August 2nd, 2021 9:20am pdt

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The Holy Span (Arina III)

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"Cat eyes.

The phase lock girl so many years ago may have been a turning point with regard to my balance as a person. I felt love for her although knew very little, yet still I do not believe the emotion was solely tied to her physical appearance. There was more and I saw a measure in her eyes when we spoke. Translate that to two days ago and the same situation developed in my head. Not only the strongest feeling I have experienced in a very long time, but the knowledge that inside her was a combination of sensitivity and caring, just like the phase lock girl two-and-a-half decades prior. I am boiled down. Reduced by sheer intrigue. Damn it. The girl was so... I don't know... Everything. Stunning to see, yes, but there was so much more. And now I will never know. My future is nothingness. Not her fault, like always. Mine.

After nine in the morning and I have yet to begin anything. No big deal. I need this.

There was Jamie. All of the feelings for her character are still there despite my being thrown for the biggest loop imaginable two days ago. The model has doubled in importance just since yesterday at this time. I don't know what is to come. Pause for the cause.

Ugh this day. I am physically worse than yesterday and I know not why. My routine is now finished and there is more to do, but I may be stuck sitting here for a while in order to ascertain the reasoning behind feeling so under the weather. I don't get it. The time here alone has never been more valuable.

I just organized and updated the archive and the remainder of the site. Everything is operational as of this morning for whatever that may be worth. I just don't fucking care anymore. Between the recent trips out of the house and the girl who now rules nearly every aspect of my life, I see no reason to posture and truncate. All of the information will heretofore remain standing. Again... I don't fucking care at all. Damn me, but damn me for what I am and not what I hide. Even the most heartbreaking story is available. Just keep in mind that if you comment or otherwise offer any observations regarding the writing on this site, my response may be very bad. Leave it alone, or else. I am not threatening to remove anything. The real threat is how I will react. Read, look, whatever... But leave me the hell out of whatever you may see or believe. There are so many things piled upon me right now -- both mental and physical -- that one more little push and I will begin a process no one wishes to experience. Believe it. I am finished answering for the words.

Okay. Now that the statement is out of the way, I can continue whatever the fuck this has become.

I will speak of the holy span soon enough.

'He's in no position to go-inta-de unknown not knowin'' Albert was awesome, and not just because of the shirt. Next season he'll be sporting a hell of a suit.

Laundry mostly done. Dry cleaning done. Lunch done. And this character on the show is named 'Birgit', but when the guy says her name it sounds more like 'beer-gut'. I wish I could laugh today.

The holy span has nothing to do with any of that. It is, however, viscerally tied to every move I make during each day due to the period now seeming ethereal, as if I floated through it unknowing of the aftereffects. And I had no fucking idea it would remain and grow. A few minutes of my Sunday came and went. Now? It is holy. Sacred. One glance... Her very long, wavy hair and then the pants. Another model approached her and they spoke for a moment, all the while the second model was looking up at a hell of an angle due to the difference in height. I noticed it just after the hair. And then she would not turn around. The face is so important, and in her case telegraphed expressions I did not expect and had not seen in years. Many years. Those eyes were big, and then she strolled to the wheel. We followed at the prodding of the goddess' partner, after which my heart leaped knowing I could see her and perhaps speak. I spun, turned to see those big eyes looking at me, and then lost my way. I did not know what to do. I heard her voice, saw those long fingers intertwined and wished mine were there, and then took one more glance of her eyes before going about the afternoon.

Morning again. She is fading and I am sad. Never again.

Yesterday I thought of Arina's facets and began to wonder if I have only her to embrace for the remainder of my days. Everything which has become her seems to be dragging at me as if I have a Danforth attached to my time while I move through this little world. Dragging. Yesterday, indeed. Lots of laundry, some dry cleaning, and some time considering the repaving that is going on around the neighborhood. Exciting. Arina is me, I am her, and the issue of where I am going these days may have already been answered long ago. A road with no turns. It is happening to me and I am letting it happen. I may also be making it happen, directly or indirectly. Arina came together some days ago as I considered all those little exit signs which popped up year after year while I was in need of something else... Something I wished to do rather than being relegated. Very seldom did I move in any direction other than the predetermined path resulting from my actions. Restrained. Guarded and guided. All those facets of Arina and her stunningly beautiful existence are playing out over and over, repeating like those lines on the chalkboard stating no chewing gum in class. I cannot stop them. And then along comes the worst possible situation. Right there before my eyes and heart, appearing as if some force crawled into my dreams and crafted a creature beyond comprehension. This is a problem. The largest facet used to be tied to other dreams. Now it is tied to her. Another her. Not the 'Arina' her, but something else. A problem. I should have stayed home last Sunday. Here it is Wednesday and I am losing the vision.

Home with everything under my control. My devices. My needs. My comfort. My own world. Self-centered? I don't know and it probably doesn't matter anyway. I already took care of a portion of my routine in order to have less on the shoulders as I sit with this and the coffee. I keep thinking of her standing right there. Now I have to figure out how to deal with losing her in my mind. I don't know what I am going to do once she is gone. Sadness, but hopefully not anger.

The name of the woman pictured here is Merve. That's different. Cindy is done for the time being and I can only dream of the other model being here. After yesterday? None of these images are cutting the fucking mustard. Hmm... Mustard. There's an older one. Jamie is on the screen. The girl from three days ago is flowing through me like a testing dye. This problem is going to cause Babel to come out all over the pages... Mark my words. Eh... I added some Cindy below. Can't help it. Too much of Arina there.

This quiet time is just what I needed. I'll care for whatever comes along, I guess, and then possibly travel out to the hardware before noon. I did all the laundry yesterday, so my time is wide open to anything I need. Well, almost anything. I remember seeing that woman in the casino a few years ago and walking away she looked and moved like Andrea. That caused me to recall our time together so long ago, yet nothing terrible took place because I think I accepted the separation as I should have. The girl from Sunday was on another level for two reasons. First, I knew as soon as I glanced and saw her hair that she was going to stick with me for a long time, whereas when I met Andrea she didn't even like me nor did I see her that way. Second, I cannot forget Andrea's face due to weeks of her being basically attached to me in more ways than one. The girl who is now the focus of the world was mere moments and shall disappear soon enough. I say that because these days I have much time to myself in which I must fill it with anything productive or enjoyable, and a situation as powerful as the model gracing my vision (mostly her eyes and what they said to me) means she is going to be scrutinized heavily until I lose it. Oh, it's already happening. You may have noticed. There is a third part, too. Everything else in existence is now minimized to the point of becoming unimportant. I simply no longer give half a blue fuck in the wind.


The holy span is her. The time period from first sight until her eyes telegraphed their ways is now all wrapped up in itself and separated from the remainder of this fucking universe. She has to remain outside normal time and space. The span is her, nothing more. I can try to explain. Don't expect much. The girl is in charge of me and will be until such time as I can wrench myself in some other direction out of the need to either rest or distract. I keep seeing her pull up those pants and then walking. Taller than me, I think. Hair to where the pockets would have been if her pants had them. Athletic shoes. Toyota shirt just like the racing wear that the teams must don for the work. The hair, and then the pants, and then the walk, and then the turn. I saw her eyes as we approached the wheel. I watched the wheel until she addressed me with a smile. My world folded in half and became unknown to me. I spun the wheel. I did not win anything. And then she smiled again and looked at me with volumes of information... Tons of words in the space of seconds. I fell and rose over and over so quickly that I nearly could not turn myself to leave the area. And then a second look. That was it. I knew something, but also nothing. End of span. I became distracted until much later due to pressing issues and situations. Less than two hours later the entire affair returned and I knew what it had meant. She grew in milliseconds. Proportions I cannot describe. I may as well try to describe her appearance. Heh. No way. The span was short. And now I am different but cannot say in what ways. I will not disclose what is happening, and the holy span was the catalyst. I didn't know this was possible.

The span will never return which means I can only daydream and lament the loss of the most stirring woman to ever cross my eyesight. She graced me, changed the way I see everything, and will never know of the power of such words. She will never know, but at least she did not lose anything. I did. This is going to come across as if I am less hinged than you may have thought, and you are correct. What happened last year was out of desperation and is now happening again. But this is different because of those few seconds when her eyes met mine. So much was there that I cannot even begin to describe the vision. There was so much...

All gone. Normally I would state that there is now one less reason, however the truth is there only REMAINS one reason. Arina.

Don't try to understand. I cannot explain. I can, however, speak all up and down the page about how she appeared physically, but what the fuck good is that? Can you see her? Nope, and neither can I any longer. The look of her is important, honestly, yet still that pair of eyes spoke to me more than her form. Believe me when I say that the shape of the woman along with her walk pushed my brain beyond what I had previously imagined (again... I can imagine quite a bit), and has left me believing that there is no longer a point in hoping to see something similar. The end of the whole damned enchilada walked next to me three days ago and removed the whole of future possibilities. She really did, and the only aspect left is how she is now rolled into Arina. That name is indicative of the fact that I can never truly 'be well' in the clinical sense. I've lost it and what will happen next is not only a certainty but a matter of time. And still I cannot explain. This paragraph is basically nothingness. The feelings are more expansive than the galaxy. They span the galaxy. Span.

I remember watching 'Time of Your Life' when no one else liked it. I watched because I was smitten with JLH and felt she fit the part very well. The 'time of MY life' passed the other day and shall never return. The span is holy. It is everything. I will never know what was in her head nor see her again in this life and the resulting loss is overwhelming. Crucify me. I don't care. Nothing you can say or do can be worse than what I just said.

A break from her again. I need it. Universe all her own. Eyes, not the fingers. But the fingers, too. Eyes. God damn it anyway. Gone.

Nine in the morning and the sun is out. Fog burning away. I believe the proximity of monsoons out there over the ocean has pushed our humidity up as well. The warmth is going to take over which means I'll have to be vigilant with the ventilation today. The garage was pretty damned warm yesterday but I didn't really give a crap. Today may be warmer, meaning I have to keep an eye on everything.

