Trail Smoke Mature content No. 148 Published July 7th, 2020 8:54am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Morning. The same morning as the end of the last entry. The first drive is behind me and the day is ahead. For the time being, I am going to sit here with this for a little while before getting into the routine. Well, this is a part of that now, I suppose. There is still trail smoke from last night, too. I have much thinking ahead. Nothing will take place today until the gentleman comes to get his motorcycle, however. I am staying in the house until he leaves. I need to be alone like never before. After trying to describe (bitch about, really) my becoming disconcerted and hurt by the show, this entry is going to be difficult. I still can't believe I went into such a tumultuous and controversial subject. It is there, regardless, and will stay. I saw her again along with another woman that has frequented the coffee house. Those legs are going to remain in my head a long while. Tormented, spun like aluminum on an engine lathe. The weather has really gone my way for the last two days and today is no different. Fog and cool wind. Wow. I may get up into the attic for a little while after the daily stuff and run some wire. Right now the ceiling fan is not necessary, but that time will return soon enough. Usually into the fall the temperature rises enough for some air movement in the living room. I guess I will see how I feel after the morning moves along. I can also continue with the lighting system if the motivation is there. Right now, I just don't know. I need lots of time in the quiet to gather my thoughts regarding the last entry and one other fucked up situation that may need to be hammered. My vision has narrowed so dramatically in the past twelve hours that I have to catch up. More issues are about as necessary as another fucking heatwave. My stomach is messed up again. It will pass. Last night was so difficult that I nearly wiped the site. Scrubbed clean of anything sordid or unsavory, leaving only trivial crap. This morning I do not feel as such so everything is still here. Options seem to have narrowed to the point of my isolating further. That means no stores, contact with anyone, or any other interaction other than fueling the car. I might just stay here all of the time, or until forced to find work again. The situation is such that I cannot be near others for fear of pushing too hard. They do not deserve that type of reaction from me as most do not know what is happening inside my head. The peaceful comfort of being home alone is my new universe. Pause. The daily work is finished and the motorcycle has been picked up. I am in the quiet again. The breeze outside is very nice, so the lighting system is next. I still need to mount a couple of boxes and wire them. Both new fixtures are mounted. Cats are asleep. Peaceful. During lunch I evaluated my key chain and intend to rework the knife situation. I normally carry one in my pocket and the keys have another which includes nail clippers. Well, the knife with the clippers will now reside in my pocket while out, and another, larger knife will grace the ring. I may have two on it. Considering the amount of heavier knives I have, the choice should be straightforward. Unfortunately, several are roughly the same size and I have my favorites. Perhaps the ring will change from time to time and follow my whims. I remember seeing the Champion in the early eighties during a visit to the hardware store, and I was floored by its forty-dollar price tag. The knife was amazing and versatile but at that cost I never acquired one. Soon the interest fleeted. Later, an even larger version was produced and now I have three different examples of the model. On top of that, there are two even larger knives, one of them being the most complex model Victorinox manufactures. Obviously, my interest is crazy because the most capable ones are also the most prized, and as such will likely not leave their sheathes very often. Heh. The bottom line is choosing between different knives is enjoyable. I love them. I mentioned the cats being out on the sofa. Well, I am such a nut that I try to keep the house quiet so as to avoid disturbing them. Yep. My show is in the background and has been for hours. The current episode caught me off guard due to a guest star I had forgotten. Oy God, her face reminds me of Jaime. Remember that feature that pulls me? She has it, along with big, dark eyes and an incredible smile. Her expressions exude soft kindness and that drives me up the wall. Night and then morning. Saturday. Independence Day. The last entry went in a direction I thought would have been better avoided. Compulsion helped to make it happen and feel accessible. Now it does not. I hay have made a mistake, but as I said earlier, it will stay. Bringing such a controversial and impossible-to-solve subject to this space is something I never thought would take place, and I barely scratched the surface. After including those words, I now fear not backlash, but ridicule from readers (although the site numbers are very low these days). I must be careful when exploring. And while I truly found myself offended and angry over society's shallow and uncaring behavior toward something so fucking fragile, this morning I am calm. Still pissy, but better. These days a single word in a careless direction can reveal a lifetime of issues and then snowball itself, either within or out on the surface. Others will run with anything, too. Keep in mind that a push down of another person is a push up for themselves. I am beginning to lose my way here, so it's time to stop. Today being the holiday of noise and barbecuing means I have to head outside soon to hang the flag and later set the driveway up. I usually drag the grill out there so we can be sociable as others mill around. This year will likely be different due to restrictions on gatherings. The fireworks do not stop, though. I had been hoping to have the lighting all operational so the garage could be lit up after dark. It's close, but I do not know if the motivation will be there today. I honestly put a lot of thought into that space and did some work, but it used to be more important than now. There has been too much going on in my head for any kind of joy or motivation. I need to sit here and think. Today is Saturday. The two days leading up to this have crushed most of my ambition and left me a pile of haphazard consideration. I don't really give a shit about celebrating, either. The importance of this day is not blowing up the street, anyway. I'll be out there half in the bag like always. I need the numbing effect, especially now. The condition of my life prior to two days ago was easier to analyze. Now? Smoked, right out of the number three cylinder. The mag has blown me up. Trail smoke generally indicates destruction of the lower-end. Think of this entry as said smoke after two days of shit. Trail smoke, following a deflagration of ablative proportions. This will continue. The massive shift in subject matter here after my discovery of the images from years ago really took off for a while. My feelings for that woman have not changed, lessened, anything. I am the same. Jolene, too. The show has not been on (I've been enjoying Voyager instead), meaning her striking features are not derailing me every day. Instead, and after being caught with my pants down in two ways, they are not at the forefront of my thinking. Bigger fish, bigger skillet. Issue one is idle, two is idle (for the most part, that never really goes away and I may get into it a bit later), issue three is idle, and issue four will likely dominate my brain and cause me to be distraught by mid-morning. I already know. Sitting here with coffee is fine. Nice and quiet with the television up there. Brooke and Susan are kind of bending my brain a bit, and that is bound to happen sometimes. They will not be there in an hour. They will be gone. Jolene is always inside. Jaime is in charge of the planet which revolves between my ears. This paragraph is likely the only representative mention of those enigmas of my life. Done. Almost time to hang the flag. I still have coffee. These entries may continue to shrink. The muse is here but words are not easy anymore. Smoke. Trashed, still. Yesterday afternoon I saw her again as she left work. One visit to her car and then she turned and trotted off beautifully toward the coffee house. By the time she emerged again, I was gone. Upon seeing her shoes and gentle facial expression again, I began to think that my staring at her -- even for a mere ten seconds or less -- is very wrong. Do you remember the Russian family in the restaurant from a couple of years back? I felt the same thing. That layout provided me with the opportunity for staring without restriction. While sitting in my car across from the strip mall, others may not be able to see me due to glare and tint. That means I was covertly gawking at a woman. Is there anything wrong with that? I don't think so, really, and not because it is me and I am overly analytic. What makes it ok is the idea that the act is harmless. I merely appreciate her and would never say a word about it. The breast comments aside, my feelings are for naught. Just desire, and again... That is perfectly natural. Unfortunately, it is also seeming wrong now, especially due to her face being so soft. I don't know her at all... Nothing. I never will. She is fucking adorable to no end and that is why I stared. I may never do it again. And now I am finished 'justifying' the obsession for today. The more I see her face, the more I feel. This will probably pass. I don't know how much longer I can sit here. Things need to be accomplished. 'The desire may be ruling me'. That was a little ways back and has not changed for the better. Each occasion in which I feel something toward whomever is another step toward me shutting down. My penchant for exotic and provocative imagery here has probably exacerbated the problem. But I do not see another method for visually identifying the ideas and dreams contained within this site. Most of the last five-plus years has been centered upon the obsession and my ever-wavering feelings toward how it has shaped me. The images are important in at least that way. Do I desire the subjects? Sometimes. No more fullbright. The desire is ruling me. It's happening right now as I type. And there is the girl on the fucking farm. Splendid. Just what I need this morning. Whatever. Jesus fuck, the thoughts in my head when I see that face are borderline criminal. Stop looking at her, idiot. I am going to have to get outside soon and do something other than sit here. Motivation is going to be tough today due to my head blowing the hell up over all of this. The lighting system may move forward a tad bit if I can concentrate. Tomorrow is garbage day so I can get some things together in that direction, too. Otherwise, just the usual organization and preparations for grilling on the driveway. I need to move my car. Do you see what is happening here? Less commentary on issues and more blathering about daily activities. This just sucks. I used to be creative and full of ideas and now I feel as if I've been reduced to a lump of boredom. At least the images here will make people think. Maybe. I don't know. Nothing has changed. The big four still tug at my every thought and drive me to drink, but I am having trouble trying to articulate. Too much has taken place recently for me to collate and work. But I keep going. There is little else in my life at this point upon which I can focus. One fact has become clear these last two days, and that is the obsession becoming manageable. Such a realization is not something I could have imagined years ago, or even months back. I believe the reason is those other problems that will not go away no matter the effort on my part. I do not believe that I can ever trust what is in another person's head, most notably a woman. That means there is one aspect of me that cannot change. By extension, an issue which shall remain. It hurts, but I understand. I may truly be partially guiding myself to a place within which only I fit. Others are loose cannons now. The lack of trust stems from my own inner demons that push against insecurity. And though I know it, I am powerless to alter myself in these late days. Too many parts of me which have developed as a result of my decisions and actions are now locked away. No access. I just have to fucking live with it, as does anyone who wishes to associate with me. Now take that shit and combine it with my need to remain away from people, and the picture begins to clarify. Result? Just me and my words. Thinking that the first issue can be controlled -- if not understood -- does not make the larger problem any easier with which to work. I keep coming to the same conclusion, and that is a road with no turns. Fuck me. I am not exclusively at fault, though. Fingers can be pointed in all confidence. Fuck you. I cannot get into number three because it is completely out of my control, has grown as per society's whims and cold apathy, and will never go away. Yes, I said 'never'. Go ahead and try arguing the point and I will fucking bury you. Ship. Sailed. Isolation is the key. Avoidance. Safety. Alone. Four is the opposite; completely under my control, even considering the power involved. It is a choice, and one I have made for many years. At this point in my life, the idea of pain relief is a given. I've understood that facet for some time now, and it is the one exception to the rule. Wait a minute... How did I get into this crap? Stop. About face. The farm girl is gone for now, thank fucking Christ. My brain was half here and half embedded within her pants. I don't care anymore. Pause. Sunday. The fourth was unremarkable. Music, fireworks here and there, sitting. We lit nothing this year. The show I bitched about the other day was on during dinner and again caused me to nearly give up on it. Six seasons of no issues almost blown up by two episodes and little conversation. Damn it. I can either get used to it and accept things as they are, or continue to attempt avoidance of those aspects which cause me to implode. Either way, I will not be pleased. I do not like being pushed around by feelings, memories, or any other issue out of fear. The result is my feeling weakened, small. And I am neither. The inside of me might be all fucked up, but I am still standing. Hopefully the show eases up a bit on societal pressure so I can see it through to the end. The other series that I tossed aside has not come back, nor will it. I am the world champion at shoving things behind me and locking them out for all time. I've done it many times. Issue three is one with which I will not