December 2nd, 2020 9:27am pst

If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning

Finis Spe, Finis Vitae

 read ( words)


I don't even know where to start. Between last Monday night and Wednesday morning, a few situations took place which have proven a point to me; one which cannot be argued any longer. Everything appeared differently this time, as if I had never been there and was only able to see just where they wished me to gaze. Maybe I saw too much. The trip was the final visit to my past and all it entailed. I can no longer travel there, no matter the circumstances. Such a statement is but one of many right now, and the easiest for me to swallow.

Let's go back to Sunday last. Not the best day, but fairly productive...

Here I sit just shy of twelve hours to wheels-up on the trip. Yep. All of the business is complete, meaning loading the bags in the morning is all I need to do before cranking the heat and rolling toward coffee. Considering the condition of the world this year, I'm surprised we are going anywhere. Alas, the resort is well-controlled and clean. No worries there. The morning system will be in place: drive up the hill for coffee and pastries, cruise to the first stop for a bathroom and refill, hit the mountains for a second stop in the cold, and then into the valet to check in. Our room is always ready early, meaning we can have the luggage brought up and regroup. I am very much looking forward to driving up into the snowy landscape and leaving home behind for the first time in eighteen months.

This upcoming escape feels unreal now, as if we should not be going but need to get the hell out of here badly enough to make it happen. The past trips have always proven relaxing and as necessary as my drawing breath. The work was very difficult and pushed me to plan each vacation keeping the separation in mind. I went to great lengths to ensure nice meals and an agreeable, slower pace to contrast daily life at home, resulting in a sort of glow around the resort. In my mind, we needed it from time to time if for nothing more than to be away from the norm. This time? There will doubtless be differences which will make the visit a tad arduous, but we have discussed everything and decided that the effort is worth it.

Effort? Worth it? No... A massive error in judgment.

The valet was suspended at some point due to the danger of others being in a person's vehicle, and that makes sense. I dropped her and our luggage at the door and parked, and then headed in to get our things in order. Just as I suspected, the room was ready and our bags handled by the bell desk. Yes, I missed the courtesy of the valet and all of the pleasantries involved, but for the most part our arrival was very smooth. We settled in, organized everything, and then headed across the street for an inexpensive lunch. Along the way? Very few individuals. I almost immediately noticed the fucking void due to my favorite place (and one with more family history than I care to describe) being relocated nineteen floors up and the Godforsaken direction the resort took in order to satiate younger, more modern desires for cuisine. What a fucking slap after decades. Nothing but bright, snazzy and flashy newness where a classic look once resided. The entire forward half of the club appeared different due to the change they implemented. My heart sank. The odd thing was all the way at the opposite end and toward the lake elevators. The hold Hard Rock Cafe was still there. Closed for almost two years, but sitting idle and covered. Why? Was getting another celebrity chef's name into the club important enough to leave the older venue by the wayside for so long? Idiots.

Across the street via the tunnel, directly. I needed no more reminders of so many fucking changes. Honestly, though, who the fuck am I? Nobody when compared to a filthy-rich corporation holding all of the strings. What I need now is someone to tell me of the benefits of progress. Maybe after the ensuing scrape I'll be killed. We ventured through the partner casino and off toward a small food court. That is not exactly my type of thing, but we were hungry, knew the meals there were very tasty and satisfying, and our destination of choice had been removed some time before. Along the walk we realized that the staff was working diligently to keep the resort clean and sanitized, meaning we could relax more than originally thought.

"Fill my vast sails of ruin
Steer me toward the bleak end
An horizon of purples and reds
The still waters of my welcome end;"

So, Monday the announcement came through the media stating Nevada's restrictions would tighten overnight. And they did, although the resorts were fairly deserted before such a change. Capacity was reduced and procedures were enforced (gently, for the most part). We stuck with it despite lacking some ability to relax and enjoy the place as much as during prior trips. Well, the changes affected the manner in which we had meals, too. That was the largest push at my brain for a while. Between the seventy-year old restaurant which felt like a second home since my early years nearly half a century ago, and the fact that we ended up sitting twice in the room for dinner, the feeling inside was one of defeat. Naturally, the resort is not at fault for most of it, however the restaurant in question and its new location having usurped another fucking joy of a restaurant just to fit a celebrity chef in the main room of the casino really slammed me. The corporation will do as it pleases, honestly. There is no stopping anything they feel is necessary for bringing in the maximum amount of cash per visitor. As such, they have effectively alienated me to the point of likely avoiding their resorts for the remainder of my life.

As I said... The state of the world is something unavoidable for a business. Decisions involving separating the past from the present are another story. Such a subject is but one tidbit in a week full of examples of what I have become and the inherent changes over which I apparently have little control. One situation plays out and slams me, and then something tiny comes along to reinforce the slam, soon after finding me curled up inside and in disbelief. Just this morning I went all the way back to the Bombay Company again and the feeling of standing there in awe of their furniture. Next to me was a person for whom I did not care enough at the time. Not by a damned sight. The years all came along at one point Tuesday night and are still in there. Very bad.

The trip was wondrous at times, although knowing it stands as the last type of destination for years hurts me. I grew up there, literally. Decades of the culture in general, and the exact resort in particular. Those tiny details which remain after so many years cannot hold up to the changes. I understand that the gaming methods advancing from so many highly-temperamental mechanical marvels to more reliable, digital machinery goes without saying (although the change is a matter of the deadly 'progress'), but still the atmosphere must adjust to allow for wonder and excitement. Otherwise, why visit and risk money?