Afternoon. I have the usual stuff done and went to the nice hardware down the peninsula for some things. One is a pair of fly traps for the patio and garage. For whatever reason, they are amassing all over the place this year. I have not seen this many flies gathering in years. I've spoken to two neighbors and they seem to be experiencing similar numbers. One trap is hanging outside right above the two home remedies which do not seem to be attracting the little fucks, and the other is in the garage. I suppose I'll have to wait and see. The store was very nice inside as always. Of course, once I stroll around I forget nearly everything I went to pick up. Overall not bad, though. I don't have a lot to spend these days. That helps keep my wishes reined in.

God damn is it ever nice to be back here in my space with no one around. I have the show on like always and my atmosphere the way it needs to be. The weather does not seem to be heating as much as I had feared. Very good.

Fingers of God, hair of Aphrodite, everything else straight from my dreams. Gone forever. She was in my head even while perusing fasteners at the store. One smidgen of what is happening to me. Gone forever. I can't do anything about this. Just like last year, I am drowning without a handhold. I don't know what the future holds, either. Maybe she will pass. More likely she will continue to roll into Arina and force me into a position in which I can only dream and leave the real world out of life's equation. My eyes are on the screen and the television, yet parts of my mind continue to go back three days -- almost to the minute as of right now -- and the unreal sight of that girl smiling with huge cat eyes and looking straight through me. Yes, through me. I felt it. Will I ever feel it again? She is gone forever. Everything is loss now. The little things will not hold me for very long.

Cat eyes. That's right. Eyes that had never appeared right there in front of me. Ever. More stirring than I can describe in a million pages. Stirring, soft, gorgeous, comforting. Her eyes moved me from this world to some other place in which everything was okay, and she did it in a matter of seconds. Moved. Relocated from the grip of Arina to a serene lullaby surrounded by soft clouds. Cat eyes. And then gone. She will never know what happened that afternoon and I will spend the rest of my life trying to understand it. This is the first time a pair of eyes has rivaled the other ones. You know.

Into the mid-afternoon and I still have the show on up there. Comfort. I feel like being slightly tipsy right now but am determined to do the right thing and wait until cocktail hour. That is best. My fly traps are not attracting any of them. Figures. Today is like yesterday aside from the store earlier, in that my motivation has dipped below the waterline. And here comes the dancer with hugely out of proportion breasts but one hell of a tummy, and such a cute intonation with the accent. I love it every time this episode rolls around. Others have made a big deal about all the bare chests throughout the series, but honestly I don't even see them very much anymore. My gaze goes elsewhere. Her stomach and waist are amazing, but those heavy globes are out of place. Eh... The voice is key in that shot anyway. So cute. And back to the model again with her adorable demeanor and professional stance. I wonder what her midsection might resemble. Ouch. Right in the fucking heart again. Fuck me in a girdle.


Two hours left of my alone time and not a clue as to what I can actually accomplish besides gushing over her more and more. There are always things to do. I just don't know how to approach anything today.

I hope I don't love her already. Ouch again.

Cat eyes.

The span grips me still. I cannot go two feet in any direction without seeing her standing there under the umbrella with hair flowing to my left like a waterfall of golden streams. The eyes. Her fingers. Damn it all now... Just fucking damn everything. In a little while I have to operate the kitchen and make nice as if the world is in order because that is what I do every fucking day. I act as if the 'peachyness' has surrounded me for all time. Once in a while there is a slight crack and some of the shit flows through before I can repair the damage, but for the most part I stay clammed up. Such behavior is exhausting, plus now I have another dream piled on top of the rest and no way out of it. I cannot forget and move along like the world is in fine shape. Fineness. Right. The span is removing my ambition more than Arina was just three days ago. And I am regretting the event on Saturday last because it took a portion of my precious energy to take that trip and walk around, resources which would have better been dedicated to a few more hours at the race. I could have gone back there and told her something before she forgot me forever. I could have expressed the idea that I have been studying models from all over the world for nearly two decades and she is one of them. She would hear me state that her place is on the runway, if she wished for such a life. This is making me into a crazy person again, just like last year when I realized I had fallen for a digital image. I feel like Harry for the third time after becoming smitten with impossibilities. This whole thing is ridiculous but I am powerless.

Arina has so many components that I am beginning to lose grip on her. Two days ago -- possibly earlier -- I knew all of what she encompassed. Now? Half of her is a girl I will never know. It happened again. Arina is one of the largest combinations of me that I have ever built, and if she is going to continue to grow and expand, I am fucked. I've spent a healthy portion of my waking hours in an attempt to clearly define her in my head and right here, yet I won't be able to go much further if I fully lose control. The cat eyes fucked me up badly. Either I am the weakest individual on earth, or my neediness and related instability is never going to go away. Say it with me... This is bad. BAD.

I forgot to get a fucking Ethernet cable from the hardware. Damn it. Whatever.

The holy span is now the most important aspect of my continual thinking. A period of time in which I was lifted from wherever to someplace wonderful and then sent back to reality with the force of a thousand cyclones. And now I must deal with the knowledge of the difference. The gradient of God. Something is going on outside. I have to take a look. Eh... Cleaning the gravel from yesterday's work. No big deal.

Going on five o'clock now. My alone time is waning, but I suppose it doesn't matter. I finished a few small tasks and noticed that the trap in the garage has grabbed a few flies. Time will tell. Dinner is not much of a production today since I made the stew two days back. Just reheating and then some rice. I am beginning to look at the free time after lunch differently these days. There are always things to accomplish or plan no matter the state of the house, yet I am finding myself more and more often losing track of the will to begin anything. There is still a little painting in the bath, some organization and decorating in the garage, and the perpetual cleaning which never ends. I just can't see the way through to work on much lately. The prospect of outside work had been completely squashed a couple of weeks back after that fucking mental episode the morning of the job, meaning anything else -- even possibly in a comfortable direction -- may not work for me now. I don't know what to do about it, either. Shopping and tooling around the area for things we need seems to be fine, likely because I am in control of the timing, destinations and the rest. My own schedule is now dire to my living conditions and mental health. Everything else is feeling increasingly alien. Mostly? People I do not know. I cannot just go out there and make nice on top of acting like I'm fine in those places. I can't. The bar the other day was something I needed to do in order to repair a long-term friendship, and as such felt fine. That locale is a part of me after all these years, and I really need it to be there for me when the appropriate time comes to pass. Believe it or not, the bar is one of my comfort zones despite some of the clientèle and the idea that the space is not under what I am accustomed to controlling, such as the house or car. That probably sounds crazy after all the shit I spewed last year regarding so many uncomfortable situations. Honestly, I felt at home there for the first time in more than a year. A place of work is an entirely different animal, and one I feel less and less equipped to handle.

Taller than me. Fingers. Those eyes which telegraphed everything that brings me peace. Cat eyes. Did I mention the cat eyes? God help me.


This evening I am going to try moving in a different direction than the typical time spent while she is on the phone. My drawings, the computer, or something small to work with instead of focusing upon the television. Don't get me wrong... I need my friends up there. I just want to keep them in the background while doing something else. The models have been sitting fully assembled, and though I've flirted with the idea of breaking one down to rebuild, the motivation is absent. I'll try to think of something. A little while ago I hung my vest in the hall and added one pin from Saturday's fricass and another from the race on Sunday. No sooner did I finish with both items and my brain performed an Internet-speed calculation that the pin from the race will forever remind me of that girl and the fact that she comprises the most powerful magnet I've ever conceived. Splendid, right? The parking tag, as well. This is so fucked right now. Regardless, I will still attempt to do something out of the ordinary in hopes of relaxing my mind. Doubtful, but I have to do something.

Bada-bing Crosby. Heh. Tony's jacket is freaking nice.

They are still cleaning the street outside. Wow. I watched part of the paving yesterday and was amazed by some of the equipment used to apply the sealant and gravel. Those workers really know their stuff, I must say. Very efficient and impressive. Too bad I can't go out there and do something similar. I might be done for good.

Arina is like a portable hole from the old game I played during high school with the rest of the misfits. A portable hole was a piece of magical cloth -- four inches square -- which could be laid on the ground and used for storage of anything inanimate. Once placed on the ground, it could be unfolded into a ten by ten foot square, subsequently opening to a third dimension like a hole. A player could fill it with anything difficult to carry and then grab one corner. Once the corner was lifted, the hole closed and could be folded again to a small square with the weight of only the thin material. They were hard to come by, but really amazing. So, Arina is four-dimensional? Not really, but there is so much inside her that I am having a hard time keeping track. All those decisions, train rides for learning, women (good or bad), and a shitload of tragic errors made throughout the course of decades. Heritage, reproduction, industries, and people... All inside her. And she is beautiful.


No major positive traits can be applied to anything in my life without a flood of pitfalls. None. Arina's stunning fucking appearance -- think of a combination -- does not matter in the least because inside is so much trouble. And now she has cat eyes. Surprised? Have I mentioned the fucking cat eyes? Laser beams.

Right. Through. Me.

Sunshine is going away. The ocean's influence keeping me cool, thank the maker. And Gloria is flipping the fuck out. Her face is gorgeous, but holy crap can she ever appear menacing.

After five now and I am still sitting here with the girl spinning patterns in my head, just like the patterns her legs created as she walked. Damn it. For a few moments after the maneuver of her pants being pulled taught, I was reminded of watching Andrea and her indescribable form walking in front of me through the Polynesian. I stared at her for almost three straight weeks, and even after all we had experienced I still could not believe my eyes. The girl at the race was similar, yet taller and younger. And fucking blonde. I don't get it, but something snapped even before her big eyes ripped a crevasse in my head. After? I could not have spelled my own name. Her impact is going to define much of what I say, write and do for a very long time, not to mention the fall from mid-high I am still living. I should have avoided that exhibit, but the prize wheel called to my partner after watching me ace a small game at the Seagram's trailer. I won big (the biggest) and the host told me to go get a lottery ticket... Heh. Well, she felt my luck was on high so I followed along and saw the object of the universe. Now I'm fucked. Right through me. I may have typed the words 'cat eyes' up there. Not sure.

Another day. She has faded further. Now four days have elapsed since that girl graced and cursed me for all time. Four days. Right now the feeling is that of something wonderful which passed me by a million years ago. Soon I will have nothing.

