05-09-2020 07:39 pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning Exposition read ( words) "The dream about the fucking drums is beginning to piss me off. That time was long ago when I was young and full of wonder. Now? The electronic drums have been sitting in the garage -- taken apart -- and awaiting some effort from me. They have been in such a way for more than half a year. Part of the issue with the timing is the fact that I picked them up on a consignment deal at a local music store just days before beginning the bathroom remodel. Now, the hobby has nothing to do with working on other things, but the fact remains that once I demolished and removed a good portion of our only bathroom, timing became a priority. I had mere days to get the electrical and plumbing reconfigured and planned to reset the toilet after each work day. One bathroom equals the fact that it must operate. So, in the days to follow I completed the required work and lost track of everything else in which I had been interested prior to that project. That included the drums. The garage where the drums had been set up was a bit of a project in and of itself. I had to work quite a bit just to keep parts of the garage accessible, and that meant the drums became a lower priority. So, I eventually disassembled the entire system and stored it where it would be protected. To this day the equipment is still in there and resting comfortably. I cannot set up the system in the house even though there is room because the mat that keeps everything in place during playing would be slowly destroyed by the cats. That is not their fault, of course, just a fact. They affect everything made of fabric in one way or another and over time none of it is pretty. Conclusion? No drums. The dream brought my past adventures with actual acoustic drums back to the forefront and piqued my interest after many years. Another commercial. The walnut girl still spins within my head, and now another has hit the screen with nary a thought toward my well-being. The oddest timing shows me the weakness and obsession, and as often as there are wondrous examples of the female form gracing the screen, most come and go with little notice. Unfortunately, it is the once-in-a-blue-moon bullshit that drives me up the wall. After all these years the form on the screen or street must be pretty unique and very much aligned with all that I have studied in order for me to stop myself and look. Well, she was just sitting there, had nothing to do with the subject or product, and my head went around her thighs in eighty milliseconds. The position of her sitting upon the counter with knees together struck me like a boulder being thrown by a giant. It hit me hard, and that does not happen easily. Most of the visions on the screen flash for seconds, if not less, and go away fairly quickly. But now, like the walnut girl, the sight stopped me in my tracks and caused much turmoil inside. How does that happen? The reporter from weeks ago comes and goes during the morning news but that is different. Her face is the key, and it is unique (at least to me). The whole issue is her face, in fact, and I can see it any morning that I choose to watch the broadcast. The other one? I am thinking that I may have simply noticed her by accident -- of course -- and during a time when the form and wonder had been in my head to begin with. Or, perhaps I really have been searching without thinking about it. Either way, there she was and my head blew up like always. The news girl can be avoided (all of them can, really, but that is a stretch I am unwilling to embrace) by watching something else. The commercials catch me off guard all the time. And I let them, I suppose. Always seeking, which means I will find. And yes, I know what that means to my daily mental health. Don't fucking get me started. The latest advertisement on the television, along with sitting in my car recently and browsing the nearby parking lots, tells me that the issue and broken parts within me are not going away. There is no repair available, either. At least I do not know of anything that can keep my attention away from such things. A woman on a bicycle, one walking near the ocean, a younger girl in the supermarket while I was waiting in line and keeping my distance from others and concerned with how much cleaning I was about to do upon reaching home. Yes, in the midst of a crisis, out in the world and near people, all of those guidelines need to be followed and there I was looking at a pair of pants. Seamless -- and I mean nothing there at all -- smooth, gray, wonderfully cut for the shape of her legs. Wrapped. Snug. Beautiful. In a crisis? Yep... There I was gazing and calculating just why she looked the way she did. I could write another entry like all those others, but alas you get the point. The girl at the store? Nice title. What about the one riding the bike miles from home and wearing the same pants yet with a half-shirt? What about her? Another essay? Is there a fucking point? Why is this such a fucking problem? And the commercial... Holy fucking thighs, Batman. Paired knees, shoulders, lanky, tall, shit. All over the place, like always. How I ever narrowed my attention to a single cohesive story I will never know. And then the one walking her dog right across the street from my garage door. Several times I have seen her strolling one way or the other due to me spending so much time at home these days. God damn it anyway, that girl is a walking example of numerical wonder with her yoga pants, bouncing breasts, flowing hair. Jesus. I sound like someone much worse off than I am, right? Fucked, completely. A person to be avoided. A person who perhaps would be better off around less people. Or maybe narrowed vision? I don't know. Fuck it. Yes, she walks by daily at some point and if I am out there I see her. Others walk from time to time and in this climate I usually wave out of a gesture of solidarity. We are in the same boat, if you will, so I try to be friendly. The girl? She is one of those who keeps to herself and I do not know the reason. Maybe because of nothing. But she is out there looking gorgeous, kind of like the Lexus girl who turned out to be nonexistent. Heh. I wish that was even a little funny but nope... It is a sad representation of my desperate nature these days. The girl with her dog and the commercial simply take the fucking proverbial cake. I am weakened, distraught more often that I used to be, and worried for the future of this obsession. Remember the desire that recently came up regarding the walnut girl and the thong sisters? Well, that has not reared its head with respect to the dog walker, thank the fucking maker. But I worry. What happens if it does? Do I just lose my mind? I will speak to no one, female or otherwise because that will solve nothing nor will it be a friendly exchange. I need to attempt to understand this on my own because others are not going to view me as I do. And I cannot expect them to see that. I cannot ask another human being one single question without revealing the whole shitaree. There is just no fucking chance of help from any outside source. All I can do right now is continue to think about it. And I will keep looking because I have become far too weak to rise above it. I need to see, and then the sight torments me until it fades. I said 'torment'. Read it. Maybe I am nothing more than a fool with an overactive imagination. The Cherry 2000 or 'machine' idea from way the fuck back likely added to the current issues in me and does not help when my head goes around the block in eighty milliseconds. Here is a good example of just how fucked up my situational analysis has become: While at home these days and if I am working inside, something familiar will be playing in the background on the television. Recently I wired another set in the kitchen so that the video can follow me while keeping busy there. As a child of the seventies, you can imagine how much television I was exposed to back then. Well, the familiarity keeps me company, and as messed up as that may be, it helps me to feel comfortable while alone. So, I was milling around here and there and a certain episode came along with which I am very familiar, however it caught me off-guard. I saw the face that launched a thousand ships. Of course she resembles Andrea -- just as the woman from seasons later -- but in a different way. She is brighter, more mature perhaps due to age (and it shows on her face after years of working in television and film), and the resemblance is unreal when she displays an idle expression. Well, I was not expecting to be slapped in the face by her appearance during those moments, so my reaction was probably rather silly. Her role in that show is akin to a cameo, in that she is on screen for a very short period and does not return. I will not get into the story or reasoning. None of it matters. What is of critical importance, however, is what happened to my brain before I poured a cocktail mid-morning (!) and dashed outside after pausing the playback. Sure enough, the thong sisters flew into my brain like deranged bats seeking the darkness. I was blindsided by the need to go back to the image on the screen, magically dive in, and then absolutely ravage that most beautiful of women from head to toe. All of her. Yep, it happened again. The walnuts, the mostly-nude artwork before my eyes in the searing sun, and now the beauty beyond belief from thirty years ago. This is something that I cannot let go right now. I have to learn of why I am feeling this way from time to time but only for a small number of what I would consider some of the most attractive women I have ever seen. Two in person, two on television, and none of which I can ever be near. Period. Why? And why in the fuck now? The thong sisters. Well, that was one for the ages as I stated in another entry, but honestly they are still floating inside