Tanya is one of those women with whom I wished to have sex when I was young, although at that point in time I had no idea of what such a word meant. Curious... Now I know all about that word but keep wishing I did not. Just like Spock stated almost fifty years ago: "After a time, you may find that 'having' is not so pleasing a thing after all as 'wanting'. It is not logical, but it is often true." I cannot disagree. Unfortunately, that ship sailed long ago and was destroyed in the process. Now I think too much. No going back. None. Never me. Sorry, Tanya... I really liked you when this movie premiered, even with the fucking blonde hair. Back then I had no idea that wishing to be all over you was going to later ruin me. Not your fault at all, beautiful. Sex... Hmm. What a fucking joke. Never me, more than in the past. The scene weeks ago was just too much and I can't get it out of my head. Never fucking me.

A cocktail before eleven is not good, but alas I have no hope anyway. My universe is finished. Why try?

"Can't tell if my eyes are open or closed
The grieving waters swallow
The pain I'm in through my life of sin
The Devil will doubtless follow;"

Here I am alone again with the chores and show keeping me company. The goddess is going to visit later so we can catch up and watch an episode. I am looking forward to being in our little bubble for a while. The game this Sunday will be more of the same. She keeps parts of me upright when they would otherwise fall down. I could have used some of her understanding on the trip, although this time I believe I would have pushed it away. The difficulties I experience on a typical day are somehow amplified while visiting the culture, meaning I have other little issues cropping up while in the midst of trying to help myself through a given situation. And they do not go away. The only saving grace was a distinct lack of people, meaning less of you-know-what. Aside from one of our servers in the casino (a woman who feels like a sister after all these years), I saw very little of anything which often presses me down. Ever since that woman who walked by me a couple of years ago while resembling Andrea's gait, I become fearful as we move about the big resorts. Eh... I don't believe anything could have come along and shoved my other problems to the rear anyway.

Lots of laundry is helping to relieve the trouble.

One certainty is that none of what I see remains inside for very long. Forgotten. The funny one still makes me smile (a quick and simple adjustment of her underwear was what took place) but the others are gone. The most noteworthy woman in four days was staffing the pick-up window at the new restaurant, and needing some information on dining options I spoke with her for a few minutes. And yes, I took in quite a bit during a very short period of time. I cannot see her any longer, however. The other side of the street held a shop we visited, and lo and behold right there behind the counter from a three-quarter angle was another woman appearing as if I drew her proportions from memory. A few seconds, a few questions, and we strolled out to greener pastures. That one? With the pants of a lifetime? Faded in minutes. I believe the importance of other parts of life coupled with knowing there will always be some form to tug at my attention are the reasoning behind no one taking up residence in my brain for very long.

Dinner Tuesday night was actually inside a restaurant across the street from our resort. A nice little place we have visited before. Reservations, waiting about an hour in the partner casino, and then inside the warmth to be seated far from others. We were very isolated, as their procedures were being enforced dramatically. And then the twenty-something server and her long hair. Courteous, kind, and efficient above all other aspects. Yes, I watched her walk all around the room along with another beauty wearing a face shield due to her glasses. The restaurant is well known for always having a younger, female staff and boy do they look adorable going about their business. Honestly? The impeccable service won out over the cuteness. It really did. We had a great meal and even better experience thanks to the staff. Unfortunately, that was one of only two meals actually inside a restaurant. Restrictions aside, the options for dining casually in those hotels have been narrowed so much in the last decade that finding anything reasonably comfortable and satisfying often requires venturing off the property. That is just plain wrong. Considering one other hotel under the same ownership in the goblet has no less than fifteen restaurants means they can do better. Just another little notch which will keep me away. Their loss? Nope. Just mine.

video blackjack

Afternoon has arrived and I am in the middle of completing my chores. Also, the auctions I tracked while on vacation are nearing their ends and will require packing and shipping soon. I still plan to sell more of those possessions which are of monetary value but little personal need. Stop.


Saturday after one of the toughest weeks and worst mindsets imaginable. Was the trip a mistake? I still don't know. What I do know is the difficulties followed me home and added to what was already there. This morning I am unable to discern exactly when each catalyst took me. Three of them, and only one was something with which I have become familiar just recently and had been unheard of prior to this year. That situation is going to require much consideration. Sitting here now may be about as good as it gets these days. Coffee, cats asleep, the holiday stories playing out up there, and an otherwise very quiet house. My physical comfort right now is ideal if I am to think about everything and try to improve what may otherwise kill me in the near future. There are still the pluses here and there, but honestly most of the time I feel like shit for one reason or another. Back to the Bombay Company and that first Christmas season of eighty-nine, all wide eyes and possibility. She was there, too. No, not the woman of my dreams as there is no such person in existence. Just a person. Like the one in the next room or the goddess or any of the others right up to and including the dramatic and unreal beauty splayed all over the big screen sometimes... People. My head cannot process this, however. Calling the last several days a tough week is the understatement of a lifetime.

Three situations took place while in Nevada, none of which could be avoided. I had no idea until Wednesday morning that so many little changes could have pushed me to feel worse than I have in years; even moreso than the isolation of eleven. That was bad, and other than the occasional desire to end myself, the worry has been amplified to a similar level, also like eleven. I am at this moment further down than I can recall and see nothing on the horizon. Leaving work was necessary (and still is, as I cannot go back to it due to more reasons than I am willing to share here), but has partially ruined me. Two of the situations are still at the forefront, both having a hand in the way I now see myself and the future. The third is right behind and awaiting my attention. Everything is becoming dark and out of my control. Not good. The change I had been hoping to implement only just began and was halted suddenly though the realization that I no longer have the drive to do much at all.