A new day means new possibilities, some responsibilities, and the quiet I so desperately need in order to survive. There is Jamie again. Not the season of wonder, but earlier. Still cute though. Anyway, as the beauty of all time continues to leave my memory, I have to keep the words flowing until the recollections are gone. She is gone. Right through me. Her pants? No... Her EYES. Eh, fuck. Something had better take place with the ability to get her out of me for a while or I'm going to lose my shit. Don't be the person in front of me when it happens. Um... A new day. I have half the routine finished before eight with the intention of sitting with this for a little while. I have to go out again later to drop off yet another watch at the jeweler and grab a few items from the market. I may venture across the highway to the small hardware, too. Don't know yet. Other than those tasks, my day is frightfully wide open. That means I'll have the girl and everything related -- along with how she has become a part of the larger picture known as Arina -- all through my tired head no matter what I tackle today. Everything I 'could have been' flowed through me within seconds of seeing her beautiful eyes meet mine. I don't know what happened and will probably never know, but she did something to me, no doubt. And this day will have to be pretty fucking productive if I am to avoid sitting and wallowing over missing a person of which I was unaware just days ago. I must be vigilant, diligent, whatever. Something.

Oh shit. A phrase just popped into my head which originated last year when I was fruitlessly searching... 'She is out there'. Was that the girl at the race? Was I looking for her? She hit me harder than any other woman in memory, and I am not exaggerating. Could that have been her? Right through me with those cat-eye laser beam gorgeous windows I need to live within. Maybe it was her... The one for whom I had been searching for months. Almost a year, really. And then right in front of me was a woman who sent me to another universe with nothing more than a smile. Right through me, as if she knew/knows. I don't fucking know. Cat eyes. Taller than me and everyone else in the area. Those cat eyes may have been the reason. They just may have been the fucking reason for many things I have both done and said. Hmm. 'She is out there'. Perhaps, and I could not have known. Cat eyes. Did I already say that? The cat eyes? Too much? Fuck off. And don't get fucking pissy if I start repeating myself, either. Go build your own fucking site.

Wow does her hair look amazing, and all the way back several episodes when it was black (for whatever reason). Soon enough will be THE SCENE... Yep, the one which made me fall all over her. Soon enough. But not laser beams. The lasers were elsewhere. They did their thing and left me in bad shape. God damn Jamie's hair looks nice.

Arina is both the problem and the identifier. The die has been cast.

Tool and die? Eh... Too much engineering remains in my head, even after the sight of a lifetime. And I am supposed to be writing about Arina and what she is becoming. All those problems (issues) brought up in nearly every single entry since the outset of last year have become minimized, although the girl at the race was so unbelievably matched to every aspect of one. The rest? I don't care anymore. Sometimes they are connected or one issue leads to another, and other times the focus is elsewhere, such as right now. Oh sure, the girl at the race matched everything -- and then some -- but I did not feel the same types of reactions as I did with others. I know not why, but perhaps what took place with the eyes made all the difference. Up to that point I was beside myself with wonder over her appearance, yet the gaze shoved everything else to the rear. There is a strong possibility that the link between Arina and a girl out somewhere in the world was a matter of time, and keep in mind I rarely leave the house and see anything these days. Every fucking form which has crossed my vision in the last year-plus has been different in that they were right over there looking fantastic, but no face was near enough to force me into considering the reasons for the draw. Always the form, rarely anything else. The girl at the race may have come along purely out of chance, or perhaps she was there at the ideal moment when I was at my weakest and furthest from answers. Maybe? I don't know. 'She is out there' soon became angry, like there existed no 'she' or the idea that 'she' was nothing more than an idea or vision in my mind and not an actual person. And then we go further and say that maybe the catalyst was inevitable, meaning I would run across something and react accordingly out of sheer desperation. This line of thinking is very tiring. Damn it. 'She is out there'. Could that have been Arina? A figure I created to attempt an understanding of myself? How could being thrown way off my feet by a woman's gaze calculate into Arina? A test? A beginning? Or an end? I'm going to lose my mind.

She is fading ever further and I am becoming sad. I wish I could see her again, or just her eyes meeting mine. Is there love? Fuck, I don't know. The phase lock girl brought up all sorts of questions and observations, not the least of which is the idea that I have become so weak and needy that any reach is out of desperation. Love is a huge word that represents perhaps a different feeling for everyone, but I don't know. Not easy to define, that one. I love going to the races, but if I don't go it's ok. The idea that I will never see those eyes again is fucking paralyzing, but the race is fine. Do you see? I love the races but in the grand scheme I do not NEED them in order to survive. The eyes? Not just any pair of eyes, honestly. Her eyes and the feeling that grew inside me in microseconds when I saw that expression. What is that? Have I become that fucking bad? Perhaps I should shelve Arina and focus upon this girl who is to remain nameless. She seems to be causing more problems than I can define. Again... I know not what to do.

The only positive I feel right now is being here alone with time to think. Ugh. That is bad.


I'll have to do something other than this very soon lest I fall off the morning wagon. I can't have that right now. The eyes have it. Heh.

Everything is finished for the day and I'm stuck again. Maybe just the usual chores are enough, and honestly I am beginning to feel like I'm reaching the end of a road and there is nowhere to turn. I just don't know what to do most days. At least the weather didn't warm up as much as I had thought this morning. Before lunch I ventured to the car wash, thank goodness, and then dropped off another watch at the jeweler. The market was empty so shopping did not take much time. At that point any ambition to go elsewhere melted away and I returned here. Dishes, lunch, that's it. Now the show is back on and have zero motivation again. Perhaps it doesn't matter. I don't know. Everything that's been swirling around in my head has added enough concern that the last of my desire to step outside the normal routine may have completely disappeared. I don't even need to go into detail about the swirling, either. The cat eyes. That girl. Right through me. She knew something...

I know she fucking knew something. She saw something... More than just me standing there trying to maintain composure while exposed to more beauty and emotion than I thought possible. Right through me. Those beams caused all of this. Arina is now different, I see others differently (lesser, sometimes), the world is no longer full of ones and zeros -- a binary vision I have upheld since before the late glow and am now questioning due to an ethereal, dreamy and very loving situation which played out in less than a minute -- my feelings toward feminine physical attractiveness are being tested almost hourly, no matter what I see or where, and the world I used to understand is giving way to intangible and unknown sparks I never knew existed. Not love, though. Too many people have conjectured and tried to quantify that word since long before I drew breath. I am referring to matters of the soul. She looked at me in a way I never imagined was possible. Mere seconds and my view of everything turned on its ear. Believe it.

I hope this is not all there is for me. I know lots of things, mostly technical and all manner of arcane facts, and am likely capable of much more than I have accomplished in the last year and a half, yet I cannot help but fear that my life has become too truncated for any chance of a reversal. This is partly scary and partly just fine. Time will dictate, as will my own feelings regarding how others (very few) actually view me without being completely full of shit. But I don't know and may not for a long while. The eyes had it, have it, did it, and now there is a four-dimensional vat of confusion inside me being stirred by forces unknown. God's own blender, perhaps. I would discuss it with Him, however after a lifetime of shrugging off religion as 'voodoo', I have no faith that anything otherworldly might be willing to offer insight. I sure could use a clear answer, though. Damn. I guess I need to go deeper into myself and learn if the will is there to move in some other direction from that to which I have been railed.

The span of time while that girl was within my view. The holy span. I don't know what the hell happened. She looked at me and caused the most analysis ever. Please don't think it was her pants. Please. I am more than that for crying out loud. Oh sure, her form was amazing, but the fact is the eyes did more than any form in a very short span of time. The holy fucking span. Maybe this will turn into nothing and maybe it will keep going. No answers. But? God yes was she beautiful in ways I've not considered. Laser beams. Nd:YAG crystal lasers right the hell through my being. Cat eyes with lasers. Maybe even helium-neon gas lasers?

I will never see her again, nor can she ever know what her gaze did to me. Now Arina is all fucked up and going to pieces until such time as I can rebuild her. God only knows what she will be as a result. I thought I knew, but then... THAT situation played out and changed everything. Cat eyes unlike anything ever before.

The rest of this day is going to be very slow. Yesterday I finally put the map on the master wall after it sat idle in the dining room for more than a week. I can't believe I actually moved it at all. Heh. Sometimes things just sit until they irritate me. Er... Until I am irritated by leaving them sit. At least I did it. There are other small projects, too. Little things I can chip away. Right now I am feeling this so I have to work on the keyboard. Since Monday last I have been going through sudden ups and downs with regard to the kitchen work, laundry, or others. One moment I am sitting here realizing that Arina appears as the idea that I have added up to not much in fifty years, and the next I jump up and tackle something with enjoyment. Manic depressive? I don't think so because I have never been diagnosed and the symptoms are beyond what I have been feeling. I think it's just a stale period where I am not able to appreciate the time as much as in the beginning. Maybe. I don't know. In some ways I am all fucked up, but in others I'm fine. In fact, yesterday one of my brothers texted to ask if I was going to come to the bar after work hours. I told him perhaps today, and no sooner was I thinking about it and he texted a moment ago. I cannot go anywhere right now because I feel like all of the emotion, concern and computational thoughts since the cat eyes are written all over my face and I can't have anyone seeing. I have to stay here in my little world. I might do a few small things like yesterday, although I might not. Again... The derailments are occurring over and over. Laser beams, right through me like a hot knife through butter. She saw me. SAW me. She looked inside my being.

I cannot say enough about seeing her. Even less about what I felt when she looked at me. Very unexpected.

What the hell am I going to do about Arina? She forced me to take a left turn from where the content was heading, and now I've taken another. How could that girl at the race hold so much power? Or is it me? Am I that fucking weak? Was it real? A dream? Was she actually standing there? Could I have created her just as I did with Jaime or Arina? They are different... Symbols, really. If that girl was right there in front of me and caused a change in the way I think? Wow. I mean, I don't know. Never before has something like this affected me so much... A woman standing right there. All of this. Do you see? Did I mention she had cat eyes?

This is 'Arina III', right? Oh my fucking God is Jamie ever stunning in this scene. Jesus. Fourth season to boot. Two more... You know.

I don't know her name. Never will. This is fucked. Cat eyes.