me. And I mean daily. I fail to understand why they appeared just as the walnut girl graced my huge television screen. Everything took place in a matter of seconds and still confounds me weeks later. I just don't get it. Those two girls were as close as arm's length so many months ago and fascinated me to no end. In the beginning when they first dropped the wraps I was slapped in the face at seeing forms which had only been two-dimensional for years. And my gorgeous partner -- also with a fucking swath of unclothed skin on display -- discussed the matter with me at length, and during the actual time we sat by the water. The heat forced me to stroll over to the pool several times sans sunglasses to cool off. That's correct... No sunglasses to hide my gaze. I went into the water a few times during our visit, and despite the implied bullshit, I was not over there to look at them. Oh, I did here and there, but I am not the type to invade a person's space for imagery. The subject is quite difficult at times because the draw upon my head can be overwhelming. That afternoon (morning?) was one of the toughest situations in which I have ever been placed. I still cannot believe they were right there. The time between then and now has been mellow with regard to such a sight, and until the fucking walnut girl's appearance I had not been thinking of that day very often. The time has been occupied by any number of other activities. They returned when the commercial aired, and I am still trying to work through the why. I see them. Yes, at this moment, I see them. Especially the younger of the two. This problem is not going to go away soon. The girl across the street with the dog appeared again, too. These issues are piling and I am letting them, for the most part. Something has to take place in order for either my understanding or release of these visions. I keep going and seeing them which means I cannot rely on our partly-closed society to keep the people on the streets to a minimum. The dog walker was again in a pair of yoga pants (or something like that, anyway), and a light jacket due to the cool air. I do not believe I can say what breed of dog she was walking as I likely did not look past the girl. Anyway, sightings aside, for some reason things are different now than in years past. Oh sure, I outlined quite a bit of this just a short time ago, but the problem is not easing up nor do I believe I can simply wish or will it away. This is deep inside my psyche after so many years, and the flare is something I have not experienced until recently. The simplicity of sitting in the garage while jotting down thoughts was nice yesterday until the moment when she passed. Always the same direction. Once per day, perhaps more. I am not always out there. And she is not the fucking point anyway. I need to figure out why my feelings toward a handful of these women have changed. The quote just above my footer on the main index is very poignant and relates to some aspects of life as I have known it for two decades. Earlier than that? I do not know. More recently? Everything has become one gigantic analysis machine with me sitting in the center of a host of issues that all stare me down day in and day out. Those girls did not appear until the dream, and they were not even in the fucking thing. It was different, like the mansion. Sensible, partially understood due to my fucking mindset, yet still mysterious. The bottom line is that they came out of left field one day, fueled by that girl with the tattoo, and now every subsequent vision which goes beyond the norm points me in the same direction. Every. Fucking. Woman. And the girl with the dog is right over there as a reminder of just how weak and helpless I have become. Tormented and I know not why. Thus? Um... Nothing. Back to the ad which switched me on. The woman is just sitting there, in the camera's eye for mere seconds, and I saw her immediately upon first viewing said commercial. Well, the feeling was all at once and stuck with me for quite some time before I decided I had to explore. And now just two days later and I have worked out exactly nothing. I viewed the ad on the computer several more times and capped a couple of images. She is there in the very beginning and not for long. The ad has nothing to do with her, either. Beauty? No. Fashion? Nope. The subject is food, of all things. Just a random actress in a random commercial that just happened to strike me upside the head. And then all of this. And the walnut girl again. And the thong girls. And the one on the street. What the fuck is wrong with me, and why is the image of that woman so fucking stirring? This began (this time, anyway) with seeing the woman on the television, but not the advertisement. The actress. Remember? Up the page. Well, I have been thinking about her this morning and I have no idea why she struck me so strongly just the other day considering I have seen that episode many, many times throughout thirty-plus years. I know what she looks like. The outfit is a bit silly, but such was science fiction in the eighties. The fact remains that seldom in my life have I seen a face such as hers. Andrea -- yes -- but few others. I do not understand why, however that is not the point. And what is the point? Well, think about it: I am fine for days and days after being slammed by the walnut girl and dreaming about the tanned goddesses at the fucking pool. Slammed like not in years. Everything cools off and I carry on about my days like always. And then a glance toward the screen while working in the kitchen, I see the woman and her features, then immediately I am thrown into the same soup full of the desire to hide her away and... Well, you know. I've said it before. No, I am not strange, I simply do not understand how I can be feet away from some and nothing happens, but then I am miles away and years off from another, and all of a sudden my switch flips to the bad position and I drown myself with questions. This had not been such an issue with the other occasion (walnuts) because it was the first. I calculated that it was an isolated incident and had lots of time to explore. Now? A second time and more harsh than the first? I am fucking stuck. Just a woman sitting on a fictional kitchen counter for seconds, and then the face of faces, and here I am flailing in the river again. Ok, enough of that. I've had it for this entry. Let's go elsewhere. The mansion? Ugh. Please no. Now a girl in a public service ad for the local utility. Holy shit what a face. What is wrong with me? Do I need to kill the television? Right out of left field, like the pool Good God Jesus holy hell in a plastic cup... Just look at her face. Think it's beautiful? You should hear her voice, too. Just this tiny cameo and I fell on my face for her. Thirty-one-plus years ago when she was barely nineteen years old. Every now and then the episode in question comes along one way or another and my heart stops for the very short period of time that she is on screen. To this day, she is the same inside me. She means the same. She means much. 'I shall never look upon her like again.' Watch the short scene here. Fuck is she ever beautiful. Words fail, completely. I don't know what to think anymore. This has become a problem which I not only cannot understand, but also one that may begin to have an impact on my typical day. I feel distracted by thoughts of those two in Paradise and the catalyst which began the entire shitaree. If there is something I can do or change in order to ease my thinking, that has escaped me. Perhaps later I will pull back on the stick just in time to see the girl walking her dog again. Heh. Not funny. The girl in the utility ad looks like Juliette. Splendid. There are only two certainties regarding all these forms. One is the girl in the mansion because I know her outside this virtual mess. The other is the actor that I saw which struck me so much. I know who she is, but not personally. The one in the mansion is someone I have known for years but has never really been any sort of problem. She is exotic and lovely, but that is it. I have never had any interest aside from being personable, and that fact is solidly in place despite her being a genetic fluke like Alessandra. I like her. A lot. And she has been right next to me many times throughout years. The feelings there are different, though. I do not think of lunging. The one on the show is another story... I felt something because of her beauty, but nothing beyond until after the fucking walnut girl. Yep, there she is again. Maybe I will include an image of her. Hmm... Maybe not. I believe she is underage which would preclude me from displaying her loveliness here. And don't fucking attack me because she is so young. The matter is the look and feeling (which may as well be fictional) and how it related to dreaming of those scantily-clad girls months back. Wow, this is beginning to sound bad. I will stop. But honestly, leave it alone. Feelings and fears do not necessarily mean intent, assholes. Go fuck yourselves. I will let it go. You do the same. The subject is issue one. The obsession. And then issue five (new). Desire. Or is it six? Ugh. I think that makes six. Five was outlined a while back but it doesn't matter anymore. Neither does six, really. Fuck it anyway. More pool thoughts... I remember taking a break from the lounger and rolling over toward the restrooms at the far end of the pool to stand in the smoking area. Upon finding shade and lighting my vice, I turned to see my partner way over at the opposite side and reclined. I was feeling that the time to leave would be coming soon in order to return to the room and cool off. Well, looking across the pool area was not a good idea, as I would soon learn. The younger of the two beauties had repositioned to her back with knees up and precisely paired, essentially creating a space unlike anything in the universe. My obsession began to