Expectation Mature content No. 133 Published May 23rd, 2020 5:22am pdt read ( words) Past entries "This is going to be bad. Brace yourself. And no more Katie. That is done. So, three years ago I was at the bar watching the Super Bowl with several others. Two guys were present that I had known from watching football there for years. A woman was with them. I covertly shot an image (several, really) of her from the rear. I have brought this up before, but I feel differently about it now than I did when the issue first hit me in the head. I shot it, analyzed and attempted to correct the exposure, adjustments and other factors due to the lighting leaving me with a crappy, unfocused image. I did the best I could with the tools I had, and the result is below. Keep in mind this has been cropped down to include as little as possible aside from the woman standing there watching the game. I had no control over what was going on in that room. None whatsoever. But I shot an image without her knowledge. I wrote a blurb about this woman some time ago and stated that I would not publish the image. Well, three years later and no one is going to give a shit, her face is not visible (a tragedy, because holy Jesus fuck in a makeup mirror was she amazingly beautiful from head to toe), and I do not believe I am violating any law by placing it here. So, look below. Yep, she was taller than me in her tennis shoes. Taller than everyone around her, actually. What the fuck does this have to do with what has been happening? Ugh. Dreams. Control. Desire. All the things that you might expect to hear after I see a woman who resembles a creation of mine years later. That sounds odd, I know, but just go with it. This woman -- the one I saw that day in the bar and then never again -- was the basis for Jaime. I remember. I really do... All of it... Speaking with my friends and her for a few minutes, realizing exactly what was standing before me, and then trying to function on any level while my head blew up with the need to ask about measuring or photographing her was not fun. Asking never happened, and likely never will with anyone because it is ridiculous (just that one occasion when I asked to photograph a woman's hands). The woman was there not ten feet from me for most of the game and I took advantage of the time. Never did I see her again. But I have the image. Regardless of the ramifications of me capturing something like that without a person's knowledge, I did it. And now it is here and I do not give a fuck. The Internet has exploded throughout a decade or more and I do not see the harm any longer. If anyone actually takes issue with this decision, please feel free to send me an email and I will listen. If I agree (very likely), the image will immediately be replaced with something more generic. And I am not being full of shit. Tell me and it is gone. I hope not. She is important. Just like the other one further down the page. Yeah... Her. [When I originally brought this woman to the site and went on about her appearance and the difficulty caused by seeing her, I was hesitant to go into too much detail for fear of backlash. Well, that was three years ago and I do not believe anything will come of it for two reasons. One, the likelihood of the actual woman reading this and running across an image of herself is most unlikely, and two, the number of people who visit this site on a given week is nil. Barely any. I see everything, and I now feel that bringing her here is fine. This is the first time I have published an image of someone I saw out in the world rather than a model or capture from video. There are others below, from even earlier (April of ten), and the possibility of anything stemming from them is equally nil. I am not worried, so there you go.] So, I did it out of compulsion. All these years I have fallen on my face over the shape or sight of a woman that I knew would disappear forever around a corner or in a building. I searched, saw, and then just dropped through the fucking floor. When I had the business cards made, I actually tried to create a system and electronic storefront through which I could have studied and performed research. Nope. Just three cards given out and that was that. I never received a note from any of them and probably should have avoided the cards in the first place. Well, I was desperate and far too weak at that time. The hopes and obsession far outweighed the downsides. Now that the entire idea has been killed, I have nothing. It was precisely that type of desperation that pushed me to capture those women so I could look without restriction. Plus, now that I am revealing that I've done such a thing (twice), my insides are telling me that I am again wrong in doing so. The pressure arrived after seeing them -- emotional pressure, that is -- and I lost it enough to snap the images. That spawned from the fact that I was seeing three-dimensional shapes right in front of me and may never see them again. I did it. I still don't know how I feel, but one thing is certain... The woman that stood there in southern California still represents an anomaly unlike any other. She was amazing to see with those big, feeling, gentle eyes and full hair. I was insane until the moments passed, worthless in conversation, and blind to anything else in existence while seeing her. I had to take it in because soon enough she was gone and I was longing like never before. Right around that time was when I met Maggie at the fucking restaurant in Pleasanton and soon after she was sitting in our living room all curled up with no shoes and hair everywhere. The beginning was just banter at the bar because she was so funny, but later we got together on occasion and enjoyed some conversation as my head tried to calculate what force in nature could have constructed such beauty. Well, I was still reeling from spending time around Maggie when the trip took place. She was spinning in my head when the tall beauty you see below found my lens. So, I had thought that Maggie was an enigma until seeing a genetic fluke of the universe standing close enough to hurt me inside. She is gone forever and there will not be another face with that softness ever again. Ouch. At least I have images. Wrong or not, I did it and I have them. The more I look at her, the more I am reminded of the feelings at that time. She was very tall and slender, but nothing really drove me nuts until she turned and I saw her face. Kind, open, and with eyes which appeared both damaged and loving. I really went insane at the sight and then realized we were going nowhere for a few minutes and grabbed the camera. Questionable, at best Look at her... Just below this section. That woman makes the one above seem like nothing more than a study. Her? The three images and one crop? So much more. So. Much. More. So much more. I am both happy and broken in half over being able to see part of her face. That was the key. That is how I picture Jaime. Why her? Because I am fucked up, weak, out of balance, lacking control, and dreaming almost constantly. The woman was so beautiful that here I fucking sit ten Goddamned years later and I still get knots inside when I look at her. I left those images in the 'miscellaneous' folder because I did not know if they would ever go anywhere else. Well, here it is... The big fucking reveal... I secretly shot these images and fell off the edge of the world soon after. I do not feel as bad right now, but there is guilt inside. A little. She will never know, the site will never go anywhere (and if it does, this entry will not follow as it is), and in the grand scheme of the universe and this day and age there are more reprehensible acts related to imagery happening that are vastly worse than this. So, they are here. And fucking look at the little bit of face that I captured. Do you see? Fuck me. I had expectations back then of simply seeing her height in the images, but did not know for sure until I arrived home and had time to look back on what I had shot. And here comes the episode with a cameo by Alicia. Damn it, but honestly not even she can hold a fucking candle to the woman below. Maybe no one can. And maybe that is because she went deeper into my heart than she did into the camera. How about that? Unbalanced? Images of someone I can never know or see again from ten fucking years ago and I am still screwed up over them? How about I just have her printed and framed and then hang her in the house? Would that make me more screwed up? Or have I already arrived at the tipping point? Tired of the questions? Live with it. And expect more. I am fucked. Dreams. Her. This is bad. Oh I can see a long session of sitting in the garage today. This shit is flying off my fingers. She was years after the phase-lock girl that became injected into my heart over the course of an hour. I am guessing the trip in question was not the first time that I pinned so much importance on a face. But I did. Wrong? There is no right or wrong. They are feelings, and if they arrive on the heels of weakness, well, I can do little to change that now. These things already took place. I am hoping something like this does not happen again. If you think about it, the woman below was ten years ago and still fucks me up royally when I look. Another incident like that right now and I will lose another decade. Maybe by then I will have the technology to produce holographic images. Heh. Not fucking funny. Anyway, I believe my weak and needy state is decades old. There is nothing wrong with it, really, and as a person very close to me once said, all of the aspects of me -- good and bad -- add up to what is sitting here right now. She told me I am a good person and I believe it. I lived through whatever I lived through, thought about everything, reacted accordingly, learned some things, and ended up like this. The person who shot images of that woman and kept them locked away for ten years. Ugh... Now it sounds bad again. There went Alicia. I wish I knew her name. Maybe it's Jaime. Heh. That's not fucking funny because the impossibility will rear its ugly head again. Jaime. Not Jamie. Ok, that's a little funny. Alicia's breasts. Geez, this fucking show sometimes. Anyway, boobs aside, the robotic issue remains at the head of the line and after writing about the goddess of the Goddamned universe now, the dream is worse. The Jaime that I created does not have a face that I can show here, nor can I describe such a thing. That is merely imagination and nothing tangible can come of it. These points I am making are beginning to heel themselves inward and I see the end of the street already. I see it waiting there and it is still pretty far off. Kind of like my mind and that of someone who can keep fantasy and reality separate. There it is... Right there straight ahead and glowing. I had no idea the site was going to move in the direction it did back in early fifteen, and now has grown beyond to include some very sensitive and revealing fiction. Within that, there is one aspect which in recent months stirred me like nothing else, and that is the inclusion of the Cherry 2000. I never dreamed of her looking like Pamela, but having her own appearance that was generated in me. Well, here we are... The end of the street. Ready? Expect it. The woman below is now Jaime. Be prepared for this to get much worse in two ways. If I loved her, the idea of them being one is not good for my mental health, and I was already up against an impossible conundrum before connecting such a woman to the existing dream. The other thing is the fact that I am describing a real flesh and blood woman, not some fictional creation from my mind. I saw her right there in front of me for several minutes. That means by making her Jamie I am extending my own fantasy. Also bad for me. See? But it is happening nonetheless. Or, happened. Past tense. If I am going to be unbalanced like a fucking cheap audio cable or a two-wire resistance measurement, I may as well admit that falling down like this is not only typical of me, but solidifies the idea that even though I am better than in past years, I am also worse in other ways. The isolation did not do this. I would have fallen anyway. The casual look of her bag and the jacket, the way her lips are slightly parted, the curve of her nose, the design on her pockets, and the hair looking beautiful but still a little