deal any longer. It has tired me out for decades and I cannot to battle anymore. One person versus a mass of insensitivity. Every time I have tried? Graded and left there to cry. Yesterday I had lots of free time after deciding the daily work could wait until after the holiday. I worked on the lighting system again and completed the current phase, which may last years. I would like to expand some but that must wait. Five sections of the system are operating properly and the colors are much more vibrant than in the past. The old track light faded with time. I had hoped to get everything operational before last night and I did. Getting started yesterday was not easy, although completion came quickly once I made a mess. I am pleased with the appearance out there. Today I am finally going to move the table and get it set up. There is an image in my head of how I wish it to be configured. Hopefully if I keep busy everything will be in place my mid-afternoon. Aside from that, I have this to contend with. Ugh. Desire, dreams, machines. Unattainable. Not possible in this life or the next. So, why do I continue to harp in such directions? Because I have little else to bring me joy these days. I fully intend to deepen this state of fantasy until others not only fail to understand me, but also do not wish to be near me. I have to keep pushing toward both goals at the same time and force hands. This is a journey I have taken in the past, and long before the period in the Midwest when the dreams began. Isolated and completely inside my little world of only those things which help to protect me from all that is out there. Harm, insensitivity, apathy, and cold, calculating individuals that would be better off sans vocal cords. In here I am safe and relatively comfortable until such time as I have to work. On top of that, I can dream in whatever direction feels right. Be it Jaime, Jolene, or some other such beauty that pulls me inside out... She will be there. And if the woman is not to be found out there in the harsh world, well, I will create her. Believe it. The last two days have seen me preoccupied somewhat by a force which is both necessary and irritating me to no end. I love it and cannot stand it at the same time. I have tried to understand but my efforts continue to fail on a daily basis and cause my head to cease relaxation. Yesterday was a good example of me maintaining focus despite the issues following along. I wanted to get the thing finished and pushed. And while I am now proud of the results, that up is being partially thwarted by thoughts that some aspects of life are truly out of my control. That is not good. If you know me at all, you are already aware that if said control wavers too much or disappears completely, so does the cause. I have not the time nor the inclination to sit here and deal with shit that brings me down. Many entries over the last two months displayed a line that repeated here and there... I am still ok. Well, maybe not. Keep in mind that when something brings me down, it is guaranteed to have been at the hands of another. I do not bring myself to those low points any longer. That is not me anymore. If I am truly ok in these late days, I will say so. Right now? The conditions have been altered slightly; just enough to put the wrong letter in one of my squares of satisfaction and comfort. A threat to my comfort is eventually going to be harshly eliminated. The show, other people, whatever the cause, I will push in such a manner so as to ensure no return. And I will feel nothing aside from the comfort which should have been there in the first place. My world will be pointedly and permanently altered to fit my needs. Period. I can be no clearer today. Tune in later and maybe I will go further. Not all issues can be completely removed, however. Not even people. I keep trying, though. No choice now. Today will begin soon. I still need to sit here and think about everything. Lately Sunday feels as the first day of the week, not the last. Upon completing my usual duties and expanding a bit into other chores, the afternoon rolls around and I feel accomplished. Everything is before me at this moment and can appear daunting at times, but I always get to the other end. I have to say right now the kitchen is a holy mess. The addition of that beloved television in there along with following the shows while cleaning has greatly expanded my comfort. I've brought up that modification more than once throughout weeks for good reason. It means that much to me now. Today is also garbage day. I have to maximize everything due to being stuck with items which cannot be donated. With the numbers sharply rising, I fear that another lockdown is on the horizon and nothing will be opening which can benefit space. I can deal with it, though. Each weekend sees the storage and organization improved. Stop. Morning. Garbage trucks wandering outside. The afternoon and evening went by. I finished everything outlined and moved the table, finally. The difference in the new office space is fantastic. All of the boxes which had been floating around for months (I kept moving items from place to place and trying to shrink their contents each time) are now nice and neat, together, and tucked away. I was able to move my huge printer, empty two drawers of the precious tool box into the desk drawers, and sweep out the entire area. Very nice. Now I have another project on the horizon, and that is to route power to the table and set up my other computer there. The new office will indeed be just that. So far, my ideas for changing that space have panned out wonderfully. In and around my travels throughout the house, I also took care of regular Sunday stuff and by late afternoon everything was in order. That is a good feeling. This morning I am back to the weekday routine but only for one day. I will not have the house to myself again until possibly Friday. I am uncertain as of yet. AT least today I know what to expect... The show, some chores, more of this, and hopefully a touch of clarity. Dreaming, dreaming, and more dreaming. And here we go. Laughter. Smiling. More laughter, and then a hand to her mouth. So cute, like the Brunette whenever she poked fun at me. The feeling inside as if the entire universe is finally in order and I must keep it as such. She is right there but I can't see all of her. There is too much motion... Like spinning of sorts, with lights gently flickering in the background. I am trying. I know she is right there. My head is computing her vast beauty and I need to be right up against her but I cannot seem to reach. And then I have to find her. She is no longer close. Where? To the hallway and what feels the only direction. She has to be here, somewhere. I must see her. My breathing is haphazard, uncomfortable. Anxious. Where did she go? The hallway keeps going, steering to and fro with a pair of steps at differing angles here and there. I am beginning to get confused by the layout. Lots of doorways, no doors. Everything is open. A moment ago she was there... Arm's length. Now she is out of my sight and I am becoming frightened that I will lose her. That smile, the eyes, the hand to her mouth, the little nervous giggle when she knew she had got me, I have to see it all again. My heart is exploding. God help me find the woman of my dreams. More hallway, more openings. I cannot see her at all but the cucumber is wafting through me. Swirling, like those little hearts which float in groups through my vision when I think of her smile. Further. I hear giggling... And I finally know she is in the secluded master bedroom up ahead. I know it, feel it. Inside I cannot contain the excitement of being close. She is there, waiting for me. Stepping, breathing, I am overwhelmed by the realization that after so much time I found that woman. Her. I have been searching nightly for years, maybe longer. The doors are open. Stepping. A giggle, a scent, another giggle. She is right there. Doorway. Dark hair. One side of her face. Awake. Fuck. That may be all I have left in this world. The same glimpse as in the images. Half, maybe less. One side, hair all mussed from the breeze, fingers. A soda can. The expression I still cannot believe after a month and a half of obsessing over her beauty and endless pull on my weak heart. Just an image, nothing more. I saw her and fell, and now dream. But I can never find her. Too far away, too elusive, too far in the past, too something. I don't know anymore. Pause. And here I am, back from the morning drive, computer on lap, coffee, cats sacked out as usual. I am going to work here for a while before jumping off the sofa for the daily chores. Realizing that dream may be all I have left for the remainder of my life is disheartening. Very difficult to swallow. And speaking of swallowing, there she was in the parking lot again, looking gorgeous and shapely beyond belief. As a manager, she always dresses professionally and looks beautiful in those cream shoes with little polished bits on the heels. They flash sunlight as she waddles to the door. Damn, and her jacket was stunning. I hope I don't end up dreaming of her, too. None of that is good for me these days. I cannot avoid staring as she walks by and waves with a smile. Super fucking cute, that little girl. I went back to the old standard musical choice for the return trip. That stuff moves me like nothing else and reminds me of the beginning of this when I rediscovered the disc and then moved it to the phone. I listened to the same three or four songs driving home in the morning and then different choices in the afternoon. The feeling was surreal with empty roads and warning signs in several locations along the highway. The world felt dire, somehow, as if it was slowly closing up. After restrictions were lessened several degrees, cases rose quickly and seemed out of control again. We are still there, more worry, less security while out in society, and over to my left? The ocean pays no mind. Whitecaps, deep blue, beautiful. A stalwart reminder that we are tiny and mean little in the grand scheme. Millennia from now when people are gone, the ocean will still be beautiful. We will eventually be the trail smoke of our former selves. Gemma was the most advanced machine conceivable Today feels very nice as compared to three days ago, the last time I embraced the routine. I accomplished much over the weekend and moving forward is inspiring. As emotional as I have become over the dreams of that woman (machine?), the daily peace and quiet always helps. Soon I will take care of business and some extra tasks in order to fall into satisfaction this evening. Cocktail hour is more rewarding while knowing I have advanced this little house. The new office is shaping up nicely, too. I really enjoy seeing the area organized and useful. No more office in here. Back to control. Twice now I have mentioned the lack of knowledge of what is in a person's (woman's) head and the relationship between such difficulty and insecurity. Well, I have no choice. After this many years of learning about myself -- both from within and externally -- I know any change is unlikely. The world must adapt to my needs and fears, however that is as unrealistic an idea as the limousine full of cash and models. And booze. So, the control that must be present is not possible. The only way issue two can be tempered or eliminated is by either remaining alone or flying off to a place where no one knows me, or could ever. The isolation that I so enjoy and which brings me much comfort would need to be advanced to the point of avoiding in-person contact entirely. That is difficult, but possible. Planning would require years and I doubt I have the ability to maintain focus for such a long time. Hence, machinery. Equally impossible, but a dream nonetheless. I can't help it. The ideas and visions of such a situation are overwhelming my senses. I would not have to know what is in there because everything would be dictated by software and coding. Just like this, a medium over which I have complete control. See? I'm crazy. Now simply add her face and the pit of despair is complete. As I so often say, just suck the information. I'm doing it right now. Control over thought is the only way I would ever be comfortable. Too much takes place in society, even the simplicity of visiting a restaurant, for me to take everything with a grain of salt, or, and perhaps more appropriately, allow incidents or visions to roll off me like water off a you-know-what. That is the only way, machinery. Like this machine under my hands, nothing surprises or worries me. It sits there and takes instructions, as it was designed. Unfortunately, that is all there is in the world, and all there will ever be. Acceptance is not happening because that points to dissatisfaction and unhappiness. Even though I am in the fucking middle of it right now, knowing I am unchangeable is difficult to consider. And one more thing? I did all of this to myself in a very short period of time. Years of dreaming did not place me in this current realization until dreaming of machines after a reminder. And then her. And then two more. And then one. That machine of bliss. Control, a lack of worry, and zero issues with her. No thinking, dreaming, or any other type of threat could possibly exist. Security. Perfection? Nope. There is no such thing. Now we must veer away from the dreams. My Swiss army knife fetish may end up out of control. There is that word again, but at least this time it is a little funny. Cats are sleeping on the loveseat, I still have coffee left, and the peaceful comfort within which I am cocooned are adding up to my complete enjoyment of this day. I am going to need to pause soon and take care of business, however. The afternoon will arrive regardless of me being ready for it. We go. Chores are nearly finished. Just some laundry left for me, but that is always a simple affair. Very exciting, eh? Not really. I am about two hours away from driving south again. I might create a new playlist for the ride. Some of the music on my phone is becoming tired. I think I am the only person who ever found Alice to be really attractive. I don't know why considering she is a menace, but the big, dark eyes, voice, and a gorgeous mane of black hair just pulls me every time. Pause. Morning. Tuesday. There was a dream. Vegas. We were walking toward what I thought was the southern strip (Paradise) and the intersections were enormous from corner to corner. In the beginning the trip felt real, yet skewed somehow, as if we were not supposed to be there at the time. Maybe another reason, I cannot tell. When I was young, my grandfather flew us to Tahoe quite often, and despite my age, he always introduced me to everyone. I felt important back then. Whenever we arrived