Another day. Morning time, nice and early. And a thought had occurred to me last night just before going to sleep. I see that not caring about whether or not the site is functional was a waste of time. I will have to think about this due to the last sixteen months' worth of entries being like a diary of sorts and readers still not getting the point. Lots of thinking. Honestly, the long three-time-period odyssey of my 'goings on' in Nevada, California and Florida was something I feared would cause backlash, not my feelings. Or maybe those days when I dashed away with Rachel and then tried to jump Jill. I guess being that type of person is not as bad as speaking from the heart. Well, as I said, I'll have to consider the options. No threats or posturing this time, however. Waiting. And? Slighted.

I am honestly trying to understand myself and have been hoping to come to terms with some of my feelings. Plus? Coping with everyday life and other people without imploding. Being questioned due to my words coming across here as very difficult to follow is one thing, but to have negative comments is entirely something else. Don't do that type of thing. Leave me alone. After fielding several requests to keep this up and running, the last thing I need to hear is criticism. Leave it alone, please. Just leave it. I have not the motivation to answer for what I am doing, nor do I feel I must explain myself or follow any type of rule. Up the page I believe I said 'go build your own site'. Well, do it. Don't question mine. And one more thing which irritates the hell out of me is a person taking issue with me placing this for all the world to see and then not answering any questions or avoiding explanations. For crying out loud, pick one. Am I allowed to work in what I feel is my own best interest without answering to someone else?

Sixteen months ago I shoveled both social media platforms into the trash and have not looked back. I did it because I felt they were becoming too different from where they began and I did not agree with how some people used the services. That was up to me, right? I removed everything and left them behind. Now, approach this space similarly, please. If someone doesn't like it? They don't have to be here. I am not posturing. This is just my way of analyzing. My decision to walk away from all that stuff is because I was free to do so and felt it was my best option (I won't get into being pissed off). This site is no social media platform, but still it is something not everyone may wish to see, meaning they don't need to be here. That means YOU don't need to be here, and if my work has been a point of interest and then rubs someone the wrong way? Tell me I should change my ways. Go ahead. Would you? Or would you treat this as I do and move forward in your own words? Here is the conclusion to these last three paragraphs: No more comments. The contact page has never been used in nineteen years, and that tells me people do not want to email. It also tells me very low readership numbers and high bounce rates are likely the reason for most of the contact being absent. Few are here in the first place. Anyway, no comments, email or otherwise. Nothing. If you don't like something, don't read anymore. Go somewhere else and read their stuff. I don't enjoy having to say these things and this is not the first time. If I have to change something, well, never mind.

I decide to close everything off and that makes people ask me to bring it back. When I do? I am criticized. Make up your fucking mind.

Pick one: Leave me the fuck alone about what I place here or I move the site to a different URL. I've had it with the questioning.


Arina. All of the time. All of the decisions and problems. All the places I've lived. I put everything together into a beautiful package, right? Why did I try to do that? I haven't really made sense of the whole thing, nor have I been able to fully articulate how this feels. Two essays back I said she represented everything. I believe the idea was spawned from the Jaime in the fiction, that cocktail server who was like the Cherry 2000 but more advanced, perhaps just like Gemma's character on the other show. She was the culmination of all the striking features I had seen over the years but impossible in reality. After, and as the years have passed since the fiction began, I felt that I needed to organize everything and try to express how one situation which may be seemingly unrelated is actually connected inside me, such as control and desire or comfort and those recollections which are likely brighter now than they were at the time. Those connections have been driving home an idea. I am still working on her, too. I guess, anyway.

Four whole paragraphs without that girl.

I don't know if building Arina in hopes of trying to understand is going to be helpful or not. Sometimes I go back to the glow and her idea that placing thoughts down in any manner is helpful regardless of if a person believes it or not. The actual physical act of typing or writing pushes the individual to consider the words more carefully. That is what she believed. I still don't know if it's true. Arina is like that, I guess, because I am trying to take parts of my past and actions and such, assembling them in some order, and then looking at the whole. Why a woman? Really... Do you need to ask? The only relational aspect of my world which can affect everything is a woman. Anyway, I still don't know what I am doing nor if it will help. Arina is the name and I will keep trying. Still no cat eyes for a while.

My time now. Hours of it.

Maybe creating her was not a good idea. Another dream of sorts, yes, but at least I was trying to work things out rather than wallowing in a fantasy again. The fiction was dreamy yet crazy, and including the mechanical Jaime seemed a good idea considering the insane storyline. Now? Arina is that woman and parts of me. Eh... I don't know anymore. Maybe I should leave it alone for a while and just talk about other things. So far today I have avoided going all over the place with that girl from the race because I pretty much said everything already. I don't need to belabor the point, although the more I go around the world with her the more a person should understand how strongly I feel. Right? [That was the catalyst for speaking about criticism. Repeating. Yes, I do repeat sometimes because that is what happens in my head. Live with it and keep the criticism to yourself.] The event moved me unlike anything else in a very long time -- many years, even before I came to this side of the bay -- and I am still compelled to go on about what happened when she looked at me. I am not some goofy, starry-eyed teenager with a crush, fuckfaces. When I say 'moved', I mean something I have learned throughout half a century. Don't piss me off. Arina was moving along just fine and I was beginning to understand some avenues created out of my decisions when that face pushed me off the rails. Don't blame me for being honest or I'll change into a 'lying piece of shit', to use the parlance of those gentlemen up there on the screen. Three essays later and I am beginning to see that Arina might be too big for me to explore.

Going back to the phase lock girl -- another name I never knew -- is something related to this latest draw. Sitting in our little lab with coffee was not a long visit but the impact upon me became tremendous. The relationship between that morning and last Sunday is simple: The phase lock girl looked through me, not AT me. The model at the race did the same thing. I don't know what this means (yet), however I cannot overstate the significance of the feelings. They are real... Believe it. The bottom line may be something broken or missing inside me and causing such dramatic 'reaches' when I am feeling vulnerable. Still not sure. I will continue to analyze this until the cows come home. I must learn.

I can't believe 'Arina' was 1833 lines of code. Did I even say anything? Sometimes I move along without proofreading -- evident in the typographical errors I do not always catch -- and at such a pace that some parts of these entries are almost copied verbatim. Ah... Faaahck it anyway. I don't care.

I have to get away from this again. Pause.

Routine? Finished. Half past ten. I may venture to the small market later for something to cook tonight. Not sure yet. The quiet is helping, although I have a visitor later and the very idea is causing me discomfort. Hopefully it will pass soon. I am trying to formulate alternatives to just sitting here with this crap, but so far nada. The garage is fine for the most part. The house can always benefit from attention if the motivation arrives. Projects are going to sit and wait. The fourth gangster season is nearly over now.

The tirade up there is just the beginning. Leave me the hell alone. Big smile!

I believe the statement above regarding my interaction with the phase lock girl summed up so much that I am left with less to say. Understanding the reasoning behind my being so needy at that time will not be easy to achieve, to say the least, and then adding Sunday to the pile only exacerbates the entire attempt. I don't know why these things take place. When I was very young, I used to dream of a girl walking across a small field near our home and from a housing tract on the other side. She had a name, and was coming toward me because she wanted to be with me. Now, I am speaking of a very long time ago. We moved from that neighborhood in seventy-nine. A long time ago. She did not have a face, just a name. Dark hair. I don't recall much of what I dreamed, although I do know the feeling came along quite often. Make-believe. There could be a strong correlation between that type of dreaming and both the phase lock girl and the model at the race. Dreamy, unreal, maybe more. Probably unhealthy, too, but I don't care anymore. The phase lock girl was there next to our laboratory the entire time we operated. Every day at some point I saw her and we waved after the morning spent together with coffee. The model at the race is a complete unknown, honestly. No name, just a face and a few minutes at the exhibit. There has got to be something going on inside me to create these types of situations. I am quite certain any number of other race fans spun that wheel and payed little attention to the representative. Me? All fucked up.

I said she looked through me because that was the immediate feeling resulting from her gaze. Not much time, but much thought. Through me. It could be the end of the world just as much as it could have been nothing at all, merely my desperate dreaming. If I am to remain upright, such possibilities must exist. I'll lose my mind otherwise and still do not know why. Maybe being so isolated as a child drove me to create that little girl down the street, and then many years later such a dream simply grew along with me. Or maybe I didn't grow very much. I don't know. My PhD is in my other pants. There could be any number of reasons right there before me and waiting to be discovered, or I could be nothing more than a basket case. I've been agonizing over those kinds of dreams for a very long time, and after writing about the phase lock girl my gaze out in the world has changed. There was actually a connection there, however out of all the dreaming for so many years, that may have been the only real occurrence. I don't remember. I don't even know what the fuck I'm saying anymore. Like everything else, this may eventually lead to nothing at all.

Do I need to change the subject again? Will it help? Ugh. I don't even know what to make for lunch.


Some laundry going now. I decided to remain home for the day instead of venturing out. I am most comfortable here, of course. Control over nearly everything except the fucking flies. Heh.

I keep alternating between the second and fourth shows in the evening, especially if I need to prepare dinner. I can't help it, and the second series continues to bring the glow to mind. It happened again last night as I switched from two to four. The latter came about at the trailing end of my time in the Midwest (that went pretty badly soon after the program premiered), and I still remember the night it began, January of ninety-five. Outside was blowing snow all over the place and inside was nice and cozy. I had goosebumps as soon as the theme began. [Every time I see the current episode of gangsters, there is a background extra in an office supply store that looks amazing, but there is more (crazy person, incoming). I see her there for mere seconds and my head crafts all manner of personalities to attach. Year after year I see her in the store aisle and wonder who she is/was. This episode was filmed nearly nineteen years ago, perhaps longer. That's another supporting fact of the state of my thinking.] I watched the series in earnest and with bright eyes which are no longer alive. It was wondrous. Now that same series has a special place in my heart and has gained ground on the Holy Grail of the entire franchise, the second show. Not long after said premiere, I began to amass memorabilia and such because I loved it and wished to have as much information as possible. By the time we moved into the apartment in zero-four? The entire shelf system above the clothing poles in our master closet was dedicated to my collection. Comics, trading cards, magazines and the like. The next step was seeking laserdiscs. Cut to three years later and a good portion of the storage in our fifth-wheel was full of the franchise. Funny, but not so much.

