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Infirmi et Desperatis (Arina V)

alert   Mature content     No. 260    Published August 27th, 2021 9:10am pdt       read ( words)     Past entries

"Now I don't know what to do. All that analysis wore me the hell out. I am no further along for the effort. I mean, what is going to happen if I identify the source of so much trouble? Will there be a party or some huge to-do in my head? Skipping down the street? Or nothing at all? The fact is, answers or not, I will be exactly the same. Yesterday's little outing for lunch and shopping proved that I am ok going out in the world for a while -- provided I am in control of everything -- but I view society differently now. Further in, really. The parts which were previously closed off are now locked away because other options have been exhausted or otherwise not available to me. What I am saying is the dream world in my head has become too much. Aspects of life which seemed possible just a year ago are no longer so.

And I am the same. Driving from lunch to our first destination proved that. As usual, there was something. I am always going to be like this.

Sunday again. And yes, another page full of Cindy. She will end at some point. Not yet, though.

I have not found any answers nor learned anything as of yet. One would think there is nothing to report here, right? Maybe the same words will appear in the same order. I don't have a direction other than to treat each new day as the last. One noticeable difference between the early part of the year and now is the idea that the weekends cause me to miss the weekdays; quite the reverse of when I was working. I honestly look forward to Monday morning to be alone with my thoughts and then carry out whatever needs to be done for the day. Left to my devices, as I've said before. I really need that. Some others have told me that being home for an extended period might get old or boring. Well, not for me. Each morning which comes along has me overjoyed to still be here hidden away with all the time I need for figuring my thoughts and life. This morning I feel even more comfortable than usual due to a tough part of the night. Something was wrong for a while and kept me bouncing between what was going to happen and trying to simply relax and enjoy the quiet in hopes of falling back asleep. Sitting here right now before eight is very nice. Whatever affliction struck just after two has left, thank the maker.

I am returning to her house late this morning to work on the lamps and have lunch. Afterward I can come home and fold myself into the afternoon routine. After the difficulty during last night, anything which feels good will be a priority. I will probably not go above and beyond today. Just the usual stuff will be plenty. Right now I have about three hours.

I left Michigan alone, truck packed and secured with a custom tarp from a great local shop, early one morning with her standing on the back deck in tears. I rolled all the way to the border of Indiana before stopping, and by that point my head was all the way into the travel. All my things right behind me, the goofy stalk-radio riding to the left of the steering wheel, and my trusty CB sitting atop the dash and working very well. I had mounted twin whips to the mirrors with a co-phase line (it looked ridiculous but worked beautifully out on those straight-line roads) and was able to converse with many a driver during the trip. Fifteen hours a day behind the wheel put me back home in just over three days, each one of them feeling like an adventure in and of itself. Jamie and her sixth-season eyes again. Huge. Anyway, nothing about leaving her standing there entered my head until being home for a few days. Everything set in and I fell down, feeling worse as a person than I ever had before. That was the first time I really came down upon myself over a decision, yet due to my personality, the period after became one of the most wondrous in memory. The glow and CB shop days were behind, though. Gone, but still fresh in my mind. I crammed that decision to leave the Midwest into Arina. Now I don't know from where the motivation came. I may have to change her name and the manner in which she carries parts of me. Maybe both good and bad should be included. What was the name of the girl at the race? Ugh.

Sunday used to have a deadline for the work. I think it was two or three in the afternoon. Now? I need not worry because Monday morning will be all mine. The garbage and a few other things. I am glad to have organized in the garage yesterday because now I'll have an easier time getting some work completed. The vane anemometer will be mounted on the laundry vent now with the little RF tube attached to the mast. I believe the wind instrument is too heavy to be on the chimney. I also need to do some experiments with the radio antenna cable. It needs to be extended. There is no longer a deadline for me on Sunday afternoons, although I will be gone for a little while. The rest of the day after returning here will need to be structured. Hopefully this evening will not mimic the last.

I don't know what to do here now. Arina was going to be a subject and point of contention for a long time but now she is failing to blow my skirt up. I don't get it. Some of the events which have lent to my becoming recently derailed are still fresh, beginning with the race. That one hit me upside the head like a piece of hickory. I still don't understand what went on inside me to allow such a reach, but there can be no doubt that things are broken. None of this is making much sense aside from the possible connection from when I was very young and dreaming of that girl. The only problem there is difficulty in explaining. I just might run out of words.

Monday. Fiona was up there again with her compassionate eyes, the religion stuff, everything. All the way around the world in less than fourteen days and I am in front of that episode again. And then the smile... The eyes... That expression along with the hair... Damn it. One minute she is there and the next she is out the door. And then the wedding, before and during. Fuck. Something happened there a while back and I am all-in. The girl at the race felt similar, yet one major difference is she stood before me and stared, whereas Jamie is on the television (every fucking day, believe it or not). Fictional. I'll refrain from going goo ga.

The day is mine after a weekend full of activities. Now I have the space to think about everything. Laundry, the usual routine, and then some work in the garage will fill my time, along with more of this for a while as the coffee goes down. After nine o'clock now. Gangsters, quiet, and cats asleep. Overcast and mellow.

Last week I acquired a pair of u-bolts in stainless for mounting the vane anemometer and RF thingy to the laundry vent but did not carry out the work due to the sun. Today may be a good time to get up there as the sky is dim and cool. Time will tell if I can find the motivation for going beyond the norm today. Both are already set up, so attachment is all I need to do. On the other front, the main antenna on the roof for FM radio also picks up digital broadcasts for television, so I disconnected the HT receiver and ran the cable to the television. That yielded more than seventy digital channels over-the-air, meaning I can kill the cable box and subscription anytime. The discovery is now a huge plus because the yearly cost of entertainment will drop by more than two-thirds. Very exciting, this shit.



46

Cat eyes


All the old-fashioned stuff comes back from time to time and right on the heels of everything are those feelings that the good, promising and hopeful reasons are gone forever. Perhaps that is why I watch so much older programming on the television. I calculated some years ago that the quality of media had already topped out and we were in for ridiculous shit from that point forward, and now I see I was correct. I'm not only referring to things with which I disagree, but in general. Greatly shortened attention spans and the immediacy of information going around the world have lent to this, so the facts are partially understood, yet still the feeling that entertainment is increasingly being pushed at the expense of people's well-being remains. I can't stand it, and if you've read anything here since sixteen, well... I've made some observations painfully clear. The point is my idea to move into streaming media has been influenced by the same. I will tread this ground for the remainder of time.