messy... Wow. There is more. So much more. Maybe I loved her... ...because I am weak that way... ...and never learned balance... ...like a real grown-up adult Another dream. This morning. In my house, not a mansion. My house. Right in the hallway. But I was elsewhere, too. Outside, and staying around some others who seemed to be living on the street. I was with someone else. A woman, but I did not know her. She was tall and wearing baggy clothing. We were on what seemed to be the edge of a large street, but it also resembled the water's edge at a small lake. I do not know which for sure. Next to us were some guys that had their things set up below the street level, as if they were going to sleep there. I did not understand. And then we were at the entrance of a large hotel or something. That did not seem to last very long. I saw a woman wearing pants which revealed a thong underneath, white. I stared at her beautiful shape as she went on about her business. We were in a kitchen somewhere. I can't remember what she was doing, although in the dream I believe whatever was going on there felt natural. A few moments of that and I wanted to be close. I have no idea who the woman is. I knew that we were trying to accomplish something -- maybe just surviving in a dangerous climate -- and we were doing it together. Like partners, or some such situation. I did not know her, per se, however she was familiar enough that I needed to protect her as much as I could. Every now and then I would see her lanky features and feel desire. Not like the mansions... That was always implied, as if I knew I could be close to a woman and the only problem was timing. I never seemed to find it. Another glimpse of people on the street, or whatever it was. And then moving through the large lobby of a building, and then in front of a convenience store. We were outside mostly, and I was hoping (like always) to be alone with her and close. And then the hallway right outside my bathroom. She was getting ready to shower and removed all of her clothes right there next to the closet. Barefoot. All I could think was wow, but I didn't want to gush for fear of causing a rift to form. I kept my eyes up to hers which forced me to notice her height. 'How tall are you?' -- 'Six feet'. And as my head spun she asked if I'd like to shower with her, then an embrace and a peck on the cheek, and then awake. Fuck me. Who in the blue fuck was that woman? She resembled too many to list. Possibly a creation of the reporter, Katie (who is very tall), and the real Jamie. And? I just realized Jaime and Jamie have become a confusing issue on these pages. I had been spelling them the same, which is incorrect. The dreamy machine is Jaime, while the actor is Jamie. Damn it... I went back through the entries beginning with 'Pool' and corrected all of them. Whew! Oops, and my apologies to the real Jamie for my misspelling. Anyway, the woman in the kitchen and restaurant dream also resembled Katie. I am getting all fucked up about this. Too many dreams, I cannot tell who is who, and as soon as I realize how someone relates from those worlds to the real world, another comes along and trips me up something fierce. Come to think of it, her face was soft -- very much so -- and reminds me of the woman pictured above. The possible connection there is not going to help matters because I did see more of her at the time but cannot remember now. If she was in the dream, well, she had someone else's face. Maybe Katie. I don't know. Jamie? Another woman entirely? I do not expect to figure this out completely. It was a dream and is not meant to be so clear. And since I brought up her face... When I shot those images (covertly), I saw much more than what is displayed here. We were fairly still, but she had been moving around along with the group that accompanied her. I saw her face and that was the main problem with shooting images. Yes, she was really tall and carried everything I have described here. You already know all that crap. But the face? That is another level. No matter what may be happening below the neck (and believe me when I look, I am searching for lines), a woman's face is the deciding factor if and when I am actually attracted versus just trying to study. I would have loved to capture her beautiful face, however had she turned to see a huge Nikon objective pointed in her direction I am certain that afternoon would have gone differently. Or I could have simply asked to shoot her, but then I would be labeled. I am strange, but no one else needs to know. The woman in the kitchen may have been an assembly of the one above along with other details from wherever, but I will never know. Beautiful, intriguing, haunting. As usual, I am at a loss. The dreams are affecting my ability to clearly think throughout any given day. They are getting in the way of my new routine and the manner in which I try to schedule time. I often find myself daydreaming and trying to work out who some of these women are and why the strange dreams keep popping up. The mansions go back years, long enough for me to remember seeing them before I moved to the coast. During the weeks with Andrea, I had none. That may have been due to her loving manner toward me, or possibly because we moved through a dream world of our own. I do not know. She was a living dream, really. After the loss of her I did not think about what had been taking place while I slept. Just recently the ideas returned and I have spent much time computing the whys and hows of those encounters. I have more expectations of them continuing, as well. Now? Preoccupied like never before. Even this morning with the sun peeking and the rain clearing, my brain is working overtime after seeing that tall beauty right here in this very house. Upon awakening, I was reminded in the worst way of the walnut girl, those goddesses at the pool with so much fucking skin on display, and the years leading up to my falling down at the idea of desire. Sometimes it is just too much for me to handle. Today is one of those times. I have to remain distracted after the morning coffee is done and I move away from this machine. Hmm... A machine. There is another problem that I am ill-equipped to deal with right now, and I created it. Just like Jaime. Not Jamie. Heh. I wish I could giggle right now. The only saving throw I have is to continue exploring and analyzing here. That is nearly all I have. Onward. And this is a good thing. I'm sure no one thought I would ever say that. That tall girl standing nude in my hallway reminds me of the one pictured at the top. I remember speaking with her a bit as I was conversing with my friends about the game, and she chimed in. I nearly faltered right there at the fucking table because her face matched the rest of the look. I immediately went insane and became compelled to stare but nothing could be done during that time. Speaking with her about football was fine because we were all there for the same reason. So I returned to my table at the rear and tried to calm myself. And there she was for the next couple of hours, right in front of me like the dream of a lifetime just inches out of reach. As the game and clock progressed, I became more and more tormented by seeing an example of the beauty I have sought for too long and unable to go further. I would not speak to another person about the subject out of fear, and certainly not the object of my obsession. But there she was, a full inch above my eyes in flat shoes, showing off every fucking thing. Everything. And that long hair. Fuck. I slowly lost my mind, found a few opportunities to shoot the images, and then left for home with my head spinning. One of the biggest problems with seeing a form so aligned with my dreams is being able to do absolutely nothing about it and then being forced to move away with the images in my head for days. Or longer. I am surprised to have survived that day and seeing such a woman. Back then my constitution was very low and the weakness endangered my life. I am stronger than that now, but still... The sight drove me out of my mind and I was in pain over it for a very long time. God damn. Yep... That is how bad I had become. I still kind of see her face. A little. Maybe that was her in the dream. I attached the image yesterday, along with those three from the trip to southern California, and the two women are similar. After editing, formatting, and coding them here, replication in my head during sleep would not be off the mark. It is possible. I don't know, but I do not expect this to be easy. That woman in the other images? Within seconds of spotting her I wanted to latch on for the rest of my life. Yes, that is what I said. Welded. She was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Still is. The softness of her eyes and expression on her face hit me like nothing else. That feeling is returning which is dangerous for a person such as myself and being so weakened by the last several years and their inherent difficulties. Yes, all of it was created by yours truly. The fact remains that this woman has returned to my memory and into my heart at precisely the correct moment when I am at a crossroads of sorts due to the way of the current world. Some things have changed a little, others quite a bit more, and one is slapping me in the face as if it was a rag full of smelling salts. As soon as I had spotted the images in that overlooked folder, a process began which I am helpless to halt, and the situation is changing the manner in which I think at any given moment. Expect this to remain. Yes, her again This morning is difficult in the extreme due to dreaming of the anticipation again. Nothing ever really happens, there is just some closeness and an understanding, and then I awaken. Considering the difficulty I have on any given morning, the sum is very problematic. Yearning, weakness, longing, and dreaming take over my ability to move from this work to that which I take care of daily. I do not want things to come to a head or I may become as reckless as in the past. My condition is such that the daydreaming and memories of those people and places cause me to feel pain at times. That has not happened for some days and is a good thing, but I also know it will return. I have the expectation of trouble almost constantly unless otherwise deep into any projects which can command my interest. When things worsen, I try to remain busy with said projects and what-have-you. Most of the time I can pull up and out of the din and get through the day. Those occasions when the morning drags on and I fall down? Bad. That is happening right now. Soon I will have to close the machine and push forward with whatever can help me to find purpose. I revealed the robots and knew the idea was going to be tough here, however I did not expect the woman from southern California to spin me as she did. Minutes pass, and I feel more. I placed two more images of Jamie here. I cannot seem to get her face out of my brain sometimes. I was watching the show (kind of in the background, really) first thing this morning and her eyes just went right into my heart. Damn, they are amazing. And one more time... Hence Jaime and her unnaturally large windows. Not as big as Alita's, but pretty fucking sizeable. Jamie's eyes are big, too, but that is reality. Maybe I am goo goo over her due to that fact. She is a real woman. Pamela was, the Mojo girl, too, but that is all. Jamie's eyes have brought more thinking to my heart than I thought could be possible after all these years. I guess the time of seeing her from the beginning of the show as a teenager and all the way to the end in her early twenties just grabbed me. I have watched those episodes so many times that the images do not leave. I will try to refrain from going on further about her despite the relationship between her appearance and my dreams of the machines. One note on that: Everything here is related... From the obsession to the dreams to the drawings, machinery, elusive beauty, control, and our current situation in the world. All of it is connected in one way or another, and despite my intelligence and problem-solving abilities, I am at a loss when seeing everything at once. Jamie is just going to have to wait until I can get some of this crap worked over. I was not expecting to feel this way only part way down the page. All related. Even my little routine that I