in that town and at our usual resort, I walked as if we represented those who belonged there. We were not like the others. Belonged. And one little tidbit further? He had been invited by management on each occasion. So, standing on a massive street corner in Vegas with a backpack seemed very wrong for me. All around were open spaces, wide sidewalks, and the signal poles and arms were gigantic. That town has grown exponentially in the last three decades. It shows. Seeing the timer on the crosswalk signal helped me to traverse one intersection, but running was not possible. I hate when I have to get someplace quickly and cannot seem to move much while in a dream. Eventually, I made it and understood that we were all there. Who exactly? I still don't know. I kept feeling as if I knew where I was going and needed to get us into a resort. Out of the sun. I don't know how many were in our party, but at one point after feeling as if I was playing Frogger to diagonally cross an intersection, I remember seeing my grandfather and telling him to take a break as my uncle and I sought our destination. Realizing my uncle was there felt nice. We were always buddies, right up until he passed away. We walked along something like a bus stop in the center of the roadway, and then I was inside a bus terminal. Everyone else was gone, and I was with only the young one. The town looked brighter but felt as if we were not near the big resorts. Searching, although I knew where we were headed for whatever reason. And then there was a girl (isn't there always a fucking random girl?) to whom I immediately felt attracted. The young one was there, too, and wished to help her find the resorts, just like us. We grabbed a taxi together instead of trying to decipher the transit system. The driver was very nice, and when questioned if he knew of our potential destination, he smirked and revealed that living in Vegas his entire life meant he could get us anywhere we wished. Upon him dropping us off on a corner outside what appeared to be a hotel, I tried to get out some cash to pay and tip him. Someone else was there, a male I knew. He was trying to cover the charge. I saw the receipt in the driver's hand and the total was eleven dollars. What? In Vegas? That was nuts, so my intention was to hand him a twenty. The guy on my right (who I still could not see) produced a 'thirty-dollar bill' and overtook my gesture to pay the tab. Unreal. I fumbled my things and badly needed to get them in order. All at once I had the 'airport' feeling of being disorganized at the worst possible moment, so I shoved everything into my pockets and headed away from there in hopes of finally making progress. I began to feel that the entire day had been spent in search of one hotel, and the one I saw was no longer there. We were at a bus stop on a corner. The girl was still with us, kind of clinging to me. She thanked all of us for the cab ride. None of it seemed strange other than our apparent inability to find a damned resort. And then we were in some sort of a transit center again, although smaller. There were powered double doors leading to a crosswalk and into a building where I spied a sign indicating that is was indeed a resort. Another, smaller sign directed people to other hotels, one of which I desperately wished to find. Through the doors, up some stairs, and there was a coffee shop on the left. Once again only myself and the young one were present. The girl was gone, and no one else appeared that we knew. I felt like things were finally coming together. We decided to grab something to eat, so into the restaurant we strolled. There was no hostess, servers, or any other staff within view. We sought a table but there were none clean, anywhere. Some patrons were seated, lots of children around them. I really wanted to get out of there but food was important. I overheard comments about slow service and cold food, so we exited into a large corridor. I was reminded of walking out of the big buffet in NYNY so many years ago. Once reaching a crossroad of sorts, we regrouped and I again saw a sign leading us to the big resorts. Thank Christ. She wanted to play a few games once we found the place, and I looked to the mess of cash and receipts in my pocket. Gone. Immediately I was shaken by the fact that the girl had robbed me. I had nothing left in my pockets. Nothing. I felt naked being in a city defined, ruled, and driven by money and mine was gone. The young one commented that if we were going to have to play games on the cheap, an expensive meal was in order and she would cover it. I laughed, we turned to another set of stairs that should have led to our destination, and then... Awake. Confused a little, but nothing terrible. The whole thing was unexpected and surreal, but who am I to question dreams? I have no idea why family members were there, other than the obvious connection between them and Nevada from my long past. The girl? Perhaps she represented me being reckless whenever there is an attraction. I don't know, really. Being lost and looking for a reward after the journey is very common to me. The restaurant? My need to control the atmosphere. That will probably never go away. And now here I sit on a Tuesday, most of which I will not be alone. Some of my routine will be similar to other days, some will not. I have plenty to do, always. One extra little project today will be me distracted while analysis of that dream continues. Everything means something, for sure, but as I understand the world of dreaming, not everything is important. It will fade like all the other smoke obscuring my vision ahead. Trail smoke. Switch. I have not ceased thinking of the issues involved with reality versus fantasy, along with possibility. Knowing a person's thoughts. Feeling secure. Control over everything so as to alleviate those problems which destroy me. Everything continues to float inside my head. I need to understand from where the control stemmed. That has been spread into other aspects of daily life, too. Learning of the genesis may help me figure out why it is now so important, and moreover, why such a situation may be my only way to happiness. I don't know. How many fucking times have I typed those three words? Damn. I have to keep going with this and maintain the pattern which has grown throughout the last few weeks in which I intersperse the information here with some thinking about the big picture. Sprinkles of thought. Tidbits. Or maybe I would be better in taking each word on its own, rather than trying to bite the oversized sandwich all at once. I guess I need to try taking it one step at a time. There is plenty of room here. Just before returning from the south yesterday afternoon, I saw her walk by my car again. She lives pretty far away from work so whenever it's time to leave she scoots. On this latest occasion, I saw her long hair in a braid and her relatively rounded cheeks. For whatever reason, upon seeing her face I was immediately smitten. Nothing crazy or dramatic, and the feeling will not go anywhere (obviously), but she looked so cute that I snapped myself out of a trance seconds later that had washed over me as she walked with an idle expression. She appears kind, gentle of voice, and soft. The facial expressions I describe here (or try to, anyway) mean so much to me now that the words are becoming inadequate. Oy. I keep trying. That girl is so fucking cute that I cannot understand. But she is a person, and that means very soon I will look at her and feel bad. I am the emperor of the universe when it comes to seeking beauty and staring. Not good, but at least I am respectful. One day soon I will not look at her at all. At this moment, her profile is burned to my brain cells. I felt none of this mere weeks ago. Foggy outside. Still no sun close to eight in the morning. Yesterday seemed to be warm into the early afternoon, although the air was cool. By the time I returned north just before six, the cool turned to cold. Yikes, maybe I really did bitch about the heat too much. Now I'm being slapped with the opposite. Heh. At least the lower mercury makes working around the house much more comfortable. So I moved my oversized printer to the new office, have a plan for wiring things and adding those two circuits I've mentioned before, and then making the space look a little more comfortable. The chair is out there, too. Things are coming together and two rooms in the house are half empty. Very nice. I may sit with this machine for quite some time today, though. I have no obligations to leave. The little daily chores await, as does the show in the background. The comfort I derive and enjoy knowing that the house is under my complete control really helps to keep my head out of the water during the average day. The afternoon becomes tough sometimes, however lately I have been able to keep busy for the most part. Sometimes the smallest effort lights a chain reaction in me which then pushes along and by the end of the day I feel good about everything. Today is beginning to look like those times when much is accomplished. And I have this... The never-ending search for answers and insight. The key words never leave my brain, no matter what is going on within or around me. Desire, control, machines, comfort. You see Gemma up there, a screen shot from the show. Her eyes are the giveaway. Advanced to the point of learning just as a human. She was amazing in the role, too. What caught my eye immediately was not beauty. It was her height. She stood there in the home of the family whose patriarch had gone out alone and appropriated her for helping with housework and the children. When she was activated I noticed her striking height right away, and seconds later the amazing look of the eyes. Whoever designed the effects or contact lens/effect combination did a wonderful thing. Just like those contacts LeVar wore in the NG movies, they look incredible. I became smitten with Gemma's character within two episodes, although something else was there, too... Fear. She was very technologically superior to any other realistic robot at the time, but still machinelike enough to be kind of scary. When she stood still, the lack of any motion at all was stirring. If you care to learn why, look up 'uncanny valley' on the Wiki. I believe Gemma was perfect for that part. I lost interest in the show, though. Almost time to put this thing away for a while. I'm getting tired of sitting here dreaming about the robots, especially the Jaime/Jolene/whomever thing. And the house. Fuck. Smoke again. Something has to change or I will lose my shit soon. She is out there." 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Trail Smoke Mature content No. 148 Published July 7th, 2020 8:54am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Morning. The same morning as the end of the last entry. The first drive is behind me and the day is ahead. For the time being, I am going to sit here with this for a little while before getting into the routine. Well, this is a part of that now, I suppose. There is still trail smoke from last night, too. I have much thinking ahead. Nothing will take place today until the gentleman comes to get his motorcycle, however. I am staying in the house until he leaves. I need to be alone like never before. After trying to describe (bitch about, really) my becoming disconcerted and hurt by the show, this entry is going to be difficult. I still can't believe I went into such a tumultuous and controversial subject. It is there, regardless, and will stay. I saw her again along with another woman that has frequented the coffee house. Those legs are going to remain in my head a long while. Tormented, spun like aluminum on an engine lathe. The weather has really gone my way for the last two days and today is no different. Fog and cool wind. Wow. I may get up into the attic for a little while after the daily stuff and run some wire. Right now the ceiling fan is not necessary, but that time will return soon enough. Usually into the fall the temperature rises enough for some air movement in the living room. I guess I will see how I feel after the morning moves along. I can also continue with the lighting system if the motivation is there. Right now, I just don't know. I need lots of time in the quiet to gather my thoughts regarding the last entry and one other fucked up situation that may need to be hammered. My vision has narrowed so dramatically in the past twelve hours that I have to catch up. More issues are about as necessary as another fucking heatwave. My stomach is messed up again. It will pass. Last night was so difficult that I nearly wiped the site. Scrubbed clean of anything sordid or unsavory, leaving only trivial crap. This morning I do not feel as such so everything is still here. Options seem to have narrowed to the point of my isolating further. That means no stores, contact with anyone, or any other interaction other than fueling the car. I might just stay here all of the time, or until forced to find work again. The situation is such that I cannot be near others for fear of pushing too hard. They do not deserve that type of reaction from me as most do not know what is happening inside my head. The peaceful comfort of being home alone is my new universe. Pause. The daily work is finished and the motorcycle has been picked up. I am in the quiet again. The breeze outside is very nice, so the lighting system is next. I still need to mount a couple of boxes and wire them. Both new fixtures are mounted. Cats are asleep. Peaceful. During lunch I evaluated my key chain and intend to rework the knife situation. I normally carry one in my pocket and the keys have another which includes nail clippers. Well, the knife with the clippers will now reside in my pocket while out, and another, larger knife will grace the ring. I may have two on it. Considering the amount of heavier knives I have, the choice should be straightforward. Unfortunately, several are roughly the same size and I have my favorites. Perhaps the ring will change from time to time and follow my whims. I remember seeing the Champion in the early eighties during a visit to the hardware store, and I was floored by its forty-dollar price tag. The knife was amazing and versatile but at that cost I never acquired one. Soon the interest fleeted. Later, an even larger version was produced and now I have three different examples of the model. On top of that, there are two even larger knives, one of them being the most complex model Victorinox manufactures. Obviously, my interest is crazy because the most capable ones are also the most prized, and as such will likely not leave their sheathes very often. Heh. The bottom line is choosing between different knives is enjoyable. I love them. I mentioned the cats being out