October 8th, 2020 8:57am pdt

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

The End of the Street

 read ( words)

"The item arrived yesterday afternoon during a marathon of the show. This is where I become different enough to make others ask questions, yet there are to be no answers. Live with it. The item which arrived is representative of three time periods and three individuals whom I do not wish to forget, and I need them close right now so I can deal with being in this place and living as I do. Without this near me most of the time, I would not go very much further in life at all. Upon publishing this entry, the change will become apparent. The precise moment. Believe it. I must remember those people and situations no matter what comes down the road toward me.

I will have some time to myself today despite not needing to drive. The house will be under my control. Yesterday was nice and I was happy to see my new token of life arrive safe and sound, however I was not terribly productive. The time went by and was very relaxing, though. Today I need to ensure things are where I want them to be so the evening is rewarding. I am certain that by the time cocktail hour arrives I will have everything moved along nicely. I see more motivation now than in months. I had to push and do something, and considering the slicing off of parts of my heart due to realizing that I will never be happy and those times are gone forever, the item and related activity I am to carry out is compelling beyond description. I simply must have everything a certain way, and soon. Right now the mess is pressing on my head and similar enough to the pressure which causes so much trouble that it must be alleviated. And speaking of the pressure... I am physically not well. Aside from the pandemic and the house being all closed up for two days due to the smoke which burns my eyes, I have another fucking problem which has not been this serious in some years. In fact, I recall exactly the weekend when I could not leave the house and had to cancel plans with my neighbor. At the latest, that would have been zero seven. Yep, that long. Now just this morning I damned near leaped off the sofa after feeling the trouble. This had better not derail my plans today or I will be angry. If my treasure had not shown up yesterday, this pain would likely be worse.

I will continue to speak of the drive east one of these days. There are some aspects which were funny and others kind of interesting in how they relate to my current mindset, so going a bit further with those times might help to illuminate more of me.

Wherewithal. Nope.

Ahh... Yesterday. Not very well done at all. I began but did not last. Now I am less than what I was just two days ago. I do not know what comes over me sometimes, but I can say that the pain and difficulty are beginning to discourage me from trying at all. I'm pretty tired of dealing with this. The last identifying remarks and helpful tidbits were thirteen years ago, right at the edge of the Jamie period, and I thought I would be ok for the long haul. I am not so sure anymore. The little boost of the item arriving and my fascination with its appearance are going to need to keep me up for quite some time. Otherwise, the fall could be the last. Upon close of activities today I will know what to expect as well as what can be done in the short term. The mood went south yesterday and remained down until going to sleep, and so far this morning I am no better. There is nothing I can do about the pain. All over the place again. I can't organize my thinking any longer.

Something took place in my head yesterday during the late morning that I cannot extract. I will keep trying, though, because if it stays in there for too long I will be finished completely. I don't know how or why, but at some point I began to experience emotions born of situations which are not real. That is partially what happened yesterday in that none of it is true, yet I imploded all over the place for a fucking hour before finally gaining control over the emotions and moving forward. I then shoved it back and covered my thinking by distraction. I know none of it is based in reality, and just as the Brunette told me one late afternoon in the city, I had been deeply concerned over words she had not spoken. My head created everything out of the most powerful force in my life. There was nothing I could do, and the further I pushed her for information, the worse I felt. Well, this time no one else is involved, only me and my brain. The endless fear can often be suppressed or even dealt with as it should, however this time I do not see a way to avoid the effects. The conversation with the Brunette that day forced me to turn inward and try to understand from were all of it stemmed. After we mellowed out and went to our meeting, I began to believe that the best path would be to not reveal such things again in my life. Keep it all away from others out of the other fear. And then just try to hold up as best I can. And while the truth is that I have already revealed a part of one such situation to another person, I can still shut it the hell off. That may be necessary now. If I am to truly keep everything inside, the effort is going to be tremendous.

I mentioned unpleasant. There is a need to keep them at arm's length. I see no alternative right now.

Recently I spoke about months ago when I became really stressed and then flipped out. I am close to that now because the job picture is looking dim, I am feeling cemented (dangerous) where I am in life, and the last time I snapped all I did was drink a ton of beer and then build things in the garage. This occasion is a little different, yet I am still helpless to react badly. I see the car out there and wish to drive away for a while, but there is nowhere to go. I have to stay right here and go through the motions of a proper 'caretaker'. There is a slight upside, though, and that is I can make those little changes one by one and no one will notice until a dramatic shift takes place. If done correctly, there will be little to no warning. I almost used the camel analogy there for a minute. No spitting. Or is that a llama? Eh, I don't remember. Doesn't matter anyway. The point is that I can approach by stealth and shower the target before anyone is out of bed in the morning. As soon as I finish the coffee and close this machine, the party begins. All these months of stating that I would do something different are now gone and I am not happy about it. Everything is gone... From the past to the ambition to the fucking desire for understanding.