The fact that I have a Saturday awaiting me and most of the recovery work was completed yesterday means I can take care of more listings. One ended yesterday (big smile, for whatever it may be worth), another ends tomorrow, and I fully intend to keep this wave rolling until close to the end of the year (life). I need cash coming out of my fucking ass right now. No cash means no options, and that is not good in the least. While up in the mountains, I felt that pull like always. The one which drew me like a gun all the way to the goblet on so many occasions. The situation now is completely fucking different as I cannot get the past back (nor can I fly around like a madman anytime I wish), but one certainty is that a pile of money can lead to all manner of options. No arguing that fucking point. I remember this woman in the movie and she reminds me of Erin something-or-other. Heh. Younger, though. Erin is in her late sixties, I think. Doesn't matter. Those types of dreams are so far back right now that I can't see them through the fog of what took place to break me in half while on vacation. Anyway, today I can organize a little bit and then shoot a few things to list, one at a time. A trip to the post office will reinforce my supplies and enable shipping without leaving the house... My favorite. Pictures, a box, some tape and a printed label, and then some days later money appears. I need it for my sanity. The intention is to force myself into such a position so as to take advantage of the only bits of life I have left to enjoy. They cost money and do not involve other people.

"So deep now I feel so numb
I'm ravaged by utter loss
The guilt, the grief, the astounding pain
My body, they all will wash;"

I really need to think about that big fucking slam the other day. Wednesday, I believe. Or was it Tuesday? I can't remember, but that does not matter. The fact is I may have had a hand in causing this over a very long time period. Not sure, though. I don't know much about all of the psychological effects of some aspects of life, although I do understand some... Perhaps enough to figure this out. If I can't, you'll know pretty quickly because this (like I have threatened many a time before) will disappear sans explanation. I don't care, either. Nothing I have found helps me as of yet, and the exposition here is becoming nothing more than my enjoying the sound of the keys. The problem may be too much for my brain to handle, I cannot speak to anyone about it, and that leaves me to work alone. The fact that something took place while up there on vacation really puts a fine point on all that I have written about Nevada for five years. Unbelievable, really.

Again, today is Saturday. Not unlike any other day of a given week because I have gone nowhere in months. And I do not mean 'gone' as in physically. I mean I am stagnant... Stuck... Mired in my own pile of shit.

The trip showed me visions of a kind I do not normally pay any attention. Machines (no, not THOSE machines), lights, and functions the type of which maintain the business of a casino. The way the pit looks while all tables are closed, the wandering slot technicians who damned-near have nothing to do anymore due to the sophistication of the newest gambling methods, the fact that there are few sounds in the club no matter the number of patrons, and the unnerving feeling of sitting within a giant illusion and knowing I am meaningless. As a young person attached to a guest who was friends with those at the highest levels of the business, I felt the other side. I was important, for lack of a better word, and treated like gold all of the time while with him. I had no idea that money had purchased such attention over the course of many years. I thought he was someone special to the establishment, not just to me. Like the Wizard of Oz, I finally saw behind a massive facade to the inner workings and did not like the sight. Now? After being there on our usual trip? I deeply miss the not knowing, and likely will never be able to enjoy what I once embraced, even back just eighteen months ago. I don't mean to quote Harry Dean Stanton again, but it's all gone. Splendid.

She definitely reminds me of Erin, but not in a way consistent with desire or any type of need. Just a woman up there, younger than Erin by decades. A person. Ugh. I have to change the images on this entry right fucking now.

Better. Onward, but to where?

As I said, the importance of dumping things for auction is critical right now. My peace of mind must be maintained, and that is a step in the right direction. Also? The only activity within which I can engage that directs me any way other than down. Heh. I wish that was funny, damn it. I have the first item out there on the mailbox for pickup today and the second will be completed tomorrow. Thumbs up, and this means it is time to list the third and fourth. Very good. Aside from the hot coffee next to me and the Christmas movie up there on my huge television, I have little else to make me happy. Nothing, really. The cash will trickle for weeks and lead up to the end of the year. I have other tasks today, too. The tree trimming, some cleaning, and the final laundry for the weekend will make up part of my day. Thinking about what took place on the trip will not leave my head so I may come back to this periodically, too. I can't avoid the need to type. I realize I have not really said anything, but specifics must be left out if this content remains public. Whatever. Nothing is accomplished here, anyway.

The Christmas movies may be on during most of the day unless I feel the need for familiarity. Often I must put on one of the five shows in order to be comfortable while working on this or that. I really can't help it, either, because the safety of my eyes and ears can take over all other endeavors quite often. The trip showed me its share of visions (not many at all, but there is always something), meaning I have both sexes in my head yet again. They will not leave sometimes. The football games tomorrow will bend my head if I don't prepare in earnest. The difficulty happens despite my intentions, though. There is no way around it anymore. Too much has transpired this year and I am very different than the me of the outset in March. Here we are all the way toward the end of November and each week which passes finds me troubled by one aspect of society or another. I still have to try if I am to watch at all. The Christmas movies on Hallmark also hold their fair share of shit, but again there has to be balance. I cannot avoid everything no matter the reason. One of my favorite days of the year is now behind us, the other will approach at breakneck speed. Each second? Yeah, maybe.

They really instill the spirit with tons of decorations everywhere, and in every scene. Geez.

I had thought being required to wear a mask in the casino -- even while smoking or drinking -- was going to be tough. It was from a comfort standpoint, but the importance pretty well outweighed any annoyance. I found that dropping the mask to take a drag or a sip and then replacing it became tedious, hence I ended up doing less of both. Nothing wrong with that, but as I said, I thought the act would be difficult. When compared to the shit in my head, however, the mask was no more than a slight motion rather than a trial. I learned two things while there, neither of which is good or can be dealt with easily. One may be completely out of my control, too. Not good. I am referring to something which, if absent from my life, will leave me no reason to continue. None whatsoever. It is that important. Talk about a depressing fucking thought? Good luck.