What about Arina? She holds such thinking close. Her facial expression is perpetually disillusioned, mostly due to my inability to come to terms with any of this shit, yet still a part has been defined by the way of the world. I recall the Raven sitting next to me at Naked Sushi and spouting that everything is finished and can only decline into the future, meaning She and I had to embrace the little moments that allow the crap to drift into the background of life. Her wisdom was born of a life seemingly railed and preordained into a cookie-cutter situation She never wanted. All Her thinking is a part of Arina, as well. I cannot deny the influence after six years have passed, nor can I deny being preoccupied with similar fatalistic thinking. I went into the two major changes caused by yours truly and how I wished to keep them close and within her, yet still the future and whatever may come along is pulling at me even more than defining Arina. The time may be nigh to eliminate her from this endeavor and try something else. Perhaps as She stated... Small steps, each exhausted or solved before moving on to the next.

Gangsters on a Tuesday morning. Coffee and quiet.

I don't even know what she is anymore. I tried, I failed. The connections were not made clear, nor did I learn anything aside from a few tidbits regarding the two big changes mentioned above. Little details here and there, nothing more. The woman represents too much for keeping track. Honestly, if I were to shove everything into such a figure -- the real stuff which affects me every single day -- the result would be a huge mess. Maybe she wasn't a very good idea in the first place. I went all the way back to Shilo and then traveled forward into the present, in the end feeling that there is just too much. All over the place with this entry.

My HD reception is amazing. I believe many people don't know the broadcasts are still free, just as they have been for many decades. Yesterday I calculated that the virus variants warrant watching the news sometimes, so perhaps I'll have it on during the mornings while I'm preparing her stuff. Speaking of which, I now have to pause to get everything in order before returning to whatever the fuck this has become.

Delta and Lambda now. When is Omega? I suppose names are important for identifying variants. I'm no doctor.

Today. Gangsters still, and the usual. I also have to head over to the drug store to have them print some images. That means on the return trip I can swing into the jewelry store and drop off yet another watch to be repaired. Everything is local so the time should be narrow. That is good for a day such as today because I have lots I wish to do here. More paving work is happening outside this morning.

Scrape.

Last Friday, mid-morning. She invited me to have lunch at one of our favorite places -- very dim and comfortable with a sprawling bar -- which had me nervous in the beginning. At the last minute I agreed and took off, nice seventies music in the background. Unfortunately, those songs are reminders of my childhood, which is not bad for the most part, but they do leave me quite emotional at times. Due to feeling such strong melancholy at the beginning of the drive, a sighting at an intersection not far from here drew memories like a gun. There was a group of young people taking a walk and they were stopped at the crossing signal before deciding to head up the hill to my right. That sighting had nothing to do with the obsession or ongoing fruitless search (which drove nails into me at the race, remember?), and instead dredged up a situation at the glass plant many years ago... Perhaps close to three decades. This is touchy, so I'll have to be mindful of the wording.

We were busy and had huge orders of lites to move through the washer and off to be tempered, so management planned ahead and brought temporary labor for a few nights, effectively doubling the workforce on the cutting lines. [Think of enormous stock sheets of glass brought forward by automated means and scored by computer-driven machinery, then broken-out by employees. Off to the seamers to break sharp edges, through the washer and then loaded onto rolling bucks. From there to the furnace. The process normally involved about eight to ten people.] For whatever reason, one particular guy struck me in a way difficult to explain. No, not attractive or anything of the like, just interesting, as if he may have regarded society in a similar manner to my own. I was fascinated and tried to speak here and there, yet the work was moving fast enough to preclude anything with even the slightest degree of depth. I waited until the shift concluded and then approached. Nothing. Everyone was focused upon going home. That was that. But the feeling remained inside for a very long time. I honestly believed there could have been a wondrous connection. I will never know.

Cut to Friday last, and something very similar took place. Again, I do not know why, yet the sight drove my head back three decades to that night of work. I was also reminded of the group of guys with whom I had lunch nearly every day through four years of high school. The same guys, the same bench facing the street, and damned-near the same lunches. We were outcasts -- somewhat -- and remained away from most others because we all identified with each other and felt completely at ease. There is more, but I will not go into it right now. One of the guys on the corner not far from this house hit me in the head and I have no idea why or how it happened. He did not resemble anyone else that I can recall, except what took place inside which was the feeling from way back on the cutting line. Between the memories, the music which had already been deep in my heart, and the idea that I feel incomplete without answers to at least some of these fucking questions, I arrived at the very next signal with tears in my eyes. This is likely another facet of me that I will never understand, but will surely happen again.

Upon reaching the restaurant parking lot, I broke out the phone and jotted some thoughts in an attempt to recall as much as possible before the inevitable fade. Just in time, honestly, because as I sit here now four days later, the emotion has cooled. Done. Ugh these fucking memories. Somehow, and for whatever reason, I feel that the incident on the road combined with everything it dredged up now appears as a part of that fucking woman... Arina. I've got to work this shit out for my sanity.

The sun is shining which means I won't be going on the roof today. All of the dry cleaning is finished and I have a load of laundry going. Not much else is coming to mind right now. Fourteen days plus a few hours and I am seeing the same episode. Basket case? Maybe. All the sixth season Jamie stuff has been written in a log along with dates and times of certain episodes so I can recall what I was watching at a given time.



47


The current situation is bad. I cannot go into detail, however I will say that the 'big three' combination has been sinking me like a boulder tied to a feather and dumped into a large body of water. Bad. Bottom line is anger. Some toward certain people and some toward my own knowing misdirection. That is it. Cut and dry. Anger. Hatred. Disgust. There is more. Boiling today. Flame. Stop.

Morning again. No early business today. That will be three hours from now. Wednesday is often when she goes to the city, so my time comes later. I ordered a few trinkets to experiment further with the standing wave ratio for the CB, plus one problem-solver for my garage television. After switching to the Roku for streaming, I did not have the audio connection to the system out there. The option was to connect the monitor's headphone output to the receiver, but lately it's been causing the display to flicker and have other issues. So, in my typical form of throwing money at a problem, I ordered a go-between which will extract the audio from the HDMI signal and route it to my stereo system while leaving the video untouched. That will hopefully cure the issue. Also, the antenna cable for the radio seems to be far too short now. I chopped the excess and the ratio went way the hell up.

I am so goo goo ga ga now when I see her in certain shots. Like, tons. She comes and goes and I sit here and wait. That is not the reason for my cycling the show so much, though. There is so much drawing me to the content that I can't even scratch the surface. Jamie just happens to be in there too. Unlike the strike of the universe a couple of weeks back, Jamie will always be there and never change, just like some of the others. Jolene, too. You know. The fact is I need them there and I need to know they will never change. Another dream, like recalling the glow.