burn within and I stared recklessly as those lines appeared before my deviant eyes. Coupled with the fact that her entire swimsuit likely encompassed very few feet of material, the features which are normally (better off) hidden away were right there in living color and lit ideally by the harsh sun. I continued to look -- against my better judgment because I actually felt like I was invading her privacy, as strange as that may sound -- basically as long as I was able, and took in as much as possible knowing full well such an image would likely never be in front of me again. I also realized that seeing her in such a position was going to cause all manner of difficulty within my head and for God-knows how long. After finishing my smoke, I rolled back across the pavement and found the shade, all the while thinking to myself that visiting the pool area a mere hour earlier or later might have saved me from thinking so much. As the remainder of the day went by, the images faded due to my partner being so kind and understanding. We spoke little of the issues in my brain and those two girls seemed to be washed away as time passed. Only after the walnut girl sighting did they return to me. I have no clue as to what happened after a simple commercial, but that little quickie of a dream drove two of the most striking girls I have ever seen before me right into my brain with enough force to cause a breakdown of sorts, and I am still trying to recover. Desire. At this moment, no so much, but it will return soon enough and cripple me again. I can see her circle... Right there in the glaring sun... and being permanently and deeply drawn inside my head. Her circle. Lines. Separation. Radii. Every single fucking thing over which I agonize almost daily, nearly completely on display, and screaming at me to either give up completely or seek some sort of help. Well, I've done neither of those. She was a person, too. Not an image, object, nothing. Person. That is what keeps me away. I went on about Jamie in that other mess of an entry, and she brought up a good point. More and more of these faces from my past are coming to mind and my feelings toward a few of them have changed. I know not why, but such a thing has taken place without me realizing much of it. Also, the importance of the mansion and the storefront is beginning to force me to consider what they mean to me and how they may relate to my dreams never coming to light. That giant house is a place that has been my home and that of others in various dreams for years. Sometimes I am trying to hide from people, other times I am full of desire and attempting to become physical with a woman and the only issue is privacy (which I never find), and once in a while I am in there because I live in such a place and am keeping myself to myself by avoiding going outside at all. The size and shape of the house is different each time but I still know my way around. A couple of dreams had me trying to find a bathroom away from others and the house felt as if it was the one in which my aunt and uncle lived from the seventies to the eighties. That place was enormous and beautiful inside. I often miss them, so that is likely the reason for me feeling it is theirs. Most of the dreams within the mansion involve a female to which I am highly attracted, somewhere. And whether or not she may know of me is not an issue, only my desire to hide us away and be intimate. Well, that is a situation that takes place often enough while I sleep and I still do not understand. There is always something in the way, be it the time, the space, or the realization that what we are attempting is wrong somehow. I don't know, really. The only constant between the sex, running away, or finding isolation is the fucking house. Always huge, complex, and with a sprawling layout which I have always loved. And before you take issue with the topic sentence of that paragraph, I will fix it. Heh. Jamie was the subject then, and comes up again because of my feelings toward her character in more than one television show. I mentioned that despite my overwhelming attraction to her, there has been no desire. And yes, there is THAT scene from years ago but that did nothing, either. I only wished to stare. And there is the fucking reporter again with her long, dark hair and exaggerated facial features which spin me into a froth. The lower half of her face resembles the Raven, the woman in the commercials that I see while watching Prime at night, and one character's daughter on the show that I have been watching on the same. They all share one feature which drives my vision up the wall and I don't know why nor can I describe it. You just have to see. In the future I may capture images for comparison. Maybe. Anyway, the reporter is unique. I might lose my mind over this. There was just a flash of another woman on the screen and that means two things: First, I need to watch fiction instead of the news, and second, I may be beyond help. Again I started a paragraph and the beauty derailed my thought process. No shit, right? I can't help it anymore. I am broken and obsessed at the same time. Days of avoiding seeing others in person helps me most of the time, but it also drives a bulldozer between me and those people. I need it, the help may be there, however the isolation is also prime real estate for me to obsess and withdraw because of it. Right now I see myself losing it completely by the end of May. Okay, now I promise to follow the topic. No desire. Not for her, not for Madchen Amick despite her looking so amazing in every conceivable way, and nothing toward the reporter(s). Oy. But the others? Why? Are they different, or am I different? Let's go to the mansion for a few minutes. The big place had been owned by a woman I know in the latest dream -- as I described -- and said woman is someone to whom I have been physically attracted for years. Yes, several years. Right now? I feel the same as toward the reporter. I did not dream of jumping her, nor did I dream of even pursuing her, and now sitting here in the real world I feel a warmth and caring, nothing more. And believe me, the woman is stunning. I do not fucking understand the differences between the various characters, people, and dreams with regard to how my mind works. There is no insight right now. Why the fucking walnut girl? What is it about her? Yes, there are features over which I have obsessed that she possesses. They are all over her. But all those other women (and don't forget about the nearly eight-hundred images that have graced this site since early fifteen) do not bring those types of urges to mind. They really do not, and if you don't believe me, the time has come for some to realize that being completely full of shit here solves nothing. I own the space, motherfuckers, and aside from the fictional tales, this is all real. My current therapist is the fucking keyboard and I chose to get into this some time ago, so fucking suck it up and either read or go away. Either way, I don't fucking care. Wow, a little defensive, are we? Whatever. Fuck off anyway. Where was I? All over the fucking map, that's where. I am not seeing the value of spouting so much here. I do like to hear the keys click. Something is definitely wrong with me. To be continued." This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
05-09-2020 07:39 pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning Exposition read ( words) "The dream about the fucking drums is beginning to piss me off. That time was long ago when I was young and full of wonder. Now? The electronic drums have been sitting in the garage -- taken apart -- and awaiting some effort from me. They have been in such a way for more than half a year. Part of the issue with the timing is the fact that I picked them up on a consignment deal at a local music store just days before beginning the bathroom remodel. Now, the hobby has nothing to do with working on other things, but the fact remains that once I demolished and removed a good portion of our only bathroom, timing became a priority. I had mere days to get the electrical and plumbing reconfigured and planned to reset the toilet after each work day. One bathroom equals the fact that it must operate. So, in the days to follow I completed the required work and lost track of everything else in which I had been interested prior to that project. That included the drums. The garage where the drums had been set up was a bit of a project in and of itself. I had to work quite a bit just to keep parts of the garage accessible, and that meant the drums became a lower priority. So, I eventually disassembled the entire system and stored it where it would be protected. To this day the equipment is still in there and resting comfortably. I cannot set up the system in the house even though there is room because the mat that keeps everything in place during playing would be slowly destroyed by the cats. That is not their fault, of course, just a fact. They affect everything made of fabric in one way or another and over time none of it is pretty. Conclusion? No drums. The dream brought my past adventures with actual acoustic drums back to the forefront and piqued my interest after many years. Another commercial. The walnut girl still spins within my head, and now another has hit the screen with nary a thought toward my well-being. The oddest timing shows me the weakness and obsession, and as often as there are wondrous examples of the female form gracing the screen, most come and go with little notice. Unfortunately, it is the once-in-a-blue-moon bullshit that drives me up the wall. After all these years the form on the screen or street must be pretty unique and very much aligned with all that I have studied in order for me to stop myself and look. Well, she was just sitting there, had nothing to do with the subject or product, and my head went around her thighs in eighty milliseconds. The position of