The glow was the time when it began. My best friend was a huge fan as well, and we compared notes often and at work each night. I would set the VCR to record new episodes, watch after work, and the next work day had us going over details together. I was so goo-goo over the production, stories and characters that nothing was ever enough. By the time we moved to the Midwest, my partner called me a fanatic. I could not disagree, and she loved it as much as I. While there, I joined the Columbia House Video Club and subscribed to the series, receiving a two-episode tape each month. They were all lined up across the console television just like the numbered novels I had lined up across my dresser upstairs. I loved all of it. When we began to pare down expenses to save money, she insisted the video library subscription continue because she wished to own the entire series.

And then the Midwest went to shit. I left alone in my truck and drove home with a quarter of the bed filled with memorabilia, tapes included. Eventually I sold them in favor of the discs. A loss, but still a gain. And yes, I miss them.

I brought up all that because the period between discovering the second series and the two of us watching together during the glow (and before moving east) is rolled up into Arina and defined by all which now seems the biggest fucking loss of my life. Nothing can stop the progression of time or the world changing, but if anything could bring me back to that person I used to be, that period is it in spades. Right along with all those fond memories is an ocean of pain and loss. Hence everything being inside Arina.

'Modern American life has gotten so very good at helping us lose sight of the Big Things. It's safe to say there is not a whole lot of room left for the sacred in our lives these days; or, rather, there is space for it, but we struggle to make the time necessary to cultivate or sustain it, so buried are we by the daily grind, so worn out from chasing empty things. We lose the forest for the trees. We give our lives away to a hundred different things for a hundred different reasons, keeping ourselves perpetually busy and overextended, focused on inconsequential things while the sheer magic and sacredness of this life -- the overwhelming wonder of each new day given to us, the miracle that we are even here at all -- passes us right by.'

And that blue text sums up the whole fucking thing. I did not appreciate where I was at the time and such a fact is now haunting me without end. Perfectly natural? I don't care. Pain.

Alan's wife looks like a Rabbit.

Maybe I should have used some other representation instead of a mechanical woman. She seemed a good idea due to all of the exploration in the fiction and the fact that I had such an epiphany last year, but now I see this as rather difficult to explain. Well, maybe I don't have to explain it to anyone as long as I understand. Still, though, the words are very strange and not following a set path very well. Eh... I don't know. I've been approaching this to help myself, right? Who cares about anyone else? I won't get all pissy again. Promise.

Look at me backpedaling.

Lunch out of the way, laundry in the dryer. Exciting. Now I have a few hours to do whatever may come along. Or, I can sit here like the basket case I have become and work the keyboard. End of the fourth season up there. Big surprise. I need them there for whatever reason. I think the warmth outside is ramping more than yesterday, meaning I will have to stay close and manage the windows and such. The fan above me is rotating slowly to normalize the mercury. There is a strong possibility that this will be the remainder of my day, the computer, the show and not much else. I may do some dry cleaning but such is negligible. Little things some days. Baby steps? No, not really. That phrase implies taking care of something a little at a time, but this feeling is confining me to anything which only takes a few minutes at a time. Nothing more. There is too much inside.

One accomplishment is my appointment next Monday to change the television subscription to naught. Throughout the past few years, the channels we view have shrunk to just a handful, so I am going to shut the cable television off completely and keep the Internet service to stream. Two streams are already set up and I intend to grab three others. The total cost will still be about half of the current bill. Nice. No more commercials or the hundreds of channels we do not use. I will still have all my shows and a few in the Trek franchise which have been unavailable until now. Visiting their office will likely bring some apprehension, though. I'll have to be careful and mindful of the continuing state of the world along with my own need for isolation. I have the earliest appointment which means the mall across the parking lot will be scarcely occupied at the time. Afterward I may take care of some purchases since I'll already be on the other side of the hill. Maybe a nice cozy lunch at a bar, too. Heh. Little chores like this are helping to keep my head up during a time when so much is pressing me down.

This entry is not going to be the last occasion of the glow. I'll return to it and lament the way my world was back then. I have to remember. The current period is driving my head into the past. We are sitting at the end of July with August and preseason football coming soon, meaning the best part of the year is shortly thereafter. The last three months of the year are going to send me three decades back, as always. My family was a large part of that period, too. They are gone, along with something else which seems to live in Arina's fucking breast pocket. Damn.

I went to the little market for some dinner, and there... Lo and behold and in the consistent manner of late for that store was a little strike manning the register. She had to pause my transaction and run to the second checkstand for assistance and then waddle back with midriff shining. Every time I visit that place there is something or another behind the shield looking like a map of my brain. Unbelievable. Before entering, I bumped into a friend I have not seen since the middle of last year and we spoke a bit. Broke off, I shopped, and then the strike upside my head, as usual. Paid, smile, bag, and out the door. What the fuck was I doing at that age? Looking around? Probably, yet things change over time. Some for the better and some otherwise. I made it a point to avoid eye contact, instead focusing upon the task of the card machine. In the long run I am better off, honestly. What took place at the race exhibit was unexpected and I do not need a repeat. The cat eyes are still whipping me into a froth. Not her body, just the way she looked upon me. Considering the number of occasions out there in the world as compared to the blow upside my head on Sunday, I do not see much chance of it happening twice in such a short time. Still, I have to remain behind the wall. The strike at the register was merely a symptom. There will be more because I am a crazy person.


Enough of her.

That store is wonderful. Rarely busy and always friendly. They have a large enough inventory to satisfy anything I may need, yet still the market is small enough to feel 'small town'. Love it. The Safeway in the other direction is enormous, yet hit or miss as to the number of people shopping or cars in the lot. I just never know. Sometimes the act of navigating the parking area is enough to make me run to the hills.

There is an extra in the background at Vesuvio looking like a universe of beauty. I am a crazy person.

'Focus on the now.'
'One must do first for oneself.'
'Let it go.'
'Look ahead and use the rear view as a lesson.'

Ugh. All that crap from zero three in Fremont. I realize they meant well and I had to follow along in order to satisfy the mandate, but honestly, too many people expect others to shove the past back and only revisit in a positive manner. Well, not everyone can do such a thing. Regrets are still going to happen, missing certain situations and people, etc. There is simply no way around it. And I just realized this day feels fifty hours long for some reason. Often the afternoon drags on, but today is different somehow. The last hour went by like half a day. My perception of time is goofed up right now. Interesting, considering the show up there runs its course no matter my perception. The frame rate does not change without force. Anyway, all that positive crap was shoveled at me for three days before I finally broke free. I recall much of it, and for the most part everyone meant well and had good reason to remain upward. There is nothing wrong with such a stance. Only when people do not understand dwelling upon the past that I tend to become irritated. There have been many striking examples of mass suppression of difficulties all in the name of appearing better off than in reality. That kind of bullshit is unhealthy. If I am concentrating upon better times and they make me sad, that is my business. I know how important the opposite can be, yet the best course is to just let some of us do as we feel is best. The funny thing is I generally support others in a similar manner but no one gives me any shit about it. Heh.

Another day, again. I don't know if I mentioned this recently, but TB's girlfriend looks like a rabbit sometimes. I think I did speak of her eyes a while back.

I'm going to gush about the eyes again, but not of the cat type. Those went through me like a lightning bolt (I may have mentioned that fact, and still I am trying to learn), but the other pair is different. I noticed them out of context ten years ago and thought for a moment, and then last year I fell all over myself after repeating the sight. Months later? The scene. And the show is on often enough that I pretty much know when one scene or another is going to come along. Probably by late Monday if the cycle holds. She is one aspect of the world that I am helpless to avoid, and I believe I know at least part of the reason.

Back to the positive stuff.

I have believed I know what is best for me. Being rather an odd bird means as of yet I have not run across another person who feels the same about day to day activities. That is not to say they are not out there, I just have not been exposed to anyone similar as of yet. The idea is most likely not something I would tend to embrace, primarily because I can be very difficult and would not want the same crap coming back at me. Hence, I stay away as much as I can. All of the sessions and lessons from that adventure are still inside me. They left a mark I did not forget. And I don't believe I am getting the point across as originally intended. Maybe this was not such a good idea. I tried to go into a theme and then relate it to the fact that I am so weakened that the cat eyes threw me off balance for days. Hmm... Perhaps I did get the point across. Just because I think I can deal with myself does not mean I know everything. Obviously there is a part of me out of whack because she is still spinning me and has thrown part of my mind back to that dream of a girl coming across the field. That never went away. It could have been the first holy span. I don't know anymore. The only constant seems to be broken parts inside somewhere. Maybe I never knew what was best. The girl's name I dreamed of way back in the seventies was Shilo, after the song of the same name by Neil. Perhaps I could name the raceway model. Or should. Ugh. This is going nowhere. I've made some good points that have me thinking, but honestly I do not feel this will change or help anything in me. Whatever.

I tried to convey the feeling of her looking at me for mere seconds. The impact was completely different than any of the others in recent memory, except perhaps that girl from six years ago who had me wrapped and hanging on Her every syllable as if She was the narcotic. Other than Her, though, seldom have I felt anything so deeply or kept it close for so many days. Believe it or not I can still see her face some. Framed by hair, smiling, and looking. It wasn't her beauty by that point in the visit. It was the idea that something more was there. I'm not saying SHE felt something, only that I believed (faith?) that more was going on inside her head that a simple hello and business exchange. I believe she SAW me and that is the most difficult hurdle to get over right now. More than what those pants were wrapping and much more than the walk or height. I can't explain it. And though, barring any miracle, she is gone for good, I am going to continue to vacillate and find trouble in that encounter due to her changing the manner in which I think while out there in the world. It's perfectly natural for companies to use attractive women for sales or advertising -- especially for a sport heavy with male fans or a trade show -- because they 'attract' potential clientèle. Out in the everyday world? The likelihood of such stunning beauty is minimized for obvious reasons. They are out there, however, and the next time something comes along I will be looking with even more desperation than last summer. Remember the drives? They held their fare share of problems, but that was before the fact. 'BRG'. Before race girl? No... That is fucking stupid. The fact is I am concerned about what I will be thinking if I see something. A strike, just like yesterday at the market. Due to such a fascinating moment, my perception of what may be out there in the world is now all skewed.