Like last year, the sun is once again orange. Here we go. I have the house completely closed and the ionizer running just in case the leaky doors allow smoke to enter. I really feel for those in the midst of the flames. Between those living there and those helping to keep people safe, my heart goes all the way out. The fires tend to shove my issues to the rear due to my own stuff feeling insignificant in comparison. Such is true and there can be no argument. I am not literally fighting for my life. I am working on things which feel dire but are actually nothing when held against the grand scheme of the world. Anyway, the fortification feelings and push toward more self-reliance have kicked in this morning and my day will follow suit. And I am switching topics quickly this morning...

Throughout the last two hours, I have successfully upgraded this machine to Windows 10 (free right now for the Professional version) in the interest of maintaining the laptop and planning for the future. This type of rugged machine has zero moving parts and can last forever given the proper operating system. I've been putting this off for over a year due to fearing the change in interfaces, yet now I see it is very intuitive and I probably should have done this a while ago. As soon as MS dropped support for Win7 last year, the move could have been made. I just didn't realize it would be so smooth. Honestly, if there were an inexpensive way to operate the IDE in the cloud, much of the software I use daily would be unnecessary. Heh. So far, the machine is operating quickly and efficiently, partly thanks to the hardware far exceeding what was required for the upgrade.

Fortification and self-reliance will drive the remainder of this day. I am feeling the effects of twenty years ago when the attacks took place and need to get my ducks in a row. Between the dire nature of life during the months following that terrible day and the notice for possible PSPS events due to fire season, my brain has been pushing all other concerns to the rear in favor of ensuring our safety and security. I'll get started when she leaves for the city in a couple of hours. Right now I must keep everything quiet. Soon I'll head out to the drug store in hopes of picking up printed photos. That went bad yesterday. The house is cool and quiet so far. Arina is going to sit and wait until such time as I can properly address her. And my Internet throughput seems to have fallen off a decent measure for some reason. Back to broadcast television, I guess. Ah... There is the third series. Not bad.

Tired of seeing Cindy? Too bad.

The anger last night was partially stemmed by watching a really good movie yesterday afternoon and thinking of where I am in life. The glow memories appear more stark now than even a week ago because of the hopeful nature of the world and the promise which was always there for me. If I am to alleviate this feeling, the effort will have to be embraced fully, ethics included. All those little things which sit and await my attention have to be addressed one at a time until each is completely finished. I can't have all sorts of threads hanging over my head and I am the one who frayed everything. The fact is I have become complacent and rather lazy so far this year. I will not lie. This arrangement is something she really likes, meaning I must feel it is deserved if I am to get rid of the shitty mood caused by letting too much slip through my fingers. I will be much better off and less pissy if I care for a few things and start the ball rolling. The fortification will have to be embraced concurrently for my peace of mind. If the shit hits the fan, we must be ready and the planning is complex, however I cannot let everything else go unattended in favor of self-sufficiency. I just can't have that. Nothing is terribly difficult, either. Most of the work is inside me. Hopefully by close of business today I'll have some things advanced, effectively creating a more deserved evening. I am still angry, yet I cannot really do anything about some of it. Work equals distraction, to a point. As I said, one at a time. Little things. Time to close this for the cause.

Wednesday.

The content has been less cohesive in the last few weeks than ever before. My usual method of touching upon feelings and interspersing the words with daily activities is fine, yet sometimes I digress for so long that the main point is all but lost. Arina, remember? A symbol of all I've done, and then more. Perhaps too much. I say that because whatever takes place on a given day, something always seems to end up added to her. Like the other day when I decided that since the DVR will be going away soon I should watch some of the recorded material. So, a long movie of which I had been unaware -- and did not know two of my favorites were starring and one of my key directors was at the helm -- became the mid-afternoon adventure. Well, that went good and then bad. At this point, and after all of the threatening shit I've spouted for more than a year, one would likely believe that the 'two' went to work on me during the film. Nope. That was not it. The camera work forced my number one industry into the brain and it has not gone away. Add to that the idea of my losing track of said industry for more than a decade. The total is not good, nor is it helping me to craft these last few entries. I am beginning to see the industry as a representation of the glow for two reasons. First, the strongest pull toward film began during the late glow, and second, the industry -- like everything else in life over which I have zero control -- continued to change despite my wishes to the contrary. So many little periods came and went, seemingly without any influence from how I may or may not have felt, and then the industry began to change in ways with which I cannot agree.

I should have made Arina a lesser symbol, or nothing at all. Now I have to remove her name somehow and figure out a way of moving forward with this long-winded analysis. Maybe I can boil everything down and simplify. Like, the industry's impact upon me and how it shaped so many of my places of comfort (and still does), and then the pull caused by the simplest encounter and the way it can drive me mad for a time. Those two? There were three, possibly four. Heritage, glow, industry, dream. The last one is quite the variable, though. The dream changes so often that it barely hangs on with the other main components. From here on in I am going to discuss Arina as the single container for those four subjects and nothing more. I will not go on about the decisions as they relate to how I previously identified her because each of the four have been made up by the same decisions, and the relationship is implied anyway. Get it? Neither do I. Anyway, Arina is different now but will carry forward as long as is necessary for me to understand how all of it has shaped me into whatever is typing this right now.



48


Yesterday turned out to be screwed due to the smoke content in the air. I did not spend much time outside the house. The ionizer really helps, yet keeping everything closed off creates a stale feeling inside which is something I mentioned all the way back in seventeen... 'The Wind...'. I am not very comfortable with still air if the temperature is warm. The ceiling fan makes a huge difference and the house tolerable, yet I would prefer some fresh air in and out. The smoke precludes my wishes. So far today I do not know what to expect, but I will say last night the sun going down over the ocean was dark orange and a little while later was the moon following suit. Very freakish. And then? Two helicopters with searchlights were combing the landscape over and over for some reason. The entire mood was surreal, as if someone had been shooting a movie here. I'll have to remain indoors today until I can ascertain the air quality index. Pause for the morning stuff.

Wow is the sky ever orange. Very scary. Like last night, the sun is a ball of red-orange and beautiful, yet the cause is very sad. Lots of people displaced right now. I hope they are ok.

This will be another day of remaining indoors as much as possible. I do need to go to the market for a few things, but that should be quick. The store is generally pretty quiet once people are at work. I'll get there and back, with a possible precursor of the hardware. I don't know yet. Perhaps an hour from now when places are slow. Lots of words I'd like to put to the screen, though. The morning is the only part of the day requiring some sort of schedule. I am going to try keeping the clock at bay once lunch time passes, too. Too often I find myself frozen and seeing either nothing I can do or too much needing attention which will overwhelm. Neither is good these days.