her sitting upon the counter with knees together struck me like a boulder being thrown by a giant. It hit me hard, and that does not happen easily. Most of the visions on the screen flash for seconds, if not less, and go away fairly quickly. But now, like the walnut girl, the sight stopped me in my tracks and caused much turmoil inside. How does that happen? The reporter from weeks ago comes and goes during the morning news but that is different. Her face is the key, and it is unique (at least to me). The whole issue is her face, in fact, and I can see it any morning that I choose to watch the broadcast. The other one? I am thinking that I may have simply noticed her by accident -- of course -- and during a time when the form and wonder had been in my head to begin with. Or, perhaps I really have been searching without thinking about it. Either way, there she was and my head blew up like always. The news girl can be avoided (all of them can, really, but that is a stretch I am unwilling to embrace) by watching something else. The commercials catch me off guard all the time. And I let them, I suppose. Always seeking, which means I will find. And yes, I know what that means to my daily mental health. Don't fucking get me started. The latest advertisement on the television, along with sitting in my car recently and browsing the nearby parking lots, tells me that the issue and broken parts within me are not going away. There is no repair available, either. At least I do not know of anything that can keep my attention away from such things. A woman on a bicycle, one walking near the ocean, a younger girl in the supermarket while I was waiting in line and keeping my distance from others and concerned with how much cleaning I was about to do upon reaching home. Yes, in the midst of a crisis, out in the world and near people, all of those guidelines need to be followed and there I was looking at a pair of pants. Seamless -- and I mean nothing there at all -- smooth, gray, wonderfully cut for the shape of her legs. Wrapped. Snug. Beautiful. In a crisis? Yep... There I was gazing and calculating just why she looked the way she did. I could write another entry like all those others, but alas you get the point. The girl at the store? Nice title. What about the one riding the bike miles from home and wearing the same pants yet with a half-shirt? What about her? Another essay? Is there a fucking point? Why is this such a fucking problem? And the commercial... Holy fucking thighs, Batman. Paired knees, shoulders, lanky, tall, shit. All over the place, like always. How I ever narrowed my attention to a single cohesive story I will never know. And then the one walking her dog right across the street from my garage door. Several times I have seen her strolling one way or the other due to me spending so much time at home these days. God damn it anyway, that girl is a walking example of numerical wonder with her yoga pants, bouncing breasts, flowing hair. Jesus. I sound like someone much worse off than I am, right? Fucked, completely. A person to be avoided. A person who perhaps would be better off around less people. Or maybe narrowed vision? I don't know. Fuck it. Yes, she walks by daily at some point and if I am out there I see her. Others walk from time to time and in this climate I usually wave out of a gesture of solidarity. We are in the same boat, if you will, so I try to be friendly. The girl? She is one of those who keeps to herself and I do not know the reason. Maybe because of nothing. But she is out there looking gorgeous, kind of like the Lexus girl who turned out to be nonexistent. Heh. I wish that was even a little funny but nope... It is a sad representation of my desperate nature these days. The girl with her dog and the commercial simply take the fucking proverbial cake. I am weakened, distraught more often that I used to be, and worried for the future of this obsession. Remember the desire that recently came up regarding the walnut girl and the thong sisters? Well, that has not reared its head with respect to the dog walker, thank the fucking maker. But I worry. What happens if it does? Do I just lose my mind? I will speak to no one, female or otherwise because that will solve nothing nor will it be a friendly exchange. I need to attempt to understand this on my own because others are not going to view me as I do. And I cannot expect them to see that. I cannot ask another human being one single question without revealing the whole shitaree. There is just no fucking chance of help from any outside source. All I can do right now is continue to think about it. And I will keep looking because I have become far too weak to rise above it. I need to see, and then the sight torments me until it fades. I said 'torment'. Read it. Maybe I am nothing more than a fool with an overactive imagination. The Cherry 2000 or 'machine' idea from way the fuck back likely added to the current issues in me and does not help when my head goes around the block in eighty milliseconds. Here is a good example of just how fucked up my situational analysis has become: While at home these days and if I am working inside, something familiar will be playing in the background on the television. Recently I wired another set in the kitchen so that the video can follow me while keeping busy there. As a child of the seventies, you can imagine how much television I was exposed to back then. Well, the familiarity keeps me company, and as messed up as that may be, it helps me to feel comfortable while alone. So, I was milling around here and there and a certain episode came along with which I am very familiar, however it caught me off-guard. I saw the face that launched a thousand ships. Of course she resembles Andrea -- just as the woman from seasons later -- but in a different way. She is brighter, more mature perhaps due to age (and it shows on her face after years of working in television and film), and the resemblance is unreal when she displays an idle expression. Well, I was not expecting to be slapped in the face by her appearance during those moments, so my reaction was probably rather silly. Her role in that show is akin to a cameo, in that she is on screen for a very short period and does not return. I will not get into the story or reasoning. None of it matters. What is of critical importance, however, is what happened to my brain before I poured a cocktail mid-morning (!) and dashed outside after pausing the playback. Sure enough, the thong sisters flew into my brain like deranged bats seeking the darkness. I was blindsided by the need to go back to the image on the screen, magically dive in, and then absolutely ravage that most beautiful of women from head to toe. All of her. Yep, it happened again. The walnuts, the mostly-nude artwork before my eyes in the searing sun, and now the beauty beyond belief from thirty years ago. This is something that I cannot let go right now. I have to learn of why I am feeling this way from time to time but only for a small number of what I would consider some of the most attractive women I have ever seen. Two in person, two on television, and none of which I can ever be near. Period. Why? And why in the fuck now? The thong sisters. Well, that was one for the ages as I stated in another entry, but honestly they are still floating inside me. And I mean daily. I fail to understand why they appeared just as the walnut girl graced my huge television screen. Everything took place in a matter of seconds and still confounds me weeks later. I just don't get it. Those two girls were as close as arm's length so many months ago and fascinated me to no end. In the beginning when they first dropped the wraps I was slapped in the face at seeing forms which had only been two-dimensional for years. And my gorgeous partner -- also with a fucking swath of unclothed skin on display -- discussed the matter with me at length, and during the actual time we sat by the water. The heat forced me to stroll over to the pool several times sans sunglasses to cool off. That's correct... No sunglasses to hide my gaze. I went into the water a few times during our visit, and despite the implied bullshit, I was not over there to look at them. Oh, I did here and there, but I am not the type to invade a person's space for imagery. The subject is quite difficult at times because the draw upon my head can be overwhelming. That afternoon (morning?) was one of the toughest situations in which I have ever been placed. I still cannot believe they were right there. The time between then and now has been mellow with regard to such a sight, and until the fucking walnut girl's appearance I had not been thinking of that day very often. The time has been occupied by any number of other activities. They returned when the commercial aired, and I am still trying to work through the why. I see them. Yes, at this moment, I see them. Especially the younger of the two. This problem is not going to go away soon. The girl across the street with the dog appeared again, too. These issues are piling and I am letting them, for the most part. Something has to take place in order for either my understanding or release of these visions. I keep going and seeing them which means I cannot rely on our partly-closed society to keep the people on the streets to a minimum. The dog walker was again in a pair of yoga pants (or something like that, anyway), and a light jacket due to the cool air. I do not believe I can say what breed of dog she was walking as I likely did not look past the girl. Anyway, sightings aside, for some reason things are different now than in years past. Oh sure, I outlined quite a bit of this just a short time ago, but the problem is not easing up nor do I believe I can simply wish or will it away. This is deep inside my psyche after so many years, and the flare is something I have not experienced until recently. The simplicity of sitting in the garage