I've had it. Period.

I guess that means there is nothing more to explore here, right? Didn't I just say I've had it? Well, there is still unfinished business. Work to do. One item to solve or I will no longer be around any other women at all. No one. If I don't either figure this out or come to some sort of terms with what takes place inside me, I will spend my remaining days completely alone and closed off from the world. And I have no clue as to where to begin. Maybe I'll just talk about other things and let it hit the screen of its own volition.

The time is short, however. Not good. Nothing is good. Covering my feelings will be tough.


Yesterday I had the new timepiece in hand to adjust everything, fix up the bracelet for my wrist, and begin to understand its operation. After doing a bit of reading, I ventured to the back yard and placed it on the picnic table to synchronize with three satellites. That took place quickly, after which I did a location correction and the watch is dead-on the atomic clock in Colorado. It is supposed to remain within five seconds per month WITHOUT syncing with GPS, so I have no idea of how sharp it can be when connecting to the birds daily. So far, I am pleased. It has become a reference for my few other watches which correct themselves via radio. Pretty cool. Whatever takes place throughout the coming days, week, months, this new electronic wonder will be with me. One tiny aspect of the appearance struck me upside the head and I had to see more. If I can get some of my sordid life in order I may set up and photograph it in detail. The aspect to which I refer is simple, yet effectively sends the entire look into orbit. I may share it here if I don't lose my mind first.


So far this day has been exactly like all the rest for a very long time. I have to wait until fairly late in the morning to do anything noisy, but that's fine right now. The quiet is good for the time being. It allows me to maintain clarity while the problems stay to the rear. I will deal with them soon enough. Ah, the television this morning. Some good, some bad, some I do not care to see, but there are parts of me that can deal with it and hold up the other parts. Yes, it's exhausting, but I don't have much choice anymore. In fact, I am actually proud of being mostly myself around others lately while shit spins inside. I've held it together pretty well thus far. The effort is trying and heavy, though. I'm tired. But again, one fear has successfully outweighed the other. I guess I have to keep that going as long as possible, or at least until I either fix myself or completely explode all over someone else. One will win out and then I don't have to worry anymore. And that is the only plus to the situation... If I become the person I was twenty years ago, no one will want to be near me. I was very difficult to deal with and unpredictable. Angry, dissatisfied with everyone and everything, and so very full of disdain with society that few words could come out of my mouth before turning into a very harsh individual. There is a tiny little speck, though, and that is the idea that I am angry over something I either created myself or allowed to affect me out of weakness. I cannot lash at others if I am truly to blame. I may still, but should not. Ever. Unfair.

The way I am feeling right now is not good, although I am not unhappy with anyone in particular, only the situations and events of the past which either I allowed to affect me or took their toll in other ways. When I was young I felt powerless to do anything or take issue with another person after being wronged or hurt. Now I have the ability to argue any point, but those people are all gone. I can reason all I want, however there is no changing those times. I must work with what I have and ensure nothing similar takes place in the future. Oh yes, I know that being much older and having lived life as many others, there is wisdom inside which prevents bad things from developing. I know it. I'm not the wisest or most intelligent, though. No one is. Situations which arise these days feel different, as if I have a measure of control over both my reaction and the manner in which I deal with people. As a child, I was stuck. And though I am now stuck in other ways, the fact remains that I am an independent adult with the resources inside to keep my head up despite the actions of those unfeeling, ignorant individuals. I can affect changes with respect to relationships and decide on my own who I wish to be near and those who must go away. This whole line of thinking is an oversimplification, but you probably get the point. Today I am taking everything into consideration before pushing buttons. Permanent buttons, to be sure. Once the coffee is gone and I change out of my pajamas, the fun begins. Thank Christ I have gallons of beer.


Issue one, the obsession, is no longer an issue. Three is whatever I make of it and I know I am above it and a better person for the effort, four is completely under my control, so moving forward means two is going to be the project. If that means I can no longer be near women, so be it. I will survive. Issue two is not the fault of women, but here is a nice 'cram the words up your ass' anyway. Fuck off. Not happy with much at this moment. I absolutely cannot WAIT to push and watch others react.

Ah, today. Nice beginning, huh? I'm already in a bad fucking mood and such a fact is good for production. Bad for those around me, though. I don't care. Go away and stay there.

Xander Berkeley is fantastic on the screen.