The big four. One of them slammed me again yesterday. This will continue to happen because the problem does not nor cannot have a solution. Nothing can be changed. I am stuck with it and shall bitch until the end of time. I don't care about all that 'oh just accept it because you don't have a choice'. Fuck you. The fact that I cannot do anything about it is precisely the problem. Well, a part of it anyway. Between the Food Network show the other night and a bit of conversation over the weekend, I am drowning in the idea of not knowing who I am anymore. I though I knew and was proud. Second, as much as I can recall and reminisce about those four years, everything (including me) is so very different from that time that I can't even bring back a single thread of such a beautiful tapestry. Nothing. The result is my near-constant comparison to everything since. There were good periods, even very bright at times, yet the outlook is the main issue. During the glow I wondered what may come next whereas now I already know. Believe me when I say that the detachment of people from each other cannot change. You may not see it, but it's there. They are holding the cause in their collective hands. Part of me is already dead because I have not the ability to embrace the current period beyond the necessary comfort and control. All else is absent. The outlook is the worst, however. Bleak and narrow.

The former, as mentioned at the beginning of the last paragraph, could very well rule over the other three and eventually be my undoing. The nature of the way I think was instilled by those who have since left us, meaning everything to which I am exposed -- be it cuisine, media, or otherwise -- has become defined by a certain standpoint to which I am no longer related. That is very bad. I don't know about other parts of the world, but the upbringing and heritage that was crammed into my head each and every day is full of pride, nearly to a fault. Now? Knowing one of the worst realizations in existence? I am smaller. Tiny, insignificant, and full of a reverse influence from which there is no escape. The more I see and hear, the more angry I become. The other day I felt a similar ferocity after watching that long, wondrous film, but such a mindset is variable because I did not take a chance and that was solely my decision. My place in the world was not up to me. This is not going to go away. Not by a damned sight. Each day holds another basket of reminders, meaning no matter how positive I may feel, the shit is right there at each step. Jung, again. That shadow used to be fashioned from vastly different parts of me. Now? Just a few things I can state over and over and have almost no resemblance from those of years ago. I keep saying this is bad, but the reality is the situation is much worse than I can describe. Just believe me.

Another fact of the industry (jumping topics now) is I had been convinced that there were too many changes from the 'old days' and the mechanisms within for me to really feel the wonder. Well, the film a few days ago showed me that there are still some processes in place which are unchanged and may never change. Certain aspects of the industry remain as they were, meaning my fear of change many years ago now appears worse, especially considering the connections I had less than two decades ago and the off-chance which came about much later. I thought everything was finished and my relating to film went away. Well, the industry was a path I avoided out of fear, but I may have made that decision prematurely. And now it looks worse. Ugh. 'Fuck it all, Paulie'.

My stuff is done. I went to the store and returned quickly. The weather is warming, too. This afternoon and evening will be stuffy in here but there is nothing I can do about it. The ionizer helps, though.

The heritage is flaring and flaming right now. I will continue to watch the gangsters and whatever else has been an enjoyment throughout my lifetime despite the fucking endless stabbing pain in my heart. I can't help it. The only answer seems to be closing off further and avoiding people who wish to placate me or continually offer options. There are no options. The die is cast and cooled. If you honestly believe my heritage can be spontaneously changed, go ahead and give me the method. Until then, shut up. Bottom line? Angry for the rest of my life and alone with it. Period.

The day ahead is mine yet I don't know what to do. All of the work outside continues to be on hold because of the smoke, and my motivation is at an all-time low right now. One option which is improving within my mind is disassembling the models, one at a time. She picked up a ton of cheapy reclosable bags yesterday for just such a purpose. My intention is to pull them apart and store in the original boxes, effectively bringing two feelings to mind. One is sitting at the dining table just as when I recently worked with them for comfort, and the second is to get them put away so they can cease collecting dust. The memories of relaxing there midday with my modified white Russian and the gangsters in the background are very pleasant. Recalling that seems a good idea considering there is little else putting a smile on my face anymore. The work is enjoyable, as is the cocktail sitting there. Actually, the third thought is I will have them ready to assemble should my head drive me in that direction. Not bad. I may yet talk myself into the project. As for all the antenna work and other little tidbits in the garage, everything must await clean(er) air. The smoke is not only irritating, but reminds me that there are many people out there in a very bad situation. I would pray for them if my beliefs had not been slighted recently. I know not who may be listening.

Where is this going? Arina? Who? Does she even matter anymore? I am more resistant to change than a fucking granite mountain. Last year was the single heaviest content increase in nineteen years of working this site. Right now I am less than five thousand lines from passing that number, and with plenty of fucking year left in front of me. Compelled, analytical or bitchy? Angry.

The outside air is crap. Still inside, still not knowing what to do with the remainder of this day. There are small items to be addressed, and then perhaps disassembling one of the models. Thank Christ my surrogate family is up there keeping me company. Like them, I will never change.



49


The fortification and self-reliance feelings are returning as a result of the fires. They keep my head in disaster mode. Most of the time I look at everything in this house and cannot seem to find a beginning, though. It's tough after years of complacency. The last occasion of a PSPS brought everything to the forefront, yet after nearly two years, I have lost track of some essentials and preparations. Maybe I can take some baby steps in such a direction after lunch. Corrado's plaid pants look like pajama bottoms. Heh. Anyway, there are a few items already gathered just in case, so hopefully I can maintain view of that kit and move a little further. Sometimes the possessions seem so spread out and abundant that finding a starting point is tough. I can get there, however. Too important.

Another day. Morning. Me and the gangsters. Coffee and cats.

I performed an extensive search yesterday for some information on replacing a resistor in her car. Days ago I tore into both the driver and passenger sides of the dash after reading multiple instructions, all of which yielded nothing. After becoming very frustrated over finding a very small part to replace, I went back to the Internet and eventually ran across a five-thousand page workshop manual for the car, correct year and everything. I plan to replace the thing tomorrow. Finally, some good information. Lying upside down on the floor with head in dash is not as comfortable as it used to be. Heh. At least I have the part and the instructions. I should not need to bring the car to a shop. Lots of experience with this type of thing. Today is out, so possibly tomorrow I can tear into it.

My stuff arrived yesterday for the antenna and audio in the garage, yet the smoke precluded much time out there. I guess everything will sit until the air is more comfortable. I'm hoping the entire CB idea doesn't end up in the toilet. I've never operated a base station, although the principle is exactly the same as mobile, but still the antenna is the key. I can't install the big one, meaning I have to use something compact which is typically the last choice. Just like the volume of a subwoofer cabinet -- and this is no joke -- bigger is better, believe it or not. Technology can honestly only do so much.

Not yet eight in the morning and I am off and running. I need to take care of part of my routine and then head over to her house for some antenna plans. This switch to streaming media is contagious because it can save us money every month. Paying the cable bill and knowing we watch about ten or less channels out of hundreds has exhausted its usefulness. My roof antenna is working well, so she is going to try the same idea. I'll set it up soon. If the air is yikes, we may pass on the idea until a later date. Many people still don't realize that the broadcast networks are still free over the air. I always knew because of so much experience with RF testing and such, so the idea came naturally. Plus, the antenna was originally installed to pick up FM radio, although the design allows for receiving much more. People just don't know, and then when they go to the big electronics store (no, not that one. It's gone...) they see some contraptions which appear futuristic and sit on a table in the house. Powered antennas with gain. Well, those are hit or miss, whereas elements on the roof almost never fail provided the house is not more than a hundred miles from transmitters. In this area we are lucky the city is right there, barely fifteen minutes up the road. Anyway...