while jotting down thoughts was nice yesterday until the moment when she passed. Always the same direction. Once per day, perhaps more. I am not always out there. And she is not the fucking point anyway. I need to figure out why my feelings toward a handful of these women have changed. The quote just above my footer on the main index is very poignant and relates to some aspects of life as I have known it for two decades. Earlier than that? I do not know. More recently? Everything has become one gigantic analysis machine with me sitting in the center of a host of issues that all stare me down day in and day out. Those girls did not appear until the dream, and they were not even in the fucking thing. It was different, like the mansion. Sensible, partially understood due to my fucking mindset, yet still mysterious. The bottom line is that they came out of left field one day, fueled by that girl with the tattoo, and now every subsequent vision which goes beyond the norm points me in the same direction. Every. Fucking. Woman. And the girl with the dog is right over there as a reminder of just how weak and helpless I have become. Tormented and I know not why. Thus? Um... Nothing. Back to the ad which switched me on. The woman is just sitting there, in the camera's eye for mere seconds, and I saw her immediately upon first viewing said commercial. Well, the feeling was all at once and stuck with me for quite some time before I decided I had to explore. And now just two days later and I have worked out exactly nothing. I viewed the ad on the computer several more times and capped a couple of images. She is there in the very beginning and not for long. The ad has nothing to do with her, either. Beauty? No. Fashion? Nope. The subject is food, of all things. Just a random actress in a random commercial that just happened to strike me upside the head. And then all of this. And the walnut girl again. And the thong girls. And the one on the street. What the fuck is wrong with me, and why is the image of that woman so fucking stirring? This began (this time, anyway) with seeing the woman on the television, but not the advertisement. The actress. Remember? Up the page. Well, I have been thinking about her this morning and I have no idea why she struck me so strongly just the other day considering I have seen that episode many, many times throughout thirty-plus years. I know what she looks like. The outfit is a bit silly, but such was science fiction in the eighties. The fact remains that seldom in my life have I seen a face such as hers. Andrea -- yes -- but few others. I do not understand why, however that is not the point. And what is the point? Well, think about it: I am fine for days and days after being slammed by the walnut girl and dreaming about the tanned goddesses at the fucking pool. Slammed like not in years. Everything cools off and I carry on about my days like always. And then a glance toward the screen while working in the kitchen, I see the woman and her features, then immediately I am thrown into the same soup full of the desire to hide her away and... Well, you know. I've said it before. No, I am not strange, I simply do not understand how I can be feet away from some and nothing happens, but then I am miles away and years off from another, and all of a sudden my switch flips to the bad position and I drown myself with questions. This had not been such an issue with the other occasion (walnuts) because it was the first. I calculated that it was an isolated incident and had lots of time to explore. Now? A second time and more harsh than the first? I am fucking stuck. Just a woman sitting on a fictional kitchen counter for seconds, and then the face of faces, and here I am flailing in the river again. Ok, enough of that. I've had it for this entry. Let's go elsewhere. The mansion? Ugh. Please no. Now a girl in a public service ad for the local utility. Holy shit what a face. What is wrong with me? Do I need to kill the television? Right out of left field, like the pool Good God Jesus holy hell in a plastic cup... Just look at her face. Think it's beautiful? You should hear her voice, too. Just this tiny cameo and I fell on my face for her. Thirty-one-plus years ago when she was barely nineteen years old. Every now and then the episode in question comes along one way or another and my heart stops for the very short period of time that she is on screen. To this day, she is the same inside me. She means the same. She means much. 'I shall never look upon her like again.' Watch the short scene here. Fuck is she ever beautiful. Words fail, completely. I don't know what to think anymore. This has become a problem which I not only cannot understand, but also one that may begin to have an impact on my typical day. I feel distracted by thoughts of those two in Paradise and the catalyst which began the entire shitaree. If there is something I can do or change in order to ease my thinking, that has escaped me. Perhaps later I will pull back on the stick just in time to see the girl walking her dog again. Heh. Not funny. The girl in the utility ad looks like Juliette. Splendid. There are only two certainties regarding all these forms. One is the girl in the mansion because I know her outside this virtual mess. The other is the actor that I saw which struck me so much. I know who she is, but not personally. The one in the mansion is someone I have known for years but has never really been any sort of problem. She is exotic and lovely, but that is it. I have never had any interest aside from being personable, and that fact is solidly in place despite her being a genetic fluke like Alessandra. I like her. A lot. And she has been right next to me many times throughout years. The feelings there are different, though. I do not think of lunging. The one on the show is another story... I felt something because of her beauty, but nothing beyond until after the fucking walnut girl. Yep, there she is again. Maybe I will include an image of her. Hmm... Maybe not. I believe she is underage which would preclude me from displaying her loveliness here. And don't fucking attack me because she is so young. The matter is the look and feeling (which may as well be fictional) and how it related to dreaming of those scantily-clad girls months back. Wow, this is beginning to sound bad. I will stop. But honestly, leave it alone. Feelings and fears do not necessarily mean intent, assholes. Go fuck yourselves. I will let it go. You do the same. The subject is issue one. The obsession. And then issue five (new). Desire. Or is it six? Ugh. I think that makes six. Five was outlined a while back but it doesn't matter anymore. Neither does six, really. Fuck it anyway. More pool thoughts... I remember taking a break from the lounger and rolling over toward the restrooms at the far end of the pool to stand in the smoking area. Upon finding shade and lighting my vice, I turned to see my partner way over at the opposite side and reclined. I was feeling that the time to leave would be coming soon in order to return to the room and cool off. Well, looking across the pool area was not a good idea, as I would soon learn. The younger of the two beauties had repositioned to her back with knees up and precisely paired, essentially creating a space unlike anything in the universe. My obsession began to burn within and I stared recklessly as those lines appeared before my deviant eyes. Coupled with the fact that her entire swimsuit likely encompassed very few feet of material, the features which are normally (better off) hidden away were right there in living color and lit ideally by the harsh sun. I continued to look -- against my better judgment because I actually felt like I was invading her privacy, as strange as that may sound -- basically as long as I was able, and took in as much as possible knowing full well such an image would likely never be in front of me again. I also realized that seeing her in such a position was going to cause all manner of difficulty within my head and for God-knows how long. After finishing my smoke, I rolled back across the pavement and found the shade, all the while thinking to myself that visiting the pool area a mere hour earlier or later might have saved me from thinking so much. As the remainder of the day went by, the images faded due to my partner being so kind and understanding. We spoke little of the issues in my brain and those two girls seemed to be washed away as time passed. Only after the walnut girl sighting did they return to me. I have no clue as to what happened after a simple commercial, but that little quickie of a dream drove two of the most striking girls I have ever seen before me right into my brain with enough force to cause a breakdown of sorts, and I am still trying to recover. Desire. At this moment, no so much, but it will return soon enough and cripple me again. I can see her circle... Right there in the glaring sun... and being permanently and deeply drawn inside my head. Her circle. Lines. Separation. Radii. Every single fucking thing over which I agonize almost daily, nearly completely on display, and screaming at me to either give up completely or seek some sort of help. Well, I've done neither of those. She was a person, too. Not an image, object, nothing. Person. That is what keeps me away. I went on about Jamie in that other mess of an entry, and she brought up a good point. More and more of these faces from my past are coming to mind and my feelings toward a few of them have changed. I know not why, but such a thing has taken place without me realizing much of it. Also, the importance of the mansion and the storefront is beginning to force me to consider what they mean to me and how they may relate to my dreams never coming to light. That giant house is a place that has been my home and that of others in various dreams for years. Sometimes I am trying to hide from people, other times I am full of