December 13th, 2020 8:57am pst

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The Goddesses and the Pull

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"Yet another Ashley, although I may have mentioned this version and forgotten if you consider the sheer number of actors bearing her name on this channel. Big, beautiful eyes yet again. Damn. Tall, lithe, shit anyway. She does have a bit of the Redford jawline, but still exudes so much due to her eyes. Jesus Harold Christ, what a beauty. Her eyes are a universe.

I guess mentioning that I should stop watching the holiday movies is rather unrealistic. I can't. There are just too many visions -- and yes, some of the stories are compelling -- for me to avoid the chance of gazing at something special. On a day like today, it's best I didn't see much earlier due to everything I mentioned about the morning trials. That time is enough to endure without adding to the pile. Ashley Greene was last night, too. What a mess I became while trying to calculate dinner. We are going to be doing the same in a little while, so having the movie on in the kitchen means I would be better off avoiding cutlery until it's over. That should be funny, but honestly I am that deep these days. Just since seeing Autumn and Bethany the other day -- and a few shots of Grace -- I am beginning to realize that my interest in the mechanics is taking a back seat to desire. I need to swallow all of them at once. Yep, I said that. Desire of the physical type and there is nary a fucking exit off this superhighway. Out of my mind, just like years ago when I drunkenly spied Andrea after lusting over the DFW bartender's ass. I am stuck in this house and such a fact may save my life. The big eyes are tearing now. Fuck me.

Ashley, Ashley, Ashley. Damn it. How does this happen? Is it an omen? The galaxy calling me back seventeen years? She was an amazing person, yes, but... Fuck. Enough already.


Ah there is Olivia on the screen with her round cheeks and teary eyes. Damn did I ever have the hots for that girl when this film was released. Even later, like years, when I was much older and did not realize she was but fourteen years old during most of the filming. Damn it, there was a glimpse of Emmy. I don't need that right now. Anyway, Olivia was super cute even years later. When I was a teenager all I wanted in the world was to see breasts right there in front of my eyes. Typical, I guess, and hers were the front runners for quite some time. Heh. Fortunately, she was but two years younger than me, meaning dreaming of her nude during my teenage years was still within the law. Kind of funny, I guess. The film was a pile of crap, though. Too bad.

I went on quite a bit last night about the Ashleys and what they are beginning to represent. I don't know where any of it will lead me, but I do know for sure that it is not going to be a good place. My head is the problem, combined with all those years of dreaming and remaining stuck on the side of a road with which others were fully involved. I knew it, missed it, and as a result have become overly sensitive to every detail of the same. I cannot help it now. And then the largest downside to the whole shitaree is what takes place in my brain upon seeing a beautiful or otherwise attractive woman out in the world or on my big screen. It's bad, and relates all the way back to my thinking when I ran away to the goblet seventeen fucking years ago. The dreams pull at me like nothing else and force one of two situations, neither of which is good. I begin to wonder, as well. What goes on inside? How does she feel about certain parts of life? Do these things come to mind often? Daily? Hourly like me? And then the big one... Where is the woman who is most like a machine? Ugh. That is very bad, but the way I work now. Wondering what kinds of things are in her head during intimate moments is not something I had envisioned being a problem when I was younger. I didn't even conceive of something like this. Do you see where the years have taken me? Wondering about women I know nothing about nor will ever. What is that?

So tired of thinking.

Pulling at me.

The Ashleys are all beautiful and every now and then another comes along when I least expect. Ashley Scott was way the fuck back in zero one, if I recall correctly, and then soon after on the television. I did not think in the same terms as now, however. I saw her as pretty but did not obsess over her height or anything else. That was later, and pretty much after the other Ashley was on my arm and towering over me with hair all over the place and bouncing breasts. The remaining Ashleys have been on the Hallmark channel (you know) in the last couple of years. The only other Ashley is the sister of one tall blonde of whom I wrote some years ago. Five-foot-eight, as it were. Well, the taller sister had a similar effect upon my head due to her beauty being radically different than her two sisters. Ashley was the shortest of the three at five-seven, but the wonder was elsewhere. I will not go into detail, however. Let's just say that I dreamed of her heavily (while awake, of course) and not until some years passed was I able to calm down over thinking. So, plenty of women bearing that name and I still don't know what they represent. Probably nothing, right? Just the same name at different times throughout the last twenty years. All of them gorgeous in different ways, but the fact is I cannot connect any of them to one another without really going off the deep end. Not necessary. Coincidence? Probably. Should I stop? Absolutely.

