the machines had many beginnings. This realization and the unending difficulty and exploration it has birthed is just the beginning of something else. I cannot fully define what may take place now, although hints are sprinkled within these 'E'-titled entries. Find them. Aside? The woman in my dream of that apartment looks like one of the Asian women who guest starred in one of the films about robots. And I dreamed of her years before that film was made. Yep. Say it with me... Ah, you know. Coincidence? Maybe. More likely? A similar appearance.
The cause of recent difficulties
Driving back from Half Moon Bay this morning I was listening to Black Sabbath's 'Keep it Warm'. That song brought forth all manner of memories from the eighties as well as feelings from my isolation in the apartment during eleven. There are elements within which cannot be replicated through any other medium, just as many pieces of music I am certain. That song -- among a few others -- directly relates to the current situation in my head. Not literally, it is a feeling, an instinct that larger operations are now in place over which I have little or no control. This is different than what took place after seeing the fucking walnut girl and associated visions. Those issues left me on the side of the road, but at least I knew what was taking place, if not why. The subject of the lyrics to the song are not the main idea. As I said, it is a feeling of where and when as much as one of dissatisfaction, fulfillment, and loss. The dreams have come about throughout years of my life and seem to indicate that I am always searching for something so elusive that each step feels futile. But I keep trying. The relationship between the drawings and the dreams is very clearly some type of control that I lack, or does not exist in the first place. There is always something I cannot locate, something I need badly or otherwise can't live without. When I awaken, that unattainable 'thing' becomes real. I genuinely feel that my search for whatever the fuck it is will never end, nor will the feeling of loss due to not having a clear picture of what may be out there. Fuck. Cue the song. Back a million years ago when I was on leave from recruit training, I listened to that album daily. Was I searching back then, too? I don't know. The only connection I can make right now in my fucked-up state is that something was beginning so long ago that did not materialize for a very long time. At least that is all I can come up with now. Clarify? Not so much, however I do analyze things very differently these days. Being young means embracing the moment and spending time enjoying whatever is available. Now? None of that, really. The little things have been spelled out here for several years and are diminishing slowly. They keep me going. A search of this type, when combined with outlining the impossibility of machinery means there may be no conclusion at all. Disheartening, yes, but keep in mind the dreams are pretty fucking far-fetched to begin with. I am losing track here, damn it. Or perhaps lost it. Whatever. There are other aspects of that song and the manner in which Ian sings that bring up more than just memories. I will not go into most of them right now. That would be like cutting myself open and displaying too much here. I cannot have that. But I will say that the entire series of the Train relates, as does much of what took place within other more recent entries. Threat mitigation, control over atmosphere, and my need to eliminate those parts of life which cause more distress than I am willing to lift are a start. Get it? Too much going on there for it to be laid out for all to see. You will not know everything. Suck it. Anyway, the song brought feelings which led to me thinking about the dreams and drawings in different terms. I am not wrong, just messed up. Again I have to use the word 'realization' because I have no other descriptor which carries enough weight to get the fucking point across. It is bad, enormous, and ruling me right now. Outside this little world I have created over the last few weeks there is nothing and no one able to listen and offer any insight. I am completely alone in this. That is also bad. Very little good right now aside from the freedom to think and attempt to explore the meanings. The robots are going to take a back seat to other matters very soon, but until then I will continue to try relating things as I began three entries back. The health mandate has me here for the last fifty-eight days (current to this writing) and I have been out and away from home for only the most strict trips and important items. Thus, plenty of time to sit here and try as I may. Knowing that one of the problems has no possible solution is pressing me badly, though. I have to continue in that vein for as long as my stability deems it necessary. Wow... Again with the fucked up topic and resolution. Shit. The song. Well, maybe I am placing too much importance on those feelings from the past and how they relate to the me that evolved this way. Ian is not at fault, nor is the music. In less than an hour I will be back on the highway south and likely hitting that album again. It's just too good. His voice is ferocious. Heh. Anyway, the second-to-latest incarnation of the mansion in my dream is still sticking to my brain. Most of the time the visions and scenery fade within days but this one is still