These next several weeks had better be pretty Goddamned comfortable. Mark my words. The alternative is ugly.

cocktail server

The change. Hmm... Where do I go, and how far? Do I alienate everyone and hole up until the end of time? Or the end of me, at least? The answer is I don't have the first damned clue. Sometimes I feel that to push some people away is not fair and unwarranted, while others have already been tossed to the curb. My mood often dictates any behavior toward people, too. If I am in a sour mood (like for the past several days), the instinct is to become abrasive, effectively forcing others to pull themselves away rather than being more specific about any reasoning behind my shit. I can be pretty fucking unpleasant, as well. The problem is I am speaking of those for whom I really care. Bottom line? I can only go so far before feeling like I must retract. No matter how upset I may be at a given moment, I cannot be mean. That is not me. Hence, I know not how to proceed, but something has to happen in order to let others know that I am no longer the person with which to trifle. I am unhappy, disillusioned, depressed, upset with my own acts of weakness, and constantly angling for something better even knowing it is not out there. Everything is impossible, really, so pile that on top of the rest. And don't give me shit for being unclear. I will shut you down.

The double standard is nothing compared to my current state of mind. Stop.


Sunday morning and the table normally to the right which holds my coffee cup is now across the room due to the tree being up. Oy. The coffee is to my left now, perched on several coasters and balanced on one of the sofa cushions. Heh. The tree was a bit of a chore and required reconfiguring some furniture and digging into things we have not explored for years. The affair turned out to be very good for the house in general and our storage in particular. I still have things and boxes all over the garage, but that doesn't matter and can be dealt with during my alone time tomorrow. Today being Sunday means I need to have order by a specific time before relaxing with the game. All that shit I usually complete on this day. Honestly, if I continue to feel as physically drained as I have since last night, I may not be going to watch the football game. Right now I just don't know. Ah, fuck it anyway. Everything is different now, both inside my head and out there in the real world. My fictional, dreamy state cannot hold itself together, nor can I seem to maintain a straight line in any conceivable direction. The football and my current health really do not matter when everything is viewed in such a manner. Sunday means little. It used to be glorious, comforting, and compelling, but now little more than just another day at home.

"When lovers die and friendships fade
When kin all lie forgotten
The gates of agony spew forth
Your memories, stinking and rotten;"

Charlton Heston was amazing every time. And Linda... Jesus God. Who could have created such a face?

I don't have the holiday movies on this morning because I am trying to avoid those past occasions returning and sending me down the rabbit hole. Yesterday while we were grabbing lights and such, I was reminded of trimming the tree many years ago when it seemed so tall. Both good and bad were daily situations back then, my father having a short temper. For the most part we enjoyed, though. Oh damn there she is again, all legs and void of a tummy. Twenty-three years old when this film was shot. Damn it anyway. She was not short, although standing next to Charlton? Everyone appeared diminutive. Heh. Anyway, the memories flashed here and there while working on the tree, and in the end it looks nice and is up very early in the season. That means we can enjoy for weeks before the need to pack it up for the following year. I'm glad we made the effort. One of the cats is flipping out.

I have a few more images to shoot today, too. I need to get those items out the door for the greater good and soon. Having torn into older boxes of crap in the garage, I also have that partial mess with which to work. Afterward we should have better organization and space. It's overdue, but I guess that matters not. The whole shitaree began with the junk disappearing out of the backyard and then a little push after dragging the tree out of the rafters. This is all very good for the house and my peace of mind. Unfortunately, none of it will ever be enough. The problems and downsides of all I have done cannot be erased, nor will I be able to forget any of it. My head won't let up in the least. I can't even spell out the shit, either. Not even close. All of it just floats in there and takes away the possibility of enjoyment. I cannot relax. There are too many little aspects of life which do not go away and my need to remain at a distance is not always a choice. Not mine, anyway. I don't know where I'm going with this. The glaring fact is I see no future. At least, nothing aside from more of the same and a lessening of my strength in fighting against anything. That is all. I was talking about things to do today and the upside of working around the house, yet the paragraph was taken over by fear and weakness, just like my brain on the average day. Big fucking surprise.

Had the situations not arisen up there in the mountains, I am certain they would eventually have taken place here. Just a matter of time, as my patience with the world and its inhabitants (another story, really) is thinning due to rampant ignorance and stupidity. I can no longer abide the shit on the other side of that door directly in front of me.

As usual, I am all over the place due to the need for keeping everything foggy and not knowing what to say as a result. Bouncing from one issue to another seems the norm these days, anyway. I couldn't hold a straight line right now for cash. There is just too much pushing me.

Some of this trouble is nearly out of my grasp. I cannot say it straight out, but I am smart enough to know that physical issues related to aging are not easy to alleviate, if possible at all. The other main issue took place also without involvement from me. Progress, as I said before, is impossible to fight. The more a person pushes against it, the more the progress rolls right over them. It is a certainty. Enough people want to see changes and they will take place no matter the wishes of others. Too many of said changes have added up to big things appearing radically different from years ago and I am having a hard time dealing with them. Too many. The bottom line appeared before me after being warmly greeted by some staff members and my seeing that they were genuine. The corporation has nothing to do with that because policy can be glossed and then thrown aside by some who are unhappy. What I saw was real. No doubt. And the reason is they enjoy their work, period. Several staff members have been there for decades because they are happy. The corporation cares little, really, but when it comes to pulling the cash from wallets they'll fold themselves in half. Not because they want anyone truly comfortable and happy, though. What they want is for a person to experience the illusion of a courtesy cloud and then spend it all. Then? Get the fuck out and make room for the next wallet. In the process? Traditions have been destroyed. Not sidestepped or forgotten... Fucking destroyed. After nearly fifty years up there, I know it. Ok, enough of that.

I cannot deny that the other shit may be all in my head, but often does not seem so. The truth is I am no doctor nor therapist, so I can only run with what I feel. And that would be pain and loss. As much as I can lament and bitch about the past disappearing and all those things I held dear being impossible these days, the truth is what goes on inside me is far worse. Despite everything so different, I still have to get out of bed and find enough reasons to continue with daily life. The past may be tough to recall now because I had little sight of how happy I was, but the days ahead cause more trouble inside than missing all the other things. I don't know if I will be able to relax and enjoy anymore. Right next to me is our goofy, somewhat-crooked little Christmas tree. When I look at it I don't see things out of place, I see the idea of it and how it warms the house when lit. Directly behind those good feelings is the shadow of problems. And thirty-thousand lines since discovering the images of Jaime and her endless pull on my heart. That is now more content than existed from site inception to the beginning of this calendar year. Unreal. Anyhow, I don't know what to say or do anymore. This goes nowhere, life goes nowhere, my family is all but gone, and I can't sit here and entertain the shit other people spew about making something happen. Just shut the fuck up. Is it fair that I tell others to find happiness and keep their heads up and then fail to do the same for myself? I don't fucking care about fair anymore. Don't even say it.