desire and attempting to become physical with a woman and the only issue is privacy (which I never find), and once in a while I am in there because I live in such a place and am keeping myself to myself by avoiding going outside at all. The size and shape of the house is different each time but I still know my way around. A couple of dreams had me trying to find a bathroom away from others and the house felt as if it was the one in which my aunt and uncle lived from the seventies to the eighties. That place was enormous and beautiful inside. I often miss them, so that is likely the reason for me feeling it is theirs. Most of the dreams within the mansion involve a female to which I am highly attracted, somewhere. And whether or not she may know of me is not an issue, only my desire to hide us away and be intimate. Well, that is a situation that takes place often enough while I sleep and I still do not understand. There is always something in the way, be it the time, the space, or the realization that what we are attempting is wrong somehow. I don't know, really. The only constant between the sex, running away, or finding isolation is the fucking house. Always huge, complex, and with a sprawling layout which I have always loved. And before you take issue with the topic sentence of that paragraph, I will fix it. Heh. Jamie was the subject then, and comes up again because of my feelings toward her character in more than one television show. I mentioned that despite my overwhelming attraction to her, there has been no desire. And yes, there is THAT scene from years ago but that did nothing, either. I only wished to stare. And there is the fucking reporter again with her long, dark hair and exaggerated facial features which spin me into a froth. The lower half of her face resembles the Raven, the woman in the commercials that I see while watching Prime at night, and one character's daughter on the show that I have been watching on the same. They all share one feature which drives my vision up the wall and I don't know why nor can I describe it. You just have to see. In the future I may capture images for comparison. Maybe. Anyway, the reporter is unique. I might lose my mind over this. There was just a flash of another woman on the screen and that means two things: First, I need to watch fiction instead of the news, and second, I may be beyond help. Again I started a paragraph and the beauty derailed my thought process. No shit, right? I can't help it anymore. I am broken and obsessed at the same time. Days of avoiding seeing others in person helps me most of the time, but it also drives a bulldozer between me and those people. I need it, the help may be there, however the isolation is also prime real estate for me to obsess and withdraw because of it. Right now I see myself losing it completely by the end of May. Okay, now I promise to follow the topic. No desire. Not for her, not for Madchen Amick despite her looking so amazing in every conceivable way, and nothing toward the reporter(s). Oy. But the others? Why? Are they different, or am I different? Let's go to the mansion for a few minutes. The big place had been owned by a woman I know in the latest dream -- as I described -- and said woman is someone to whom I have been physically attracted for years. Yes, several years. Right now? I feel the same as toward the reporter. I did not dream of jumping her, nor did I dream of even pursuing her, and now sitting here in the real world I feel a warmth and caring, nothing more. And believe me, the woman is stunning. I do not fucking understand the differences between the various characters, people, and dreams with regard to how my mind works. There is no insight right now. Why the fucking walnut girl? What is it about her? Yes, there are features over which I have obsessed that she possesses. They are all over her. But all those other women (and don't forget about the nearly eight-hundred images that have graced this site since early fifteen) do not bring those types of urges to mind. They really do not, and if you don't believe me, the time has come for some to realize that being completely full of shit here solves nothing. I own the space, motherfuckers, and aside from the fictional tales, this is all real. My current therapist is the fucking keyboard and I chose to get into this some time ago, so fucking suck it up and either read or go away. Either way, I don't fucking care. Wow, a little defensive, are we? Whatever. Fuck off anyway. Where was I? All over the fucking map, that's where. I am not seeing the value of spouting so much here. I do like to hear the keys click. Something is definitely wrong with me. To be continued."
05-09-2020 07:39 pdt
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning
Exposition
read ( words)
"The dream about the fucking drums is beginning to piss me off. That time was long ago when I was young and full of wonder. Now? The electronic drums have been sitting in the garage -- taken apart -- and awaiting some effort from me. They have been in such a way for more than half a year. Part of the issue with the timing is the fact that I picked them up on a consignment deal at a local music store just days before beginning the bathroom remodel. Now, the hobby has nothing to do with working on other things, but the fact remains that once I demolished and removed a good portion of our only bathroom, timing became a priority. I had mere days to get the electrical and plumbing reconfigured and planned to reset the toilet after each work day. One bathroom equals the fact that it must operate. So, in the days to follow I completed the required work and lost track of everything else in which I had been interested prior to that project. That included the drums. The garage where the drums had been set up was a bit of a project in and of itself. I had to work quite a bit just to keep parts of the garage accessible, and that meant the drums became a lower priority. So, I eventually disassembled the entire system and stored it where it would be protected. To this day the equipment is still in there and resting comfortably. I cannot set up the system in the house even though there is room because the mat that keeps everything in place during playing would be slowly destroyed by the cats. That is not their fault, of course, just a fact. They affect everything made of fabric in one way or another and over time none of it is pretty. Conclusion? No drums. The dream brought my past adventures with actual acoustic drums back to the forefront and piqued my interest after many years. Another commercial. The walnut girl still spins within my head, and now another has hit the screen with nary a thought toward my well-being. The oddest timing shows me the weakness and obsession, and as often as there are wondrous examples of the female form gracing the screen, most come and go with little notice. Unfortunately, it is the once-in-a-blue-moon bullshit that drives me up the wall. After all these years the form on the screen or street must be pretty unique and very much aligned with all that I have studied in order for me to stop myself and look. Well, she was just sitting there, had nothing to do with the subject or product, and my head went around her thighs in eighty milliseconds. The position of her sitting upon the counter with knees together struck me like a boulder being thrown by a giant. It hit me hard, and that does not happen easily. Most of the visions on the screen flash for seconds, if not less, and go away fairly quickly. But now, like the walnut girl, the sight stopped me in my tracks and caused much turmoil inside. How does that happen? The reporter from weeks ago comes and goes during the morning news but that is different. Her face is the key, and it is unique (at least to me). The whole issue is her face, in fact, and I can see it any morning that I choose to watch the broadcast. The other one? I am thinking that I may have simply noticed her by accident -- of course -- and during a time when the form and wonder had been in my head to begin with. Or, perhaps I really have been searching without thinking about it. Either way, there she was and my head blew up like always. The news girl can be avoided (all of them can, really, but that is a stretch I am unwilling to embrace) by watching something else. The commercials catch me off guard all the time. And I let them, I suppose. Always seeking, which means I will find. And yes, I know what that means to my daily mental health. Don't fucking get me started. The latest advertisement on the television, along with sitting in my car recently and browsing the nearby parking lots, tells me that the issue and broken parts within me are not going away. There is no repair available, either. At least I do not know of anything that can keep my attention away from such things. A woman on a bicycle, one walking near the ocean, a younger girl in the supermarket while I was waiting in line and keeping my distance from others and concerned with how much cleaning I was about to do upon reaching home. Yes, in the midst of a crisis, out in the world and near people, all of those guidelines need to be followed and there I was looking at a pair of pants. Seamless -- and I mean nothing there at all -- smooth, gray, wonderfully cut for the shape of her legs. Wrapped. Snug. Beautiful. In a crisis? Yep... There I was gazing and calculating just why she looked the way she did. I could write another entry like all those others, but alas you get the point. The girl at the store? Nice title. What about the one riding the bike miles from home and wearing the same pants yet with a half-shirt? What about her? Another essay? Is there a fucking point? Why is this such a fucking problem? And the commercial... Holy fucking thighs, Batman. Paired knees, shoulders, lanky, tall, shit. All over the place, like always. How I ever narrowed my attention to a single cohesive story I will never know.