Well, one of them still pops into my head and continues to pull my sexual strings. Fading, yes, but still there after several years.


All of the titled essays here add up to less than seven megabytes. Wow. Nearly two hundred titles.

Pause for the cause.

And the house is all mine for hours. Very good. Plus, it's early as hell right now. Not even eight. That means I have time to think, work here, and relax, in addition to taking care of business at my own pace. I need it, as I've stated a million times. I also must keep my head out of the nether regions or I'll lose myself and fuck up the day. So far I am nowhere near anything like that. Excellent. And I have to stay this way for hours or until such time as the feeling subsides like yesterday. With Julie (one of the amazing reference blondes of the universe) on the screen this morning, my task is not going to be easy in the least. She is unique and I can't help but stare at those devilish eyebrows and her carved facial features. One thing which has bothered me since she starred in 'Dexter' all those years ago is the fact that at some point she made the decision to enlarge her breasts when nothing like that was necessary for her to be beautiful. Her body, her right, but honestly I felt so much for her before the fact that now I don't know what to think. The upside is her face is the draw. So fucking gorgeous that I cannot begin to understand or explain. I said unique. That is the best term. Her smile gives me goosebumps. If I begin to imagine her all over me? Done. I am alone and have to remain upright.

Another item went out the door yesterday and one more will be on the mailbox for pickup today. Excellent. There are still plenty more to auction off, too. Not huge amounts of money, but the trickle does not stop. I'll kick off the routine shortly, or whenever the muse goes away. Yesterday was productive and makes me feel effective. Lots of that lately. I don't know what happened to me in November, but getting anything done above and beyond the norm really took a lot out of me. So far this week? I am doing very well. As I said yesterday, the weather is cooling which drives me to work inside. This is a good thing for the house and all those tidbits I left behind so long ago.


Sometimes I feel that dealing with thinking is impossible, while other times I work through it just fine. Fear is the most powerful force in the world these days. Huge. I can't help it, either. The clues came along and drove me into the ground, so much so that I felt like remaining physically inside this house for the remainder of time. And I mean that literally... Never leaving here again, no matter the need. I think of those situations in which the fear begins to take over along with all I have tried to alleviate them, yet everything continues to return at some point or another. Unfortunately, I cannot just spell it out. The ridicule and embarrassment are nearly the same level of fear. Nearly, but not quite. Just since the outset of the first shelter order way back in March, I have endured several examples of little things here and there which add up to a reality I do not wish to face. Not at all. This is a problem of which there can be no real solution. None. I just have to swallow it and try to move on. Thinking is not my friend these days.

I'm just saying... There is always the option. Not good, but it's there. Stop.


I don't know what to think of this day. Coffee next to me and the cats are quiet. This exposition is not easy anymore. I have trouble going around and around everything, and though I know what's going on here, I am beginning to believe that the pencil and paper option is better because I can literally spell things out. The idea of sitting here thinking of everything in my head and yet not really describing in detail means I don't know if this is helping me. Should it be? Yesterday I was AGAIN pressed for information which I have kept to myself for decades. Speaking of some things is only going to force me to withdraw completely, so I did my best to sidestep everything. I can't say shit to a woman. I don't know what is going on inside and cannot reveal things which can make the inside of a woman's head run around the block and back again. This might be a line in which I cease all personal communication completely. I've already said too much to too many women anyway. Stopping now might not change anything, but at least I can stem any further shit flow.

I was talking about today. Yesterday happened and there is nothing I can do about it now, so let's look ahead.

I fucked up the potatoes last night. Under-baked somewhat. Not horrible, but not as soft as I would have preferred. By that point it was too late because the steaks were already rested. No one wants cold food. I think the rework of leftover steak will be better tonight anyway. Eh... No one cares about the potatoes. Just stalling.