Eh... I'm certain no one needs to hear more of her. Too bad. Again... Build your own shit and type. And I added one image of Cindy because I'm a junkie again. Merve is unique, but I can't help Cindy's likeness being here.

Today is up in the air. A Saturday means my time is wide open and has already begun. I do not know what the remainder of the hours holds in store for me, though. I've been having so many different kinds of issues these last few weeks that my head does not know which one to address first. Comfort, of course, but there has to be more. She will be in the back of my head all day, just like each moment since that took place. The laser beams. Anything I can do around the house will help to keep that girl pushed back far enough for me to hopefully function as a normal human being. If I end up angry due to the situational business leaving me sans options in life, the work around the house will probably advance more than it normally would. I usually push pretty hard when I'm in a bad mood. I suppose that is common in some people. I honestly cannot say enough about all of the fucking jabs and strikes throughout the last month and then everything being capped by what took place at the track and my change of mind. The sum is pretty damned heavy. So far, I don't really need to worry about my time today because it's still early and I have some coffee left. Soon? To the garage, I guess. Cat eyes right behind me, although I believe I can keep her out of me enough to operate my day. One step at a time.


The fucking holy fucking span.

In the beginning I was going to label the glow as the holy span because I cannot recall ever being better off in life, but the power of the situation at the track changed that. I still feel the same, six days later, yet still she is fading slowly. Soon she will be gone and I will only have the words. No more face. That is very sad, but honestly there is not one thing I can do about it. I've already been around the world trying to learn all about those exhibits, where they travel next, whether or not the models travel with them or remain at home, tons of shit. So far, nothing. I can't even find an image of the fucking prize wheel. This may turn into the same type of fruitless effort as the gorgeous rollercoaster girl, although I already know she is on video, somewhere in the world. If I can watch television programs from sixty years ago, the video of that program and the girl is out there. I just have to find it. Anyway, the holy span will remain as such because the importance of how this is shaping the idea of myself is too much. I could learn tons about myself if I keep my head on straight. Thanks to something that hurts deeply, I may come out the other side with a better understanding of why I feel so desperate. Holy? Oh fuck yes. And maybe Arina will not be the end of me, sadness or otherwise.

Today again. The sun is out early just like yesterday and the options feel wide open this morning. Maybe I'll put the flags out to show that I am open for business once the big door goes up. I don't know. The new mounts are great and just asking to be used. All week I did laundry so the machines will be quiet, and that lends to one of the shows following me out there with whatever I decide to do. And then there is the idea of going over to the smaller hardware to see if they will slice up a stock sheet of ply so I can get it into the car. If so -- and even if they want to charge money for the cutting -- I can come home with material for several other details in the garage. Very nice. Three years ago when I began the bathroom, they cut a stock sheet in half for me to get it into the van. I'm fairly certain that they will accommodate my request. Good people in that store. I don't have much to do in the kitchen until dinner preparations. I suppose the usual stuff is on tap. Cat eyes.

I began a small journal to note significant moments of visuals or dialog within the show, and it will include those scenes which still make me fall all over myself for her eyes and hair. The most important listings are the emotional scenes that stir me and help me to think. One might believe that after seeing this program so often over the course of years I would not need to take notes, but an eighty-six hour (give or take) runtime means a lot of material to recall. Heh. I'd like to record the exact duration of each, too. Why? Because I am a very detail-oriented person and love numbers.

She is already fucking unbelievably aligned to the inside of my head by the middle of the fifth season. I can't remember exactly when I was struck by her face, though. Maybe the sixth season. By this point in the show, Jamie was just shy of twenty-three years old, yet I do not believe I was smitten until later. I could be wrong, though. The next season? As the poker player my say, 'all in', and she hit me years ago. After revisiting last year? In love. Done. Grill marks on my ass. And every swing around the corner from one end to the other pushes even more inside. There is at least on facet of the race girl that is most unlikely, and that is her usurping Jamie. I don't see it happening. Maybe if she were closer on a regular basis. Of course, such a turn would likely end with me being locked away somewhere padded. Eh... This whole line of thinking is completely unnecessary. But fuck it. My place. Door locked. I will soon go on again about Jamie having already purchased a large portion of my heart. Live with it.

Another day. Sunday morning, early. The fog has returned and cooled the town once again. I have coffee and zero direction right now. Yesterday was relaxing but useless, honestly. Something different will need to take place between this morning and the outset of the evening.

I can't see the race model's face any longer. A matter of time. Now I'm all fucked up. I miss the way she looked at me and the smile. Not the pants or anything else. Just the way she managed to go all the way to the core of me in seconds while maintaining that adorable and understanding expression. Seconds. She's gone for good and I am eventually going to have to reconcile myself with the loss. Not right now, though. I need to think about her and how such a dramatic turn could have taken place so quickly. Above I had an idea of why the desperation comes on so fast, possibly rooted in something many, many years ago and related to that dream of a girl one neighborhood to the south. All these years later I can see how a situation and/or feeling from childhood could have been buried so deep and expand over time to become a way of life. I just don't know why. Much of what we do as adults stemmed from those early parts of life and cannot change without constant, conscious effort, much of which is not easy. Might as well pet a lion's fur backwards and see the result. What I mean to say is the girl at the race was but one of possibly a great number of occasions in which that little dream from four decades back returned to the surface and caused me to react like a child. The fact that I am sitting here now and deeply missing the sight of her face is a good indication of my out of balance stance these days, and even moreso than all that crap from last year regarding the machinery, sightings while driving, etc.

Why did I dream of that girl so many years ago? What could have been missing at that young age? Or could it have been a defense mechanism born of my need to escape from a difficult home life? I am not a fucking psychiatrist. And I don't believe the dream of that girl way back was that big of a deal. The fact is, I honestly think it was typical for the age. I just wish I knew if that was the beginning of what happened last week. Hit right in the face by her. Smacked. Struck. I'll have to keep trying to learn. Maybe something will come along if I continue to put things together, maybe relating a certain kind of emotion or feeling.

Into the sixth season now, meaning that woman is going to slam me again and I don't give a shit. Bring the slam, sweetheart. Hit me. Run me over with a truck. Shoot me. Just promise I can see the eyes no matter what else happens. One interesting fact is the opening montage with William's dialog includes her dancing for the enjoyment of her boyfriend, and she performs said dance in pink lingerie. I don't have a problem with the scene, but I will say that most of the time when this episode rolls around I tend to feel guilty if I catch sight of her with all that skin on display. This may be due to my feelings for the character, but I can't be certain. I'm sure plenty of others marveled at her beauty after watching the woman change over a period of nearly ten years. Well, it's over now and once again I did not look much. I feel so much for her character that I can't help it these days. Just another facet of my crooked life. The model at the race is another. A big one. A giant hole inside me for some reason.

Do you see? Did you guess? The feelings which have developed between leaving my job and this very moment are now dictating my life. The path I am taking, too. And no matter how skewed you suspect I may be, keep in mind that I am holding a lot back from this. Think about that. And no, I am not the type to sit here and factor that I have it any more difficult than other people. I can only comment upon my situation. I have not the time nor the inclination to fix the whole of society. Moreover, the fact that I know I am screwed up means less of a position to either point my finger or try to help another person. In short, I have my hands full.

Today is garbage day and I have the usual stuff to do. A trip to the small market may be in order so I can make something out of leftovers from yesterday, plus I need a few staples. Hopefully if I do head over there that little strike will not be working the register. Jesus, that was a problem. All black hair everywhere and skin screaming my name. Basket case. Crazy person. Anyway, if I do venture out I can also cruise to the hardware and secure some material for projects. Hmm... If I can find the motivation to work on anything other than the routine, that is. Right now I have no idea how the next few days will go, but at least I can have some stuff here just in case. The will to improve the house shall return at some point. Maybe if all these images fade.

cindy again

Back to Arina, as she is supposed to be the subject at present. Crap... There she was again with the eyes. And speaking of those big windows, that woman is indicative of the issues I brought up from childhood and the race. I don't know how, but I am literally at the mercy of such things these days. Arina began as a combination of what placed me where I am right now and then grew to include mental health facets which have been driven into the ground lately, namely my being so fucking needy. My value as a person is also part of her. Decisions? Yes, those too, along with years of being blind to everything not directly before me. I suppose it's natural to embrace all of the enjoyments in life while young and keep any difficulties at arm's length, but at some point that should end (I guess) in order to choose a path into the future which will help with whatever lifestyle or living condition seems best. But I never did that. I just kept going along the rails. I left what was important in favor of what brought joy or satisfaction, temporary as it was. Arina began to form weeks ago because I needed some way of organizing and grouping together those events, decisions and situations which summed and made me what I am. And then the beauty became involved, a part of her, and eventually she became gorgeous. Nothing has changed thus far, however. I am the same despite this analysis.

1.35 million words.

I realize I overly gushed about the midway model, but please just leave it alone. This is my process, to use Finn's line when he inadvertently caused a half-day discussion by grabbing a suitcase. My process, meaning I need to go into some subjects -- very lengthy and detailed at times -- in order for me to flesh out the reasoning behind such strong emotions. I just fucking need it. And yes, I feel more now than a few days ago despite her gorgeous face fading out of memory. The strike remains. She looked at me and I could tell she saw much more than an outward appearance. That is not to say there were feelings or anything of the like, only that she saw inside, however and for whatever reason. It happened and I witnessed her eyes react. Make of that what you will, but this has to carry on for as long as I need it to be here. I will try to avoid using the 'L' word.

The girl at the market the other day was radically different. Just a shape, nothing more. I cannot be disrespectful, though, even if I have strong feelings about seeing her because above all things she is a person and should never be reduced. I've done it -- not perfect, nor balanced -- but I can at least learn. Considering her place of work and the frequency of my visits to that place, I'll see her again sure as hell. Subsequent strikes will be minimized if I keep myself in check. They never do me any good whatsoever, and in knowing that fact I can behave accordingly. Distance. Always distance, because the strikes will never end. The midway girl is an entirely different issue. Hers was the holy span, whereas the checkout girl was a speck in comparison.