This morning all of the shit in my head feels smaller for some reason. I believe the ups and downs of worry which bounce up against my comfort will continue to cycle, too. Each day holds enjoyments, still. This is very good for my peace of mind. The goddess at the race still spins from one hour to the next, I do not cease questioning myself over several male terms, and piles of concern over the future continue to sit on top of my tired head. Nothing goes away, but there is an ebb and flow to the process, thank goodness. Right now there seems to be a grace period related to my anger. One possibility is distraction. Things to do. Places to go. People to see (very few). A billion calls to make? No... That's a movie reference. The fact is this morning appears decent so far. I still have things to do but will get going shortly. There is still coffee, so I am still sitting at the keyboard.

The cat eyes went through me like crap through a goose. Thought I forgot? Think again.

I need to work this out. Four items, two beginning to influence my interaction with others. I've pared the shit down to the most important things in my head. Arina may not have been a good idea, but she felt necessary in order for me to keep everything organized and easier to follow. But I don't know. She is the third incarnation of a beautiful dream woman, yet the first which has caused problems. I made her to help. Jaime was supposed to be a guide and confidant, although she was a part of the story. Arina is not like that at all. She is a container. The basic truth is that I've been having so much trouble carrying all my shit around that I decided to store some of it within Arina so I could function better on a daily basis. That only proved effective for a short time before I began to calculate everything differently, and then the girl at the race usurped Arina for a time while I tried to digest that incident. Well, so far nothing has really been served by the woman holding some of my crap, meaning now I have to make changes. I don't like this at all.

I believe I mentioned some of what went through my head when I saw her, from the initial wonder at her unreal shape to the effect of her gaze. There was a flash of the one at the pool, too, as well as an inkling of the walnut girl (some never leave my memory). That was the beginning of my putting up a hell of a wall and trying to avoid looking at her with desire in my eyes. I can't have that because it is wrong, unfair, cold, and so many other crappy facts that I cannot state them all. I am not a bad person, but still human. If I see a woman and feel desire, it will always be partly natural. The problem is the incident will end up jading me every fucking time. Desire is something unavoidable, especially considering the sheer amount of comfort absent in all of life save for that within the embrace of a beautiful, understanding soul. To quote Debbie, one of two gorgeous and intelligent madams from two different television shows, 'Hey, who wouldn't want to sleep with their shrink?' Think about that and let it burn in real good. That one sentence sums up more of my behavior throughout the last twenty years than any other. Well, there is the other one Hesh stated about insecurities. Why does the woman need to be beautiful? Think about that one, too, dipshits.

The girl at the race managed to dredge up more shit than any other woman in a very long time. Maybe all the way back to seeing the Raven walk across the office. I need to understand this. Honestly, I must. If Arina holds all four of the largest problems in my head -- the 'dream' being one of them -- maybe the idea of prioritizing stuff could help. One thing at a time? An elephant? I don't know, but it seems like a good idea. As long as I can get through each day without ANOTHER fucking problem running across my desperate vision, I can actually make progress. She is still in there, believe it or not, a full month later and no less stirring or important. Two steps and then the maneuver? Everything returned, from the essay about the woman in white to the server in Pleasanton and on to the Oak and California Street sightings. Leading right up to and including that fucking thong. There was one dream which became a reality, and that was something I will not forget yet can never relive. The girl at the race was very closely matched to what I saw on that fateful Sunday... The one which was nearly my last. I do not believe anything of the like can happen again. Too late, too tired of this, and too many other problems keeping my feet cemented here most of the time. Honestly, I wish I had not seen the eyes. Or the pants.

I suppose it's time to get a few things done before leaving the house. Stop.

Saturday. We went out and about yesterday and picked up things for me to rebuild a drain. Lunch, too. I was craving one of my favorite cozy, dim bars and wonderful Mexican food, so we made a beeline. Her son was diving deep into the engine of his car at the time. The sight and smell of everything caused me to recall the Slipper and all the work I did that first summer. The machine was twenty years old when I purchased it, and despite very low mileage it was a model known for being the first in line and very complex for the era.



50


So many aspects of life are now gone or otherwise unrecognizable. The car yesterday really brought up those years of tinkering and repairing my own car along with learning the functions from my dad. He raced way back in the fifties, and that interest is what brought us to the race track over and over beginning when I was about six. We still go to the big national eliminations each year, too. Anyway, working on the vehicles over the years has provided me with a deep understanding of all the operations. In turn, such knowledge allowed me to do most of the maintenance on my Slipper. Some of it went pretty damned deep, too. That car was in the driveway or garage every Saturday while I did something or other for either maintenance or cleaning. I loved that machine and honestly felt that if there was an actual mannequin around which the car's interior was designed, I was that mannequin. Heh. That was the very first interior and layout which held zero aspects with which I could have disagreed. I liked everything where it was and the appearance. I believe my dad saw the car two or perhaps three times before I moved out here and let it go away. Now both he and the car are gone.

Seeing the valley pan for a few seconds yesterday brought all that up, plus I inadvertently ran across a photo from years ago when I was working on the audio system in the Slipper and had a large cocktail sitting in the cupholder. That was funny. Actually, I don't even know if his engine has a valley pan. The missing intake manifold and injection leaves the shape of a valley between the heads though, so whatever. Either way, tons of memories flooded me until distracted.

Eh... There is the comare again. Yep, the one with the understanding demeanor and exaggerated accent. She reminds me of Fiona from a much later episode in that her personality seems to have developed beautifully and full of compassion. Of course, Fiona is a nurse and Michelle is a comare (don't know what she does for a living). What IS this? Ugh.

Almost time to kick into gear for a little while. I have to do the morning stuff and at some point go over to her house again to help with the sink. I had a dream about it this morning. Yep, I dreamed about clearing a drain issue. After returning home I guess we are going out to the big liquor store to restock some things. I won't have free time until much later this afternoon. Moreover, we are going to the bigger store tomorrow right in the middle of the day. And then a week of not having the house to myself during the days. I'll tell you what... That first Monday in a little over a week in which I have my space again will be bliss.