Almost time for me to kick into gear this morning. The bitching may seem out of line or even out of order, and if you feel either of those I invite you to jump from this site to something else. I own it. Fuck yourself. Do it now. The bitching is important and I feel strongly about the words here, so after a little work around the house I will carry this forward to wherever I need. Right now I feel a touch improved over getting some of the above shit to the screen, too. Just a little, but it's better than nothing. These days, anything with the ability to send me up is a necessity. The alternative is not good.


Out in the world for longer than I had thought possible these days without losing my shit. Heh. The people and places have not really changed much. There is simply less of everything. I had not planned to be over on the other side of the hill for long, just an oil change, but ended up running around a little. Whatever. Sunday now. A little business, a lot of relaxing, and then up the hill for football this afternoon. I am really looking forward to stretching the time today, too. Yesterday was cut short a little which means I need to make up for it. The television is going to have to keep me company. I am quickly losing interest in other people as the background of life. I can deal with being alone just fine. There are few who would understand. I'll have to seek something demonstrative and send it flying like those birds at a gunshot.

Some of these older movies remind me that the clothes we wore in the seventies and eighties should have been burned. Ugh, what were we thinking? I guess everything seemed appropriate and attractive at the time. The early eighties being my least favorite period, I am surprised to be commenting at all. The seventies were a time when I was very fearful for more than one reason which I cannot go into here, but the later years really took their toll. As I aged and moved into the nineties, I was able to take all that seventies crap and file it away. I am older now than my parents were at that time, and to think of such a thing means I have a difficult time understanding how they accomplished what they did back then. Two children, pets, and everything which comes along with it. House, cars, insurance, food, all of it. That must have been tough. I think about them often these days. Having never had children and given up such a direction, I can't imagine the difficulties aside from talking with others that are my age and in such a situation. The whole picture is alien to me and always has been. In fact, the subject is pretty tough to discuss at all these days. The older movies put me in mind of what had been taking place in my life during the releases. Some good, some bad, and still other situations which to this day I fail to understand, but ah... It may matter not. We are not meant to understand everything in life. Especially the adolescent films. Oy, tough to be young for some.

I am not going to do much today. No caring anymore. I do look forward to the free time, though. Necessary.

Sitting here right now reminds me of the trailer so many years back, and the setup I had for a small office. The space was small, which made it difficult to configure. We did our best to strike a balance between having all that we needed and making sure there was space around us. The model had a large desk, above which was the media shelf which held the television and audio components. I even went so far as to wire surround sound while we were on the first overnight trip. Some found it funny that I mounted five speakers around the small living area and ran wiring underneath the coach to hook up everything. I'll admit I was a tad nuts over the sound and picture, but keep in mind the film industry was still a huge push at the time. I had to experience as much as possible despite the tiny rooms. The desk below held our computer and peripherals. There was plenty of room for everything we needed. I sat at the desk during the first spring after we bought the trailer and moved in, and created the first version of this site. At the opposite end of the scale, here I am on the sofa with a very advanced laptop and working in a similar direction. Back then I had the show on in the background much of the time, just like these days. Very interesting. The intervening years always held something similar, like in the apartment where I sat and spouted to the world about my dissatisfaction with society. To my right was a lovely view of the hills, and to my left was none other than the show. Again, and years later, I sat on the sofa in our house with laptop and lap desk (just like I am right at this moment) with the big television before my eyes and running the show yet again. It's always there, and aside from the desire to place my thoughts and feelings to the screen, may be the only constant throughout decades of my life. I refilled my coffee, placed the desk on my lap, and all those years flooded into my brain at once. I don't actually know if such a thing means something in the grand scheme of me, although the comfort I have often derived from where I am sitting while drawing or writing may have been influenced by the deep familiarity and feeling of family. And then further... Did I replace family with characters from a television show? Hmm. I suppose anything is possible these days. Perhaps at the end of the street is a loss of such comfort. I don't know. Or maybe I already reached said end knowing that everyone is gone and I am the last of my line. Splendid. That may be a Godsend for the rest of the world. I am enough. More would be bad.


I was pretty pissed off yesterday, as you may have noticed by the wording. Well, I cooled somewhat, but still I am not happy to put it mildly. I have to keep it together for the most part, and only for others. As unhappy as I am right now, I still have no wish to put anyone else out. Not fair. They are not at fault -- at least, mostly not -- so I have to be mindful of how I treat them. Quiet consideration will have to rule the roost as I deal with them. I do not wish to let anything slip. As bad as I have been told, everything has to stay inside. Years of those trained in the field have stated that to communicate feelings, thoughts, and fears is to allow oneself to be open for help. Well, I've had years of that and concluded that I must deal with myself. So, since I am my own fuckin therapist, I do as I please and that which feels like the correct path. 'Feels', not 'is'. Get that? It means I am uncertain, and that is the best place to begin. I am not going to seek anyone else's assistance anymore. First, I no longer believe they can help, and second, I cannot have myself changing too much from the manner in which I think. Something possibly unique would be lost. Possibly. I will not overstate my value as a person, ever. The truth is that I really do not know.