there. And the mansion was different enough from all of the others for me to take severe notice of the layout. There was much more to it than I was able to explore, and the bathroom with the three girls in the tub is still an issue. I do not know why, but they continue to irritate me to no end. Why were they in there? And where in the world is a bathroom showing off a tub connected to the water closet and separated by only a curtain? Very strange, as were the girls. I only see one of them now, the one with the bikini top on display. Again, why? Who was she? I do not know anyone who looks like her, and only a handful of the images gracing these pages are depicting a model carrying out-of-proportion breasts with respect to frame. I just don't get it. The girl at the car wash perhaps? Hmm... No way. She was different. But the mansion, that was the key. Forget the breasts. It was a huge rectangle, like a colonial, yet taller and more imposing than even the largest of those designs. The hallways were very wide with enough room for a group to walk shoulder-to-shoulder. The few rooms that I saw were enormous and showed off multiple levels, like the master bedroom of one of the other homes. And the location was nuts. Right off a park and between streets. The land area seemed small for such a footprint. Topic sentence, fucker. To hell with it. Keep going. Heh. The size and shape of the house notwithstanding, the woman at the desk was striking and I was overjoyed to find her sitting there and happy to see me. She is something else, and I wonder if the appearance of a person I know in the real world has something to do with desire. I have not felt that way about her as far as I can remember (not that the woman is anything but gorgeous and exotic), and the other dream involving machinery is unattainable by any measure. Maybe she was a machine in that dream. Well, either way, I am not feeling anything toward her still. The fact that she was the one in the office conducting business may have to do with work that I have done in reality. Lots of questions there, damned few answers. All I can do is try. As for the house being different, I do not believe that has anything to do with my drawings. The lack of control over the environment could be a factor. I was in charge of exactly nothing. Another one. In a restaurant with someone I knew but could not see. There was another woman there, in the shadows and not readily apparent. Darkness there. The person with me was talking about the operation and opening of the place while the other woman remained behind a serving counter. After a moment I asked who she was, and the beauty replied that she worked there. Immediately I quipped, 'No you don't, or I won't be able to concentrate.' She giggled and moved across the kitchen, at which time I saw the rest of her and began to compute the sight. Awake.
Older, more beautiful, more haunting
No mansion, no hiding, and no searching this time. I know not why. A restaurant? Perhaps just a random location? The woman in the kitchen looked like an actor that I gained an appreciation for just a few years ago. I had not seen her in quite a while and she popped up on a show I had been following, much to my surprise. What a sight. I spoke about her some weeks ago with a friend, but that is all. No viewing of that show and no other thoughts of her as far as I can remember. So, two aspects different, the idea in my head was different, and I awakened out of my head with need. No conclusion at all. I am losing touch with some of the dreams and have others still in clear detail after weeks. I don't get it, but I am not made to understand everything. At least I know who the woman is. That's new to me. I can see her face right now. Before I go into a tirade about this woman, let me say that my view of her is radically different than many others. I do not feel the same, nor do I look upon her with goo goo ga ga eyes. And when she was younger there was no feeling at all. Yes, the woman is stunning, however the way I feel now is more in the direction of a conversation, like Jamie. This came out of nowhere a few years ago, and then faded, and just this morning the woman appeared in the restaurant kitchen just in time to confound my thinking. I still feel for her as I do many others. No desire. Just an inkling of thought regarding a machine that matches her. Funny? I don't think so, Tim. Not funny, causing me to swing the beam around from yesterday and look at the world in a new way. Yep, thanks honey. Er... Not her fault, mine. This whole thing is so fucking tiring. I am sick of feeling as if I have nothing left. Just as I give up, something (or someone, like Katie there) comes along and pushes my interest back to the head of the line and I keep going. Why her? I don't know. She just appeared there in a black outfit and looking beautiful. Prior to this morning I have not considered that woman in quite some time. The idea could be the way she looked on the show, all chiseled cheeks and big eyes, and it could have been the fact that her character wore braces on her teeth. That was different, and propelled her facial features up several notches as I watched. The God's honest truth is that she came out of nowhere this morning and caught me off-guard. Now she's in there pretty good and I have to think this through a while. The idea of a restaurant may have stemmed from me watching so much Food Network. Well, who