That paragraph went off the rails. Shit.

No more fair/unfair. I don't give a fuck.

"I hope I ne'er return to life
Oh, Christ just let me go
Let death devour my simple soul
Lest my misery grow;"

Two hours sitting here this morning. At some point I'll get up and begin the day, but for now I have to try to work out what should be typed, if that is possible anymore. I don't seem to make sense lately. The beginning is supposed to be a topic sentence and then the support, but damn if I keep getting off track. Oh well, I guess not being a professional writer means I get a bit of leeway. Maybe.

One part of my brain which has not been addressed for some time is the idea of all I am not. I really can't get into that these days. First, too personal, and second, no answers are going to satisfy my questioning, no matter the source. That is all within, meaning others are simply going to be shot in the face over attempting to help. Unfair? I don't give a shit. I am too tired, that's all. The remaining miles of bad road inside my head have to take priority. Once I stop this, perhaps the pencil and paper will come back out so I can embrace the old methods of drawing and writing at the same time. If so, all of the specifics which have been absent can come forth at long last, and that is where the help may lie. Again, I have no fucking idea, but there is little downside to my embracing the analog. I brought the materials along to Tahoe, but alas there were way too many preoccupations everywhere for me to relax enough for breaking out the medium. And another aspect of writing is one of security: I have a hell of a safe where the words can remain. If another person sees what I may be writing? The worst outcome imaginable. Believe it. That is a statement which comes and goes without the possibility of a rebuttal. And now we have a stunning, tall, dark beauty on the fucking screen and the video decides to be jittery again. Splendid. I can't catch a break these days. Holy Jesus fucking God in a mixing bowl, I should not have seen her. Eh... I've done this too much. Shut up, idiot. There are only a few beauties which could keep my eyes on jittery video anyway, and she is not one of them. Bye, bye, baby.

Sex in my head. Where did that come from? No dreams that I can recall. Whatever.

Idris and his epic voice. Damn. That hit me right in the heart. Never me.

Eh, soon I have to get away from this, but being this is the last entry for the foreseeable future, I have to sit and finish it this morning. The importance of a timely journal pushes me to avoid writing for several days and then publishing, which effectively confuses even me, let alone other readers (if there are such anymore). The light is up and sunshine appears to be warming the yard like yesterday. This is good if I am to avoid freezing my ass off in the garage today. Heh. And now we have a film from the ethereal four-year period which is beginning to define my life. Not the film... The period. You know. I keep going back to that time as it continues to increase in importance. The more I think about what took place back then, the more I realize how much those years shaped the person sitting at this keyboard right now. Where was I? Ah... Publishing. The longer entries went away for a time but this one is going to make up for all of them. I don't care. Being the last, I must congeal everything and do my best to get it polished. Yes, polished. I can't have shit on the screen after all these years. The chores will still be there awaiting my attention if I keep this going a while longer. The site needs it, I need it, and the release from doing this shit day after day will allow me to transition back to the paper. Sunday chores and scheduling used to be critical to my weekend happiness and separation from the toilsome work, but now I don't view the day in a similar manner. I see the football while the current season lasts, and little else. Chores have been minimized, so here I sit.

I said those four years partially shaped me. Well, the memory is partially killing me.

penny slots


Monday morning.

There are items which have gone by the wayside recently and I intend to address them here, at least before closing this final chapter. Several entries throughout the last half a year or more have brought up names and situations which I never really closed or solved. The reasoning is that most days I cannot follow a straight line or subject without faltering at some point and losing track of whatever mood put the words here in the first place. I will try to revisit a few and see what develops.

The first on the list is Jaime. I love her, and in so stating I mean two, actually. The real woman I captured more than ten years ago and my creation of the Android sort from the fiction. Both, equally, yet neither can be real. This is a long-standing issue which has been described and over which I've gushed since March. There can be no resolution, so I ceased the effort of going on about the woman who graced my lens. The machine can still go on in fiction, however I've become so disillusioned with life that any creativity has all but disappeared. I think about both of them each day and the machine will typically pop into my head during other times, usually while around women. The real woman stays in the back of my mind all the time. That one just hurts. As for both, there is no resolution of any kind. None of that is available any longer. I am destined to dream of them and fall down over the feelings. Every once in a while I gaze at that soft expression on her beautiful face and fall on mine. I am quite certain that I will continue to stare at her for my remaining days. It hurts, I can't help but look, and no good can come of it, although I no longer have any choice. Jaime's images kicked off a process which is everlasting and over which I have no control whatsoever. That is that. She stays.

"Thrashing out at torment and pain
The maddened sea engulfs me
I let myself be swallowed up
The magnificent weight upon me;"

The four issues have changed positions so many times that I lost track some time ago. One is still strong yet does not seem to cause me harm anymore, although just last night I almost fell on the floor over a sight which will be on my recorder for further study sometime later this week. The very idea that I still gaze and think so deeply means the issue has not and likely will never go away. I have handled it, though. Yes, handled. This means I feel no worse for wear since earlier in the year despite all of the examples of that which eludes me most of the time. And though I am going to save the one I saw on television last night and stare over and over in my typical cloud of appreciation, misunderstanding and dreamy need for more, she will pass just like all the rest, leaving me to await the next vision, be it in person or elsewhere. I already know she will not cause more difficulty than any of the others. The woman is pictured below, thrice. Her appearance in the movie was fleeting, overwhelming, and I have to see her walk again. The rarity of those eyes coupled with the numbers and gait is too much. I must see her again. As I have stated on many an occasion, she will go away with time. A few days ago I spoke of those in Tahoe as disappearing quickly from my attention span, and this one will be no different. For a split second I wanted to dive through the pick-up window at the restaurant, while moments later the need switched itself off. Now that woman is gone.