Anyway, I am still angry but there is nothing to be done. The timepiece is helping me to maintain perspective, however, only as much as an inanimate object can provide. I have to get myself in order and stick close to the idea of being simplified. Yesterday never really materialized into much beyond some work in the garage and the daily routine. We went out and killed some hours, so my day was upended. Today I can make up for it a little, but honestly I probably have to wait until two days from now in order to enjoy thinking space. I must be alone, for sure. Other voices are merely distractions and do not help anything. In fact, there are times when something comes to mind and I have to really consider the circumstances of having my intentions completely derailed by someone else and the resulting feelings of anger. It drives me up the fucking wall sometimes, and brings to mind one of the oldest fucking lines I have ever employed. For years I have been told of my wisdom and intelligence, but at the same time the behavior toward me has demonstrated something else entirely. I will not employ the line here again because it has been typed quite enough for a lifetime. Suffice to say, I am willing to be cold and unfeeling in response to years of that shit. Fuck everyone. When you combine that with my unwillingness to share myself and those problems which have shaped much of my life, the result is that I will be viewed as selfish. That's fine. Call me whatever you wish or need. Nothing will change my behavior, nor will I compromise anymore. Maybe those close will drift away. I don't know.

Well now, all of a sudden I am pleased with the wording and happy to have pushed. Likewise, the day ahead now looks better than it did two hours ago. I have options and everything feels wide open. This is good, and I'm accustomed to seeing the brightness during a quiet morning. It does fade, however. I am waiting until that feeling takes over. Soon, I have little doubt. For the time being I will remain right here.

Football today and our game this afternoon. Considering the tirades since the season began three weeks ago, one might believe another is incoming. Nope. I don't give a fuck anymore. Oh, the issue is still there, but pales in comparison to the simplicity of survival. Going back to the A-plot of this mess, everything I have considered here is a part of the street which leads somewhere unpleasant. Along the sides are dreams, parts of my realities, and people I never wished to see again. They are all right close and watching. I just wish I had a decent rifle and scope to reduce those faces to mush. They have been in the dreams for more years than I wish to count. Not knowing what they all represent means I cannot do anything about it for the time being, though. Rifle aside, the fact that they are still there means something unlearned. I have no idea why. When I was younger and realized the dream would not change, I figured some insight may grow later. Now? Nothing at all. I just know that whatever is at the end of the street is frightening.

I have to get away from this for a while and do something productive. Stop.

Monday morning brings a thought... All work and no play makes Jack a dull bot. If you don't understand the typo, watch the film again... With the lights off.

Ahh, yesterday. Some of the show and then football. I didn't really get anything else done. The game turned out to be a waste of time but dinner was good. As for the other games, well, I didn't see any of them. I was preoccupied by the show and relaxing for a change. I completed two-thirds of my business which means I must make up for it later today. And even this day is different as I am not driving at all. We may venture out and about like the days of old, but I am not certain yet. The plan was to attempt revisiting the way we used to do things before the world became all closed off. There is another option, though, and that is to simply stay in and relax. That may win out as the better choice. Watching the game yesterday caused no difficulty whatsoever, although I had background trouble to begin with. It lasted through the evening and had be on guard constantly. Frankly, and just in case I have not yet said it enough, I am fucking tired of having to be so careful. It is a constant situation which tires me out because I cannot relax and let up very often. Nothing impacted the evening, though. Everything was fine other than a little bit of discomfort in my head over being a pain in the ass. Whether or not that was true is not up to me. My presence was embraced, as always.

The remainder of everything was fine. This morning I am ok.

This week I will be embracing the routine yet again. I have not taken the drive in ten days and miss it a little. Mostly I miss the drive back when I typically contemplate whatever I will be doing throughout the day. Walking in the door after returning home in the morning is a good feeling, as if everything is available to me. Part is still illusion, but for a couple of hours at least, I can think in those terms and be comfortable. I would typically be driving in a little while, but today is different as I have a plan. The normalcy shall return on Tuesday.