on the sofa. Well, I am such a nut that I try to keep the house quiet so as to avoid disturbing them. Yep. My show is in the background and has been for hours. The current episode caught me off guard due to a guest star I had forgotten. Oy God, her face reminds me of Jaime. Remember that feature that pulls me? She has it, along with big, dark eyes and an incredible smile. Her expressions exude soft kindness and that drives me up the wall. Night and then morning. Saturday. Independence Day. The last entry went in a direction I thought would have been better avoided. Compulsion helped to make it happen and feel accessible. Now it does not. I hay have made a mistake, but as I said earlier, it will stay. Bringing such a controversial and impossible-to-solve subject to this space is something I never thought would take place, and I barely scratched the surface. After including those words, I now fear not backlash, but ridicule from readers (although the site numbers are very low these days). I must be careful when exploring. And while I truly found myself offended and angry over society's shallow and uncaring behavior toward something so fucking fragile, this morning I am calm. Still pissy, but better. These days a single word in a careless direction can reveal a lifetime of issues and then snowball itself, either within or out on the surface. Others will run with anything, too. Keep in mind that a push down of another person is a push up for themselves. I am beginning to lose my way here, so it's time to stop. Today being the holiday of noise and barbecuing means I have to head outside soon to hang the flag and later set the driveway up. I usually drag the grill out there so we can be sociable as others mill around. This year will likely be different due to restrictions on gatherings. The fireworks do not stop, though. I had been hoping to have the lighting all operational so the garage could be lit up after dark. It's close, but I do not know if the motivation will be there today. I honestly put a lot of thought into that space and did some work, but it used to be more important than now. There has been too much going on in my head for any kind of joy or motivation. I need to sit here and think. Today is Saturday. The two days leading up to this have crushed most of my ambition and left me a pile of haphazard consideration. I don't really give a shit about celebrating, either. The importance of this day is not blowing up the street, anyway. I'll be out there half in the bag like always. I need the numbing effect, especially now. The condition of my life prior to two days ago was easier to analyze. Now? Smoked, right out of the number three cylinder. The mag has blown me up. Trail smoke generally indicates destruction of the lower-end. Think of this entry as said smoke after two days of shit. Trail smoke, following a deflagration of ablative proportions. This will continue. The massive shift in subject matter here after my discovery of the images from years ago really took off for a while. My feelings for that woman have not changed, lessened, anything. I am the same. Jolene, too. The show has not been on (I've been enjoying Voyager instead), meaning her striking features are not derailing me every day. Instead, and after being caught with my pants down in two ways, they are not at the forefront of my thinking. Bigger fish, bigger skillet. Issue one is idle, two is idle (for the most part, that never really goes away and I may get into it a bit later), issue three is idle, and issue four will likely dominate my brain and cause me to be distraught by mid-morning. I already know. Sitting here with coffee is fine. Nice and quiet with the television up there. Brooke and Susan are kind of bending my brain a bit, and that is bound to happen sometimes. They will not be there in an hour. They will be gone. Jolene is always inside. Jaime is in charge of the planet which revolves between my ears. This paragraph is likely the only representative mention of those enigmas of my life. Done. Almost time to hang the flag. I still have coffee. These entries may continue to shrink. The muse is here but words are not easy anymore. Smoke. Trashed, still. Yesterday afternoon I saw her again as she left work. One visit to her car and then she turned and trotted off beautifully toward the coffee house. By the time she emerged again, I was gone. Upon seeing her shoes and gentle facial expression again, I began to think that my staring at her -- even for a mere ten seconds or less -- is very wrong. Do you remember the Russian family in the restaurant from a couple of years back? I felt the same thing. That layout provided me with the opportunity for staring without restriction. While sitting in my car across from the strip mall, others may not be able to see me due to glare and tint. That means I was covertly gawking at a woman. Is there anything wrong with that? I don't think so, really, and not because it is me and I am overly analytic. What makes it ok is the idea that the act is harmless. I merely appreciate her and would never say a word about it. The breast comments aside, my feelings are for naught. Just desire, and again... That is perfectly natural. Unfortunately, it is also seeming wrong now, especially due to her face being so soft. I don't know her at all... Nothing. I never will. She is fucking adorable to no end and that is why I stared. I may never do it again. And now I am finished 'justifying' the obsession for today. The more I see her face, the more I feel. This will probably pass. I don't know how much longer I can sit here. Things need to be accomplished. 'The desire may be ruling me'. That was a little ways back and has not changed for the better. Each occasion in which I feel something toward whomever is another step toward me shutting down. My penchant for exotic and provocative imagery here has probably exacerbated the problem. But I do not see another method for visually identifying the ideas and dreams contained within this site. Most of the last five-plus years has been centered upon the obsession and my ever-wavering feelings toward how it has shaped me. The images are important in at least that way. Do I desire the subjects? Sometimes. No more fullbright. The desire is ruling me. It's happening right now as I type. And there is the girl on the fucking farm. Splendid. Just what I need this morning. Whatever. Jesus fuck, the thoughts in my head when I see that face are borderline criminal. Stop looking at her, idiot. I am going to have to get outside soon and do something other than sit here. Motivation is going to be tough today due to my head blowing the hell up over all of this. The lighting system may move forward a tad bit if I can concentrate. Tomorrow is garbage day so I can get some things together in that direction, too. Otherwise, just the usual organization and preparations for grilling on the driveway. I need to move my car. Do you see what is happening here? Less commentary on issues and more blathering about daily activities. This just sucks. I used to be creative and full of ideas and now I feel as if I've been reduced to a lump of boredom. At least the images here will make people think. Maybe. I don't know. Nothing has changed. The big four still tug at my every thought and drive me to drink, but I am having trouble trying to articulate. Too much has taken place recently for me to collate and work. But I keep going. There is little else in my life at this point upon which I can focus. One fact has become clear these last two days, and that is the obsession becoming manageable. Such a realization is not something I could have imagined years ago, or even months back. I believe the reason is those other problems that will not go away no matter the effort on my part. I do not believe that I can ever trust what is in another person's head, most notably a woman. That means there is one aspect of me that cannot change. By extension, an issue which shall remain. It hurts, but I understand. I may truly be partially guiding myself to a place within which only I fit. Others are loose cannons now. The lack of trust stems from my own inner demons that push against insecurity. And though I know it, I am powerless to alter myself in these late days. Too many parts of me which have developed as a result of my decisions and actions are now locked away. No access. I just have to fucking live with it, as does anyone who wishes to associate with me. Now take that shit and combine it with my need to remain away from people, and the picture begins to clarify. Result? Just me and my words. Thinking that the first issue can be controlled -- if not understood -- does not make the larger problem any easier with which to work. I keep coming to the same conclusion, and that is a road with no turns. Fuck me. I am not exclusively at fault, though. Fingers can be pointed in all confidence. Fuck you. I cannot get into number three because it is completely out of my control, has grown as per society's whims and cold apathy, and will never go away. Yes, I said 'never'. Go ahead and try arguing the point and I will fucking bury you. Ship. Sailed. Isolation is the key. Avoidance. Safety. Alone. Four is the opposite; completely under my control, even considering the power involved. It is a choice, and one I have made for many years. At this point in my life, the idea of pain relief is a given. I've understood that facet for some time now, and it is the one exception to the rule. Wait a minute... How did I get into this crap? Stop. About face. The farm girl is gone for now, thank fucking Christ. My brain was half here and half embedded within her pants. I don't care anymore. Pause. Sunday. The fourth was unremarkable. Music, fireworks here and there, sitting. We lit nothing this year. The show I bitched about the other day was on during dinner and again caused me to nearly give up on it. Six seasons of no issues almost blown up by two episodes and little conversation. Damn it. I can either get used to it and accept things as they are, or continue to attempt avoidance of those aspects which cause me to implode. Either way, I will not be pleased. I do not like being pushed around by feelings, memories, or any other issue out of fear. The result is my feeling weakened, small. And I am neither. The inside of me might be all fucked up, but I am still standing. Hopefully the show eases up a bit on societal pressure so I can see it through to the end. The other series that I tossed aside has not come back, nor will it. I am the world champion at shoving things behind me and locking them out for all time. I've done it many times. Issue three is one with which I will not deal any longer. It has tired me out for decades and I cannot to battle anymore. One person versus a mass of insensitivity. Every time I have tried? Graded and left there to cry. Yesterday I had lots of free time after deciding the daily work could wait until after the holiday. I worked on the lighting system again and completed the current phase, which may last years. I would like to expand some but that must wait. Five sections of the system are operating properly and the colors are much more vibrant than in the past. The old track light faded with time. I had hoped to get everything operational before last night and I did. Getting started yesterday was not easy, although completion came quickly once I made a mess. I am pleased with the appearance out there. Today I am finally going to move the table and get it set up. There is an image in my head of how I wish it to be configured. Hopefully if I keep busy everything will be in place my mid-afternoon. Aside from that, I have this to contend with. Ugh. Desire, dreams, machines. Unattainable. Not possible in this life or the next. So, why do I continue to harp in such directions? Because I have little else to bring me joy these days. I fully intend to deepen this state of fantasy until others not only fail to understand me, but also do not wish to be near me. I have to keep pushing toward both goals at the same time and force hands. This is a journey I have taken in the past, and long before the period in the Midwest when the dreams began. Isolated and completely inside my little world of only those things which help to protect me from all that is out there. Harm, insensitivity, apathy, and cold, calculating individuals that would be better off sans vocal cords. In here I am safe and relatively comfortable until such time as I have to work. On top of that, I can dream in whatever direction feels right. Be it Jaime, Jolene, or some other such beauty that pulls me inside out... She will be there. And if the woman is not to be found out there in the harsh world, well, I will create her. Believe it. The last two days have seen me preoccupied somewhat by a force which is both necessary and irritating me to no end. I love it and cannot stand it at the same time. I have tried to understand but my efforts continue to fail on a daily basis and cause my head to cease relaxation. Yesterday was a good example of me maintaining focus despite the issues following along. I wanted to get the thing finished and pushed. And while I am now proud of the results, that up is being partially thwarted by thoughts that some aspects of life are truly out of my control. That is not good. If you know me at all, you are already aware that if said control wavers too much or disappears completely, so does the cause. I have not the time nor the inclination to sit here and deal with shit that brings me down. Many entries over the last two months displayed a line that repeated here and there... I am still ok. Well, maybe not. Keep in mind that when something brings me down, it is guaranteed to have been at the hands of another. I do not bring myself to those low points any longer. That is not me anymore. If I am truly ok in these late days, I will say so. Right now? The conditions have been altered slightly; just enough to put the wrong letter in one of my squares of satisfaction and comfort. A threat to my comfort is eventually going to be harshly eliminated. The show, other people, whatever the cause, I will push in such a manner so as to ensure no return. And I will feel nothing aside from the comfort which should have been there in the first place. My world will be pointedly and permanently altered to fit my needs. Period. I can be no clearer today. Tune in later and maybe I will go further. Not all issues can be completely removed, however. Not even people. I keep trying, though. No choice now. Today will begin soon. I still need to sit here and think about everything. Lately Sunday feels as the first day of the week, not the last. Upon completing my usual duties and expanding a bit into other chores, the afternoon rolls around and I feel accomplished. Everything