Those few visions during the trip -- one of which was gorgeous and then hilarious -- did not hit me with the same force as years ago. A couple of servers, one girl at a restaurant off the beaten path where we had brunch one morning, and a fleeting glimpse of one woman strolling through our club early on during the visit are pretty much the only memories. I do not recall falling all over the place from the sight of any of them. One possibility is that I don't see them in the same manner, while another is the idea that other aspects of life have taken priority. While in the city just a year back, if something came along to trip up my sense of beauty, it stuck with me and tormented my brain for days, often longer. Now? Very different. I am worried about myself with regard to daily life, not those forms which will always be out there, somewhere. Bigger fish, as I said before. I honestly believe that my stance on beauty and related mechanics is unchanged and the problems I encountered in the hotel are more dire. They relate to both my view of me and future survival. Wow, this woman on television looks like my first love, way back in the eighties. Interesting. The point of this is I cannot figure anything out if distracted by the forms floating along until my head feels threatened enough to force the issue and work for something more important. Well, that took place three days ago and hit me in the face with enough power to shift my vision away from what I saw. Issue one will always be there. Manageable, but it will not go away in my lifetime.

Issue two? I don't fucking know anymore. Sometimes it kills away parts of me and other times I can work with it just fine and rationalize my fear. The difference between the two is something I may never understand. Yesterday I fell down somewhat over things overheard during the game (big fucking surprise) and then did my best to send the fear of the issue packing while striving to avoid showing any outward signs. As I've said before, when in public situations, one fear outweighs another. It worked, for the most part, and then faded with time. And I am only speaking of a matter of hours. Not much. The result is the knowledge that I have the power to alleviate the fear from within, yet there have been occasions in which I was unable despite the effort. I remember all of them, too. From the statement in the garage to the two words during the show, and everything in between. I forget nothing and that may be part of the problem trying to squash this shit. Many entries had me thinking that it is out of my control, and whether or not such a thing is true, I still must fight when something threatens me. This will likely never go away. Throughout the many months here at home writing, nothing has been solved, I feel exactly the same as in years past during trying situations, and I am bereft of ideas anymore. Issue two. Still the king of the fucking mental hill. I probably should have stopped trying a long time ago. Wasted effort.

I guess I'll be forever seeking any new media which does not harm me in any way. I must say there are possibilities. I know it. The Hallmark movies are good examples, honestly, and can be very hopeful and uplifting during the current state of the world. There are tons of pretty people -- just like that unreal trip during Thanksgiving to the car show via the train years ago in which I saw way too much, including full-time models all over the fucking place and absolutely dripping with appeal -- and the screen always shows off some beautiful clothing, but for whatever reason they are not related to two. There have been occasions in which one of the leads was close, yet it didn't materialize. In fact, he and the others faded before anything serious took place. As I said, I don't know the reason, but there are rarely any issues there. Fairly wholesome, fairly unreal (no shit), and always positive. Maybe those three are why I have not been affected as of yet. I actually feel fortunate that none of them has dropped me thus far. It means at least several weeks can have me more comfortable than otherwise, and one tiny sliver of issue two is lessened. Honestly, no one would watch the holiday movies if every actor was unattractive. Heh, sort of.

Fuck issue three. It has been and always will be beyond reining. Period. I cannot fight the waves of progress nor the coldness, apathy and detachment of other people. The only solution there is to remain alone as often as is humanly possible. Done.

Four. Damn it anyway. What the fuck can I do with it? The last couple of weeks have shown my strength in avoiding anything that will bring me down, so that is good. But it's in there most of the time and I have learned that what I want and need -- the real thing, and part of the reasoning behind Jaime the machine -- is not possible anymore. My head fucks it up, my body follows suit, and then I end up here spouting like a fucking bitchy pain in the ass. Four is likely as powerful as two insofar as its ability to both bring me to my knees and send me into hiding. Sometimes I feel that it is written all over my face and I must stay inside the house alone until there is some sort of improvement. The real thing is easy to consider with regard to artificiality. But reality is different. My brain can conjure all manner of ideal situations at the peak times, too. And that makes the resulting depression so much worse and harder to alleviate. Just this morning I had a dream about my partner's place of work and it was strange beyond belief. I was hunting a gas leak with a well-trained hamster who followed my instructions and had the insane ability to locate the problem. The building was very odd, as well, being two levels and barely protected. Four came to mind when I awakened due to two separate but compelling situations within the building, one with the girl I used to gush about in the parking lot down south, and the other was someone who reminded me of a movie star but I cannot say which. The latter was under my control and I basically instructed her to do as I pleased, to which she immediately complied. There were no feelings, only mechanics. And then she disappeared and the weirdness of the search for the gas leak continued. Four brought me to my knees before exiting the bed.

The second situation was me alone with the cute one and a pizza, of all things. I wanted desperately to be close (like as close as possible), but something kept me away. I stared at her face and chest, wondered why the second level of the bank was so susceptible to entry, and then awakened. I was wound pretty tight for several moments before brewing coffee and feeding the cats. I have since calmed some, but still the compulsion remains. I am nearly powerless. There are varying opinions of this issue, too, but I have reviewed them for decades and formed my own. It may not apply to others, though. I have not the time nor inclination to figure out why people may do what they do. Issue four is tough, comes along no matter what I may be doing or feeling on any given day, and will likely never leave me. Of the four, this is one over which I can hold control, but at the same time I cannot. That is the only way to describe it.