I am still feeling fascination when seeing one form or another on the television. I know issue one has been minimized, though. I know it. I can feel the idea of seeing something of note and then letting it fall away quickly. I can spout all day long about my intentions, however the actions are what define my situation. Like four, which will take me off my feet with little to no notice and then before I can blink I am in a hole again. I cannot allow it to happen now, though. I need to feel as if I can overcome the issue and rise from those depths within which I have lived for years. There must be an up. Just now I saw one of those fleeting girls on the show. They come and go, often appear in the background of several episodes, and eventually disappear. Sometimes they are credited, other times not. She may reappear, but I don't know. I felt nothing, only a touch of appreciation for the outfit. She will be gone in a few minutes and I will feel a tiny bit better about myself for the effort. Add to that the realization that I can keep the others at a distance (including the images which sent me into orbit months back and the subsequent mental and emotional fallout), and perhaps there can be hope for my sanity in the longer term. I just need to be able to let them go. Believing that there will always be more either out in the world or in media means that I need not worry over never seeing those shapes which stir me like nothing else. They will always be available. The problem with staring is in my head... I make it happen, raise them to unattainable heights, and then fall down because they disappear and there is no way I can be close enough to see everything I need. That is only a problem because of the vast importance I've attached to knowing of the details. Years of needing to see more than has been available. Yearning, really. Desperately believing that if a woman runs across my gaze and then goes away to a place I can never see, I would not survive the lack of knowing WHY she looked that way. By now you probably already know all of this because I've tried to get the information across for years, but suffice to say that I do still feel the pain of not being able to explore. Those few times with the form directly in front of me went awry... Always. Even the Raven, but I've gone over Her enough already. I also spoke of dragging out the big-boy camera (heh) to shoot some designs which appeared in my brain and even that went bad because I began to see more than numbers. Plus? I smelled Her skin. All bad. Very bad. Too much pull for my weakened self. And I honestly believe growing up the way I did has influenced the manner in which I see women. Yep, years of seeing and becoming mesmerized by the shapes. I recall one show in particular which still resides in my head from before ninety. I still see her breasts and legs. The one ten years later became the subject of discussion for quite a while as we marveled over the appearance of the dancers. Ungodly sexy. I see all of it, even way back to the prostitute towering over my frightened self when I was all of seventeen years old. It is all related. I no longer see her standing there with a devilish smile, however she is representative of a good portion of my fascination with the culture, as if her appearance and profession were justified, even necessary for the atmosphere. Crazy? Not really. That place was created for profit, no matter the avenues. Everything designed to separate people from their money, including the beautiful example of a cash register with long legs. Heh.


I've spoken of the gaming culture influence several times in recent months, as the feeling of being immersed in such beauty has me desiring a trip there again. None of it right now, though. The world is different enough to make it appear truncated and closed off. The atmosphere might be too different. Buried inside whatever may be covering the drippingly-sexual nature of those places is the same dream, however. It cannot be fully extricated. No way. Like a gorgeous woman wearing those baggy overalls, the shape is still inside, and I always see it. I know what is behind doors one, two, three, etc., and no one can pull off fooling me for a second. Perhaps avoiding the subject of the obsession and/or changing the imagery on each entry might help. I've considered that many times, as you may know. While I can say that most of the monochrome images (except those in the fiction, which are purpose-driven) come and go and just look nice, there are a few which do not leave my head for a moment. The shapes I see when I run across such dramatic examples of those enigmas burn me. A full five-plus years after the last time I gazed at Her? Nearly ruined. That is why I may need to stay away from them. It drives me crazy. Looking is a choice, as is capturing such beauty and placing it here for all time. Choices. That means I still need to see, damn it. Ugh, I don't know where this is going. The more I try, the further away the point seems to drift. Fuck. The loss of the culture which influenced me so much could be the end of the street. Maybe.

Well now, Tuesday is here. Last night went bad in an unexpected way and left me feeling empty. Prior to my mood flying south for the Winter, the morning proved a trial. Equally unexpected. Within minutes I felt completely unappreciated, and that is a result which has the power to send me down more quickly than anything else. All this work I do daily, weekly, monthly. Always. I do not run around every day to hear my fucking brains rattle, nor am I looking for some sort of prize, however when I find myself holding others up to such an extent, I would appreciate not receiving unpleasant and impatient words in return. Yesterday began badly, improved greatly, and then sunk completely. I cannot go into what took place which opened a hole below me, but understand that I do what I do for others and hope to be made to feel as if I matter. Later this morning I will be in the forest and then dramatically isolated due to the actions and inactions of others. Nothing more. Today is going to be one of those which finds me closed off. Not my fault.