And then the one walking her dog right across the street from my garage door. Several times I have seen her strolling one way or the other due to me spending so much time at home these days. God damn it anyway, that girl is a walking example of numerical wonder with her yoga pants, bouncing breasts, flowing hair. Jesus. I sound like someone much worse off than I am, right? Fucked, completely. A person to be avoided. A person who perhaps would be better off around less people. Or maybe narrowed vision? I don't know. Fuck it. Yes, she walks by daily at some point and if I am out there I see her. Others walk from time to time and in this climate I usually wave out of a gesture of solidarity. We are in the same boat, if you will, so I try to be friendly. The girl? She is one of those who keeps to herself and I do not know the reason. Maybe because of nothing. But she is out there looking gorgeous, kind of like the Lexus girl who turned out to be nonexistent. Heh. I wish that was even a little funny but nope... It is a sad representation of my desperate nature these days. The girl with her dog and the commercial simply take the fucking proverbial cake. I am weakened, distraught more often that I used to be, and worried for the future of this obsession. Remember the desire that recently came up regarding the walnut girl and the thong sisters? Well, that has not reared its head with respect to the dog walker, thank the fucking maker. But I worry. What happens if it does? Do I just lose my mind? I will speak to no one, female or otherwise because that will solve nothing nor will it be a friendly exchange. I need to attempt to understand this on my own because others are not going to view me as I do. And I cannot expect them to see that. I cannot ask another human being one single question without revealing the whole shitaree. There is just no fucking chance of help from any outside source. All I can do right now is continue to think about it. And I will keep looking because I have become far too weak to rise above it. I need to see, and then the sight torments me until it fades. I said 'torment'. Read it. Maybe I am nothing more than a fool with an overactive imagination. The Cherry 2000 or 'machine' idea from way the fuck back likely added to the current issues in me and does not help when my head goes around the block in eighty milliseconds. Here is a good example of just how fucked up my situational analysis has become: While at home these days and if I am working inside, something familiar will be playing in the background on the television. Recently I wired another set in the kitchen so that the video can follow me while keeping busy there. As a child of the seventies, you can imagine how much television I was exposed to back then. Well, the familiarity keeps me company, and as messed up as that may be, it helps me to feel comfortable while alone. So, I was milling around here and there and a certain episode came along with which I am very familiar, however it caught me off-guard. I saw the face that launched a thousand ships. Of course she resembles Andrea -- just as the woman from seasons later -- but in a different way. She is brighter, more mature perhaps due to age (and it shows on her face after years of working in television and film), and the resemblance is unreal when she displays an idle expression. Well, I was not expecting to be slapped in the face by her appearance during those moments, so my reaction was probably rather silly. Her role in that show is akin to a cameo, in that she is on screen for a very short period and does not return. I will not get into the story or reasoning. None of it matters. What is of critical importance, however, is what happened to my brain before I poured a cocktail mid-morning (!) and dashed outside after pausing the playback. Sure enough, the thong sisters flew into my brain like deranged bats seeking the darkness. I was blindsided by the need to go back to the image on the screen, magically dive in, and then absolutely ravage that most beautiful of women from head to toe. All of her. Yep, it happened again. The walnuts, the mostly-nude artwork before my eyes in the searing sun, and now the beauty beyond belief from thirty years ago. This is something that I cannot let go right now. I have to learn of why I am feeling this way from time to time but only for a small number of what I would consider some of the most attractive women I have ever seen. Two in person, two on television, and none of which I can ever be near. Period. Why? And why in the fuck now?
The thong sisters. Well, that was one for the ages as I stated in another entry, but honestly they are still floating inside me. And I mean daily. I fail to understand why they appeared just as the walnut girl graced my huge television screen. Everything took place in a matter of seconds and still confounds me weeks later. I just don't get it. Those two girls were as close as arm's length so many months ago and fascinated me to no end. In the beginning when they first dropped the wraps I was slapped in the face at seeing forms which had only been two-dimensional for years. And my gorgeous partner -- also with a fucking swath of unclothed skin on display -- discussed the matter with me at length, and during the actual time we sat by the water. The heat forced me to stroll over to the pool several times sans sunglasses to cool off. That's correct... No sunglasses to hide my gaze. I went into the water a few times during our visit, and despite the implied bullshit, I was not over there to look at them. Oh, I did here and there, but I am not the type to invade a person's space for imagery. The subject is quite difficult at times because the draw upon my head can be overwhelming. That afternoon (morning?) was one of the toughest situations in which I have ever been placed. I still cannot believe they were right there. The time between then and now has been mellow with regard to such a sight, and until the fucking walnut girl's appearance I had not been thinking of that day very often. The time has been occupied by any number of other activities. They returned when the commercial aired, and I am still trying to work through the why. I see them. Yes, at this moment, I see them. Especially the younger of the two. This problem is not going to go away soon. The girl across the street with the dog appeared again, too. These issues are piling and I am letting them, for the most part. Something has to take place in order for either my understanding or release of these visions. I keep going and seeing them which means I cannot rely on our partly-closed society to keep the people on the streets to a minimum. The dog walker was again in a pair of yoga pants (or something like that, anyway), and a light jacket due to the cool air. I do not believe I can say what breed of dog she was walking as I likely did not look past the girl. Anyway, sightings aside, for some reason things are different now than in years past. Oh sure, I outlined quite a bit of this just a short time ago, but the problem is not easing up nor do I believe I can simply wish or will it away. This is deep inside my psyche after so many years, and the flare is something I have not experienced until recently. The simplicity of sitting in the garage while jotting down thoughts was nice yesterday until the moment when she passed. Always the same direction. Once per day, perhaps more. I am not always out there. And she is not the fucking point anyway. I need to figure out why my feelings toward a handful of these women have changed. The quote just above my footer on the main index is very poignant and relates to some aspects of life as I have known it for two decades. Earlier than that? I do not know. More recently? Everything has become one gigantic analysis machine with me sitting in the center of a host of issues that all stare me down day in and day out. Those girls did not appear until the dream, and they were not even in the fucking thing. It was different, like the mansion. Sensible, partially understood due to my fucking mindset, yet still mysterious. The bottom line is that they came out of left field one day, fueled by that girl with the tattoo, and now every subsequent vision which goes beyond the norm points me in the same direction. Every. Fucking. Woman. And the girl with the dog is right over there as a reminder of just how weak and helpless I have become. Tormented and I know not why. Thus? Um... Nothing. Back to the ad which switched me on. The woman is just sitting there, in the camera's eye for mere seconds, and I saw her immediately upon first viewing said commercial. Well, the feeling was all at once and stuck with me for quite some time before I decided I had to explore. And now just two days later and I have worked out exactly nothing. I viewed the ad on the computer several more times and capped a couple of images. She is there in the very beginning and not for long. The ad has nothing to do with her, either. Beauty? No. Fashion? Nope. The subject is food, of all things. Just a random actress in a random commercial that just happened to strike me upside the head. And then all of this. And the walnut girl again. And the thong girls. And the one on the street. What the fuck is wrong with me, and why is the image of that woman so fucking stirring? This began (this time, anyway) with seeing the woman on the television, but not the advertisement. The actress. Remember? Up the page. Well, I have been thinking about her this morning and I have no idea why she struck me so strongly just the other day considering I have seen that episode many, many times throughout thirty-plus years. I know what she looks like. The outfit is a bit silly, but such was science fiction in the eighties. The fact remains that seldom in my life have I seen a face such as hers. Andrea -- yes -- but few others. I do not understand why, however that is not the point. And what is the point? Well, think about it: I am fine for days and days after being slammed by the walnut girl and dreaming about the tanned goddesses at the fucking pool. Slammed like not in years. Everything cools off and I carry on about my days like always. And then a glance toward the screen while working in the kitchen, I see the woman and her features, then immediately I am thrown into the same soup full of the desire to hide her away and... Well, you know. I've said it before. No, I am not strange, I simply do not understand how I can be feet away from some and nothing happens, but then I am miles away and years off from another, and all of a sudden my switch flips to the bad position and I drown myself with questions. This had not been such an issue with the other occasion (walnuts) because it was the first. I calculated that it was an isolated incident and had lots of time to explore. Now? A second time and more harsh than the first? I am fucking stuck. Just a woman sitting on a fictional kitchen counter for seconds, and then the face of faces, and here I am flailing in the river again. Ok, enough of that. I've had it for this entry. Let's go elsewhere. The mansion? Ugh. Please no. Now a girl in a public service ad for the local utility. Holy shit what a face. What is wrong with me? Do I need to kill the television?