One? Not the end of the world. Two? Could cause the end of my world. Three? Entirely controlled by the world. Four? A world of difficulty.

"The clouds of gray come overhead
A storm will hunt me down
And rip the guts out of my body
That I would surely drown;"

There are no answers whatsoever, really. None. I keep looking for them and faltering in the effort, and then one day something takes place which helps my head to feel relief and comfort, after which an illusion reveals itself as if to laugh at my gullibility and weakness in embracing such a ridiculous idea in the first place. Back to square one, like always. Sitting here on a typical Tuesday morning with the holiday movie and coffee, I see the day ahead -- as I have spewed here many times -- along with the brightness and possibility. Well, I saw that view yesterday morning, too, yet by evening I felt horrible and worthless as compared to years ago. That pushes the now into worse territory and only tells me not to expect much of my day.


The items (six so far!) have been sold and more are to be listed. I found that I can order flat-rate boxes from the postal service which will be dropped on the porch. Any way to avoid contact with others or the need to go out in the world is choice these days. The restrictions have clamped yet again as we headed into purple (tightest) the other day due to people not doing their part to remain safe. Dipshits. I always say that I don't like to see people hurt, although if you're going to be stupid and walk right into the hazard, do it alone to avoid affecting anyone else. Aside from my bitching, the point is I am following through with the selling. Good stuff. Today I will be grabbing a few more items to shoot and list a couple at a time. The funds trickle in and pile up as I ignore the balance for as long as possible.

I'm trying to recall all of the subjects gleaned and then left behind in recent months. The four issues are up there, Jaime and Jaime have been described (for all the fucking good it can do), but still there are parts of life which I tanked forcefully in order to move forward without becoming a complete fucking asshole. I don't know if I should address some of them or not. Jolene? I haven't mentioned her in weeks. Is she someone who caused enough rifts in my life to attempt a description? Or Jamie? No, not her. That one goes without saying. Sometimes the problem lies in the characters they portray. Jolene, for example, is a person, an actor (although I've never watched anything she was in besides Star Trek), and someone about which I actually know nothing. Her age and height, little else. But the character? She is the woman over whom I gushed, not the real person. That is kind of like a double-problem because not only is she unattainable, but the character is fictional. I believe coming from me after all this time the idea is not so far-fetched, but still, it is nuts. Basement. Posters. Muttering to myself while blowing kisses at her image on the wall. Is that where I am headed?

Jolene is but one. There have been others, although I believe she pushed me the most in recent years. Jamie is similar, yet not the character. Quite the reverse, and a large part of that is what she has gone through in life. For some reason I feel for her and wish to hold her sometimes. It comes and goes, though. Maybe mentioning more characters is a bad thing right now. I said I would address the unfinished business, but much of it has been treaded too much already. I'll have to think of something else. So many problems...

Still morning and the house is mine for hours. This is becoming difficult, although knowing I don't have to do it anymore is a freeing consideration. As I have said before, there is a positive in each day and some light in the impending darkness. I must be careful with my notes of finality, though. The light does not address them.

Hmm... Unfinished business, but am I able to finish any of it? 'Doubtful, kid, real doubtful'. Simply sitting here throughout all of these mornings since Friday last (11-27) does not add up to much. I am doing the same thing: Complaining, describing the exact same problems, and yet to leave this behind means I am compelled to produce notes of finality. I don't even know what that means, honestly. After all this time, I should not expect to close anything out besides the check at a restaurant. My brain does not work in such a manner, as I know it well. Perhaps the clarification of a few subjects is enough? I'm trying, but then again I really don't care very much. No matter what I attempt here, any given second I am reminded of just how far down I am right now and how much more difficult it is to climb. The other side of bringing things to a close here is that I see the path behind and realize I have not tried very hard to really improve myself or deal with problems. The bottom line is there can be no resolution whatsoever without actually speaking with another person (or people) who can offer coping methods I have not tried. But how can I do that when everything is frightening, and exposing my inner feelings is the worst of that fear? Snowball.




Jesus Harold Christ, where do they find these actors? The Hallmark casting team is out of fucking control. Glimpses of three movies since I brewed the coffee, and three different Ashleys, believe it or not. Damn. Thinking of the one who was wrapped around me is difficult these days. She saved me in several ways, so the name still stirs me, no matter to whom it may be attached. That young thing was an amazing soul. Like Jolene, she has become a double entendre from heaven itself. In the next two minutes, the channel will travel from one Ashley to another. Unreal.

Such a knot in my stomach right now. It may be due to the idea I had of visiting the goddess later, but I can't be certain. There are other arduous thoughts swirling during each morning, so something else may be lending to the discomfort. The year is waning badly. Into December, believe it or not. I can't. The summer flew by, too. Fast. I feel slammed in the face by the quick passage of time these last several months, as well. Normally this time of year is bright and precious. Now? Not so much. The decorations and tree do help, I must admit, yet there is an underlying doom which will not subside. Anyone who has read the older entries (like those published before the titling began) will know that the beginning of January has never been a good time for me. This year it feels like the end of everything... Finis spe, indeed. I don't know how to alleviate the pressing on my head this morning. This is like a heavy feeling, as if too much weight has been created throughout months and is now unrelenting. Whatever I attempt seems to be more than I can handle at a given time. The projects, selling of possessions, and daily routine are more troubling now than in spring when I fell down and kicked the social media to the fucking curb. That was a very bad time. The present is not the same, but my insides still churn. Hopefully I can avoid closing shop today and hitting the booze early. Not good, ever.

I switched to a 'Danielle' rather than another 'Ashley'. That name claws me sometimes. This channel...

Only nine in the morning. I will soon take care of the usual business and list another item for bidding, after which I will have to push like never before in order to maintain some forward motion. Nothing is easy anymore. Selling and bringing in more cash is a good thing, though. I feel accomplished in having begun the process and knocking off small, inexpensive possessions which are beginning to add up. At least there is one aspect of this month in the positive. Otherwise I am really stuck, both mentally and emotionally. This is becoming one of those oft periods in which I must really shove myself forward. I cannot stress that enough. Unfortunately, I will not be reporting anything more here, so you'll just have to wonder what takes place in the future. Too bad, but stick it in your ass. No sorry.