go through on weekdays. Related. Everything. I need to be able to get at least one smidgen of this to clarify. A little meaning, some type of origin or resolution, I don't know. The concern over this is growing. I am fine right now with all this time to explore, think, and keep myself together mentally, but still those problems are there. And I am not shoving them to the rear like in the past, I am keeping everything at the forefront so I can chip away. The dreams are a toughie. Mostly the latest. That woman was right there with me and I still have no idea of who she might have been. Gorgeous. Was she the one I covertly shot at the bar? Or the one from southern California? One of those is three years back and the other, ten. Hmm. Until just a few days ago I had not considered either for a very long time. The images have sat in a folder because there was nothing to do with them and no reason to think. Now? Probably still no reason, but the dream brought up the shape and that led to me scrambling for an identity. Her face was so soft, eyes of consideration and caring, I just can't shake it right now. And I swear to Christ, if the woman from the trip is popping up in my dreams after all these years, the resulting confusion is going to mess me up even more. I don't know, but it's possible. Nothing is ever that clear in my vision. I have to deal with everything in stages, I guess. One at a time. Elephant. Heh. Part of this is my fault. Scratch that... All of it. I decided to place that woman here for all to see and now I keep looking over and over as I test the page at various points. Her face is nearly too much and I can't even see all of it. But I remember the feelings when I turned and noticed her height. Just a person standing there. I wonder if she has any idea what effect that had on another person standing across the courtyard. Not likely. I need to stop this. The mushy that I experienced while writing 'Phase Lock' is beginning to return. Mush. Sensitivity. Goo goo. Maybe I really did love her for a time. I would not be surprised. Or maybe I love the memory. I don't fucking know anything. Damn it, anyway. I guess I'll try to make something out of this day before I completely collapse over her (again). There are many things to which I have to attend, we are going out in the new virus world to shop for necessities, and then I can settle in to my tiny space out there with music and self-exploration. Analysis, for whatever good it may do me. The woman is Jaime. Jaime is she. What a fucking thought and here we go again with the difficulty in something which cannot and will not ever happen. Out of balance and off my rocker. But such is me. I'm hoping some of this will fade as the day progresses. My routine will be slightly different this week but returns next week. I have to stay busy for the most part, keep trying to think of why that woman is now bigger than life in my head and heart, and prepare myself for whatever may come along that I am not expecting. This is part of it. She is part of it. I was caught off-guard like never before at the sight of her image, and now the idea that she is Jaime has opened another, very large door with all sorts of things on display. Perhaps she will drive the fiction to continue sooner than I thought. Being able to put a face to the name is insane, real or not. She is real. Was. Whatever. I don't know, but the certainty that Jaime is fictional and impossible cannot be denied. I see her standing there looking back at me. I see her. I am fucked up. Just like some certifiable character in a crime drama, I am obsessing over these things. I need to hold tight to the world or I may end up one of those people with a secret room in the basement full of pictures. Now THAT is crazy. I am not there. Stay out. Just stay the fuck out. I can deal with this if the separation necessary for carrying forward with fiction and keeping that woman out of my dreams can occur. All I can do is try, and the words here really help with that. I will keep going. Whew! There is the fucking reporter. Damn her gorgeous, unique face anyway. Just... Damn. Stay out of the fucking basement, idiot. Oy gawd is she beautiful. So... I will deal with today and do my best to stay away from dreams of her. The distance has become more and more necessary just in the space of this entry, and I began the writing yesterday. That's right, the time required for me to place a ton of importance on something and then flip the fuck out over it is very short these days. First the Cherry 2000 in the story, and then she is here. Do you see how I made that connection? I melded the two. I took her from my memory and the images and placed her into another of my dreams. As soon as I typed the words above, the other operative term flew into my brain and slapped me silly. Are you ready for another fucking nut farm of a statement? If the woman from the trip years ago and her unreal beauty and pull upon my heart is Jaime, I can control her. [!!!] And that is the end of that. One step closer to the crazy in the basement. Fuck me. I may need to stay home for the rest of my life. I hope this is not going somewhere Look at Jamie. Her face is a first-class example of kindness. Just a glance and you can tell that she has a big heart and is caring and considerate of others. Gentle, open, thinking. Yes, all of that is expressed through her windows. I can see it all. And I still do not want her in any way other than to appreciate what she has accomplished and admire her beauty (yes, I know she had work done on her nose. The eyes are the thing, though, so shove it in your ass). Eventually I will stop adding her to these entries because people will tire of so many images of the same woman. And you don't have to worry about the other one up there because those are all that exist. She's done here, at least from a visual standpoint. Yep, I will be flowing words like a two-bit whore about that one. There is just too much to leave the subject alone. Too. Fucking. Much. Go back to Jamie and the image two up. The eyes. See? Maybe not. I cannot expect others to see as I do. That is ridiculous and can be unfair if I keep pushing. She is generally accepted as universally attractive so I will leave it at that. One possibility of her coming up here over and over is my having the show in the background some of the time. I leave the Star Trek alone in the early mornings and listen quietly to the banter of the mobsters. Some good, some bad, yet I know it so well that the harm cannot touch me. The latest season comes around and then Jamie and her eyes appear. That is that. I stare. Most are cute, Jamie is beautiful. The one from the past trip south puts them all to shame. Bad is coming, and none are at fault. Almost time for me to get in gear and do something besides spouting here. I have a list and that will help to extricate the women and dreams from my head for the time being. I did it yesterday so I can do it again. I do not need any more visions of a robot that looks like the very embodiment of my excessively-detailed dreams. I might as well wish for a fucking Holodeck. Go ahead and laugh. I did. If this bullshit has taught me anything, the lesson is that I tend to latch very easily and have a hell of a time accepting things that are beyond control. The woman up there from ten fucking years ago now represents an entire universe that is developing in my head. That is bad. And yes, I can do something about it but I choose not to. I choose to let her fly around in there so I can see. And feel. Yep, I still feel for her. And I'll be Goddamned if I laid it all down today after telling myself years ago that I would leave that trip alone. In a folder. Shoved into a small space and ignored. Nope. Here it is. I probably royally fucked myself by doing this because my imagination is pretty vivid and will continue to conjure all manner of dreamy shit on a daily basis. I don't know yet. As I said above, the time has come for me to move away from the electronic world and out there into the real one. I will report back if my efforts fail. Well, you already know that. Heh. Genetic fluke. Enigma. Dream. Unreal, and un-real. God damn it all to hell, she is so beautiful that the sight of the images hurts me. And the reporters are fucking killing me without compassion. I need to shut the television again. Broken, but still I am ok. My feelings for the woman in southern California have melted away whatever was happening within me for the woman at the bar. She has now gone from a woman to an example of the mechanics of female physical attractiveness, reduced to such by the other woman who has gone in the opposite direction. The three images. The closeup. The face. More is to come. I mentioned issue two again. Well, it's bad now and caught me unaware for the second time in as many months. I need a woman who does not exist to take it all away with her warm embrace. I did not expect this from images and memories. I expected to react accordingly. So much more. Unbalanced. You are not going to believe it." 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
Expectation Mature content No. 133 Published May 23rd, 2020 5:22am pdt read ( words) Past entries "This is going to be bad. Brace yourself. And no more Katie. That is done. So, three years ago I was at the bar watching the Super Bowl with several others. Two guys were present that I had known from watching football there for years. A woman was with them. I covertly shot an image (several, really) of her from the rear. I have brought this up before, but I feel differently about it now than I did when the issue first hit me in the head. I shot it, analyzed and attempted to correct the exposure, adjustments and other factors due to the lighting leaving me with a crappy, unfocused image. I did the best I could with the tools I had, and the result is below. Keep in mind this has been cropped down to include as little as possible aside from the woman standing there watching the game. I had no control over what was going on in that room. None whatsoever. But I shot an image without her knowledge. I wrote a blurb about this woman some time ago and stated that I would not publish the image. Well, three years later and no one is going to give a shit, her face is not visible (a tragedy, because holy Jesus fuck in a makeup mirror was she amazingly beautiful from head to toe), and I do not believe I am violating any law by placing it here. So, look below. Yep, she was taller than me in her tennis shoes. Taller than everyone around her, actually. What the fuck does this have to do with what has been happening? Ugh. Dreams. Control. Desire. All the things that you might expect to hear after I see a woman who resembles a creation of mine years later. That sounds odd, I know, but just go with it. This woman -- the one I saw that day in the bar and then never again -- was the basis for Jaime. I remember. I really do... All of it... Speaking with my friends and her for a few minutes, realizing exactly what was standing before me, and then trying to function on any level while my head blew up with the need to ask about measuring or photographing her was not fun. Asking never happened, and likely never will with anyone because it is ridiculous (just that one occasion when I asked to photograph a woman's hands). The woman was there not ten feet from me for most of the game and I took advantage of the time. Never did I see her again. But I have the image. Regardless of the ramifications of me capturing something like that without a person's knowledge, I did it. And now it is here and I do not give a fuck. The Internet has exploded throughout a decade or more and I do not see the harm any longer. If anyone actually takes issue with this decision, please feel free to send me an email and I will listen. If I agree (very likely), the image will immediately be replaced with something more generic. And I am not being full of shit. Tell me and it is gone. I hope not. She is important. Just like the other one further down the page. Yeah... Her. [When I originally brought this woman to the site and went on about her appearance and the difficulty caused by seeing her, I was hesitant to go into too much detail for fear of backlash. Well, that was three years ago and I do not believe anything will come of it for two reasons. One, the likelihood of the actual woman reading this and running