I just can't get into it. Some things in life have come to pass and there is nothing I can do to change them now. The memories do not go away, either. Nothing does. I keep carrying everything around and living on a hair trigger, and then a tiny smidgen of information makes me uncomfortable, and that end up leading me right back down into the ground. Words or gestures, sometimes even a facial expression at the wrong moment and one of those latent images returns with force and I close myself off again. There it is in a nutshell. And I already know this will continue to take place for the rest of my life, and that means deciding if being around women is worth the all-too-often downfalls which lead to this crap (all I have now). I've already taken steps to ensure options later should the shit hit the fan (not the fucking pandemic, either... The real thing), and soon other people will notice bits here and there when they see me. IF they see me. So far, I only see two people out of the whole fucking world. Whatever. The issues cannot be out in the open or I will be closed for business. Part of me wants it, too. As long as there is even a snippet of doubt, however, I have to keep going as I have been. I will not be pulled, though.

Danica is adorable but so far from my type that I will refrain from attempting an explanation. The other one was on the screen for a little while yesterday and I gushed a tiny bit. That was a mistake. I went on and on recently about feeling that my behavior can be 'unfair', remember? Well, whether or not it has been, my mouth should remain closed while near other people. And that last statement relates to the mass of fear. Do you see? I don't know what others are thinking, and therein lies the rub. Not good. I have to trust, and we have gone around the fucking barn about that word so much that I am tired of trying. The bottom line is my double-standard sometimes makes me feel bad, while other times I know it is in place for protection, nothing more. Danica didn't cause this. I did. I'll address the fairness issue again soon.

Another Brooke, but not the same at all. Tons of beautiful hair, though. Wow.

Yesterday I was pulled by the worst possible devil and gave in. Damn, now I feel as if I have done something wrong, although if that is true I need to go back a couple of years and rethink all sorts of things. That is not feasible after all this time, so moving forward means being careful. My head is gaining the upper hand these days. Meaning? I have to take steps. I don't feel one way or the other about it right now and I fail to understand why. Maybe I should just leave it alone. I was pretty proud of myself there for a while, but now back into the ground I venture. Start over. Pulling.


If this continues in the same manner as the last few months, my dream of a machine is going to take over, and quickly. I see no other way of finding comfort. The unreal is dreamy and secure, lacking in worry and alleviating fear. The real is all of those in reverse most of the time. Add to that all of the flexibility in appearance and the result is idyllic. Unreal is the key. No feelings equals issues falling away like pieces of wet cake. Ever closer, I am.

12-13. Sunday. Football and my head.

Again yesterday was a slam which I did not need right before the morning lead-in to the football game today. This is going to continue to happen because I already know enough of what is going on inside to be aware of incidents before they take place. And it bothers me... All of it. Last night in an unrelated situation, I fell off a cliff, although I believe the issue yesterday and what happened to me later in the evening can be connected in one way. But as usual, I can't get into specifics. Too embarrassing. After being pressed a bit the other day for information, I am actually less inclined to share than prior to that afternoon. When I am pushed, I withdraw. It just isn't going to happen. I feel like there is nothing I can do to improve anything anymore. There are three weeks left in the month and the outset of the next year is as the end of life. Just like I wrote? Yep, no hope, no life. I have nothing left to offer in any sense of the word, and no matter how many platitudes are thrown my way nor how often, I still feel the same because of the contrast. Another few moments of memories and photos last night pretty much sealed that area of my psyche for all time. The only thing I can do is keep selling and reduce myself to as much cash as possible. After that? I don't know yet.

Three dreams this morning, one of which hit me upside the head and I want it badly to return. Right behind where I am sitting at this moment stood Alley and the goddess, Alley being completely nude and appearing as she did in the nineties. I gazed and spoke with her a bit, effectively informing her that I would die to pose and capture her beauty with my camera. She immediately agreed. Very flirty, super sweet and cute in her voice and mannerisms, and after realizing that she was all mine to do as I pleased, I kneeled and reached for the strip of hair just above her sex and tugged a bit... 'You'll have to lose this, of course.' She giggled and stated that it would be gone soon, and for whenever I needed her to be my project. All the while the goddess (knowing all about me and my obsession) laughed lightly. My head could barely process Alley right there in my dining room and willing to be whatever I wished, and whenever. The woman was something else back more than two decades, and to see her right there next to me in her prime was unreal. Smiling, and all mine. And just as the idea of four hands and two mouths popped into my brain, I awakened. Dark, quiet, warm... Back to sleep feeling depression over the dream being gone.