Wow her nose is amazing. Ugh. Whatever. The visions will always be there.

The morning is bright and sunny, but inside I am damaged nearly beyond description. There are always the little enjoyments and moments which make me smile, though. I have to focus due to the underlying blackness which will not go away. Even the fucking Hallmark movie and its overdone decor cannot pull me from the void. Too deep now. Down, dark, brooding, and unrelenting, just as the past years spent dreaming of something more. Now so many have passed that the possibilities are even slimmer than I can recall. Those four years keep coming back, especially during the holidays. I have no way of replicating such feelings and that fact hurts. I know... Who the fuck is that? Holy shit. Another fucking Ashley! They need to stop this crap or I'll implode again. Jesus. What was I saying? Ah... I know I am supposed to enjoy the memories and attempt to create more in these late days, but honestly I do not even know how, nor can I visualize a starting point. Everything is so bleak that the past shines more brightly than ever before. How in the fuck do I work with this? As always, there are no answers. All of it is long gone, just like my fucking ambition. Read the lyrics and you'll get a sense of it. Do I keep going? Will this accomplish anything? Is there a positive situation to be found, now or ever?

I have no idea if the revisiting and describing of things left by the side of the road has helped. I am also clueless as to whether or not I effectively got the points across. Did I? And did I leave anything out? Tell me. Or not. Never mind. The four issues may be all which were handled appropriately. The Jolene thingy and machinery has only been gleaned slightly. Should I go on? I mean, this is it, the last one, so perhaps I should continue until there are literally no more terms to explore. The machine dream? Maybe I can spell it out more clearly than ever before. Fuck, I don't know. Lost in so many ways, I cannot even say why. 'I am just a drifter in an open sea, but no matter how much I try, the tide will not turn for me. Going round in circles, til I reach the shore... I am blown by so many winds, I can take no more'. No shit. Thank you, Alan, Graham and Stephen.

Midday. My business and lunch are out of the way and I have no idea of what to do now. The cold is still there, although with the sun shining on the back of the house, the temperature inside is still comfortable. One good thing, I guess. I have yet to list another item but I'll get around to it soon. Those are easy these days. I also have a couple of chores I can complete should the mood strike. Right now I just don't know if anything is going to blow my skirt up besides the relaxation. Stop.

12-02. Welcome to the end.

Wednesday and another holiday movie on the television first thing this morning. Brooke the second, I suppose, as Brooke the first was on last night for awhile and caused me to fall all over myself. I wanted to shove her into my mouth forever. Ugh. I needed to switch it off, but there is something compelling about the shape of her face which I cannot avoid. I have to stare. Brooke the first. She is always going to capture my attention while on the screen. I set a recording of the movie later this week for further gazing and study. Just as I said way the fuck up there somewhere, they never cease. Brooke two is adorable, but alas I should know better than to be placing myself into fictional situations. If I am going inside the story, it's all or nothing. Remaining out here in the real world is the same -- one or the other, but I must choose after thinking it through. Until a change is necessary, I'll stay right here staring at all of them up there in dramatic clarity. Coffee, too. My little morning bubble. Two lamps are green, one is red, and the tree is lit. About an hour of this comfort and then I must take care of a few things.

And the house is mine again for hours. Like, eight. I simply MUST come out the other side of this day feeling accomplished. I have to. Little things, like the auctions. Three are live right now, spaced a couple of days apart for ease of shipping, and I have others awaiting attention. This feels really good and now is the time for me to boost myself as the other choice is very bad. A bright day, possibilities, and plenty of time to myself. All the shit above this paragraph now seems dull and plodding. Pedantic. Boring? I suppose that, too. Just words. Today must be more action.

I don't know why I thought I could wrap up five years of crap in one entry. Too long? Suck it.

I opted to return here and describe some of the trip because I have enjoyed such in the past, but this time everything is different. That was the last visit for quite a period. We can't do it again for a few years, so everything was taken as it should have been... Credits, complimentary casino goodies, all of it. We cashed in and made our stay as nice as possible before floating back down the hill. The whole reward world was due to expire at the end of this month anyway, so we went all-in. The interesting aspects have been described, but to sum it? Different. The massive changes throughout years, quiet of the casino floor, and then the little things which used to make us feel special while visiting. Everything added together forced me to feel as if I had never been there. Aside from knowing the layout like my own hand, too much 'new' has come along and pushed me into the territory of a nobody. I suppose I did not really need to do this, but sometimes the feeling overwhelms me and I have to gush. Usually the female forms up there cause a massive rift, while this time they were very much secondary. The trip now seems like a huge gash across my simple existence, and something I did not need when considering all of the other crap going through me. Damn. Flat out? The trip was a necessary mistake. We chewed the credits to leave everything with a note of finality and knowing there would be no return anytime soon... Likely never. Just another once-wondrous facet of my life sliced off. Splendid. What else?

Coming back to this one last time felt like the right thing to do, but now appears as just another pile of shit that no one can understand. I have to leave out the key terms and that means this is worthless. And don't slap me if I claim there is no help here. That is my decision, and believe me when I tell you that when the machine is closed and I walk away, I am exactly the same. So, leave it alone. Please. The only good here is going into a description of key events on the trip. Maybe I should have left everything else the fuck out. I don't know what to do here anymore, hence the fucking axe coming down just a bit further below.

"I quietly leave. A lonely sight
Relieved of all my guilt
To join a wall of deepest Hell
The Devil himself has built."

At least the trip provided me with clarity related to one point: I know where I am heading and why.

And good fucking riddance, everyone.

End of line... Finis spe, finis vitae."