across an image of herself is most unlikely, and two, the number of people who visit this site on a given week is nil. Barely any. I see everything, and I now feel that bringing her here is fine. This is the first time I have published an image of someone I saw out in the world rather than a model or capture from video. There are others below, from even earlier (April of ten), and the possibility of anything stemming from them is equally nil. I am not worried, so there you go.] So, I did it out of compulsion. All these years I have fallen on my face over the shape or sight of a woman that I knew would disappear forever around a corner or in a building. I searched, saw, and then just dropped through the fucking floor. When I had the business cards made, I actually tried to create a system and electronic storefront through which I could have studied and performed research. Nope. Just three cards given out and that was that. I never received a note from any of them and probably should have avoided the cards in the first place. Well, I was desperate and far too weak at that time. The hopes and obsession far outweighed the downsides. Now that the entire idea has been killed, I have nothing. It was precisely that type of desperation that pushed me to capture those women so I could look without restriction. Plus, now that I am revealing that I've done such a thing (twice), my insides are telling me that I am again wrong in doing so. The pressure arrived after seeing them -- emotional pressure, that is -- and I lost it enough to snap the images. That spawned from the fact that I was seeing three-dimensional shapes right in front of me and may never see them again. I did it. I still don't know how I feel, but one thing is certain... The woman that stood there in southern California still represents an anomaly unlike any other. She was amazing to see with those big, feeling, gentle eyes and full hair. I was insane until the moments passed, worthless in conversation, and blind to anything else in existence while seeing her. I had to take it in because soon enough she was gone and I was longing like never before. Right around that time was when I met Maggie at the fucking restaurant in Pleasanton and soon after she was sitting in our living room all curled up with no shoes and hair everywhere. The beginning was just banter at the bar because she was so funny, but later we got together on occasion and enjoyed some conversation as my head tried to calculate what force in nature could have constructed such beauty. Well, I was still reeling from spending time around Maggie when the trip took place. She was spinning in my head when the tall beauty you see below found my lens. So, I had thought that Maggie was an enigma until seeing a genetic fluke of the universe standing close enough to hurt me inside. She is gone forever and there will not be another face with that softness ever again. Ouch. At least I have images. Wrong or not, I did it and I have them. The more I look at her, the more I am reminded of the feelings at that time. She was very tall and slender, but nothing really drove me nuts until she turned and I saw her face. Kind, open, and with eyes which appeared both damaged and loving. I really went insane at the sight and then realized we were going nowhere for a few minutes and grabbed the camera. Questionable, at best Look at her... Just below this section. That woman makes the one above seem like nothing more than a study. Her? The three images and one crop? So much more. So. Much. More. So much more. I am both happy and broken in half over being able to see part of her face. That was the key. That is how I picture Jaime. Why her? Because I am fucked up, weak, out of balance, lacking control, and dreaming almost constantly. The woman was so beautiful that here I fucking sit ten Goddamned years later and I still get knots inside when I look at her. I left those images in the 'miscellaneous' folder because I did not know if they would ever go anywhere else. Well, here it is... The big fucking reveal... I secretly shot these images and fell off the edge of the world soon after. I do not feel as bad right now, but there is guilt inside. A little. She will never know, the site will never go anywhere (and if it does, this entry will not follow as it is), and in the grand scheme of the universe and this day and age there are more reprehensible acts related to imagery happening that are vastly worse than this. So, they are here. And fucking look at the little bit of face that I captured. Do you see? Fuck me. I had expectations back then of simply seeing her height in the images, but did not know for sure until I arrived home and had time to look back on what I had shot. And here comes the episode with a cameo by Alicia. Damn it, but honestly not even she can hold a fucking candle to the woman below. Maybe no one can. And maybe that is because she went deeper into my heart than she did into the camera. How about that? Unbalanced? Images of someone I can never know or see again from ten fucking years ago and I am still screwed up over them? How about I just have her printed and framed and then hang her in the house? Would that make me more screwed up? Or have I already arrived at the tipping point? Tired of the questions? Live with it. And expect more. I am fucked. Dreams. Her. This is bad. Oh I can see a long session of sitting in the garage today. This shit is flying off my fingers. She was years after the phase-lock girl that became injected into my heart over the course of an hour. I am guessing the trip in question was not the first time that I pinned so much importance on a face. But I did. Wrong? There is no right or wrong. They are feelings, and if they arrive on the heels of weakness, well, I can do little to change that now. These things already took place. I am hoping something like this does not happen again. If you think about it, the woman below was ten years ago and still fucks me up royally when I look. Another incident like that right now and I will lose another decade. Maybe by then I will have the technology to produce holographic images. Heh. Not fucking funny. Anyway, I believe my weak and needy state is decades old. There is nothing wrong with it, really, and as a person very close to me once said, all of the aspects of me -- good and bad -- add up to what is sitting here right now. She told me I am a good person and I believe it. I lived through whatever I lived through, thought about everything, reacted accordingly, learned some things, and ended up like this. The person who shot images of that woman and kept them locked away for ten years. Ugh... Now it sounds bad again. There went Alicia. I wish I knew her name. Maybe it's Jaime. Heh. That's not fucking funny because the impossibility will rear its ugly head again. Jaime. Not Jamie. Ok, that's a little funny. Alicia's breasts. Geez, this fucking show sometimes. Anyway, boobs aside, the robotic issue remains at the head of the line and after writing about the goddess of the Goddamned universe now, the dream is worse. The Jaime that I created does not have a face that I can show here, nor can I describe such a thing. That is merely imagination and nothing tangible can come of it. These points I am making are beginning to heel themselves inward and I see the end of the street already. I see it waiting there and it is still pretty far off. Kind of like my mind and that of someone who can keep fantasy and reality separate. There it is... Right there straight ahead and glowing. I had no idea the site was going to move in the direction it did back in early fifteen, and now has grown beyond to include some very sensitive and revealing fiction. Within that, there is one aspect which in recent months stirred me like nothing else, and that is the inclusion of the Cherry 2000. I never dreamed of her looking like Pamela, but having her own appearance that was generated in me. Well, here we are... The end of the street. Ready? Expect it. The woman below is now Jaime. Be prepared for this to get much worse in two ways. If I loved her, the idea of them being one is not good for my mental health, and I was already up against an impossible conundrum before connecting such a woman to the existing dream. The other thing is the fact that I am describing a real flesh and blood woman, not some fictional creation from my mind. I saw her right there in front of me for several minutes. That means by making her Jamie I am extending my own fantasy. Also bad for me. See? But it is happening nonetheless. Or, happened. Past tense. If I am going to be unbalanced like a fucking cheap audio cable or a two-wire resistance measurement, I may as well admit that falling down like this is not only typical of me, but solidifies the idea that even though I am better than in past years, I am also worse in other ways. The isolation did not do this. I would have fallen anyway. The casual look of her bag and the jacket, the way her lips are slightly parted, the curve of her nose, the design on her pockets, and the hair looking beautiful but still a little messy... Wow. There is more. So much more. Maybe I loved her... ...because I am weak that way... ...and never learned balance... ...like a real grown-up adult Another dream. This morning. In my house, not a mansion. My house. Right in the hallway. But I was elsewhere, too. Outside, and staying around some others who seemed to be living on the street. I was with someone else. A woman, but I did not know her. She was tall and wearing baggy clothing. We were on what seemed to be the edge of a large street, but it also resembled the water's edge at a small lake. I do not know which for sure. Next to us were some guys that had their things set up below the street level, as if they were going to sleep there. I did not understand. And then we were at the entrance of a large hotel or something. That did not seem to last very long. I saw a woman wearing pants which revealed a thong underneath, white. I stared at her beautiful shape as she went on about her business. We were in a kitchen somewhere. I can't remember what she was doing, although in the dream I believe whatever was going on there felt natural. A few moments of that and I wanted to be close. I have no idea who the woman is. I knew that we were trying to accomplish something -- maybe just surviving in a dangerous climate -- and we were doing it together. Like partners, or some such situation. I did not know her, per se, however she was familiar enough that I needed to protect her as much as I could. Every now and then I would see her lanky features and feel desire. Not like the mansions... That was always implied, as if I knew I could be close to a woman and the only problem was timing. I never seemed to find it. Another glimpse of people on the street, or whatever it was. And then moving through the large lobby of a building, and then in front of a convenience store. We were outside mostly, and I was hoping (like always) to be alone with her and close. And then the hallway right outside my bathroom. She was getting ready to shower and removed all of her clothes right there next to the closet. Barefoot. All I could think was wow, but I didn't want to gush for fear of causing a rift to form. I kept my eyes up to hers which forced me to notice her height. 