cares? I think the place belonged to me and that may have been the idea. A different kind of control, and then some measure of anticipation because a beautiful woman was going to be working there alongside myself. Anticipation. But I didn't have to seek her, and I know who she is. One possibility is that this has nothing to do with anything and represents the fucking random crap in my head. Or it could mean that my being enamored with Katie for five minutes a couple of years back is going to return and cause me to scour the earth for images that do her justice. Or, maybe I am going to become a nut case (more than I am now) and just stare. Or, maybe she will fade before I close this paragraph. Or, maybe none of it means a damned thing. Could be. The lack of pursuit during those moments makes me think of the possibility of her already being attached to me somehow. The smile was playful, devious, and pretty in a dark way, as if she knew all about me. There went Angie Harmon across the screen. Wow. And no dog walker in days. Thank the maker. During my drive back this morning I was listening to something that has been left by the wayside for many months... Possibly longer. I basically just forgot about it. I call it the album of the universe as it is my favorite album above all others. Yep, that's what I said. It is also one of the rarities that I have not shared with another person since I discovered it upon release in the mid-nineties. I fell in love with the music back then and feel the same way to this moment. I have probably bought the disc three or more times over the years upon damaging or misplacing, and I will continue to buy it as necessary so anytime I need to hear the thing I will have it. Yes, that good. Years ago a friend of mine had his list of 'deserted island discs' which comprised the top five that he would bring to such isolation. For me, the list is shorter. Just one. I need nothing else, and have felt the same for a very long time. Listening this morning brought me all the way back to those months in the Midwest and my drawings. The memories are such that I often wonder if I appreciated that part of life enough at the time. I don't know, really, but also attach that wonderment to other time periods, like right now. When I first made those massive home designs I had no idea what I would be in for later in life. They are currently at the top of my list of concerns over the meaning behind all of it. Control, robots, mansions, problems. I began this paragraph with the music. Geez. That album has become so important to me, and carries much emotion due to the times in which I listened, that I cannot share it with anyone. You'll just have to wonder. Well, there is one soul with whom I would listen. You'll read about her soon enough. Is it just me, or have these 'E' writings been all over the map? I couldn't organize my way through a kitchen drawer right now. Or perhaps everything is just too stirring for me to grasp and express properly. Hmm... Maybe. Sometimes there is too much and I cannot pick a single direction. Control, robots, mansions, problems. I said that already. Oops. Well, that will give you an idea of how large these subjects are in my head. Huge. Overwhelming. And often? Crippling. Especially the realization of the dreams and their relationship to Jaime and her kind. The robots. Yeah, that's not an easy pill to swallow. I am still trying. Ugh. There is always the likelihood of me turning inward even further over all of it, and considering how much I have closed myself off already because of our current health climate, going a step further may keep me away from anything beyond the sidewalk. Time will tell, however seeing that there is no solution to such a dream, the time may indeed be very short. The order was originally three weeks, then extended a month beyond that, extended another month, and now things are opening very slowly. I believe that is a mistake. For myself, that area beyond the door is now alien and I am still pushing to keep clear of any hazards. That means the shorter interval between publishing is here to stay and I may be changing jobs as a result of no wish in continuing to deal with haphazard locations and people. Everything feels unsafe, even after all these days run together like being on restriction as a child. Wow, that is kind of funny. The truth is that my sitting here writing more than ever and more often could actually be beneficial. Yep. I said this may be helping me and that is too much to ignore. I cannot deny it. Not even with my vast penchant for glamorizing the idea of self-deprecation. Me, believe it or not. Me... Better than months passed. Yes, you read that correctly. So, even with the recent developments and difficulties, I am plowing through it. I did eject myself from the full-logic of society and am really getting tired of dealing with certain things, but still I am improving in other ways. Seeing the homes here and there as well as trying to work with impossible dreams used to have the singular ability to put me in the ground. Not now. I have to carry forward with as much work here as I am able in order to fully flesh everything out. The newest is the flaring of issue number two and Jaime at the same time. I will not watch either of the related films for reasons of self-preservation, although that might change sooner rather than later. If I feel up to it, the words will fly.