I can still feel it as if the eyes took place five minutes ago. Needy, unbalanced, screwed up in several ways, and therein lies the rub(s). All me. Not her, nor her eyes. The expression? Sweet and open. The pants? Only in the beginning. After that point my focus was racked like never before. With the depth and shape of my sunglasses, I had free will and was hidden from view completely, meaning I could have run my eyes over anything. Any fucking part of her or anyone else. The point of the glasses is glare, especially out there in the hills. I could have stared and processed every inch of her (done it before because the obsession never leaves and only grows), but as I said, racked and narrowed. She changed in my eyes, and very quickly. Form to feelings, pants to emotion. Changed. Morphed. And I am damned. Damned different? Maybe that, too. I am all over the place since last Sunday, perhaps longer. None of this is easy. I am strained each and every day. The distractions are more important than I can ever convey, too. Ever. That girl came along at the worst possible time.

I have no idea who or what I am anymore. Back to today.

Garbage. Chores. Maybe if the fog remains thick I can get more of the front hedge into our green can. Yesterday I doused the inside with a pleasant-smelling bleach to kill the flies and any potential breeding. I'll have to do the same thing after it is emptied tomorrow morning. In the meantime, filling it to capacity with trimmings will help alleviate the insect problem. The gardener wanted a ton of money to remove it completely, so I made the decision to do it myself a little at a time. Easy enough, although with the abundant sunshine lately I have to work early morning or late evening. As I said, it's pea soup out there this morning, meaning I can get more chopped off. I also have a few things to fill the gray can once the important stuff is out there.

Another decent project is moving the file cabinet to the top of my safe in the old office. Accessing the drawers will be easier on my back with it elevated some, plus I can get the floor in here cleaned some and then maybe move my old walnut cabinet loudspeakers to flank the entry table. I don't want them all wrapped up in the garage anymore. They are now fifty-three years old and must be in the house again like many moons ago. Those were purchased by my parents in sixty-eight and one of the few small reminders of the long past, good or bad as it was. Those speaker cabinets followed along through my life for as long as I can remember.

Part of my Sunday business is finished. The rest will commence in a little while. Lunch done, too. We are into the sixth season, meaning the drama is ramping just like the intrigue. I had the second show on for a while and during one of the episodes began to regress into the glow. Knowing full well it is a part of Arina (a big one), I changed back. Those memories have the power to stop me dead in my tracks and send me downward at an alarming rate. Not good. So, back to my other family (Family). The weather seems to be on the upswing again but inside the house it's still cool. That will change soon enough. Morning cocktail next to me for backward support. Heh. Well, not funny really. One of the scenes which makes me cringe and others laugh is playing out at this very moment. I will try to refrain from ranting. Soon I will rise and take care of more business. For now, this is ruling.

Jamie without makeup is like Jamie with makeup... Top of the world.

The trouble I spent nearly a year discussing and describing is far back these days. The number one obsession is obviously still firing on twelve cylinders and will probably never go away. It flares and then retracts here and there, but at least I know. Situations will arise from time to time, like the midway girl appearing as something over which I have obsessed for years. She changed though, and within minutes. As for anything else? I cannot know until the moment. One thing for sure is I am not out as much as last year -- much less than many years before -- so my eyes are not scanning for 'her', and I've managed the interest pretty well considering my personality. As for the other issues? I honestly just don't give half a shit anymore. The big fish is taking over the pan. All that crap about the two since last year has ebbed and flowed much more than I would have though possible at my age, and now I can say in all seriousness that anything related no longer causes concern. It causes anger in two directions. You can put together the rest. Three and four are simply things to be avoided no matter how I may be feeling. These days the anger seems to be my best method for dealing with anything which previously pushed me into a quiet corner, alone. My buddy, the shitty mood. Anyway, those issues have been pushed, something I badly needed.

Arina may be the subject du jour for quite some time as I don't even fully understand her. She is there, an amalgamation of so many things and looking stunning beyond words, and I can stare to my heart's content, but the bottom line is the inside. Her meaning. I have shoved so much of myself in there that I can barely comment before sending my words in another -- easier -- direction. I can't help it. There is just so much piled, and the fucking holy span sitting atop like the cherry.

cindy again

Yes, her again. From the race. Have I mentioned the cat eyes which continue to send me into a tailspin? I don't recall her face anymore but the feeling carries on. Right through me, whatever that means. Maybe all of my issues, fears and insecurities had been showing and she saw the real me. Rarely does anyone see reality when they look or speak to me because I am very private, and for good reason. Fear, mostly, but there is more. She stood there with the most intriguing expression which quickly became a smile, and for all I know it was polite and meaningless. But I simply cannot look at it as such.

Fiona again, with her super-empathetic tone and big eyes. When did I last bring her up? I made a comment some time ago and it means I have plowed through this series fairly quickly. The character just warmed me, I guess. Ah shit... Here comes creepy Pastor Bob and that wingnut Aaron. What a maroon. Although, the sequence did culminate in one of my favorite lines which I consider several times throughout a given day...

'Must be nice to have something to hold on to.'

'Dear Jesus...'

I will keep coming back to that. Honestly. In the meantime, I still have not concluded the business of this day. I'll get around to it soon enough. The market idea is still floating, and a decision must be made soon or I'll be having coffee without cream in the morning. Like last weekend, by the time my alone hours roll around tomorrow I am going to be overjoyed. The feeling cannot be overstated and lends to much thinking, a help to all things inside. Jesus Harold Christ there she is again. Huge eyes, dark and gorgeous. I could live in there. Fucking hell, anyway... Sometimes she is hard to take, yet the fact that this show will never fucking change is actually a plus. I need it, just like the other families. The dreams continue unimpeded and ill-advised. This day is rewarding unlike some Sundays because of the peaceful nature of the quiet and memories of the shot heard 'round the world just a week ago, nearly to the minute. Yep, I will bring her up forever, or at least until such time as I come to an understanding of what took place. There is no one to speak with, leaving me alone in the worst way, but by choice. Revealing such cosmic events in all seriousness is not good for my daily credibility as a viable human being and not some fucking whack job. Either way, I recall her with warm feelings and a wonder unequaled in history. Mine, anyway. She is here to stay, giant cat eyes and all those lines included.

I must consider what took place and that life-changing expression until I know why it happened. At present, I see a ninety-percent chance that I took her face and ran with it, and the remaining percentage is something from another world and for a reason. Beauty is not the thing here, people, though I could spend the rest of my life gushing over it. Her look -- the one which caused this week to become the cluster you see -- is a part of the encounter which overwhelms more now than even moments after it occurred. Believe it, or else. Sometimes I think I should have fallen to her feet and professed everything I am. That's fucking scary. I used to feel so much for someone that I wanted to bury my face in her hair and gush. Now? The feet. What the fuck is that?

I am not well by any stretch of the word anymore. The race girl is not at fault. All she did was look at me. And holy Jesus fucking hell was she unbelievable. Words often fail, other times they incinerate. Right now? I cannot get a smidgen across. One of the most amazing sights, ever. For me, anyway. As I said, I don't know for certain what took place during that moment, but inside is a universe of feelings. This subject is causing me to repeat myself, but who cares? I don't.

Into the mid-afternoon now. I took care of a few more items but must wait for her to return before finalizing the green can. There will be a slew of food items that I must evaluate before the cans go to the curb. Sometimes the produce is beyond usable, but at least it can be composted. The garage is going to wait again because I don't feel like working out there today. Only the trash was cared for, nothing else. At this point in the day there is a strong chance I will not do much else at all. Not only do I have all manner of crap to place here, but the house is just how I like it: Quiet (aside from the television), dim and peaceful. I need this more than I can possibly say. Outside I see the clouds occasionally obscuring the sunshine, meaning the temperature may not rise this afternoon as it has the last several days. Still cool inside, too. This is nice. The fact that I am not standing behind the couch half paralyzed is excellent. I can pop up from time to time and take care of little things.

Ah... Cristin again. Damn, but she is thin in this episode. Thinner than Cindy, believe it or not. Huge freaking eyes, though. Sound familiar? She also has the lower facial thingy that I still am at a loss in defining or putting into words. Just look at the most striking example... Lacey. You'll see it very pronounced. The other women whom I've brought up here that share the feature are not as exaggerated. It's there, though, and on Cristin looks amazing. Don't ask me why.

By the time the glow rolled into the eyes, there were difficulties which remind me of the current period. My work went away (and I cannot remember why) and left me with little income, although the formation of my buddies into what we called the 'midnight tool sale club' helped to keep me moving forward during that last summer prior to moving east. We kept odd hours, too. Up until just before the sun, and then gallivanting around town into the wee hours nearly seven days a week. We had been a tight group there for a while. These were the same guys who used the town as our personal playground and radio experiment area. We had connections all over the bay area and other parts of the state, looked out for each other when it came to the sheriff or FCC breathing down our necks, and gathered in coded places to avoid any imperial entanglements. The summer was enjoyable most of the time, but put a bit of strain on my relationship. After we took off and drove to the Midwest, all that strain melted away. Still, after being back east for mere weeks, I did miss the nights at home with the guys. No one understood us at all, and constantly being on the ragged edge of the FCC clamping down, we had a good time remaining one step ahead. We made our own schedule and maintained grip on the radio community. Control.

The way of that last summer before moving was under our constant, direct control. My life at home right now is the same, except some of the feeling of being here is quite different, naturally. But the underlying and operative word still applies... Control. I'm certain some people who need control over aspects of their lives would hesitate to admit such a fact, but I don't care. This is me, and rather than being full of shit to myself -- right here -- I choose to try to embrace whatever I can enjoy. Back then when we got together, anything that took place was a consensus and typically had us following a routine. Something to eat, a visit to others with radios that were slightly out of our immediate area, or just staying put at the house with the base station and pool table; every move was preceded by a meeting, be it in person or on the radio. We even had our own channels unavailable to most drivers (hence the FCC interest). Holy Jesus God in a contact lens, her eyes and hair look like the beginning and end of an entire society. Wow. Anyway, we were in control of all things, every day. Freedom, too. What we wanted, when we wanted. I am not at that point right now, although I could throw the radio into my car and cruise in search of something similar. That's supposed to be funny. What I really meant is the idea of feeling free to handle and use time exactly how I need and dictated almost entirely by comfort levels. Period. The trailing end of that glow was amazing for vastly different reasons than the remainder of the same. The early glow, for example, was rife with excitement and wide-eyed living. Everything was new and amazing, and to experience it all together and thinking in similar terms made the period that much more magical. Now? I can't even believe I lived it.