'How tall are you?' -- 'Six feet'. And as my head spun she asked if I'd like to shower with her, then an embrace and a peck on the cheek, and then awake. Fuck me. Who in the blue fuck was that woman? She resembled too many to list. Possibly a creation of the reporter, Katie (who is very tall), and the real Jamie. And? I just realized Jaime and Jamie have become a confusing issue on these pages. I had been spelling them the same, which is incorrect. The dreamy machine is Jaime, while the actor is Jamie. Damn it... I went back through the entries beginning with 'Pool' and corrected all of them. Whew! Oops, and my apologies to the real Jamie for my misspelling. Anyway, the woman in the kitchen and restaurant dream also resembled Katie. I am getting all fucked up about this. Too many dreams, I cannot tell who is who, and as soon as I realize how someone relates from those worlds to the real world, another comes along and trips me up something fierce. Come to think of it, her face was soft -- very much so -- and reminds me of the woman pictured above. The possible connection there is not going to help matters because I did see more of her at the time but cannot remember now. If she was in the dream, well, she had someone else's face. Maybe Katie. I don't know. Jamie? Another woman entirely? I do not expect to figure this out completely. It was a dream and is not meant to be so clear. And since I brought up her face... When I shot those images (covertly), I saw much more than what is displayed here. We were fairly still, but she had been moving around along with the group that accompanied her. I saw her face and that was the main problem with shooting images. Yes, she was really tall and carried everything I have described here. You already know all that crap. But the face? That is another level. No matter what may be happening below the neck (and believe me when I look, I am searching for lines), a woman's face is the deciding factor if and when I am actually attracted versus just trying to study. I would have loved to capture her beautiful face, however had she turned to see a huge Nikon objective pointed in her direction I am certain that afternoon would have gone differently. Or I could have simply asked to shoot her, but then I would be labeled. I am strange, but no one else needs to know. The woman in the kitchen may have been an assembly of the one above along with other details from wherever, but I will never know. Beautiful, intriguing, haunting. As usual, I am at a loss. The dreams are affecting my ability to clearly think throughout any given day. They are getting in the way of my new routine and the manner in which I try to schedule time. I often find myself daydreaming and trying to work out who some of these women are and why the strange dreams keep popping up. The mansions go back years, long enough for me to remember seeing them before I moved to the coast. During the weeks with Andrea, I had none. That may have been due to her loving manner toward me, or possibly because we moved through a dream world of our own. I do not know. She was a living dream, really. After the loss of her I did not think about what had been taking place while I slept. Just recently the ideas returned and I have spent much time computing the whys and hows of those encounters. I have more expectations of them continuing, as well. Now? Preoccupied like never before. Even this morning with the sun peeking and the rain clearing, my brain is working overtime after seeing that tall beauty right here in this very house. Upon awakening, I was reminded in the worst way of the walnut girl, those goddesses at the pool with so much fucking skin on display, and the years leading up to my falling down at the idea of desire. Sometimes it is just too much for me to handle. Today is one of those times. I have to remain distracted after the morning coffee is done and I move away from this machine. Hmm... A machine. There is another problem that I am ill-equipped to deal with right now, and I created it. Just like Jaime. Not Jamie. Heh. I wish I could giggle right now. The only saving throw I have is to continue exploring and analyzing here. That is nearly all I have. Onward. And this is a good thing. I'm sure no one thought I would ever say that. That tall girl standing nude in my hallway reminds me of the one pictured at the top. I remember speaking with her a bit as I was conversing with my friends about the game, and she chimed in. I nearly faltered right there at the fucking table because her face matched the rest of the look. I immediately went insane and became compelled to stare but nothing could be done during that time. Speaking with her about football was fine because we were all there for the same reason. So I returned to my table at the rear and tried to calm myself. And there she was for the next couple of hours, right in front of me like the dream of a lifetime just inches out of reach. As the game and clock progressed, I became more and more tormented by seeing an example of the beauty I have sought for too long and unable to go further. I would not speak to another person about the subject out of fear, and certainly not the object of my obsession. But there she was, a full inch above my eyes in flat shoes, showing off every fucking thing. Everything. And that long hair. Fuck. I slowly lost my mind, found a few opportunities to shoot the images, and then left for home with my head spinning. One of the biggest problems with seeing a form so aligned with my dreams is being able to do absolutely nothing about it and then being forced to move away with the images in my head for days. Or longer. I am surprised to have survived that day and seeing such a woman. Back then my constitution was very low and the weakness endangered my life. I am stronger than that now, but still... The sight drove me out of my mind and I was in pain over it for a very long time. God damn. Yep... That is how bad I had become. I still kind of see her face. A little. Maybe that was her in the dream. I attached the image yesterday, along with those three from the trip to southern California, and the two women are similar. After editing, formatting, and coding them here, replication in my head during sleep would not be off the mark. It is possible. I don't know, but I do not expect this to be easy. That woman in the other images? Within seconds of spotting her I wanted to latch on for the rest of my life. Yes, that is what I said. Welded. She was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Still is. The softness of her eyes and expression on her face hit me like nothing else. That feeling is returning which is dangerous for a person such as myself and being so weakened by the last several years and their inherent difficulties. Yes, all of it was created by yours truly. The fact remains that this woman has returned to my memory and into my heart at precisely the correct moment when I am at a crossroads of sorts due to the way of the current world. Some things have changed a little, others quite a bit more, and one is slapping me in the face as if it was a rag full of smelling salts. As soon as I had spotted the images in that overlooked folder, a process began which I am helpless to halt, and the situation is changing the manner in which I think at any given moment. Expect this to remain. Yes, her again This morning is difficult in the extreme due to dreaming of the anticipation again. Nothing ever really happens, there is just some closeness and an understanding, and then I awaken. Considering the difficulty I have on any given morning, the sum is very problematic. Yearning, weakness, longing, and dreaming take over my ability to move from this work to that which I take care of daily. I do not want things to come to a head or I may become as reckless as in the past. My condition is such that the daydreaming and memories of those people and places cause me to feel pain at times. That has not happened for some days and is a good thing, but I also know it will return. I have the expectation of trouble almost constantly unless otherwise deep into any projects which can command my interest. When things worsen, I try to remain busy with said projects and what-have-you. Most of the time I can pull up and out of the din and get through the day. Those occasions when the morning drags on and I fall down? Bad. That is happening right now. Soon I will have to close the machine and push forward with whatever can help me to find purpose. I revealed the robots and knew the idea was going to be tough here, however I did not expect the woman from southern California to spin me as she did. Minutes pass, and I feel more. I placed two more images of Jamie here. I cannot seem to get her face out of my brain sometimes. I was watching the show (kind of in the background, really) first thing this morning and her eyes just went right into my heart. Damn, they are amazing. And one more time... Hence Jaime and her unnaturally large windows. Not as big as Alita's, but pretty fucking sizeable. Jamie's eyes are big, too, but that is reality. Maybe I am goo goo over her due to that fact. She is a real woman. Pamela was, the Mojo girl, too, but that is all. Jamie's eyes have brought more thinking to my heart than I thought could be possible after all these years. I guess the time of seeing her from the beginning of the show as a teenager and all the way to the end in her early twenties just grabbed me. I have watched those episodes so many times that the images do not leave. I will try to refrain from going on further about her despite the relationship between her appearance and my dreams of the machines. One note on that: Everything here is related... From the obsession to the dreams to the drawings, machinery, elusive beauty, control, and our current situation in the world. All of it is connected in one way or another, and despite my intelligence and problem-solving abilities, I am at a loss when seeing everything at once. Jamie is just going to have to wait until I can get some of this crap worked over. I was not expecting to feel this way only part way down the page. All related. Even my little routine that I go through on weekdays. Related. Everything. I need to be able to get at least one smidgen of this to clarify. A little meaning, some type of origin or resolution, I don't know. The concern over this is growing. I am fine right now with all this time to explore, think, and keep myself together mentally, but still those problems are there. And I am not shoving them to the rear like in the past, I am keeping everything at the forefront so I can chip away. The dreams are a toughie. Mostly the latest. That woman was right there with me and I still have no idea of who she might have been. Gorgeous. Was she the one I covertly shot at the bar? Or the one from southern California? One of those is three years back and the other, ten. Hmm. Until just a few days ago I had not considered either for a very long time. The images have sat in a folder because there was nothing to do with them and no reason to think. Now? Probably still no reason, but the dream brought up the shape and that led to me scrambling for an identity. Her face was so soft, eyes of consideration and caring, I just can't shake it right now. And I swear to Christ, if the woman from the trip is popping up in my dreams after all these years, the resulting confusion is going to mess me up even more. I don't know, but it's possible. Nothing is ever that clear in my vision. I have to deal with everything in stages, I guess. One at a time. Elephant. Heh. Part of this is my fault. Scratch that... All of it. I decided to place that woman here for all to see and now I keep looking over and over as I test the page at various points. Her face is nearly too much and I can't even see all of it. But I remember the feelings when I turned and noticed her height. Just a person standing there. I wonder if she has any idea what effect that had on another person standing across the courtyard. Not likely. I need to stop this. The mushy that I experienced while writing 'Phase Lock' is beginning to return. Mush. Sensitivity. Goo goo. Maybe I really did love her for a time. I would not be surprised. Or maybe I love the memory. I don't fucking know anything. Damn it, anyway. I guess I'll try to make something out of this day before I completely collapse over her (again). There are many things to which I have to attend, we are going out in the new virus world to shop for necessities, and then I can settle in to my tiny space out there with music and self-exploration. Analysis, for whatever good it may do me. The woman is Jaime. Jaime is she. What a fucking thought and here we go again with the difficulty in something which cannot and will not ever happen. Out of balance and off my rocker. But such is me. I'm hoping some of this will fade as the day progresses. My routine will be slightly different this week but returns next week. I have to stay busy for the most part, keep trying to think of why that woman is now bigger than life in my head and heart, and prepare myself for whatever may come along that I am not expecting. This is part of it. She is part of it. I was caught off-guard like never before at the sight of her image, and now the idea that she is Jaime has opened another, very large door with all sorts of things on display. Perhaps she will drive the fiction to continue sooner than I thought. Being able to put a face