is before me at this moment and can appear daunting at times, but I always get to the other end. I have to say right now the kitchen is a holy mess. The addition of that beloved television in there along with following the shows while cleaning has greatly expanded my comfort. I've brought up that modification more than once throughout weeks for good reason. It means that much to me now. Today is also garbage day. I have to maximize everything due to being stuck with items which cannot be donated. With the numbers sharply rising, I fear that another lockdown is on the horizon and nothing will be opening which can benefit space. I can deal with it, though. Each weekend sees the storage and organization improved. Stop. Morning. Garbage trucks wandering outside. The afternoon and evening went by. I finished everything outlined and moved the table, finally. The difference in the new office space is fantastic. All of the boxes which had been floating around for months (I kept moving items from place to place and trying to shrink their contents each time) are now nice and neat, together, and tucked away. I was able to move my huge printer, empty two drawers of the precious tool box into the desk drawers, and sweep out the entire area. Very nice. Now I have another project on the horizon, and that is to route power to the table and set up my other computer there. The new office will indeed be just that. So far, my ideas for changing that space have panned out wonderfully. In and around my travels throughout the house, I also took care of regular Sunday stuff and by late afternoon everything was in order. That is a good feeling. This morning I am back to the weekday routine but only for one day. I will not have the house to myself again until possibly Friday. I am uncertain as of yet. AT least today I know what to expect... The show, some chores, more of this, and hopefully a touch of clarity. Dreaming, dreaming, and more dreaming. And here we go. Laughter. Smiling. More laughter, and then a hand to her mouth. So cute, like the Brunette whenever she poked fun at me. The feeling inside as if the entire universe is finally in order and I must keep it as such. She is right there but I can't see all of her. There is too much motion... Like spinning of sorts, with lights gently flickering in the background. I am trying. I know she is right there. My head is computing her vast beauty and I need to be right up against her but I cannot seem to reach. And then I have to find her. She is no longer close. Where? To the hallway and what feels the only direction. She has to be here, somewhere. I must see her. My breathing is haphazard, uncomfortable. Anxious. Where did she go? The hallway keeps going, steering to and fro with a pair of steps at differing angles here and there. I am beginning to get confused by the layout. Lots of doorways, no doors. Everything is open. A moment ago she was there... Arm's length. Now she is out of my sight and I am becoming frightened that I will lose her. That smile, the eyes, the hand to her mouth, the little nervous giggle when she knew she had got me, I have to see it all again. My heart is exploding. God help me find the woman of my dreams. More hallway, more openings. I cannot see her at all but the cucumber is wafting through me. Swirling, like those little hearts which float in groups through my vision when I think of her smile. Further. I hear giggling... And I finally know she is in the secluded master bedroom up ahead. I know it, feel it. Inside I cannot contain the excitement of being close. She is there, waiting for me. Stepping, breathing, I am overwhelmed by the realization that after so much time I found that woman. Her. I have been searching nightly for years, maybe longer. The doors are open. Stepping. A giggle, a scent, another giggle. She is right there. Doorway. Dark hair. One side of her face. Awake. Fuck. That may be all I have left in this world. The same glimpse as in the images. Half, maybe less. One side, hair all mussed from the breeze, fingers. A soda can. The expression I still cannot believe after a month and a half of obsessing over her beauty and endless pull on my weak heart. Just an image, nothing more. I saw her and fell, and now dream. But I can never find her. Too far away, too elusive, too far in the past, too something. I don't know anymore. Pause. And here I am, back from the morning drive, computer on lap, coffee, cats sacked out as usual. I am going to work here for a while before jumping off the sofa for the daily chores. Realizing that dream may be all I have left for the remainder of my life is disheartening. Very difficult to swallow. And speaking of swallowing, there she was in the parking lot again, looking gorgeous and shapely beyond belief. As a manager, she always dresses professionally and looks beautiful in those cream shoes with little polished bits on the heels. They flash sunlight as she waddles to the door. Damn, and her jacket was stunning. I hope I don't end up dreaming of her, too. None of that is good for me these days. I cannot avoid staring as she walks by and waves with a smile. Super fucking cute, that little girl. I went back to the old standard musical choice for the return trip. That stuff moves me like nothing else and reminds me of the beginning of this when I rediscovered the disc and then moved it to the phone. I listened to the same three or four songs driving home in the morning and then different choices in the afternoon. The feeling was surreal with empty roads and warning signs in several locations along the highway. The world felt dire, somehow, as if it was slowly closing up. After restrictions were lessened several degrees, cases rose quickly and seemed out of control again. We are still there, more worry, less security while out in society, and over to my left? The ocean pays no mind. Whitecaps, deep blue, beautiful. A stalwart reminder that we are tiny and mean little in the grand scheme. Millennia from now when people are gone, the ocean will still be beautiful. We will eventually be the trail smoke of our former selves. Gemma was the most advanced machine conceivable Today feels very nice as compared to three days ago, the last time I embraced the routine. I accomplished much over the weekend and moving forward is inspiring. As emotional as I have become over the dreams of that woman (machine?), the daily peace and quiet always helps. Soon I will take care of business and some extra tasks in order to fall into satisfaction this evening. Cocktail hour is more rewarding while knowing I have advanced this little house. The new office is shaping up nicely, too. I really enjoy seeing the area organized and useful. No more office in here. Back to control. Twice now I have mentioned the lack of knowledge of what is in a person's (woman's) head and the relationship between such difficulty and insecurity. Well, I have no choice. After this many years of learning about myself -- both from within and externally -- I know any change is unlikely. The world must adapt to my needs and fears, however that is as unrealistic an idea as the limousine full of cash and models. And booze. So, the control that must be present is not possible. The only way issue two can be tempered or eliminated is by either remaining alone or flying off to a place where no one knows me, or could ever. The isolation that I so enjoy and which brings me much comfort would need to be advanced to the point of avoiding in-person contact entirely. That is difficult, but possible. Planning would require years and I doubt I have the ability to maintain focus for such a long time. Hence, machinery. Equally impossible, but a dream nonetheless. I can't help it. The ideas and visions of such a situation are overwhelming my senses. I would not have to know what is in there because everything would be dictated by software and coding. Just like this, a medium over which I have complete control. See? I'm crazy. Now simply add her face and the pit of despair is complete. As I so often say, just suck the information. I'm doing it right now. Control over thought is the only way I would ever be comfortable. Too much takes place in society, even the simplicity of visiting a restaurant, for me to take everything with a grain of salt, or, and perhaps more appropriately, allow incidents or visions to roll off me like water off a you-know-what. That is the only way, machinery. Like this machine under my hands, nothing surprises or worries me. It sits there and takes instructions, as it was designed. Unfortunately, that is all there is in the world, and all there will ever be. Acceptance is not happening because that points to dissatisfaction and unhappiness. Even though I am in the fucking middle of it right now, knowing I am unchangeable is difficult to consider. And one more thing? I did all of this to myself in a very short period of time. Years of dreaming did not place me in this current realization until dreaming of machines after a reminder. And then her. And then two more. And then one. That machine of bliss. Control, a lack of worry, and zero issues with her. No thinking, dreaming, or any other type of threat could possibly exist. Security. Perfection? Nope. There is no such thing. Now we must veer away from the dreams. My Swiss army knife fetish may end up out of control. There is that word again, but at least this time it is a little funny. Cats are sleeping on the loveseat, I still have coffee left, and the peaceful comfort within which I am cocooned are adding up to my complete enjoyment of this day. I am going to need to pause soon and take care of business, however. The afternoon will arrive regardless of me being ready for it. We go. Chores are nearly finished. Just some laundry left for me, but that is always a simple affair. Very exciting, eh? Not really. I am about two hours away from driving south again. I might create a new playlist for the ride. Some of the music on my phone is becoming tired. I think I am the only person who ever found Alice to be really attractive. I don't know why considering she is a menace, but the big, dark eyes, voice, and a gorgeous mane of black hair just pulls me every time. Pause. Morning. Tuesday. There was a dream. Vegas. We were walking toward what I thought was the southern strip (Paradise) and the intersections were enormous from corner to corner. In the beginning the trip felt real, yet skewed somehow, as if we were not supposed to be there at the time. Maybe another reason, I cannot tell. When I was young, my grandfather flew us to Tahoe quite often, and despite my age, he always introduced me to everyone. I felt important back then. Whenever we arrived in that town and at our usual resort, I walked as if we represented those who belonged there. We were not like the others. Belonged. And one little tidbit further? He had been invited by management on each occasion. So, standing on a massive street corner in Vegas with a backpack seemed very wrong for me. All around were open spaces, wide sidewalks, and the signal poles and arms were gigantic. That town has grown exponentially in the last three decades. It shows. Seeing the timer on the crosswalk signal helped me to traverse one intersection, but running was not possible. I hate when I have to get someplace quickly and cannot seem to move much while in a dream. Eventually, I made it and understood that we were all there. Who exactly? I still don't know. I kept feeling as if I knew where I was going and needed to get us into a resort. Out of the sun. I don't know how many were in our party, but at one point after feeling as if I was playing Frogger to diagonally cross an intersection, I remember seeing my grandfather and telling him to take a break as my uncle and I sought our destination. Realizing my uncle was there felt nice. We were always buddies, right up until he passed away. We walked along something like a bus stop in the center of the roadway, and then I was inside a bus terminal. Everyone else was gone, and I was with only the young one. The town looked brighter but felt as if we were not near the big resorts. Searching, although I knew where we were headed for whatever reason. And then there was a girl (isn't there always a fucking random girl?) to whom I immediately felt attracted. The young one was there, too, and wished to help her find the resorts, just like us. We grabbed a taxi together instead of trying to decipher the transit system. The driver was very nice, and when questioned if he knew of our potential destination, he smirked and revealed that living in Vegas his entire life meant he could get us anywhere we wished. Upon him dropping us off on a corner outside what appeared to be a hotel, I tried to get out some cash to pay and tip him. Someone else was there, a male I knew. He was trying to cover the charge. I saw the receipt in the driver's hand and the total was eleven dollars. What? In Vegas? That was nuts, so my intention was to hand him a twenty. The guy on my right (who I still could not see) produced a 'thirty-dollar bill' and overtook my gesture to pay the tab. Unreal. I fumbled my things and badly needed to get them in order. All at once I had the 'airport' feeling of being disorganized at the worst possible moment, so I shoved everything into my pockets and headed away from there in hopes of finally making progress. I began to feel that the entire day had been spent in search of one hotel, and the one I saw was no longer there. We were at a bus stop on a corner. The girl was still with us, kind of clinging to me. She thanked all of us for the cab ride. None of it seemed strange other than our apparent inability to find a damned resort. And then we were in some sort of a transit center again, although smaller. There were powered double doors leading to a crosswalk and into a building where I spied a sign indicating that is was indeed a resort. Another, smaller sign directed people to other hotels, one of which I desperately wished to find. Through the doors, up some stairs, and there was a coffee shop on the left. Once again only myself and the young one were present. The girl was gone, and no one else appeared that we knew. I felt like things were finally coming together. We decided to grab something to eat, so into the restaurant we strolled. There was no hostess, servers, or any other staff within view. We sought a table but there were none clean, anywhere. Some patrons were seated, lots of children around them. I really wanted to get out of there but food was important. I overheard comments about slow service and cold food, so we exited into a large corridor. I was reminded of walking out of the big buffet in NYNY so many years ago. Once reaching a crossroad of sorts, we regrouped and I again saw a sign leading us to the big resorts. Thank