The holy span from last weekend has a twin. Wow... Another holy span. I guess I did not think in such terms until the cat eyes went through my soul.

cindy again

Ok, here we go again, and this time it's the wedding scene. Oh. My. God. Her importance is growing out of control. Heh. Considering my penchant for that same word, with her there is none. I'm sorry, but it's fucking funny. I can watch whenever, wherever, and forever, yet there is no other control present. She is out of control (or perhaps me being perpetually smitten), but none of it exists. Try reading that again, because someone needs to explain it to me. For the third time, she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And the shine is the character, people, not the actor. I am beginning to believe she is from another planet, one manufactured to throw off weakened individuals such as myself for the purposes of gaining mind control for an eventual invasion. Yes, that is how I think.

Back to the glow.

Those guys were just like me. I met the catalyst at my job early during the glow, perhaps two years before that insane summer, and the rest came to be my acquaintances through him, eventually the group reaching six. All of them were just like me, and by the time we had our little crew rolling around town, each was unemployed. Hilarious, mostly because of the fact that we were wheeling and dealing in tools and radio equipment in order to stay financially afloat. And we did very well, to be honest. Knowledge of the technical parts and being very fluent with installation, calibration and use meant we could actually help others while simultaneously maintaining total control over the airwaves in that city. That is part of the reason for the law constantly keeping an eye out for our 'antenna farm' as it moved from place to place. [As an aside, one of our frequent stops was obviously Radio Shack because of material needed for the work. As luck would have it, the manager of the local store was none other than an ex-cop who informed for the FCC. I cannot even begin to go into the number of visits in which he was 'very curious' as to why we needed some of the parts. Six huge antennas flowing outside in the breeze meant he knew we were into RF communication, and pushing him to pry us for information anytime we were making purchases. Always he had a way of nudging as if we did not know of the background or credentials. Damn, but that was funny. And right there across the parking lot was Burger King, its drive-thru speaker system being occasionally hijacked by one of our very-illegal radios operating on even-more-illegal frequencies only permitted in other countries, namely Canada. Talk about funny? Holy shit. In a manner of speaking, we had tremendous power along with knowledge.]

I didn't mean to go on so much. I was only trying to convey the mood of that summer and the idea that we did indeed have a grip of sorts on the city. Control? Yes, exactly. That time period was magical and I will always recall with fond memories. It was so great, in fact, that as a separate entity could be its own glow and detached from the other. I miss it almost as much as the years leading up. Magical. My radio is sitting in the garage right now. Heh.


The only parallel is the time period. Like now, I was pretty much free to do as I pleased, although the backward part is I am in a very different living situation. Compared to the present, everything seemed simpler then, but I have to also take into consideration that decades have passed and both myself and the world are radically different, not to mention that as most people age, the responsibilities and such grow seemingly out of thin air. I am the same, meaning the control is still on my mind. The rare individual has real control over much. Damn, that was a long story for one operative term.

Now take all that stuff from those four short years and roll it into Arina, the goddess dictator of my entire existence. There were decisions involved, good and bad as I see them right now. Paths ignored, paths taken. I did not know where any of it would lead me in the longer term, like I am certain many others have realized. Is it too late? Partially. I cannot bring that magic back, even by force. Damn it there she is again. Fuck. I cannot control the same parts of my days now as I did then, although I have been considering bringing some small details to light and embracing them. I'll have to work on it more before going into a slough. The massive hole in my thinking is that the present holy span is only related to one fucking incident, not the way of life into which I have tossed myself, blind. As I said... More thinking on this.

I can't remember all the shit from the first two parts of this mess. I'm probably going over some of it, but the story of the radio guys is definitely a recent realization. The control we enjoyed was fantastic. Real? Somewhat. But that does not matter in the least. The point is we fucking took it. Maybe I will dust off the radio and stir up some shit here. This town does not know what we did back then. Could be fun, and I need a damned-good diversion from daily life right now. It's out there, waiting. Hmm.

Another day gone by. Yesterday was up and down, good and bad, and the garbage went out. Exciting. I spent quite a bit of time in the garage in preparation for rolling the cans to the curb, after which I continued to try the organization routine. Between last week and just two days ago -- partially due to the event and then race the previous weekend -- there was much out of order. I took care to have the area functioning normally again, plus cared for the neglected plants in the yard. Overall, much better, but I have to say that missing a weekend really put a hitch in the giddy-up. I also ended up dusting off the radio to see if anyone was out there listening. Not much. Mostly stations pretty far away who could not hear me due to a lack of power. I was hoping there would be at least one or two local stations willing to give me a radio check. Oh, well. I'll think about it.

I do not feel well this morning. Last night was kind of a cluster for a while and dinner ended up missing in action, meaning the lack of calories affected my ability to sleep. I did go to the big market early this morning to ensure quality coffee, though. The last two days summed together pretty much point to my needing the quiet, alone time very badly today. Oh, I had the house to myself yesterday for a little while -- that was the radio time -- but this is different. It's the early shift, meaning in roughly an hour I will be holed up right where I need. At this very second I am overjoyed to have the space available for considering everything brought to light here and in the previous two entries. Combining my ailing physical condition today with the need to explore the beauty that is Arina, the hours ahead will be precious. Mark my words. I even moved my appointment with the cable company out a day so as to ensure there is no need to leave the house. The store earlier was fine because of the hour, but later the feeling will change and I'll no longer wish to be near anyone, shopping or otherwise.

And the time is nigh. Alone with the second show up there for the time being. Never will I overstate the value of this situation, especially during the morning.

My day is partially open, having gone to the market and taken care of a little business. I will try to avoid the need to go out for anything. I also scheduled my vaccine for next week to get it out of the way. No big deal. I figure at some point in the future being vaccinated is likely to be a requirement for certain activities or events, so better to care for it now. The sun is shining and there is an underlying feeling of warmth in the air. I'll have to stay on top of the ventilation today while taking care of business. Someone's dog nearby is flipping out. Heh.

I can't get a situation out of my head this morning, and not the model from the race. It's the contrast between the glow (and the magical period soon after) and the present, but not just age or my relationship or anything of the like. It is more a feeling that I was very easy going and relaxed about daily life, whereas now I am very wound and critical. Hypersensitive. Uptight in too many ways. I am certain this developed over time and didn't just pop up overnight, but the factors behind it? I don't know. Maybe influence from my parents, among other sources. Society could have been a catalyst for much of the difference, although it is so very different now that the appearance of memories can be striking. I know none of this for sure. Just figuring, really.

cindy again

I can go back and forth all day long with comparing the past to the present, but the truth is there have been too many historical changes out of anyone's control for a proper basis. It's just not possible or realistic. I look back every single day, too. Thinking about little situations here and there, recalling some of the imagery from the time, and remembering all those people who are now gone. None of it helps me except when the fond memories pop up, like the period I described above or prior to that time when the glow seemed to shine more brightly than anything else, before or after. Did I appreciate it enough at the time? That brings up another related point...

Years later I used to speak of the 'big dinners' which seemed to take place often when I was young. The memories were heartwarming and abundant. When speaking of those times with my partner during the secondary glow, she agreed that we needed to focus and really appreciate those moments because they may never return. To thing deeply and clearly about the small details, other people in the picture, and the places. Not long after that conversation, we were in Reno for a birthday dinner. Fifteen around the table, including my young niece and nephew. My partner reminded me often during that event -- both our discussion and those big dinners of the past -- and helped me to think of everything perhaps much more than I normally would have. The whole event was wonderful, and part of the reason was sitting with my relatives and realizing the young ones needed to consider everything we had discussed because they would be carrying traditions into the future.

All of that is gone, as are nearly all of the people involved. It's a toughie, but I'm not alone in losing time or relations. The point is I am trying to steer myself into such a position now, meaning the whole of Arina needs to be organized and understood as much as possible. I need her to be there and hold everything together. I still do not know her extent, but I am certain not all inside her is good. There are bad things awaiting my attention. Coming to terms or even the slightest understanding of those moves which eventually guided me to this place is not going to be easy. Not in the least, and I don't want to do any of it. I'd rather sit here and remember good things rather than deal with small issues of the past leading to huge issues of the present. Arina has it all right now. Everything from the shrimp fork to my left while sitting at the Top of the Wheel at age nine, to the massive steak knife to my right while contemplating suicide at the Delmonico Steakhouse. Every single step or thought, decision or indecision... All of it is in there and I need to take a little at a time and work with it. I still don't know how. Arina was only a matter of time, and the culmination of both my dissatisfaction in life and my endless grating against the present. Something has to happen, and soon.

Switch for the good of this space.

Last night I was considering options with regard to control over this space and possible avenues which may push others into disliking my methods. There are few, and I went into this already because of the way people seem to grab the information until I become irritated and shut it all down. I still can't believe all the conjecture. Part of it is the longevity, honestly. This has been in place for so many years and to combine the length of time with the manner in which I have gone into tons of emotional issues -- revealing perhaps more than I should even though I went to great lengths to mask everything -- that I suppose some have become attached and accustomed to my continuing to write. I can't blame them, either. There are a few venues on the Internet which have drawn me and held my attention for years. I just have to think about it. I'll figure something out eventually.

Basically, don't take issue with me or piss me off. I have little enough reason as it is.

And switch back for the good of this space.

Arina is going to be a point of both focus and contention for some time. Baby steps, I suppose. She stares at me with those huge, beautiful cat eyes and awaits attention, as if to tell me that everything is inside and up to no one else. I look back with trepidation because the whole of the image is frightening yet necessary for me to unscramble. I don't even know where to start. No sooner do I make some kind of connection between a past event when the beauty washes it away and forces me back down. That is what happened at the race. I knew she was going to remain inside. I knew it like the back of my own hand, and the fact is her appearance and whatever took place within my head and heart because of the way she looked at me became indicative of much more than beauty. I saw the past and the path. I saw myself in the many different places. I felt the weight of decisions, which at the time seemed minimal. And then I felt that I may need more mental help than ever before. The model and her lovely eyes did not put it all there. She merely forced me to look at myself. Do I like what I see? I don't know. Not a bit.

This will continue."