No braces, off screen, still stunning
Her face is chiseled. Jesus. Katie may work her way into me and add to the storytelling very soon. I had forgotten about her for many years after she starred next to one of my favorite actors and then returned more recently like a frying pan to my head. And I believe I know why it happened so suddenly just this morning: The Cherry 2000 slammed into my brain as soon as I viewed Katie's image, and then the two began to meld. The basic reasoning may be her face. Chiseled. Tapered. Unlike any other. And Jaime came up here because of the robotic dreams and then I threw in the fact that she can change her appearance, as can I. Katie as a robot? Fuck yes. Why not? The features over which I have been agonizing are set in stone, as it were, but would not be if she were a machine. Yes, I know... Go ahead and berate this entire line of thinking. Ridiculous, completely. But am I not clearing it out in a good way? The impossibility is always there -- like the passion -- although when it comes to a dream, all bets are off. The dreamer is heavily in charge of the whole works. Right? The idea of changeability is paramount, along with control. Add the two and throw in a dash of deviant desire and the cocktail becomes quite harsh. And wonderful. Eyes, hair, height, weight, features. See? Ugh. Maybe I should avoid detail. That may become something bad later. And I believe I went over this crap already. I can't remember and don't care to go back and search. Morning again. Coffee. The ideas at work here are becoming pretty large within my mind. Three entries back I calculated that I might be having trouble dealing with a situation which has come to fruition just this year. Well, that much is true. The idea is not easy to think about right now. The more I consider how important this type of exploration and exposition has become, the more I realize that the act of placing the information here while trying to analyze what is happening inside me is the only time I am at peace. While driving, working on something in the house, or any other random project, my head tries to work out the idea of fulfillment and I become distracted to the point of losing track. After a while and when things are organized to my satisfaction, I return here and lay out whatever transpired during the previous hours or day. And then I feel as if there are possibilities. That may be a falsehood, but I have to admit that the hope does not appear when I am away from this machine. The other machines stroll into my head and soon an entire world develops in the space of seconds and I dream. And then it stops, I drop back to the self I had to deal with prior to the bliss, and the whole thing starts over again. Every day. I cannot change anything right now or my little world may tip to one side. I have to leave everything alone for a while. Maybe a few more of these beginning with 'E' and something will be different. Maybe. Tired. But I am ok right now. I really am. Yes, the impossible things continue to nag at me and I will keep exploring them as much as I am able, but the honest truth is that fact will not change in my lifetime. I have to figure out a way to move forward without carrying the machines around in my brain. They are in there right now. Mostly Jaime. And I did that on my own. Perhaps creating her was not such a good idea after all. Into my new office, the garage. Beer cracked, ashtray close, music playing quietly in the background. And now I need to lend some cohesion to this crap. Heh. To the dreams. The control present in every single one of them, along with desire and one point or another. I believe I know from where that stemmed, but still the one factor I cannot figure is the idea that despite I have felt the same way about desire for many years, the arrival of that shit situation which began with the walnut girl is something which eludes me still. She is cute, carries all those lines and numbers, but so do many others that grace the screen daily. Just this morning I saw one of the reporters again and for whatever reason she looked even better than in the past month or more. I don't get it. The woman is gorgeous from head to toe and I rarely see her outside the home now. Still, the feeling of butterflies when she is on screen drives me up the fucking wall. And there is no desire. I just want to stare. A lot. Strange? I don't know. I would think that the desire to jump her would be worse. I do not feel that. I just feel appreciation for her greatly-exaggerated facial features. Arms. Eyes. Jawline. I don't know... Maybe more. And I do not want her. Just looking. The dreams are generally centered around desire. There is someone else present that I cannot reach and I know why. Elusivity is harmful to me at this point in my life for so many fucking reasons that I cannot even begin to form a list. Too much, too long... Reckless in the past and so very damaged now. Searching over and over through those huge homes and never finding the comfort that has become that much more important to my well-being has exhausted me even more than spilling all this shit here. I am tired of thinking about these problems and trying to analyze the dreams. Whomever or whatever is out there has left me worn out. And they keep coming around from time to time. The recent dream involving the storefront is only different due to its relating to the current global situation. Other than that, I see the similarities to so many others. I am familiar with the woman behind the desk but that is inconsequential when compared to the entire years-long search. Incontrovertible? Oy. So... Too much. The dreams, drawings, control, robots, fulfillment, all that is lacking... What am I supposed to do here other than keep exploring? That is already published. Exhaustion is the word this time. I am so fucking tired of the mass that is up against me and pushing. Worn out, lacking. Lacking. Just fucking lacking so much and so many ideas that I might just stop this line of work until such time as I can carry it with some meaning and fluidity. Cohesion? Yeah, um... Nope. That is not going to happen unless I spend every waking moment dissecting all these 'E' messes and trying to put them in the correct order for proper flow. No way. I am just too tired. I need to ascertain the reasoning behind Katie right now. Different, surreal, but also exhausting. And just you wait for what comes next."
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