Christ. She wanted to play a few games once we found the place, and I looked to the mess of cash and receipts in my pocket. Gone. Immediately I was shaken by the fact that the girl had robbed me. I had nothing left in my pockets. Nothing. I felt naked being in a city defined, ruled, and driven by money and mine was gone. The young one commented that if we were going to have to play games on the cheap, an expensive meal was in order and she would cover it. I laughed, we turned to another set of stairs that should have led to our destination, and then... Awake. Confused a little, but nothing terrible. The whole thing was unexpected and surreal, but who am I to question dreams? I have no idea why family members were there, other than the obvious connection between them and Nevada from my long past. The girl? Perhaps she represented me being reckless whenever there is an attraction. I don't know, really. Being lost and looking for a reward after the journey is very common to me. The restaurant? My need to control the atmosphere. That will probably never go away. And now here I sit on a Tuesday, most of which I will not be alone. Some of my routine will be similar to other days, some will not. I have plenty to do, always. One extra little project today will be me distracted while analysis of that dream continues. Everything means something, for sure, but as I understand the world of dreaming, not everything is important. It will fade like all the other smoke obscuring my vision ahead. Trail smoke. Switch. I have not ceased thinking of the issues involved with reality versus fantasy, along with possibility. Knowing a person's thoughts. Feeling secure. Control over everything so as to alleviate those problems which destroy me. Everything continues to float inside my head. I need to understand from where the control stemmed. That has been spread into other aspects of daily life, too. Learning of the genesis may help me figure out why it is now so important, and moreover, why such a situation may be my only way to happiness. I don't know. How many fucking times have I typed those three words? Damn. I have to keep going with this and maintain the pattern which has grown throughout the last few weeks in which I intersperse the information here with some thinking about the big picture. Sprinkles of thought. Tidbits. Or maybe I would be better in taking each word on its own, rather than trying to bite the oversized sandwich all at once. I guess I need to try taking it one step at a time. There is plenty of room here. Just before returning from the south yesterday afternoon, I saw her walk by my car again. She lives pretty far away from work so whenever it's time to leave she scoots. On this latest occasion, I saw her long hair in a braid and her relatively rounded cheeks. For whatever reason, upon seeing her face I was immediately smitten. Nothing crazy or dramatic, and the feeling will not go anywhere (obviously), but she looked so cute that I snapped myself out of a trance seconds later that had washed over me as she walked with an idle expression. She appears kind, gentle of voice, and soft. The facial expressions I describe here (or try to, anyway) mean so much to me now that the words are becoming inadequate. Oy. I keep trying. That girl is so fucking cute that I cannot understand. But she is a person, and that means very soon I will look at her and feel bad. I am the emperor of the universe when it comes to seeking beauty and staring. Not good, but at least I am respectful. One day soon I will not look at her at all. At this moment, her profile is burned to my brain cells. I felt none of this mere weeks ago. Foggy outside. Still no sun close to eight in the morning. Yesterday seemed to be warm into the early afternoon, although the air was cool. By the time I returned north just before six, the cool turned to cold. Yikes, maybe I really did bitch about the heat too much. Now I'm being slapped with the opposite. Heh. At least the lower mercury makes working around the house much more comfortable. So I moved my oversized printer to the new office, have a plan for wiring things and adding those two circuits I've mentioned before, and then making the space look a little more comfortable. The chair is out there, too. Things are coming together and two rooms in the house are half empty. Very nice. I may sit with this machine for quite some time today, though. I have no obligations to leave. The little daily chores await, as does the show in the background. The comfort I derive and enjoy knowing that the house is under my complete control really helps to keep my head out of the water during the average day. The afternoon becomes tough sometimes, however lately I have been able to keep busy for the most part. Sometimes the smallest effort lights a chain reaction in me which then pushes along and by the end of the day I feel good about everything. Today is beginning to look like those times when much is accomplished. And I have this... The never-ending search for answers and insight. The key words never leave my brain, no matter what is going on within or around me. Desire, control, machines, comfort. You see Gemma up there, a screen shot from the show. Her eyes are the giveaway. Advanced to the point of learning just as a human. She was amazing in the role, too. What caught my eye immediately was not beauty. It was her height. She stood there in the home of the family whose patriarch had gone out alone and appropriated her for helping with housework and the children. When she was activated I noticed her striking height right away, and seconds later the amazing look of the eyes. Whoever designed the effects or contact lens/effect combination did a wonderful thing. Just like those contacts LeVar wore in the NG movies, they look incredible. I became smitten with Gemma's character within two episodes, although something else was there, too... Fear. She was very technologically superior to any other realistic robot at the time, but still machinelike enough to be kind of scary. When she stood still, the lack of any motion at all was stirring. If you care to learn why, look up 'uncanny valley' on the Wiki. I believe Gemma was perfect for that part. I lost interest in the show, though. Almost time to put this thing away for a while. I'm getting tired of sitting here dreaming about the robots, especially the Jaime/Jolene/whomever thing. And the house. Fuck. Smoke again. Something has to change or I will lose my shit soon. She is out there."
Trail Smoke
Mature content No. 148 Published July 7th, 2020 8:54am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Morning. The same morning as the end of the last entry. The first drive is behind me and the day is ahead. For the time being, I am going to sit here with this for a little while before getting into the routine. Well, this is a part of that now, I suppose. There is still trail smoke from last night, too. I have much thinking ahead. Nothing will take place today until the gentleman comes to get his motorcycle, however. I am staying in the house until he leaves. I need to be alone like never before. After trying to describe (bitch about, really) my becoming disconcerted and hurt by the show, this entry is going to be difficult. I still can't believe I went into such a tumultuous and controversial subject. It is there, regardless, and will stay. I saw her again along with another woman that has frequented the coffee house. Those legs are going to remain in my head a long while. Tormented, spun like aluminum on an engine lathe. The weather has really gone my way for the last two days and today is no different. Fog and cool wind. Wow. I may get up into the attic for a little while after the daily stuff and run some wire. Right now the ceiling fan is not necessary, but that time will return soon enough. Usually into the fall the temperature rises enough for some air movement in the living room. I guess I will see how I feel after the morning moves along. I can also continue with the lighting system if the motivation is there. Right now, I just don't know. I need lots of time in the quiet to gather my thoughts regarding the last entry and one other fucked up situation that may need to be hammered. My vision has narrowed so dramatically in the past twelve hours that I have to catch up. More issues are about as necessary as another fucking heatwave. My stomach is messed up again. It will pass. Last night was so difficult that I nearly wiped the site. Scrubbed clean of anything sordid or unsavory, leaving only trivial crap. This morning I do not feel as such so everything is still here. Options seem to have narrowed to the point of my isolating further. That means no stores, contact with anyone, or any other interaction other than fueling the car. I might just stay here all of the time, or until forced to find work again. The situation is such that I cannot be near others for fear of pushing too hard. They do not deserve that type of reaction from me as most do not know what is happening inside my head. The peaceful comfort of being home alone is my new universe. Pause. The daily work is finished and the motorcycle has been picked up. I am in the quiet again. The breeze outside is very nice, so the lighting system is next. I still need to mount a couple of boxes and wire them. Both new fixtures are mounted. Cats are asleep. Peaceful. During lunch I evaluated my key chain and intend to rework the knife situation. I normally carry one in my pocket and the keys have another which includes nail clippers. Well, the knife with the clippers will now reside in my pocket while out, and another, larger knife will grace the ring. I may have two on it. Considering the amount of heavier knives I have, the choice should be straightforward. Unfortunately, several are roughly the same size and I have my favorites. Perhaps the ring will change from time to time and follow my whims. I remember seeing the Champion in the early eighties during a visit to the hardware store, and I was floored by its forty-dollar price tag. The knife was amazing and versatile but at that cost I never acquired one. Soon the interest fleeted. Later, an even larger version was produced and now I have three different examples of the model. On top of that, there are two even larger knives, one of them being the most complex model Victorinox manufactures. Obviously, my interest is crazy because the most capable ones are also the most prized, and as such will likely not leave their sheathes very often. Heh. The bottom line is choosing between different knives is enjoyable. I love them. I mentioned the cats being out on the sofa. Well, I am such a nut that I try to keep the house quiet so as to avoid disturbing them. Yep. My show is in the background and has been for hours. The current episode caught me off guard due to a guest star I had forgotten. Oy God, her face reminds me of Jaime. Remember that feature that pulls me? She has it, along with big, dark eyes and an incredible smile. Her expressions exude soft kindness and that drives me up the wall. Night and then morning. Saturday. Independence Day. The last entry went in a direction I thought would have been better avoided. Compulsion helped to make it happen and feel accessible. Now it does not. I hay have made a mistake, but as I said earlier, it will stay. Bringing such a controversial and impossible-to-solve subject to this space is something I never thought would take place, and I barely scratched the surface. After including those words, I now fear not backlash, but ridicule from readers (although the site numbers are very low these days). I must be careful when exploring. And while I truly found myself offended and angry over society's shallow and uncaring behavior toward something so fucking fragile, this morning I am calm. Still pissy, but better. These days a single word in a careless direction can reveal a lifetime of issues and then snowball itself, either within or out on the surface. Others will run with anything, too. Keep in mind that a push down of another person is a push up for themselves. I am beginning to lose my way here, so it's time to stop. Today being the holiday of noise and barbecuing means I have to head outside soon to hang the flag and later set the driveway up. I usually drag the grill out there so we can be sociable as others mill around. This year will likely be different due to restrictions on gatherings. The fireworks do not stop, though. I had been hoping to have the lighting all operational so the garage could be lit up after dark. It's close, but I do not know if the motivation will be there today. I honestly put a lot of thought into that space and did some work, but it used to be more important than now. There has been too much going on in my head for any kind of joy or motivation. I need to sit here and think. Today is Saturday. The two days leading up to this have crushed most of my ambition and left me a pile of haphazard consideration. I don't really give a shit about celebrating, either. The importance of this day is not blowing up the street, anyway. I'll be out there half in the bag like always. I need the numbing effect, especially now. The condition of my life prior to two days ago was easier to analyze. Now? Smoked, right out of the number three cylinder. The mag has blown me up. Trail smoke generally indicates destruction of the lower-end. Think of this entry as said smoke after two days of shit. Trail smoke, following a deflagration of ablative proportions. This will continue. The massive shift in subject matter here after my discovery of the images from years ago really took off for a while. My feelings for that woman have not changed, lessened, anything. I am the same. Jolene, too. The show has not been on (I've been enjoying Voyager instead), meaning her striking features are not derailing me every day. Instead, and after being caught with my pants down in two ways, they are not at the forefront of my thinking. Bigger fish, bigger skillet. Issue one is idle, two is idle (for the most part, that never really goes away and I may get into it a bit later), issue three is idle, and issue four will likely dominate my brain and cause me to be distraught by mid-morning. I already know. Sitting here with coffee is fine. Nice and quiet with the television up there. Brooke and Susan are kind of bending my brain a bit, and that is bound to happen sometimes. They will not be there in an hour. They will be gone. Jolene is always inside. Jaime is in charge of the planet which revolves between my ears. This paragraph is likely the only representative mention of those enigmas of my life. Done. Almost time to hang the flag. I still have coffee. These entries may continue to shrink. The muse is here but words are not easy anymore. Smoke. Trashed, still.