Sunday. This should be a more organized day than the previous despite the big store later this morning. We went to the liquor emporium yesterday and it was fine, but then afterward she wished to stop by the bar. That actually turned out to be very quiet and rather mellow, yet I was sort of uncomfortable much of the time and only wanted to return home. And then later the booze pretty much squashed dinner plans. Her, anyway. So, I ended up working at the disassembly of the second big car into the night with my show in the background. Sometimes I agree to do things I already know would be better avoided in order to placate others. I may have to amend the process for the future. Between demands upon my time and my frequent slow communication, some can become impatient. Another reason to serve up a plate full of object lessons in how I need to live my life these days. No one seems to listen to me until my words become unpleasant. This is what I have become. Period. I no longer compromise as much as many other people. So, the trip to the big store today and then home to screen a film this afternoon. Aside from those two items, I am going to do my own thing. People can wonder.

For the tenth time, I do not write and publish for anyone but me. The only reason this is publicly available is because it has been live for so many years that I see the site as something I need which helps me to feel that I have a little part of the Internet all to myself. Nothing more. I will not bow, change, truncate, nada. Nor will I explain myself. Over a million words and still the most important points have been buried so deeply that no one has the first clue as to meaning. Just how I want it.

The liquor store held a strike I nearly did not notice at first. I needed to find some help in getting a few bottles of wine and began to wander near the tasting room. Before catching sight of the same guy who helped us a couple of weeks ago, my eyes latched to someone else. I will not say anything about her because what I saw was not the point. The huge wine displays preclude clear vision across much of the store, or even some of the aisles. Out of sheer desperation, I craned myself and retreaded the same two aisles three fucking times just to glimpse more. And therein lies the rub. Desperation. I immediately felt that I could not go on with the shopping or anything else until my curiosity had been satiated. This is very fucking bad, let alone being piled on top of whatever else may be troubling me at a given moment. I abandoned the need to find an employee in favor of seeing something I probably should not have been following in the first place. One more time... Desperate. I could not function until seeing more. What the fuck is wrong with me? I will say that I am overly happy nothing like that appeared at the bar a short time later. The wine we sought? I forgot for a time. Everything flew away and I adjusted myself eight ways from Sunday to look at her, and that knowing full well that each detail of doing so was not only dead wrong, but that I would be wallowing over the entire event some time later. Nothing will ever be solved here. I just keep getting worse.

Naturally, we ran across the same strike a few more times while navigating the aisles. I did my best to focus until we left, and then the question about stopping at the bar for a visit. My only hope was to leave the sight behind and try to move forward without falling down. Now I don't know what to think of myself. I seem to have grown into a person constantly on the lookout for 'her', yet nothing can ever come of such a situation or figure of speech. What am I seeing out there? The woman yesterday looked like Natalie, meaning the memory of her caring demeanor flooded me for a moment before I found someone to help with the wine. Is that what I've been seeking? Another Natalie? The woman in the images from Balboa Park (keep up, damn it) resembles Natalie's height and body type, too. Of course, I do realize she was but one example of a loving, caring soul right there next to me and cannot be found anywhere this late in the game. Last year I fell all over myself for those images, gave her a name, and subsequently gushed in every conceivable way about my feelings for who she 'could' be (or 'could' have been, anyway). And then searching. And then going around the world after seeing this or that and trying to desperately connect the two. Not only was it all ridiculous, but to gush endlessly and profess deep feelings considering the way that situation came about means I was further out of balance than realized at the time. Things changed in the last year-plus, yet I am still searching. For what? If I see a person fully aligned, what does that mean? Talk to her? Fuck no. Sit here and wallow? More likely.

Remember the fucking cards? That was reaching so far beyond reality and acceptable social behavior that I still can't believe I handed out a few. Fuck me, that was bad. I tried, I failed. Thank goodness the referenced page is gone. Nearly as gone as my mind these days. The worst aspect of all this is the idea that what may be happening inside me is the crafting of a woman (again!) whose name is Arina. Subconsciously, this may already be taking place and I am so deep in the denial that I have not even admitted it to myself. Such a situation also means that anyone near me will feel temporary most of the time due to a huge dream waiting out there somewhere. Can this be? Wow... I mean... Fantasy combined with many years of issues and then mixed with memories of such understanding could have done this. I guess. Fuck. Arina, as I stated above, now has four subjects inside, one of them being a very detailed version of herself rolled up into dreams of all things impossible. The dream was there and then Arina was there and now they are one, yet the dream is one of the problems inside her. Get it? Good... Now explain it to me. And while you're at it, please explain why such rampant weakness and desperation are now much of the focus when I write. I could use a little help in that department.

Oh, I forgot. No email, comments, or otherwise. Never mind. Rhetorical, all of it.



51


This is a huge problem, perhaps equaled only by what took place earlier this year to severely piss me off. I could destroy things right now. There is Nicole again, yet twenty years ago. That's fitting, I guess, since I spend much of my present living in the past. Heh. Whatever. I suppose the present doesn't cut the mustard anymore. Hmm... Mustard. Interesting.

Garbage today. The big store first, and then my stuff here. I won't have any time to myself until tomorrow for a few hours when she goes to the city. 'I am paying attention to you, but not enough to turn my head.' Damn that's good stuff. Anyway, like last night I may indulge in the model disassembly today when everything is said and done, or possibly just before or after the movie. Definitely tomorrow, though. I need that time. It reminds me of early this year when my head was better in some ways and I sat with the wonder of constructing such complex models. Very cool. Added to that was seeing the engine half disassembled in her garage on Friday and memories of wrenching on vehicles during the eighties. Aside from the garbage and little organization tasks today, I'll have time to make some plans toward larger goals. I am going to try to leave yesterday's strike in the background and look to the problem of Arina as something which is actually solvable rather than seeing only negatives.

I'll have to get off my ass shortly and do something. I usually like to get a few things out of the way earlier, especially since we will be leaving the house for a couple of hours.

Monday morning. Normally my favorite lately, yet I do not have my space until a week from now. The bottom line is I can take only so much of people's voices before they must be quiet. Yesterday worked well with the movie and snacks. The funny part is the disc is so old that either it does not display properly on modern equipment or the original transfer from film to digital was goofed up in the beginning. Whichever, the image barely covered half the screen. It was strange to see, however the story and drama in that film are compelling, so we fully enjoyed anyway. Some snacks, a few drinks, and the movie for nearly three hours (or more). The afternoon worked out very well and everyone had fun. Another plus.

Before going into all the usual crap either in my head or that which needs to be cared for during the day, I have to record some things from my brain generated just before awakening today. I suppose many people experience dreams and never fully grasp their meaning or genesis, and I am no different. This one was very odd and related to events from the past.