The old routine is returning in a little while. Morning drive, chores, quiet, show, afternoon drive. A week and a half have passed without that normalcy or familiarity. Here and there I had the house to myself and embraced the peace, though. But the weekend was different. Between the football taking place Sunday night instead of during the day, my green can borrowed by the neighbor for several days, and no semblance of a schedule, the inside of my head got a little fucked up. Things were not as they have been and it threw me off quite a bit. I guess the whole picture shot me in the face last night around the time when the possible realization hit me. I really hope I am wrong about it, too. Otherwise there will be one less pair of ears near me, and soon. Another side, another view as that familiar wall approaches. I calculated this might happen. I looked to the sides for years in search of periphery. I should have known better. I just should have fucking known. This will be occupying my head upon returning north later and likely will take its toll on my brain throughout the day. I don't know what I'll be able to complete aside from the necessities. I just don't know right now.

The movie I mentioned recently is on right now. I changed it, though. I can't have that imagery and wonder splayed again or I'll lose it and run away. I just can't handle it. I am reminded of the wonder and hope of the past which is all gone now. The love, caring, future, everything. All gone, and the imagery in the film heads right down that fucking spiral, effectively cementing my feelings about the coming years. Terrible. I switched to another film from the sixties to drown myself in the older appearance of the world. Hopefully this will keep my head out of those parts of history which cut me to pieces. So far, Capucine has graced the screen in all her sixties glory and looking stunningly classic, and that means I will have to put on the patience cap in order to make it the rest of the way through my morning. Oy, she was something else back then. Anyway, I cannot sit and glance at the other film any longer. So much has been lost that to see the woman again dredges up all manner of shit that I must avoid. Claudia Cardinale singing. That's better. The costuming and color of this film are breathtaking. Such an era for Hollywood, but I digress.

Finally we see Peter Sellers after all this time. Heh.

Oh not long now. I will need to get up and take care of some business before driving, and if my mood does not change before the return trip, the music will be violent. Such a choice may help me to alleviate much of the frustration over others and their unfeeling behavior. And maybe after arriving back here I can dive into the sixties again to maintain this morning's theme. Right now I don't know, however. I don't feel well at all. Capucine again. Wow, she was so unique in those days. David Niven, too. Love it. Shot in scope, vivid coloration and scenery, and the location. All of it is so beautiful that I can't get it across right now. Oy, just stunning. So, today may end up wiped clean upon hitting the sheets tonight. I have no wish to belabor the time spent concerned with others' feelings and all that thinking to which I am not privy. I can't stand it at all. Treat me better or do it yourself. Don't make me run toward the end of the fucking street, people. And on top of everything else, the imagery from the other film keeps lingering, damn it. I really don't fucking need that these days. I had enough of such sights last week and my head could barely function after the fact. Now? And throwing all of my worry over the past to this space while seeing said imagery? Very bad. It makes me angry, honestly. I cannot have this right now. Years of rising and falling have made me tired, the others are pushing my buttons, and memories of everything which is never to return are causing more pain than I had thought possible. Adding more shit to the pile is bad... Worse than I can say. As I sit on this fucking worn-out sofa, I will shut the fuck down.

Wednesday morning and all is not well. I had some massive heartburn over a situation two nights back and was hoping for some information which never materialized. Two nights. There is the possibility that I was not adequately paying attention to the timeline, however yesterday afternoon confirmed that my suspicions were based in reality. I just don't understand unless there was an oversight. It was a big deal. A point, an example, or something. Maybe I was wrong in the first place, but still there should have been conversation or at least some notice of the point. Perhaps I ask too much of others. The fact that it came and went with nary an issue means there had to have been an oversight. That must be it. I will try again and see if my effort bears fruit. I can be difficult and pushy sometimes, and that means keeping myself in mind during the process. I recall way back in the early nineties when I first learned that I could shove people in random directions with nothing more than the simplicity of phrasing. I could have done that two days ago but did not wish to be overly pushy. Hmm... There will be another chance if I so desire. The importance of the situation in question is enormous within me but may not be for many people. We are all different. I may be barking over something which in reality is very small and meaningless to many. If so, I am further off my rocker than I had already believed. I guess I'll have to inquire and learn of the truth. It's going to be tough, though. Very tough, for sure. Within the whole of entertainment, there are always victims. I just happen to be attached in too many ways to simply let things go. The entertainment industry has an enormous impact upon society and its beliefs, which means once out there things cannot be removed, like a judge sitting at the bench and instructing a jury to disregard statements. Nope... Too late. They already heard it all. Everything on the fucking planet can be controlled if it does not leave the head. Once out and toward another pair of eyes or ears, said control is gone forever. Argue that point.