Yesterday afternoon I saw her again as she left work. One visit to her car and then she turned and trotted off beautifully toward the coffee house. By the time she emerged again, I was gone. Upon seeing her shoes and gentle facial expression again, I began to think that my staring at her -- even for a mere ten seconds or less -- is very wrong. Do you remember the Russian family in the restaurant from a couple of years back? I felt the same thing. That layout provided me with the opportunity for staring without restriction. While sitting in my car across from the strip mall, others may not be able to see me due to glare and tint. That means I was covertly gawking at a woman. Is there anything wrong with that? I don't think so, really, and not because it is me and I am overly analytic. What makes it ok is the idea that the act is harmless. I merely appreciate her and would never say a word about it. The breast comments aside, my feelings are for naught. Just desire, and again... That is perfectly natural. Unfortunately, it is also seeming wrong now, especially due to her face being so soft. I don't know her at all... Nothing. I never will. She is fucking adorable to no end and that is why I stared. I may never do it again. And now I am finished 'justifying' the obsession for today. The more I see her face, the more I feel. This will probably pass. I don't know how much longer I can sit here. Things need to be accomplished. 'The desire may be ruling me'. That was a little ways back and has not changed for the better. Each occasion in which I feel something toward whomever is another step toward me shutting down. My penchant for exotic and provocative imagery here has probably exacerbated the problem. But I do not see another method for visually identifying the ideas and dreams contained within this site. Most of the last five-plus years has been centered upon the obsession and my ever-wavering feelings toward how it has shaped me. The images are important in at least that way. Do I desire the subjects? Sometimes. No more fullbright. The desire is ruling me. It's happening right now as I type. And there is the girl on the fucking farm. Splendid. Just what I need this morning. Whatever. Jesus fuck, the thoughts in my head when I see that face are borderline criminal. Stop looking at her, idiot. I am going to have to get outside soon and do something other than sit here. Motivation is going to be tough today due to my head blowing the hell up over all of this. The lighting system may move forward a tad bit if I can concentrate. Tomorrow is garbage day so I can get some things together in that direction, too. Otherwise, just the usual organization and preparations for grilling on the driveway. I need to move my car. Do you see what is happening here? Less commentary on issues and more blathering about daily activities. This just sucks. I used to be creative and full of ideas and now I feel as if I've been reduced to a lump of boredom. At least the images here will make people think. Maybe. I don't know. Nothing has changed. The big four still tug at my every thought and drive me to drink, but I am having trouble trying to articulate. Too much has taken place recently for me to collate and work. But I keep going. There is little else in my life at this point upon which I can focus. One fact has become clear these last two days, and that is the obsession becoming manageable. Such a realization is not something I could have imagined years ago, or even months back. I believe the reason is those other problems that will not go away no matter the effort on my part. I do not believe that I can ever trust what is in another person's head, most notably a woman. That means there is one aspect of me that cannot change. By extension, an issue which shall remain. It hurts, but I understand. I may truly be partially guiding myself to a place within which only I fit. Others are loose cannons now. The lack of trust stems from my own inner demons that push against insecurity. And though I know it, I am powerless to alter myself in these late days. Too many parts of me which have developed as a result of my decisions and actions are now locked away. No access. I just have to fucking live with it, as does anyone who wishes to associate with me. Now take that shit and combine it with my need to remain away from people, and the picture begins to clarify. Result? Just me and my words. Thinking that the first issue can be controlled -- if not understood -- does not make the larger problem any easier with which to work. I keep coming to the same conclusion, and that is a road with no turns. Fuck me. I am not exclusively at fault, though. Fingers can be pointed in all confidence. Fuck you. I cannot get into number three because it is completely out of my control, has grown as per society's whims and cold apathy, and will never go away. Yes, I said 'never'. Go ahead and try arguing the point and I will fucking bury you. Ship. Sailed. Isolation is the key. Avoidance. Safety. Alone. Four is the opposite; completely under my control, even considering the power involved. It is a choice, and one I have made for many years. At this point in my life, the idea of pain relief is a given. I've understood that facet for some time now, and it is the one exception to the rule. Wait a minute... How did I get into this crap? Stop. About face. The farm girl is gone for now, thank fucking Christ. My brain was half here and half embedded within her pants. I don't care anymore. Pause. Sunday. The fourth was unremarkable. Music, fireworks here and there, sitting. We lit nothing this year. The show I bitched about the other day was on during dinner and again caused me to nearly give up on it. Six seasons of no issues almost blown up by two episodes and little conversation. Damn it. I can either get used to it and accept things as they are, or continue to attempt avoidance of those aspects which cause me to implode. Either way, I will not be pleased. I do not like being pushed around by feelings, memories, or any other issue out of fear. The result is my feeling weakened, small. And I am neither. The inside of me might be all fucked up, but I am still standing. Hopefully the show eases up a bit on societal pressure so I can see it through to the end. The other series that I tossed aside has not come back, nor will it. I am the world champion at shoving things behind me and locking them out for all time. I've done it many times. Issue three is one with which I will not deal any longer. It has tired me out for decades and I cannot to battle anymore. One person versus a mass of insensitivity. Every time I have tried? Graded and left there to cry. Yesterday I had lots of free time after deciding the daily work could wait until after the holiday. I worked on the lighting system again and completed the current phase, which may last years. I would like to expand some but that must wait. Five sections of the system are operating properly and the colors are much more vibrant than in the past. The old track light faded with time. I had hoped to get everything operational before last night and I did. Getting started yesterday was not easy, although completion came quickly once I made a mess. I am pleased with the appearance out there. Today I am finally going to move the table and get it set up. There is an image in my head of how I wish it to be configured. Hopefully if I keep busy everything will be in place my mid-afternoon. Aside from that, I have this to contend with. Ugh.
Desire, dreams, machines. Unattainable. Not possible in this life or the next. So, why do I continue to harp in such directions? Because I have little else to bring me joy these days. I fully intend to deepen this state of fantasy until others not only fail to understand me, but also do not wish to be near me. I have to keep pushing toward both goals at the same time and force hands. This is a journey I have taken in the past, and long before the period in the Midwest when the dreams began. Isolated and completely inside my little world of only those things which help to protect me from all that is out there. Harm, insensitivity, apathy, and cold, calculating individuals that would be better off sans vocal cords. In here I am safe and relatively comfortable until such time as I have to work. On top of that, I can dream in whatever direction feels right. Be it Jaime, Jolene, or some other such beauty that pulls me inside out... She will be there. And if the woman is not to be found out there in the harsh world, well, I will create her. Believe it. The last two days have seen me preoccupied somewhat by a force which is both necessary and irritating me to no end. I love it and cannot stand it at the same time. I have tried to understand but my efforts continue to fail on a daily basis and cause my head to cease relaxation. Yesterday was a good example of me maintaining focus despite the issues following along. I wanted to get the thing finished and pushed. And while I am now proud of the results, that up is being partially thwarted by thoughts that some aspects of life are truly out of my control. That is not good. If you know me at all, you are already aware that if said control wavers too much or disappears completely, so does the cause. I have not the time nor the inclination to sit here and deal with shit that brings me down. Many entries over the last two months displayed a line that repeated here and there... I am still ok. Well, maybe not. Keep in mind that when something brings me down, it is guaranteed to have been at the hands of another. I do not bring myself to those low points any longer. That is not me anymore. If I am truly ok in these late days, I will say so. Right now? The conditions have been altered slightly; just enough to put the wrong letter in one of my squares of satisfaction and comfort. A threat to my comfort is eventually going to be harshly eliminated. The show, other people, whatever the cause, I will push in such a manner so as to ensure no return. And I will feel nothing aside from the comfort which should have been there in the first place. My world will be pointedly and permanently altered to fit my needs. Period. I can be no clearer today. Tune in later and maybe I will go further. Not all issues can be completely removed, however. Not even people. I keep trying, though. No choice now. Today will begin soon. I still need to sit here and think about everything. Lately Sunday feels as the first day of the week, not the last. Upon completing my usual duties and expanding a bit into other chores, the afternoon rolls around and I feel accomplished. Everything is before me at this moment and can appear daunting at times, but I always get to the other end. I have to say right now the kitchen is a holy mess. The addition of that beloved television in there along with following the shows while cleaning has greatly expanded my comfort. I've brought up that modification more than once throughout weeks for good reason. It means that much to me now. Today is also garbage day. I have to maximize everything due to being stuck with items which cannot be donated. With the numbers sharply rising, I fear that another lockdown is on the horizon and nothing will be opening which can benefit space. I can deal with it, though. Each weekend sees the storage and organization improved. Stop. Morning. Garbage trucks wandering outside. The afternoon and evening went by. I finished everything outlined and moved the table, finally. The difference in the new office space is fantastic. All of the boxes which had been floating around for months (I kept moving items from place to place and trying to shrink their contents each time) are now nice and neat, together, and tucked away. I was able to move my huge printer, empty two drawers of the precious tool box into the desk drawers, and sweep out the entire area. Very nice. Now I have another project on the horizon, and that is to route power to the table and set up my other computer there. The new office will indeed be just that. So far, my ideas for changing that space have panned out wonderfully. In and around my travels throughout the house, I also took care of regular Sunday stuff and by late afternoon everything was in order. That is a good feeling. This morning I am back to the weekday routine but only for one day. I will not have the house to myself again until possibly Friday. I am uncertain as of yet. AT least today I know what to expect... The show, some chores, more of this, and hopefully a touch of clarity. Dreaming, dreaming, and more dreaming. And here we go. Laughter. Smiling. More laughter, and then a hand to her mouth. So cute, like the Brunette whenever she poked fun at me. The feeling inside as if the entire universe is finally in order and I must keep it as such. She is right there but I can't see all of her. There is too much motion... Like spinning of sorts, with lights gently flickering in the background. I am trying. I know she is right there. My head is computing her vast beauty and I need to be right up against her but I cannot seem to reach. And then I have to find her. She is no longer close. Where? To the hallway and what feels the only direction. She has to be here, somewhere. I must see her. My breathing is haphazard, uncomfortable. Anxious. Where did she go? The hallway keeps going, steering to and fro with a pair of steps at differing angles here and there. I am beginning to get confused by the layout. Lots of doorways, no doors. Everything is open. A moment ago she was there... Arm's length. Now she is out of my sight and I am becoming frightened that I will lose her. That smile, the eyes, the hand to her mouth, the little nervous giggle when she knew she had got me, I have to see it all again. My heart is exploding. God help me find the woman of my dreams. More hallway, more openings. I cannot see her at all but the cucumber is wafting through me. Swirling, like those little hearts which float in groups through my vision when I think of her smile. Further. I hear giggling... And I finally know she is in the secluded master bedroom up ahead. I know it, feel it. Inside I cannot contain the excitement of being close. She is there, waiting for me. Stepping, breathing, I am overwhelmed by the realization that after so much time I found that woman. Her. I have been searching nightly for years, maybe longer. The doors are open. Stepping. A giggle, a scent, another giggle. She is right there. Doorway. Dark hair. One side of her face. Awake. Fuck. That may be all I have left in this world. The same glimpse as in the images. Half, maybe less. One side, hair all mussed from the breeze, fingers. A soda can. The expression I still cannot believe after a month and a half of obsessing over her beauty and endless pull on my weak heart. Just an image, nothing more. I saw her and fell, and now dream. But I can never find her. Too far away, too elusive, too far in the past, too something. I don't know anymore. Pause. And here I am, back from the morning drive, computer on lap, coffee, cats sacked out as usual. I am going to work here for a while before jumping off the sofa for the daily chores. Realizing that dream may be all I have left for the remainder of my life is disheartening. Very difficult to swallow. And speaking of swallowing, there she was in the parking lot again, looking gorgeous and shapely beyond belief. As a manager, she always dresses professionally and looks beautiful in those cream shoes with little polished bits on the heels. They flash sunlight as she waddles to the door. Damn, and her jacket was stunning. I hope I don't end up dreaming of her, too. None of that is good for me these days. I cannot avoid staring as she walks by and waves with a smile. Super fucking cute, that little girl. I went back to the old standard musical choice for the return trip. That stuff moves me like nothing else and reminds me of the beginning of this when I rediscovered the disc and then moved it to the phone. I listened to the same three or four songs driving home in the morning and then different choices in the afternoon. The feeling was surreal with empty roads and warning signs in several locations along the highway. The world felt dire, somehow, as if it was slowly closing up. After restrictions were lessened several degrees, cases rose quickly and seemed out of control again. We are still there, more worry, less security while out in society, and over to my left? The ocean pays no mind. Whitecaps, deep blue, beautiful. A stalwart reminder that we are tiny and mean little in the grand scheme. Millennia from now when people are gone, the ocean will still be beautiful. We will eventually be the trail smoke of our former selves.