Perhaps related to one of the parties at my home years ago, the dream involved my family. Lots of people milling around just like Mother's Day in ten after I had acquired the Slipper. Something happened between my dad and me after he had been arguing with my mom. I said something to upset or embarrass him and he began to approach me, very angry. Soon that approach turned into a foot chase which I thought was funny because there was little chance of him catching up to me. He was wearing a red jacket and light blue jeans like decades ago. Then we were in my grandparents' house from years earlier. He chased me through the house and I kept going around to the backyard and then through the house again. The last time I ran out the front door I began to turn right to run away from the house. Dark outside. I figured it would be like the time I walked to the grandparents' -- as a teen -- to get away from home. I stayed until learning that my parents were coming to pick me up and dashed from the house, hiding around the corner on another street. I felt as if they could not catch me.

My dad chasing me reminds me of when he tried to disable my car after a huge argument way back in early eighty-six. That was a very bad time, and the beginning of the largest fucking ruse in human history, which actually continues to this very moment. Anyway, we had a harsh disagreement and he had been concerned that I might take off. His way of keeping me home was to swipe the coil wire off my distributor cap. That would render the car immobile. The engine will not even start. When I came home (while they were out somewhere), I cranked it for a while and soon learned of what was missing, so I took the same part off his truck and fired up my car. I took off and he arrived home afterward, none too happy. He went to my buddy's house to find me because I practically lived there much off the time. I had been out and about, and soon after was one of the most fateful moments in memory. Approaching my friend's house, I spotted my dad's familiar Buick from the corner and spun around. I took off and he apparently made the decision to chase me. My car could accelerate much more quickly, yet every time I had the advantage I slowed because my hood hinges had been removed due to my pulling the hood all the time to show off the engine work. Without hinges holding the rear of the hood secure, every time I sped up too much the hood began to lift at the cowl. And then I would slow down and he could gain on me. Eventually I hit a couple of yellow lights which stopped him, and disappeared. I had the exact same elusive-bliss feeling during the dream while he chased me on foot. Keep in mind nothing like that short car chase took place throughout the later years because I matured some and became much more independent. As for the dream, I have not clue one as to a meaning.

We had a bad time of things, my dad and me. Quite often, but most of the time nothing serious. Only on a handful of occasions did we actually raise our voices. I don't understand where that dream could have grown. All that shit from the eighties has not been in mind of late. I just don't get it. At least the end result of the dream was me getting away. Things could have gone in a different direction and I could have awakened not quite so comfortably. For that I can be thankful.

'Are you angry with your keyboard?'
'I type with purpose.'

That was good stuff.

Today. I am feeling the power of other people's opinions and preconceptions, the result of which may send my decent mood south very soon this morning. I'm pretty tired of many things yet continue to placate others in order to maintain relationships. Believe it or not, I remain fearful of offending or alienating some people despite their continuing slights and offhand comments about me or the manner in which I live life. For the time being, I will stay calm and quiet, all the while the gears turning in the background. They do have power because I honestly care, however both of those are at risk. In and around my work today I shall be mindful of how I come across to other people and consider all outcomes from a given situation. I need to ensure they do not suspect anything is changing deep inside, but I assure you it is. Each little dig, strike, rub, or whatever else -- minuscule or massive -- is cumulative. I forget nothing, meaning if there is a point of contention, all that shit from however long ago comes to the surface immediately and jades my words. Is that wrong? Most of the time, yes, but my caring is diminishing as I type. Eventually words like 'wrong' or 'unfair' will be the guiding stars to a way of life. I gave them the power. Taking it away is not something over which I hold control, though. Not that... Not even close. But I can influence and create snowstorms. Those have become so easy that sometimes even I don't realize until after everything blows over. Heh. Second nature.

Prime mover? Eh... That is decades back and not really applicable. I keep thinking of the lyrics, though.

So, and again... Today. Monday business is very straightforward, especially after an evening without a large dinner production. I have cabling, experiments, and some rework on the garage television audio to work with, along with some of the usual organization. I also feel the need to lighten the load a bit, just like yesterday when I cleared, cleaned and reconfigured the bar area in our dining room. I suppose the streamlining began with the idea to disassemble the cars, but now is spidering out to other areas. I do like the house to be neat, and along those lines is the idea that less crap sitting around means less to clean.



52


I am hearing the beginnings of this week's garbage pickup. Very good.

Weak. Desperate, but for what? Have I been so disillusioned that I've been searching for those times long gone? They cannot return, nor do I see through to creating such situations again in the future. I honestly believe that the idea of Natalie came into play through the cat eyes and pushed me to think about those many trips abroad when I was so mentally fucked up that I reached in almost any direction for comfort. Perhaps the girl at the race brought up the past, and not just visions of the pair of knees by the pool and how they moved me at the time. I don't know for sure, though. She stood there and stared at me with the cat eyes (like those at the top of this entry) and whatever happened has had me at sixes and sevens for weeks. In addition to my near-endless mushy wording over such a work of art combined with deep feelings, she came along at a time when I was trying to roll past problems into one figure for the purpose of understanding. Arina was being constructed at the very same time from one set of ideas, and then I calculated that she needed to encompass other things instead, namely the four. Not, not the four issues from last year and all that shit I spewed as a result. I am referring to the latest, most importantly the dreaming. I need to know from where that stemmed because the fucking tree is now overpowering. Ever-increasing. A good example of my constant issue with beauty was the aforementioned visit to the big liquor store. Something is very wrong there, and it may be the Goddamned idea that for many years I have derived my own value as a person from the words and expressions emanating from a woman's mouth and heart. That is not good. I am supposed to be my own person, not something constructed from others' opinions. Desperation can come from a very low self-value; constantly seeking either appreciation or approval from another. Oy, that is a mouthful.

More Cindy here because I do not know what else to display and she has cat eyes. I am a crazy person. Look at the last image. No, not the other model on her arm, just Cindy. She is carrying my entire brain mapped out from head to toe. Unbelievable. And I am going to keep going on about her so just stuff it. The cat eyes, too. There can be no epilogue or resolution to what is taking place inside me.

There is Oksana and her amazing form. Sometimes she looks unreal, while during other scenes she is just plain goofy. I normally do not go in for the round face, however she expresses so much feeling with her eyes that anything out of place ceases to exist. The woman is beautiful all the time. No wonder she was chosen to be a model at a very young age. The funny thing is when I see her damaged, needy and clingy character these days, what I desire most is to tell her everything will be ok. Whatever else may be wrong with me, I still feel emotions deeply. And right on the heels of her scene is Joseph again. I wish I could hug him. The man can never know the dramatic level of respect I hold in my heart for what he created with one of the most stirring faces in existence. Damn it all, anyway. The world has lost so much life-changing and life-affirming talent that I don't even know where to begin. Makes me want to cry. God damn, his eyes are a universe.