Some odd circumstance had me in mind of very damaging thoughts last night, too. Trouble with the other situation mentioned above is actually easier on my head. The crap last night would not let up and I feel a nagging need to unload everything upon someone for insight. Talking seems like a good idea at times, but then my fear of embarrassment kicks in and I close off. I cannot help it these days. One subject is completely off limits, though. It's just too difficult to share with anyone. I will have to deal with it all by myself. The subject is such that once in my head it will not leave for quite some time. Not like the Raven, the trips to the goblet, the four issues, none of it. Totally different. I don't like it one bit, either. The whole thing makes me uncomfortable in the extreme and causes me to turn inward and remain standoffish. I am beginning to think that despite being my own worst enemy, all these aspects of life which are becoming more and more difficult to understand and deal with are merely parts of whatever is at the end of the street. The shit from two nights ago which carried into yesterday is puzzling. I may have an idea of what happened, though. Might not be a big deal. Might be the end of the world.


Yesterday was difficult. I drove in the morning and returned to work on my stuff, finished before lunch time, and then felt like crap. Something has had me down for several days now. I don't know what it is or how it happened, but I can say that it does not seem to be advancing or materializing into anything worse. Just a dull, background crappy feeling and very low energy. I guess I'll keep on with the orange juice and hot tea throughout the days until something changes. I don't know what else to do and really do not feel like dealing with more shit on top of everything else. This is not going to help at all.

Ugh... Today. I have no idea if I'll be able to make something of myself or not. Yesterday was wide open in the beginning and then went downhill. Honestly, if I don't feel that I can accomplish anything it's not a big deal these days. There is plenty of time. One day isn't the end of the world. I am looking forward to the house being quiet and time to think, but otherwise I can't see much happening today as I am still worried over my health. Nothing serious, and I suspect stress. More than six months here. I'm turning into something other than what I was back at the beginning of the year, or maybe I am just being the real me and leaving the social facade aside while home. I don't know. This entire line of thinking is ridiculous anyway. I cannot expect to improve my situation at all if I can't even get through a day without falling down over and over. The littlest detail can still send me flying. Yesterday was a prime example of my uncanny and innate ability to cause a massive fucking snowstorm out of the clear blue sky. Words entered my head but were not spoken. I made them enter, and now I feel tiny. All me, again. None of the terms listed on the inside of my skull will be spelled out here, though. As much as I have described and all of the exposition pales in comparison to the level of ridicule which is fucking guaranteed to result in speaking of such things. I know it will happen even if nothing comes back to me. I fucking know it will. I cannot trust a fucking syllable from anyone's mouth anymore. That is so far gone there is no possible recovery. None. The words were all me (ARE all me) and I cannot share. I am already frightened enough of what this means for my future around other people. And not just women, either. Everyone. Yesterday happened but I am not sorry it did. I need it. There are only two situations and locations in which I can enjoy something and completely fall down and the cost is worthwhile. I fell... Again. To be clear, I fucking fell hard, and short of ordering one of those Goddamned Life Alert buttons to hang on my neck, I will not be getting up. Until I find ways of dealing with the daily problems (small ones), the larger crap will have to be pushed aside. For example, I have already stated in no uncertain terms that issue one is all but controlled to the point of me not worrying, two has to take priority, and then three and four have been made to be out of commission. That is because of the details of conversation and media within life which hurt me in some way. Two will likely never go away so I choose to focus elsewhere. Ah... Whatever. I'm sick of this. Maybe I can go back to just telling stories all the time. These have all been stupid fucking entries anyway. I am going nowhere with writing. The titles are not following a theme and the content does not follow each title. I am losing my way here. I mean, I never really wrote that well, but this is worse than the haphazard thinking ten years ago. All fucked up. And publishing at larger intervals with longer entries means many days pass and I lose track of what I was thinking or feeling too often to maintain pace. I can sit here and spin stories all day long but in the end it has to be at least somewhat sensible and structured. Those requirements may be gone for good if I keep doing this.

Another day went by. Thursday now. What happened to the rest of the week? When did I begin this one?

Something wonderful took place two years ago, completely unexpected, and a situation which took me like the wind of ten, except different. Things change, temperatures rise and fall, and inside a storm builds and then weakens. The wind of ten pushed me beyond clear thinking and I forcibly altered circumstances to align with said wind. Now? Not the same. I feel different, too. Less reckless, warmer, and nearer to sense. There is another facet, however, and that is the frightening idea of affecting a part of the world that should be left alone. Just as a river will cut stone and reshape it into whatever the current dictates, my inner workings will disallow anything outside what I feel is acceptable and comfortable. Slowly, as well, like the water. A snapshot of a moment two years (or more) back would appear as the landscape of an alien world never to be seen again, and taken by chance alone. Now? Completely different. Controlling, leveraging, pushing in directions which should be decided upon by fate and not a person. I see it all laid out like a map of my path through life, and many years of it. Everyone else appearing just below my needs and desires, there to be cared for, yet still secondary due to fear. The fear of the end of the street is similar, so perhaps 'completely alone' is what lies in wait. What took place back in eighteen may have been in the stars, but I am still afraid of two situations. The first is the aforementioned control taking over and leaving others by the side of the road and unable to understand what took place, and the second is reaching the end of the street and not living through it. Another paragraph which began with promise and ended in a wasteland of confusion. Damn it anyway.