Gemma was the most advanced machine conceivable
Today feels very nice as compared to three days ago, the last time I embraced the routine. I accomplished much over the weekend and moving forward is inspiring. As emotional as I have become over the dreams of that woman (machine?), the daily peace and quiet always helps. Soon I will take care of business and some extra tasks in order to fall into satisfaction this evening. Cocktail hour is more rewarding while knowing I have advanced this little house. The new office is shaping up nicely, too. I really enjoy seeing the area organized and useful. No more office in here. Back to control. Twice now I have mentioned the lack of knowledge of what is in a person's (woman's) head and the relationship between such difficulty and insecurity. Well, I have no choice. After this many years of learning about myself -- both from within and externally -- I know any change is unlikely. The world must adapt to my needs and fears, however that is as unrealistic an idea as the limousine full of cash and models. And booze. So, the control that must be present is not possible. The only way issue two can be tempered or eliminated is by either remaining alone or flying off to a place where no one knows me, or could ever. The isolation that I so enjoy and which brings me much comfort would need to be advanced to the point of avoiding in-person contact entirely. That is difficult, but possible. Planning would require years and I doubt I have the ability to maintain focus for such a long time. Hence, machinery. Equally impossible, but a dream nonetheless. I can't help it. The ideas and visions of such a situation are overwhelming my senses. I would not have to know what is in there because everything would be dictated by software and coding. Just like this, a medium over which I have complete control. See? I'm crazy. Now simply add her face and the pit of despair is complete. As I so often say, just suck the information. I'm doing it right now. Control over thought is the only way I would ever be comfortable. Too much takes place in society, even the simplicity of visiting a restaurant, for me to take everything with a grain of salt, or, and perhaps more appropriately, allow incidents or visions to roll off me like water off a you-know-what. That is the only way, machinery. Like this machine under my hands, nothing surprises or worries me. It sits there and takes instructions, as it was designed. Unfortunately, that is all there is in the world, and all there will ever be. Acceptance is not happening because that points to dissatisfaction and unhappiness. Even though I am in the fucking middle of it right now, knowing I am unchangeable is difficult to consider. And one more thing? I did all of this to myself in a very short period of time. Years of dreaming did not place me in this current realization until dreaming of machines after a reminder. And then her. And then two more. And then one. That machine of bliss. Control, a lack of worry, and zero issues with her. No thinking, dreaming, or any other type of threat could possibly exist. Security. Perfection? Nope. There is no such thing. Now we must veer away from the dreams. My Swiss army knife fetish may end up out of control. There is that word again, but at least this time it is a little funny. Cats are sleeping on the loveseat, I still have coffee left, and the peaceful comfort within which I am cocooned are adding up to my complete enjoyment of this day. I am going to need to pause soon and take care of business, however. The afternoon will arrive regardless of me being ready for it. We go. Chores are nearly finished. Just some laundry left for me, but that is always a simple affair. Very exciting, eh? Not really. I am about two hours away from driving south again. I might create a new playlist for the ride. Some of the music on my phone is becoming tired. I think I am the only person who ever found Alice to be really attractive. I don't know why considering she is a menace, but the big, dark eyes, voice, and a gorgeous mane of black hair just pulls me every time. Pause. Morning. Tuesday. There was a dream. Vegas. We were walking toward what I thought was the southern strip (Paradise) and the intersections were enormous from corner to corner. In the beginning the trip felt real, yet skewed somehow, as if we were not supposed to be there at the time. Maybe another reason, I cannot tell. When I was young, my grandfather flew us to Tahoe quite often, and despite my age, he always introduced me to everyone. I felt important back then. Whenever we arrived in that town and at our usual resort, I walked as if we represented those who belonged there. We were not like the others. Belonged. And one little tidbit further? He had been invited by management on each occasion. So, standing on a massive street corner in Vegas with a backpack seemed very wrong for me. All around were open spaces, wide sidewalks, and the signal poles and arms were gigantic. That town has grown exponentially in the last three decades. It shows. Seeing the timer on the crosswalk signal helped me to traverse one intersection, but running was not possible. I hate when I have to get someplace quickly and cannot seem to move much while in a dream. Eventually, I made it and understood that we were all there. Who exactly? I still don't know. I kept feeling as if I knew where I was going and needed to get us into a resort. Out of the sun. I don't know how many were in our party, but at one point after feeling as if I was playing Frogger to diagonally cross an intersection, I remember seeing my grandfather and telling him to take a break as my uncle and I sought our destination. Realizing my uncle was there felt nice. We were always buddies, right up until he passed away. We walked along something like a bus stop in the center of the roadway, and then I was inside a bus terminal. Everyone else was gone, and I was with only the young one. The town looked brighter but felt as if we were not near the big resorts. Searching, although I knew where we were headed for whatever reason. And then there was a girl (isn't there always a fucking random girl?) to whom I immediately felt attracted. The young one was there, too, and wished to help her find the resorts, just like us. We grabbed a taxi together instead of trying to decipher the transit system. The driver was very nice, and when questioned if he knew of our potential destination, he smirked and revealed that living in Vegas his entire life meant he could get us anywhere we wished. Upon him dropping us off on a corner outside what appeared to be a hotel, I tried to get out some cash to pay and tip him. Someone else was there, a male I knew. He was trying to cover the charge. I saw the receipt in the driver's hand and the total was eleven dollars. What? In Vegas? That was nuts, so my intention was to hand him a twenty. The guy on my right (who I still could not see) produced a 'thirty-dollar bill' and overtook my gesture to pay the tab. Unreal. I fumbled my things and badly needed to get them in order. All at once I had the 'airport' feeling of being disorganized at the worst possible moment, so I shoved everything into my pockets and headed away from there in hopes of finally making progress. I began to feel that the entire day had been spent in search of one hotel, and the one I saw was no longer there. We were at a bus stop on a corner. The girl was still with us, kind of clinging to me. She thanked all of us for the cab ride. None of it seemed strange other than our apparent inability to find a damned resort. And then we were in some sort of a transit center again, although smaller. There were powered double doors leading to a crosswalk and into a building where I spied a sign indicating that is was indeed a resort. Another, smaller sign directed people to other hotels, one of which I desperately wished to find. Through the doors, up some stairs, and there was a coffee shop on the left. Once again only myself and the young one were present. The girl was gone, and no one else appeared that we knew. I felt like things were finally coming together. We decided to grab something to eat, so into the restaurant we strolled. There was no hostess, servers, or any other staff within view. We sought a table but there were none clean, anywhere. Some patrons were seated, lots of children around them. I really wanted to get out of there but food was important. I overheard comments about slow service and cold food, so we exited into a large corridor. I was reminded of walking out of the big buffet in NYNY so many years ago. Once reaching a crossroad of sorts, we regrouped and I again saw a sign leading us to the big resorts. Thank Christ. She wanted to play a few games once we found the place, and I looked to the mess of cash and receipts in my pocket. Gone. Immediately I was shaken by the fact that the girl had robbed me. I had nothing left in my pockets. Nothing. I felt naked being in a city defined, ruled, and driven by money and mine was gone. The young one commented that if we were going to have to play games on the cheap, an expensive meal was in order and she would cover it. I laughed, we turned to another set of stairs that should have led to our destination, and then... Awake. Confused a little, but nothing terrible.
The whole thing was unexpected and surreal, but who am I to question dreams? I have no idea why family members were there, other than the obvious connection between them and Nevada from my long past. The girl? Perhaps she represented me being reckless whenever there is an attraction. I don't know, really. Being lost and looking for a reward after the journey is very common to me. The restaurant? My need to control the atmosphere. That will probably never go away. And now here I sit on a Tuesday, most of which I will not be alone. Some of my routine will be similar to other days, some will not. I have plenty to do, always. One extra little project today will be me distracted while analysis of that dream continues. Everything means something, for sure, but as I understand the world of dreaming, not everything is important. It will fade like all the other smoke obscuring my vision ahead. Trail smoke. Switch. I have not ceased thinking of the issues involved with reality versus fantasy, along with possibility. Knowing a person's thoughts. Feeling secure. Control over everything so as to alleviate those problems which destroy me. Everything continues to float inside my head. I need to understand from where the control stemmed. That has been spread into other aspects of daily life, too. Learning of the genesis may help me figure out why it is now so important, and moreover, why such a situation may be my only way to happiness. I don't know. How many fucking times have I typed those three words? Damn. I have to keep going with this and maintain the pattern which has grown throughout the last few weeks in which I intersperse the information here with some thinking about the big picture. Sprinkles of thought. Tidbits. Or maybe I would be better in taking each word on its own, rather than trying to bite the oversized sandwich all at once. I guess I need to try taking it one step at a time. There is plenty of room here. Just before returning from the south yesterday afternoon, I saw her walk by my car again. She lives pretty far away from work so whenever it's time to leave she scoots. On this latest occasion, I saw her long hair in a braid and her relatively rounded cheeks. For whatever reason, upon seeing her face I was immediately smitten. Nothing crazy or dramatic, and the feeling will not go anywhere (obviously), but she looked so cute that I snapped myself out of a trance seconds later that had washed over me as she walked with an idle expression. She appears kind, gentle of voice, and soft. The facial expressions I describe here (or try to, anyway) mean so much to me now that the words are becoming inadequate. Oy. I keep trying. That girl is so fucking cute that I cannot understand. But she is a person, and that means very soon I will look at her and feel bad. I am the emperor of the universe when it comes to seeking beauty and staring. Not good, but at least I am respectful. One day soon I will not look at her at all. At this moment, her profile is burned to my brain cells. I felt none of this mere weeks ago. Foggy outside. Still no sun close to eight in the morning. Yesterday seemed to be warm into the early afternoon, although the air was cool. By the time I returned north just before six, the cool turned to cold. Yikes, maybe I really did bitch about the heat too much. Now I'm being slapped with the opposite. Heh. At least the lower mercury makes working around the house much more comfortable. So I moved my oversized printer to the new office, have a plan for wiring things and adding those two circuits I've mentioned before, and then making the space look a little more comfortable. The chair is out there, too. Things are coming together and two rooms in the house are half empty. Very nice. I may sit with this machine for quite some time today, though. I have no obligations to leave. The little daily chores await, as does the show in the background. The comfort I derive and enjoy knowing that the house is under my complete control really helps to keep my head out of the water during the average day. The afternoon becomes tough sometimes, however lately I have been able to keep busy for the most part. Sometimes the smallest effort lights a chain reaction in me which then pushes along and by the end of the day I feel good about everything. Today is beginning to look like those times when much is accomplished. And I have this... The never-ending search for answers and insight. The key words never leave my brain, no matter what is going on within or around me. Desire, control, machines, comfort. You see Gemma up there, a screen shot from the show. Her eyes are the giveaway. Advanced to the point of learning just as a human. She was amazing in the role, too. What caught my eye immediately was not beauty. It was her height. She stood there in the home of the family whose patriarch had gone out alone and appropriated her for helping with housework and the children. When she was activated I noticed her striking height right away, and seconds later the amazing look of the eyes. Whoever designed the effects or contact lens/effect combination did a wonderful thing. Just like those contacts LeVar wore in the NG movies, they look incredible. I became smitten with Gemma's character within two episodes, although something else was there, too... Fear. She was very technologically superior to any other realistic robot at the time, but still machinelike enough to be kind of scary. When she stood still, the lack of any motion at all was stirring. If you care to learn why, look up 'uncanny valley' on the Wiki. I believe Gemma was perfect for that part. I lost interest in the show, though. Almost time to put this thing away for a while. I'm getting tired of sitting here dreaming about the robots, especially the Jaime/Jolene/whomever thing. And the house. Fuck. Smoke again. Something has to change or I will lose my shit soon. She is out there."
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