And then a fire.

I don't know whose house I was visiting, but there were lots of people around the property -- like maybe a party of some kind -- and I knew something was burning. I kind of felt that it was the house my partner and I worked on for so many months which belongs to a friend, but the place had an older, lived-in appearance. There was a partially exposed attic where the flames could be seen. I grabbed the garden hose and stepped up a ladder to help others deal with small fires all over the attic, but every time I rose to the top and peered in, all I saw was smoke. Back down the ladder to check another location, and there were flames on exposed trusses and such. Into the kitchen, I broke a piece of sheetrock to gain access and then shot the water everywhere possible. No on seemed very alarmed at the fire being all over the attic, but I was nearly panicked. After working for years with torches and around people's homes, my biggest fear was causing a fire. We were extremely careful all the time, so seeing flames up there was frightening. Oh boy, the rain is coming down pretty heavily right now.

Anyway, nothing came of the fire. I began to feel better because I had the sprayer and directed water all over the place. Eventually I realized there were so many people present that the situation would soon be under control. Awake again, still with Alley's huge, round breasts in my head. No more fire.

The third dream was confusing and unclear. I recall being in the bank again, like last time, with the same girl at my side and wondering why a financial institution was so vulnerable. No security, no locks, nothing to keep people from hauling off with money. Well, the girl was there again, yet this time there was no pizza on her lap. She was approaching me, smiling, and looking as if she had been waiting some time for me to arrive. No mask, either, meaning I could see her entire face again. Last week I had to bring my temperature gun with battery and charger to the bank and she seemed to be approaching me then, as well. My dream probably reflected the situation, which was actually meaningless. I was in the branch barely two minutes. In the dream we did not speak, whereas last time she was pressing me to eat something because we were apparently going to be stuck there a while. The dream this morning culminated in my seeing her up close and then everything went away. I awakened still longing to see Alley's breasts in my face again. Ugh. Everything is just ugh right now.


Alley is just another facet of desire. Back twenty-plus years ago she was at the top of my fantasy list. I longed to be near her and gaze, often leading my head to want her physically, and damned-near daily. The pulling of my brain leading to the pulling of my attention away from everything upon which I should have been focused. Nope. One pull outweighed all of the others. Just a few short years later and that pull, along with a deep-seated need to get away from the norm, would find me knee-deep in the goblet.

I suppose today will be like any other Sunday. I'll get a few things done and then go watch the game, after which I'll come back here and finish. The football is nearly the only activity which separates my days anymore. They are all running together. Morning coffee and computer, getting her ready and off to work, time to myself for the routine or whatever I wish to accomplish, and then the same evening over and over like I am in that circle from eleven. This is very bad, I am more depressed than I can recall ever, and I have zero prospects in the pipeline. In fact, I don't even believe there IS a pipeline anymore. I probably ruined it along with everything else which continues to be lamented here daily. One upside is the idea that life is really hitting me so hard right now that the visions up on the big screen are losing importance. They are just people and I can live without all that shit. Fish, remember?

Well the rain is still coming down as the light is heading up. I'll have to get some things done here soon so the remainder of the day is comfortable. Hopefully the shit in my head from yesterday doesn't cause the game to turn into a pile of shit. Right now I feel fragile and have no fucking idea of what the time will be like. I just don't know. I honestly watch to see big plays and just relax. Win or lose anymore? I don't care. I like the activity and the season, nothing more. If yesterday gets in the way of my enjoyment, I'll have to take steps for protection and get the hell away from others for a while.

I have no doubt both the goddesses and all of the pulling which arises every now and then are going to cause more problems than I am equipped to handle. Soon I'll be reduced to nothing more than housework and typing words no one else will ever see. As I said before, these last few weeks of the year had better be special.

The dirt is rising around my feet."