The end of the street is approaching and I am powerless to stop it. Decades of recurring dreams had me frightened for my very life over what awaited me out there. Buildings along both sides, deserted scenery, and something way off in the distance. I know not what is there, but cannot deny there is something. Every time I dream of being at the controls of a truck, it creeps forward until I feel the dire need to press with everything I am and try to cease the motion. Forward, very slowly, and I can't stop it. The truck continues to move. I am older, stronger, yet no effort can accomplish what I need. The knowledge is such that a very bad situation will arise if it keeps moving. Something absolutely terrible. Possibly the end of me. I cannot push that brake pedal enough to stop time.

I do not have to drive today and may not wish to tomorrow. I need time right now more than anything. I have to think. What I see is everything placing me in a very bad position and I must alleviate at least some of it to avoid turning into a flaming fucking bitch. Others speak with me, ask of my well-being, and then read my answers and body language, but inside? Everything is covered so completely that they are not seeing any of me at all. The smile is manufactured. The words are bullshit. The attitude is as fake as candy glass in an old western movie. Nothing anyone sees is real because the days are completely unsatisfying but I cannot tell them so. No one can understand such a level. All bullshit. When I am alone, all of it is turned off. I can relax. Hide. Remain calm. While near anyone else, the machine creates degrees of horseshit convincing enough to snow the whole of society and leave it with a big, fat smile. Decades of research and development have resulted in my ability to stand behind a barrier that God himself could not pass. And perhaps this thinking is yet another possibility of what lies ahead: The end of the street could be the finality of me being my true self. Frightening. There is very little of me out there now, which means ending my true self is just a small step further, right? Tell me. I have to stay this way or someone will demean me. Guard up, words sharp, and all of the bullshit flying off my tongue as if I was born to make it happen. The end of the street could be what I fear above all other possibilities... Showing the real me.

I almost pulled the images of Taylor from this entry. I flip-flopped for days and in the end decided that the images don't fucking matter anymore. Years of descriptive essays and yearning to see all those elusive details pushed me to place the provocative imagery here, yet the last several months have demonstrated that my need to see has been squashed by mere survival. Taylor stays, all lanky and unique. I have to apply a term rarely used here... 'pretty'. She is amazing, to be sure. She stays. I do not feel anything in particular when seeing her, even at first sight of such a tall beauty on the Food Network just days ago. Nothing is there... Desire, need, obsession. None of them. Appreciation.

Once again I am sitting at the cusp of a day with all the time to myself just ahead. The air is clearer, temperature cool, and the fog is lying across the valley like a refrigerated blanket. One would think that my day already has a positive outlook from the weather alone, right? Well, it does help -- along with the shortened daylight duration -- although these days fall is not enough to keep me upright for very long. I see parts of the house, garage and yard that remain unchanged for years and I need to do something about them. I can no longer sit here and just look. The holidays are pressing on my head and heart, too, making any moves more difficult than I could have imagined years ago. I figured everything would be in good order by now. I really did, but that kind of complacency has sent me in the opposite direction. I now believe myself incapable of changing anything meaningful. The issues are within my sphere of influence -- even two -- as I have already stated and demonstrated. I can rise above them given time. These last several months of analysis have been well-spent, honestly. Sometimes difficult, sometimes comfortable, yet always working toward the ability to deal with what now seems a minor group of problems. They have solutions even if the bigger picture does not. The end of the street has been there in my dreams for possibly five decades, all the way back to a time when everything scared me even more than now, and the sight and feelings have never changed. If I am to know what is out there and understand why the dreams take place to this very day, I must think and think and think, yet none of it should be here any longer. No more of this. Oh, I'll still place words to the screen, but other parts of life, not the quest to learn of 'why' anymore. I do not believe this is doing me any good at all. I can still work on myself and seek understanding and possibly some answers, however the site will not show any of it after this entry. That is that.

I need to see more of Vedek Bareil like I need a troupe of Chippendales dancers in my house. Go ahead and laugh it up before reading the following.

From one day to the next, one moment to the next, even a given second elapsed within this sadness of life, the end of the street remains right there. The only possibility I have not explored of what it may represent is not something I wish to place here. Everything has fallen away to an extent unimaginable just a year ago, and I am not referring to the fucking pandemic or anything else going on in the world. I am only referring to parts of me which are now gone. Nothing can be returned. The clock has one direction. And something else has only one direction, as well.

Stew on it."