to the name is insane, real or not. She is real. Was. Whatever. I don't know, but the certainty that Jaime is fictional and impossible cannot be denied. I see her standing there looking back at me. I see her. I am fucked up. Just like some certifiable character in a crime drama, I am obsessing over these things. I need to hold tight to the world or I may end up one of those people with a secret room in the basement full of pictures. Now THAT is crazy. I am not there. Stay out. Just stay the fuck out. I can deal with this if the separation necessary for carrying forward with fiction and keeping that woman out of my dreams can occur. All I can do is try, and the words here really help with that. I will keep going. Whew! There is the fucking reporter. Damn her gorgeous, unique face anyway. Just... Damn. Stay out of the fucking basement, idiot. Oy gawd is she beautiful. So... I will deal with today and do my best to stay away from dreams of her. The distance has become more and more necessary just in the space of this entry, and I began the writing yesterday. That's right, the time required for me to place a ton of importance on something and then flip the fuck out over it is very short these days. First the Cherry 2000 in the story, and then she is here. Do you see how I made that connection? I melded the two. I took her from my memory and the images and placed her into another of my dreams. As soon as I typed the words above, the other operative term flew into my brain and slapped me silly. Are you ready for another fucking nut farm of a statement? If the woman from the trip years ago and her unreal beauty and pull upon my heart is Jaime, I can control her. [!!!] And that is the end of that. One step closer to the crazy in the basement. Fuck me. I may need to stay home for the rest of my life. I hope this is not going somewhere Look at Jamie. Her face is a first-class example of kindness. Just a glance and you can tell that she has a big heart and is caring and considerate of others. Gentle, open, thinking. Yes, all of that is expressed through her windows. I can see it all. And I still do not want her in any way other than to appreciate what she has accomplished and admire her beauty (yes, I know she had work done on her nose. The eyes are the thing, though, so shove it in your ass). Eventually I will stop adding her to these entries because people will tire of so many images of the same woman. And you don't have to worry about the other one up there because those are all that exist. She's done here, at least from a visual standpoint. Yep, I will be flowing words like a two-bit whore about that one. There is just too much to leave the subject alone. Too. Fucking. Much. Go back to Jamie and the image two up. The eyes. See? Maybe not. I cannot expect others to see as I do. That is ridiculous and can be unfair if I keep pushing. She is generally accepted as universally attractive so I will leave it at that. One possibility of her coming up here over and over is my having the show in the background some of the time. I leave the Star Trek alone in the early mornings and listen quietly to the banter of the mobsters. Some good, some bad, yet I know it so well that the harm cannot touch me. The latest season comes around and then Jamie and her eyes appear. That is that. I stare. Most are cute, Jamie is beautiful. The one from the past trip south puts them all to shame. Bad is coming, and none are at fault. Almost time for me to get in gear and do something besides spouting here. I have a list and that will help to extricate the women and dreams from my head for the time being. I did it yesterday so I can do it again. I do not need any more visions of a robot that looks like the very embodiment of my excessively-detailed dreams. I might as well wish for a fucking Holodeck. Go ahead and laugh. I did. If this bullshit has taught me anything, the lesson is that I tend to latch very easily and have a hell of a time accepting things that are beyond control. The woman up there from ten fucking years ago now represents an entire universe that is developing in my head. That is bad. And yes, I can do something about it but I choose not to. I choose to let her fly around in there so I can see. And feel. Yep, I still feel for her. And I'll be Goddamned if I laid it all down today after telling myself years ago that I would leave that trip alone. In a folder. Shoved into a small space and ignored. Nope. Here it is. I probably royally fucked myself by doing this because my imagination is pretty vivid and will continue to conjure all manner of dreamy shit on a daily basis. I don't know yet. As I said above, the time has come for me to move away from the electronic world and out there into the real one. I will report back if my efforts fail. Well, you already know that. Heh. Genetic fluke. Enigma. Dream. Unreal, and un-real. God damn it all to hell, she is so beautiful that the sight of the images hurts me. And the reporters are fucking killing me without compassion. I need to shut the television again. Broken, but still I am ok. My feelings for the woman in southern California have melted away whatever was happening within me for the woman at the bar. She has now gone from a woman to an example of the mechanics of female physical attractiveness, reduced to such by the other woman who has gone in the opposite direction. The three images. The closeup. The face. More is to come. I mentioned issue two again. Well, it's bad now and caught me unaware for the second time in as many months. I need a woman who does not exist to take it all away with her warm embrace. I did not expect this from images and memories. I expected to react accordingly. So much more. Unbalanced. You are not going to believe it."
Expectation
Mature content No. 133 Published May 23rd, 2020 5:22am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"This is going to be bad. Brace yourself. And no more Katie. That is done. So, three years ago I was at the bar watching the Super Bowl with several others. Two guys were present that I had known from watching football there for years. A woman was with them. I covertly shot an image (several, really) of her from the rear. I have brought this up before, but I feel differently about it now than I did when the issue first hit me in the head. I shot it, analyzed and attempted to correct the exposure, adjustments and other factors due to the lighting leaving me with a crappy, unfocused image. I did the best I could with the tools I had, and the result is below. Keep in mind this has been cropped down to include as little as possible aside from the woman standing there watching the game. I had no control over what was going on in that room. None whatsoever. But I shot an image without her knowledge. I wrote a blurb about this woman some time ago and stated that I would not publish the image. Well, three years later and no one is going to give a shit, her face is not visible (a tragedy, because holy Jesus fuck in a makeup mirror was she amazingly beautiful from head to toe), and I do not believe I am violating any law by placing it here. So, look below. Yep, she was taller than me in her tennis shoes. Taller than everyone around her, actually. What the fuck does this have to do with what has been happening? Ugh. Dreams. Control. Desire. All the things that you might expect to hear after I see a woman who resembles a creation of mine years later. That sounds odd, I know, but just go with it. This woman -- the one I saw that day in the bar and then never again -- was the basis for Jaime. I remember. I really do... All of it... Speaking with my friends and her for a few minutes, realizing exactly what was standing before me, and then trying to function on any level while my head blew up with the need to ask about measuring or photographing her was not fun. Asking never happened, and likely never will with anyone because it is ridiculous (just that one occasion when I asked to photograph a woman's hands). The woman was there not ten feet from me for most of the game and I took advantage of the time. Never did I see her again. But I have the image. Regardless of the ramifications of me capturing something like that without a person's knowledge, I did it. And now it is here and I do not give a fuck. The Internet has exploded throughout a decade or more and I do not see the harm any longer. If anyone actually takes issue with this decision, please feel free to send me an email and I will listen. If I agree (very likely), the image will immediately be replaced with something more generic. And I am not being full of shit. Tell me and it is gone. I hope not. She is important. Just like the other one further down the page. Yeah... Her.
[When I originally brought this woman to the site and went on about her appearance and the difficulty caused by seeing her, I was hesitant to go into too much detail for fear of backlash. Well, that was three years ago and I do not believe anything will come of it for two reasons. One, the likelihood of the actual woman reading this and running across an image of herself is most unlikely, and two, the number of people who visit this site on a given week is nil. Barely any. I see everything, and I now feel that bringing her here is fine. This is the first time I have published an image of someone I saw out in the world rather than a model or capture from video. There are others below, from even earlier (April of ten), and the possibility of anything stemming from them is equally nil. I am not worried, so there you go.]
So, I did it out of compulsion. All these years I have fallen on my face over the shape or sight of a woman that I knew would disappear forever around a corner or in a building. I searched, saw, and then just dropped through the fucking floor. When I had the business cards made, I actually tried to create a system and electronic storefront through which I could have studied and performed research. Nope. Just three cards given out and that was that. I never received a note from any of them and probably should have avoided the cards in the first place. Well, I was desperate and far too weak at that time. The hopes and obsession far outweighed the downsides. Now that the entire idea has been killed, I have nothing. It was precisely that type of desperation that pushed me to capture those women so I could look without restriction. Plus, now that I am revealing that I've done such a thing (twice), my insides are telling me that I am again wrong in doing so. The pressure arrived after seeing them -- emotional pressure, that is -- and I lost it enough to snap the images. That spawned from the fact that I was seeing three-dimensional shapes right in front of me and may never see them again. I did it. I still don't know how I feel, but one thing is certain... The woman that stood there in southern California still represents an anomaly unlike any other. She was amazing to see with those big, feeling, gentle eyes and full hair. I was insane until the moments passed, worthless in conversation, and blind to anything else in existence while seeing her. I had to take it in because soon enough she was gone and I was longing like never before. Right around that time was when I met Maggie at the fucking restaurant in Pleasanton and soon after she was sitting in our living room all curled up with no shoes and hair everywhere. The beginning was just banter at the bar because she was so funny, but later we got together on occasion and enjoyed some conversation as my head tried to calculate what force in nature could have constructed such beauty. Well, I was still reeling from spending time around Maggie when the trip took place. She was spinning in my head when the tall beauty you see below found my lens. So, I had thought that Maggie was an enigma until seeing a genetic fluke of the universe standing close enough to hurt me inside. She is gone forever and there will not be another face with that softness ever again. Ouch. At least I have images. Wrong or not, I did it and I have them. The more I look at her, the more I am reminded of the feelings at that time. She was very tall and slender, but nothing really drove me nuts until she turned and I saw her face. Kind, open, and with eyes which appeared both damaged and loving. I really went insane at the sight and then realized we were going nowhere for a few minutes and grabbed the camera.