Right out of left field, like the pool
Good God
Jesus holy hell in a plastic cup... Just look at her face. Think it's beautiful? You should hear her voice, too. Just this tiny cameo and I fell on my face for her. Thirty-one-plus years ago when she was barely nineteen years old. Every now and then the episode in question comes along one way or another and my heart stops for the very short period of time that she is on screen. To this day, she is the same inside me. She means the same. She means much. 'I shall never look upon her like again.' Watch the short scene here. Fuck is she ever beautiful. Words fail, completely. I don't know what to think anymore. This has become a problem which I not only cannot understand, but also one that may begin to have an impact on my typical day. I feel distracted by thoughts of those two in Paradise and the catalyst which began the entire shitaree. If there is something I can do or change in order to ease my thinking, that has escaped me. Perhaps later I will pull back on the stick just in time to see the girl walking her dog again. Heh. Not funny. The girl in the utility ad looks like Juliette. Splendid. There are only two certainties regarding all these forms. One is the girl in the mansion because I know her outside this virtual mess. The other is the actor that I saw which struck me so much. I know who she is, but not personally. The one in the mansion is someone I have known for years but has never really been any sort of problem. She is exotic and lovely, but that is it. I have never had any interest aside from being personable, and that fact is solidly in place despite her being a genetic fluke like Alessandra. I like her. A lot. And she has been right next to me many times throughout years. The feelings there are different, though. I do not think of lunging. The one on the show is another story... I felt something because of her beauty, but nothing beyond until after the fucking walnut girl. Yep, there she is again. Maybe I will include an image of her. Hmm... Maybe not. I believe she is underage which would preclude me from displaying her loveliness here. And don't fucking attack me because she is so young. The matter is the look and feeling (which may as well be fictional) and how it related to dreaming of those scantily-clad girls months back. Wow, this is beginning to sound bad. I will stop. But honestly, leave it alone. Feelings and fears do not necessarily mean intent, assholes. Go fuck yourselves. I will let it go. You do the same. The subject is issue one. The obsession. And then issue five (new). Desire. Or is it six? Ugh. I think that makes six. Five was outlined a while back but it doesn't matter anymore. Neither does six, really. Fuck it anyway. More pool thoughts... I remember taking a break from the lounger and rolling over toward the restrooms at the far end of the pool to stand in the smoking area. Upon finding shade and lighting my vice, I turned to see my partner way over at the opposite side and reclined. I was feeling that the time to leave would be coming soon in order to return to the room and cool off. Well, looking across the pool area was not a good idea, as I would soon learn. The younger of the two beauties had repositioned to her back with knees up and precisely paired, essentially creating a space unlike anything in the universe. My obsession began to burn within and I stared recklessly as those lines appeared before my deviant eyes. Coupled with the fact that her entire swimsuit likely encompassed very few feet of material, the features which are normally (better off) hidden away were right there in living color and lit ideally by the harsh sun. I continued to look -- against my better judgment because I actually felt like I was invading her privacy, as strange as that may sound -- basically as long as I was able, and took in as much as possible knowing full well such an image would likely never be in front of me again. I also realized that seeing her in such a position was going to cause all manner of difficulty within my head and for God-knows how long. After finishing my smoke, I rolled back across the pavement and found the shade, all the while thinking to myself that visiting the pool area a mere hour earlier or later might have saved me from thinking so much. As the remainder of the day went by, the images faded due to my partner being so kind and understanding. We spoke little of the issues in my brain and those two girls seemed to be washed away as time passed. Only after the walnut girl sighting did they return to me. I have no clue as to what happened after a simple commercial, but that little quickie of a dream drove two of the most striking girls I have ever seen before me right into my brain with enough force to cause a breakdown of sorts, and I am still trying to recover. Desire. At this moment, no so much, but it will return soon enough and cripple me again. I can see her circle... Right there in the glaring sun... and being permanently and deeply drawn inside my head. Her circle. Lines. Separation. Radii. Every single fucking thing over which I agonize almost daily, nearly completely on display, and screaming at me to either give up completely or seek some sort of help. Well, I've done neither of those. She was a person, too. Not an image, object, nothing. Person. That is what keeps me away.
I went on about Jamie in that other mess of an entry, and she brought up a good point. More and more of these faces from my past are coming to mind and my feelings toward a few of them have changed. I know not why, but such a thing has taken place without me realizing much of it. Also, the importance of the mansion and the storefront is beginning to force me to consider what they mean to me and how they may relate to my dreams never coming to light. That giant house is a place that has been my home and that of others in various dreams for years. Sometimes I am trying to hide from people, other times I am full of desire and attempting to become physical with a woman and the only issue is privacy (which I never find), and once in a while I am in there because I live in such a place and am keeping myself to myself by avoiding going outside at all. The size and shape of the house is different each time but I still know my way around. A couple of dreams had me trying to find a bathroom away from others and the house felt as if it was the one in which my aunt and uncle lived from the seventies to the eighties. That place was enormous and beautiful inside. I often miss them, so that is likely the reason for me feeling it is theirs. Most of the dreams within the mansion involve a female to which I am highly attracted, somewhere. And whether or not she may know of me is not an issue, only my desire to hide us away and be intimate. Well, that is a situation that takes place often enough while I sleep and I still do not understand. There is always something in the way, be it the time, the space, or the realization that what we are attempting is wrong somehow. I don't know, really. The only constant between the sex, running away, or finding isolation is the fucking house. Always huge, complex, and with a sprawling layout which I have always loved. And before you take issue with the topic sentence of that paragraph, I will fix it. Heh. Jamie was the subject then, and comes up again because of my feelings toward her character in more than one television show. I mentioned that despite my overwhelming attraction to her, there has been no desire. And yes, there is THAT scene from years ago but that did nothing, either. I only wished to stare. And there is the fucking reporter again with her long, dark hair and exaggerated facial features which spin me into a froth. The lower half of her face resembles the Raven, the woman in the commercials that I see while watching Prime at night, and one character's daughter on the show that I have been watching on the same. They all share one feature which drives my vision up the wall and I don't know why nor can I describe it. You just have to see. In the future I may capture images for comparison. Maybe. Anyway, the reporter is unique. I might lose my mind over this. There was just a flash of another woman on the screen and that means two things: First, I need to watch fiction instead of the news, and second, I may be beyond help. Again I started a paragraph and the beauty derailed my thought process. No shit, right? I can't help it anymore. I am broken and obsessed at the same time. Days of avoiding seeing others in person helps me most of the time, but it also drives a bulldozer between me and those people. I need it, the help may be there, however the isolation is also prime real estate for me to obsess and withdraw because of it. Right now I see myself losing it completely by the end of May. Okay, now I promise to follow the topic. No desire. Not for her, not for Madchen Amick despite her looking so amazing in every conceivable way, and nothing toward the reporter(s). Oy. But the others? Why? Are they different, or am I different? Let's go to the mansion for a few minutes. The big place had been owned by a woman I know in the latest dream -- as I described -- and said woman is someone to whom I have been physically attracted for years. Yes, several years. Right now? I feel the same as toward the reporter. I did not dream of jumping her, nor did I dream of even pursuing her, and now sitting here in the real world I feel a warmth and caring, nothing more. And believe me, the woman is stunning. I do not fucking understand the differences between the various characters, people, and dreams with regard to how my mind works. There is no insight right now. Why the fucking walnut girl? What is it about her? Yes, there are features over which I have obsessed that she possesses. They are all over her. But all those other women (and don't forget about the nearly eight-hundred images that have graced this site since early fifteen) do not bring those types of urges to mind. They really do not, and if you don't believe me, the time has come for some to realize that being completely full of shit here solves nothing. I own the space, motherfuckers, and aside from the fictional tales, this is all real. My current therapist is the fucking keyboard and I chose to get into this some time ago, so fucking suck it up and either read or go away. Either way, I don't fucking care. Wow, a little defensive, are we? Whatever. Fuck off anyway. Where was I? All over the fucking map, that's where. I am not seeing the value of spouting so much here. I do like to hear the keys click. Something is definitely wrong with me. To be continued."
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