Questionable, at best
Look at her... Just below this section. That woman makes the one above seem like nothing more than a study. Her? The three images and one crop? So much more. So. Much. More. So much more. I am both happy and broken in half over being able to see part of her face. That was the key. That is how I picture Jaime. Why her? Because I am fucked up, weak, out of balance, lacking control, and dreaming almost constantly. The woman was so beautiful that here I fucking sit ten Goddamned years later and I still get knots inside when I look at her. I left those images in the 'miscellaneous' folder because I did not know if they would ever go anywhere else. Well, here it is... The big fucking reveal... I secretly shot these images and fell off the edge of the world soon after. I do not feel as bad right now, but there is guilt inside. A little. She will never know, the site will never go anywhere (and if it does, this entry will not follow as it is), and in the grand scheme of the universe and this day and age there are more reprehensible acts related to imagery happening that are vastly worse than this. So, they are here. And fucking look at the little bit of face that I captured. Do you see? Fuck me. I had expectations back then of simply seeing her height in the images, but did not know for sure until I arrived home and had time to look back on what I had shot. And here comes the episode with a cameo by Alicia. Damn it, but honestly not even she can hold a fucking candle to the woman below. Maybe no one can. And maybe that is because she went deeper into my heart than she did into the camera. How about that? Unbalanced? Images of someone I can never know or see again from ten fucking years ago and I am still screwed up over them? How about I just have her printed and framed and then hang her in the house? Would that make me more screwed up? Or have I already arrived at the tipping point? Tired of the questions? Live with it. And expect more. I am fucked. Dreams. Her. This is bad. Oh I can see a long session of sitting in the garage today. This shit is flying off my fingers. She was years after the phase-lock girl that became injected into my heart over the course of an hour. I am guessing the trip in question was not the first time that I pinned so much importance on a face. But I did. Wrong? There is no right or wrong. They are feelings, and if they arrive on the heels of weakness, well, I can do little to change that now. These things already took place. I am hoping something like this does not happen again. If you think about it, the woman below was ten years ago and still fucks me up royally when I look. Another incident like that right now and I will lose another decade. Maybe by then I will have the technology to produce holographic images. Heh. Not fucking funny. Anyway, I believe my weak and needy state is decades old. There is nothing wrong with it, really, and as a person very close to me once said, all of the aspects of me -- good and bad -- add up to what is sitting here right now. She told me I am a good person and I believe it. I lived through whatever I lived through, thought about everything, reacted accordingly, learned some things, and ended up like this. The person who shot images of that woman and kept them locked away for ten years. Ugh... Now it sounds bad again. There went Alicia. I wish I knew her name. Maybe it's Jaime. Heh. That's not fucking funny because the impossibility will rear its ugly head again. Jaime. Not Jamie. Ok, that's a little funny. Alicia's breasts. Geez, this fucking show sometimes. Anyway, boobs aside, the robotic issue remains at the head of the line and after writing about the goddess of the Goddamned universe now, the dream is worse. The Jaime that I created does not have a face that I can show here, nor can I describe such a thing. That is merely imagination and nothing tangible can come of it. These points I am making are beginning to heel themselves inward and I see the end of the street already. I see it waiting there and it is still pretty far off. Kind of like my mind and that of someone who can keep fantasy and reality separate. There it is... Right there straight ahead and glowing. I had no idea the site was going to move in the direction it did back in early fifteen, and now has grown beyond to include some very sensitive and revealing fiction. Within that, there is one aspect which in recent months stirred me like nothing else, and that is the inclusion of the Cherry 2000. I never dreamed of her looking like Pamela, but having her own appearance that was generated in me. Well, here we are... The end of the street. Ready? Expect it. The woman below is now Jaime. Be prepared for this to get much worse in two ways. If I loved her, the idea of them being one is not good for my mental health, and I was already up against an impossible conundrum before connecting such a woman to the existing dream. The other thing is the fact that I am describing a real flesh and blood woman, not some fictional creation from my mind. I saw her right there in front of me for several minutes. That means by making her Jamie I am extending my own fantasy. Also bad for me. See? But it is happening nonetheless. Or, happened. Past tense. If I am going to be unbalanced like a fucking cheap audio cable or a two-wire resistance measurement, I may as well admit that falling down like this is not only typical of me, but solidifies the idea that even though I am better than in past years, I am also worse in other ways. The isolation did not do this. I would have fallen anyway. The casual look of her bag and the jacket, the way her lips are slightly parted, the curve of her nose, the design on her pockets, and the hair looking beautiful but still a little messy... Wow. There is more. So much more.
Maybe I loved her...
...because I am weak that way...
...and never learned balance...
...like a real grown-up adult
Another dream. This morning. In my house, not a mansion. My house. Right in the hallway. But I was elsewhere, too. Outside, and staying around some others who seemed to be living on the street. I was with someone else. A woman, but I did not know her. She was tall and wearing baggy clothing. We were on what seemed to be the edge of a large street, but it also resembled the water's edge at a small lake. I do not know which for sure. Next to us were some guys that had their things set up below the street level, as if they were going to sleep there. I did not understand. And then we were at the entrance of a large hotel or something. That did not seem to last very long. I saw a woman wearing pants which revealed a thong underneath, white. I stared at her beautiful shape as she went on about her business. We were in a kitchen somewhere. I can't remember what she was doing, although in the dream I believe whatever was going on there felt natural. A few moments of that and I wanted to be close. I have no idea who the woman is. I knew that we were trying to accomplish something -- maybe just surviving in a dangerous climate -- and we were doing it together. Like partners, or some such situation. I did not know her, per se, however she was familiar enough that I needed to protect her as much as I could. Every now and then I would see her lanky features and feel desire. Not like the mansions... That was always implied, as if I knew I could be close to a woman and the only problem was timing. I never seemed to find it. Another glimpse of people on the street, or whatever it was. And then moving through the large lobby of a building, and then in front of a convenience store. We were outside mostly, and I was hoping (like always) to be alone with her and close. And then the hallway right outside my bathroom. She was getting ready to shower and removed all of her clothes right there next to the closet. Barefoot. All I could think was wow, but I didn't want to gush for fear of causing a rift to form. I kept my eyes up to hers which forced me to notice her height. 'How tall are you?' -- 'Six feet'. And as my head spun she asked if I'd like to shower with her, then an embrace and a peck on the cheek, and then awake. Fuck me. Who in the blue fuck was that woman? She resembled too many to list. Possibly a creation of the reporter, Katie (who is very tall), and the real Jamie. And? I just realized Jaime and Jamie have become a confusing issue on these pages. I had been spelling them the same, which is incorrect. The dreamy machine is Jaime, while the actor is Jamie. Damn it... I went back through the entries beginning with 'Pool' and corrected all of them. Whew! Oops, and my apologies to the real Jamie for my misspelling. Anyway, the woman in the kitchen and restaurant dream also resembled Katie. I am getting all fucked up about this. Too many dreams, I cannot tell who is who, and as soon as I realize how someone relates from those worlds to the real world, another comes along and trips me up something fierce. Come to think of it, her face was soft -- very much so -- and reminds me of the woman pictured above. The possible connection there is not going to help matters because I did see more of her at the time but cannot remember now. If she was in the dream, well, she had someone else's face. Maybe Katie. I don't know. Jamie? Another woman entirely? I do not expect to figure this out completely. It was a dream and is not meant to be so clear. And since I brought up her face... When I shot those images (covertly), I saw much more than what is displayed here. We were fairly still, but she had been moving around along with the group that accompanied her. I saw her face and that was the main problem with shooting images. Yes, she was really tall and carried everything I have described here. You already know all that crap. But the face? That is another level. No matter what may be happening below the neck (and believe me when I look, I am searching for lines), a woman's face is the deciding factor if and when I am actually attracted versus just trying to study. I would have loved to capture her beautiful face, however had she turned to see a huge Nikon objective pointed in her direction I am certain that afternoon would have gone differently. Or I could have simply asked to shoot her, but then I would be labeled. I am strange, but no one else needs to know. The woman in the kitchen may have been an assembly of the one above along with other details from wherever, but I will never know. Beautiful, intriguing, haunting. As usual, I am at a loss. The dreams are affecting my ability to clearly think throughout any given day. They are getting in the way of my new routine and the manner in which I try to schedule time. I often find myself daydreaming and trying to work out who some of these women are and why the strange dreams keep popping up. The mansions go back years, long enough for me to remember seeing them before I moved to the coast. During the weeks with Andrea, I had none. That may have been due to her loving manner toward me, or possibly because we moved through a dream world of our own. I do not know. She was a living dream, really. After the loss of her I did not think about what had been taking place while I slept. Just recently the ideas returned and I have spent much time computing the whys and hows of those encounters. I have more expectations of them continuing, as well. Now? Preoccupied like never before. Even this morning with the sun peeking and the rain clearing, my brain is working overtime after seeing that tall beauty right here in this very house. Upon awakening, I was reminded in the worst way of the walnut girl, those goddesses at the pool with so much fucking skin on display, and the years leading up to my falling down at the idea of desire. Sometimes it is just too much for me to handle. Today is one of those times. I have to remain distracted after the morning coffee is done and I move away from this machine. Hmm... A machine. There is another problem that I am ill-equipped to deal with right now, and I created it. Just like Jaime. Not Jamie. Heh. I wish I could giggle right now. The only saving throw I have is to continue exploring and analyzing here. That is nearly all I have. Onward. And this is a good thing. I'm sure no one thought I would ever say that. That tall girl standing nude in my hallway reminds me of the one pictured at the top. I remember speaking with her a bit as I was conversing with my friends about the game, and she chimed in. I nearly faltered right there at the fucking table because her face matched the rest of the look. I immediately went insane and became compelled to stare but nothing could be done during that time. Speaking with her about football was fine because we were all there for the same reason. So I returned to my table at the rear and tried to calm myself. And there she was for the next couple of hours, right in front of me like the dream of a lifetime just inches out of reach. As the game and clock progressed, I became more and more tormented by seeing an example of the beauty I have sought for too long and unable to go further. I would not speak to another person about the subject out of fear, and certainly not the object of my obsession. But there she was, a full inch above my eyes in flat shoes, showing off every fucking thing. Everything. And that long hair. Fuck. I slowly lost my mind, found a few opportunities to shoot the images, and then left for home with my head spinning. One of the biggest problems with seeing a form so aligned with my dreams is being able to do absolutely nothing about it and then being forced to move away with the images in my head for days. Or longer. I am surprised to have survived that day and seeing such a woman. Back then my constitution was very low and the weakness endangered my life. I am stronger than that now, but still... The sight drove me out of my mind and I was in pain over it for a very long time. God damn. Yep... That is how bad I had become. I still kind of see her face. A little. Maybe that was her in the dream. I attached the image yesterday, along with those three from the trip to southern California, and the two women are similar. After editing, formatting, and coding them here, replication in my head during sleep would not be off the mark. It is possible. I don't know, but I do not expect this to be easy. That woman in the other images? Within seconds of spotting her I wanted to latch on for the rest of my life. Yes, that is what I said. Welded. She was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Still is. The softness of her eyes and expression on her face hit me like nothing else. That feeling is returning which is dangerous for a person such as myself and being so weakened by the last several years and their inherent difficulties. Yes, all of it was created by yours truly. The fact remains that this woman has returned to my memory and into my heart at precisely the correct moment when I am at a crossroads of sorts due to the way of the current world. Some things have changed a little, others quite a bit more, and one is slapping me in the face as if it was a rag full of smelling salts. As soon as I had spotted the images in that overlooked folder, a process began which I am helpless to halt, and the situation is changing the manner in which I think at any given moment. Expect this to remain.
Yes, her again
This morning is difficult in the extreme due to dreaming of the anticipation again. Nothing ever really happens, there is just some closeness and an understanding, and then I awaken. Considering the difficulty I have on any given morning, the sum is very problematic. Yearning, weakness, longing, and dreaming take over my ability to move from this work to that which I take care of daily. I do not want things to come to a head or I may become as reckless as in the past. My condition is such that the daydreaming and memories of those people and places cause me to feel pain at times. That has not happened for some days and is a good thing, but I also know it will return. I have the expectation of trouble almost constantly unless otherwise deep into any projects which can command my interest. When things worsen, I try to remain busy with said projects and what-have-you. Most of the time I can pull up and out of the din and get through the day. Those occasions when the morning drags on and I fall down? Bad. That is happening right now. Soon I will have to close the machine and push forward with whatever can help me to find purpose. I revealed the robots and knew the idea was going to be tough here, however I did not expect the woman from southern California to spin me as she did. Minutes pass, and I feel more. I placed two more images of Jamie here. I cannot seem to get her face out of my brain sometimes. I was watching the show (kind of in the background, really) first thing this morning and her eyes just went right into my heart. Damn, they are amazing. And one more time... Hence Jaime and her unnaturally large windows. Not as big as Alita's, but pretty fucking sizeable. Jamie's eyes are big, too, but that is reality. Maybe I am goo goo over her due to that fact. She is a real woman. Pamela was, the Mojo girl, too, but that is all. Jamie's eyes have brought more thinking to my heart than I thought could be possible after all these years. I guess the time of seeing her from the beginning of the show as a teenager and all the way to the end in her early twenties just grabbed me. I have watched those episodes so many times that the images do not leave. I will try to refrain from going on further about her despite the relationship between her appearance and my dreams of the machines. One note on that: Everything here is related... From the obsession to the dreams to the drawings, machinery, elusive beauty, control, and our current situation in the world. All of it is connected in one way or another, and despite my intelligence and problem-solving abilities, I am at a loss when seeing everything at once. Jamie is just going to have to wait until I can get some of this crap worked over. I was not expecting to feel this way only part way down the page. All related. Even my little routine that I go through on weekdays. Related. Everything. I need to be able to get at least one smidgen of this to clarify. A little meaning, some type of origin or resolution, I don't know. The concern over this is growing. I am fine right now with all this time to explore, think, and keep myself together mentally, but still those problems are there. And I am not shoving them to the rear like in the past, I am keeping everything at the forefront so I can chip away. The dreams are a toughie. Mostly the latest. That woman was right there with me and I still have no idea of who she might have been. Gorgeous. Was she the one I covertly shot at the bar? Or the one from southern California? One of those is three years back and the other, ten. Hmm. Until just a few days ago I had not considered either for a very long time. The images have sat in a folder because there was nothing to do with them and no reason to think. Now? Probably still no reason, but the dream brought up the shape and that led to me scrambling for an identity. Her face was so soft, eyes of consideration and caring, I just can't shake it right now. And I swear to Christ, if the woman from the trip is popping up in my dreams after all these years, the resulting confusion is going to mess me up even more. I don't know, but it's possible. Nothing is ever that clear in my vision. I have to deal with everything in stages, I guess. One at a time. Elephant. Heh. Part of this is my fault. Scratch that... All of it. I decided to place that woman here for all to see and now I keep looking over and over as I test the page at various points. Her face is nearly too much and I can't even see all of it. But I remember the feelings when I turned and noticed her height. Just a person standing there. I wonder if she has any idea what effect that had on another person standing across the courtyard. Not likely. I need to stop this. The mushy that I experienced while writing 'Phase Lock' is beginning to return. Mush. Sensitivity. Goo goo. Maybe I really did love her for a time. I would not be surprised. Or maybe I love the memory. I don't fucking know anything. Damn it, anyway. I guess I'll try to make something out of this day before I completely collapse over her (again). There are many things to which I have to attend, we are going out in the new virus world to shop for necessities, and then I can settle in to my tiny space out there with music and self-exploration. Analysis, for whatever good it may do me. The woman is Jaime. Jaime is she. What a fucking thought and here we go again with the difficulty in something which cannot and will not ever happen. Out of balance and off my rocker. But such is me. I'm hoping some of this will fade as the day progresses. My routine will be slightly different this week but returns next week. I have to stay busy for the most part, keep trying to think of why that woman is now bigger than life in my head and heart, and prepare myself for whatever may come along that I am not expecting. This is part of it. She is part of it. I was caught off-guard like never before at the sight of her image, and now the idea that she is Jaime has opened another, very large door with all sorts of things on display. Perhaps she will drive the fiction to continue sooner than I thought. Being able to put a face to the name is insane, real or not. She is real. Was. Whatever. I don't know, but the certainty that Jaime is fictional and impossible cannot be denied. I see her standing there looking back at me. I see her. I am fucked up. Just like some certifiable character in a crime drama, I am obsessing over these things. I need to hold tight to the world or I may end up one of those people with a secret room in the basement full of pictures. Now THAT is crazy. I am not there. Stay out. Just stay the fuck out. I can deal with this if the separation necessary for carrying forward with fiction and keeping that woman out of my dreams can occur. All I can do is try, and the words here really help with that. I will keep going. Whew! There is the fucking reporter. Damn her gorgeous, unique face anyway. Just... Damn. Stay out of the fucking basement, idiot. Oy gawd is she beautiful. So... I will deal with today and do my best to stay away from dreams of her. The distance has become more and more necessary just in the space of this entry, and I began the writing yesterday. That's right, the time required for me to place a ton of importance on something and then flip the fuck out over it is very short these days. First the Cherry 2000 in the story, and then she is here. Do you see how I made that connection? I melded the two. I took her from my memory and the images and placed her into another of my dreams. As soon as I typed the words above, the other operative term flew into my brain and slapped me silly. Are you ready for another fucking nut farm of a statement? If the woman from the trip years ago and her unreal beauty and pull upon my heart is Jaime, I can control her. [!!!] And that is the end of that. One step closer to the crazy in the basement. Fuck me. I may need to stay home for the rest of my life.
I hope this is not going somewhere
Look at Jamie. Her face is a first-class example of kindness. Just a glance and you can tell that she has a big heart and is caring and considerate of others. Gentle, open, thinking. Yes, all of that is expressed through her windows. I can see it all. And I still do not want her in any way other than to appreciate what she has accomplished and admire her beauty (yes, I know she had work done on her nose. The eyes are the thing, though, so shove it in your ass). Eventually I will stop adding her to these entries because people will tire of so many images of the same woman. And you don't have to worry about the other one up there because those are all that exist. She's done here, at least from a visual standpoint. Yep, I will be flowing words like a two-bit whore about that one. There is just too much to leave the subject alone. Too. Fucking. Much. Go back to Jamie and the image two up. The eyes. See? Maybe not. I cannot expect others to see as I do. That is ridiculous and can be unfair if I keep pushing. She is generally accepted as universally attractive so I will leave it at that. One possibility of her coming up here over and over is my having the show in the background some of the time. I leave the Star Trek alone in the early mornings and listen quietly to the banter of the mobsters. Some good, some bad, yet I know it so well that the harm cannot touch me. The latest season comes around and then Jamie and her eyes appear. That is that. I stare. Most are cute, Jamie is beautiful. The one from the past trip south puts them all to shame. Bad is coming, and none are at fault. Almost time for me to get in gear and do something besides spouting here. I have a list and that will help to extricate the women and dreams from my head for the time being. I did it yesterday so I can do it again. I do not need any more visions of a robot that looks like the very embodiment of my excessively-detailed dreams. I might as well wish for a fucking Holodeck. Go ahead and laugh. I did. If this bullshit has taught me anything, the lesson is that I tend to latch very easily and have a hell of a time accepting things that are beyond control. The woman up there from ten fucking years ago now represents an entire universe that is developing in my head. That is bad. And yes, I can do something about it but I choose not to. I choose to let her fly around in there so I can see. And feel. Yep, I still feel for her. And I'll be Goddamned if I laid it all down today after telling myself years ago that I would leave that trip alone. In a folder. Shoved into a small space and ignored. Nope. Here it is. I probably royally fucked myself by doing this because my imagination is pretty vivid and will continue to conjure all manner of dreamy shit on a daily basis. I don't know yet. As I said above, the time has come for me to move away from the electronic world and out there into the real one. I will report back if my efforts fail. Well, you already know that. Heh. Genetic fluke. Enigma. Dream. Unreal, and un-real. God damn it all to hell, she is so beautiful that the sight of the images hurts me. And the reporters are fucking killing me without compassion. I need to shut the television again. Broken, but still I am ok. My feelings for the woman in southern California have melted away whatever was happening within me for the woman at the bar. She has now gone from a woman to an example of the mechanics of female physical attractiveness, reduced to such by the other woman who has gone in the opposite direction. The three images. The closeup. The face. More is to come. I mentioned issue two again. Well, it's bad now and caught me unaware for the second time in as many months. I need a woman who does not exist to take it all away with her warm embrace. I did not expect this from images and memories. I expected to react accordingly. So much more. Unbalanced. You are not going to believe it."
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