Desperate... For what? The past is gone and cannot return, so why must I constantly go back there and dream of everything which has disappeared? The glow is one thing, but those moments I have described in excruciating detail (too much, honestly) are something else entirely. They cannot come back or be replicated. They are also vastly different than the thong-knees-triangle of the universe, or any of those I've gone around the barn with. The race girl created massive desire in the beginning, but then just a few moments later shot her beams through me and conveyed an entire lifetime of emotion in a matter of seconds. Something like that does not happen when the recipient is balanced, content or whatever. Normal? Oof... No, not that word. Something else. Like complete within themselves. I saw that expression and reached further than at any other time which I can recall. Seconds did it. And she is not so all-powerful to send such depth to my insides. She is a girl. I am the one in question here. Any number of other people saw her during the event and likely figured 'there is a pretty girl' or some such thing. Me? Implosion from a standpoint of the fucking infirmi et desperatis. All me. Oh I will not sit here and state that she was not thinking anything special because I cannot know, only that the likelihood is nil. Everything formed within me, hence pages of shit seemingly going nowhere due to my fractured state of mind. Weakness. The most stirring aspect is that a beauty such as that girl can push so much desire inside me that I'll be mentally crippled for days, yet the emotion took it all away very quickly. How? Was it desperation? And why am I STILL so distressed over never being able to see her again? Maybe I should stop trying.

Back to the beautiful woman made of my problems. The fact that I made her in the first place is another fucking problem. Nice, huh?

She now has four facets, the most important ones I deal with daily. Of those, one has no solution and may very well plague me forever, one is ongoing and could actually lead to understanding if I keep going in such a vein, one is gone yet continues to rise in importance due to the massive gradient between past and present, and the last is something I may be able to embrace if I can ever lose the fear of change. The clinchers seem to be the dreaming and heritage. Not happy about this. Dreaming encompasses desire and often feels uncontrollable, although at the same time it has been trumped by emotion. I still don't know how that happens, but it could be desperation as related to my having languished in bad or life-threatening situations and then comforted by a loving, caring soul who also happened to be stunningly beautiful. Again... What IS that? Why does her appearance add comfort? Is it the obsession, meaning something was being fulfilled while I was so terribly damaged? One thought is the idea that the obsession created the damaged thinking processes and could only be alleviated through an embrace of the same. Maybe? Could be. The obsession, while right there next to me and a part of a woman who provided solace, may have been what pulled me from real life and sent me flying into her arms in the first place. Make no mistake, though. Those souls were unique in my experience and extremely rare. They felt as such, anyway. The dream is right there in the last few sentences. Is it still out there? Is SHE out there? The connections as they relate to how I felt when the cat eyes saw right through me are expanding. I believe that facet of Arina is the most difficult and compelling because I always seem to return to those places in my mind. Andrea, Juliette, the Raven, Ellie and Natalie. I don't even want to get started with Ashley. So, two are the biggest problems, one of which could actually happen again. The heritage? Very bad.

Switch for something worse.

I was blasted due to poor word choice, so from here on in I will not comment in certain ways about from where my family originated. Apparently I am difficult with which to deal when it comes to conversation. Well, big fucking surprise there, huh? Do the hundred thousand lines preceding this entry give a false impression? I guess so. I'll try to be clearer. Three different individuals have taken issue with the content here. Does that help anyone to see why I pulled the site so many times? Maybe they did not understand what I was saying. Well, understand this:

One more syllable toward the manner in which I express myself here and it all goes away, forever. Fuck you, fuck your opinion, and fuck any feedback from any source. I've had enough of people criticizing my space on the Internet. As I've said until blue in the face, go make your own shit and leave me the fuck alone. I don't care about your view of me placing my life on the screen and making it public. MINE. I pay for it, and this has not been cheap. You want me to do things differently? SEND FUCKING CASH, ASSHOLES. I will no sooner change my ways than I will fly the flag of my heritage on the front of the house. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.

Switch back.



53


Just when I began to see some understanding about desire, beauty and my need for comfort, I was derailed by bullshit yet again. Getting back into the same mindset is not easy, so thank you very much, motherfuckers. You ruined my fucking morning.

Tuesday. What's going to be thrown at me today? Hopefully nothing.

Maybe I should just lay it all out here and throw caution to the wind. Some of it is never going to stop anyway, and what is the worst that can happen? Someone humiliates me? I don't believe something like that is really going to take place, yet the risk still scares me. After all this time you'd think I don't care what others think of me, right? Well, to a point. The reason so many crucial details are masked is not because I'm worried about revealing anything, it's something else entirely which relates to both the past and society's view of people. There is a lot holding my words back. I still want to splay everything, though. I really do. Thinking of the criticism does not help. It honestly makes me wish to do something which will anger those people, yet still I don't see such behavior as productive. The fact is, if I wish to keep producing this material, people will see it. That means continuing in this fashion. This whole paragraph is suspect anyway. The only positive I have -- one which has been apparent and illuminated at times -- is to lose the space and cost. Right now? I am fifty-fifty. Whatever.

We watched one of my favorite films yesterday. Amazing camera work, acting, the whole enchilada. I am concerned about the center driver below my television because it always seems to be on a hair trigger to either crackle or distort bad enough to drown out the dialog. I can swap it with the left or right cube and run the same film for a test. This only takes place when genuine digital surround is in operation. Just like watching a movie the day before with its fucked-up aspect ratio and crappy image, any issues with presentation melted away in favor of the breathtaking story. It is actually in my present top five favorite films, believe it or not, and always dredges up seeing it in the theatre with that woman and my dad during the glow. The interesting aspect of watching yesterday was something I always feared -- hence the movie languishing on my DVR for months before finally deciding to watch -- yet I did not fall down. We discussed it, and the only difficulty came about after the fact. This morning, believe it or not. The face of the actor portraying one of the gangsters. I know him well, and the issue shall return in the next section after Cindy and her very narrow-cut black bikini bottom. It's touchy. That means shadowing everything.

Big problem with myself, but also something over which there is no possibility of control. Nature, genetics, and not the fucking heritage. That is unrelated. After Cindy's picturesque pose.

Today.

This morning brings up the feeling I have most days with all of the time in front. I can do almost anything today, but will I do it? Or will I fall to the same habits and make no difference at all? Right now I don't know, but breaking out of the norm certainly is attractive. I just have to make it happen. Only me. No one is holding me back at all. It is all me. One possibility is my becoming more and more dissatisfied throughout a period of months and then pushing more than usual. I can see that happening, and soon. When I take a few minutes to step outside with the coffee and have a cigarette, I see the day as wide open and bright. Often that fades away completely by the time my routine is finished and I have lunch. I need to keep mindful of the hours ahead and what I have said in this paragraph. I will get out of this cycle. Just don't know when. Good or bad, the entirety is up to me.

Oy, Gloria's gait as she heads for her front door is intimidating and expresses a level of anger normally only spoken. Awesome and scary.

I have to make an appointment with the cable company to return the box and reduce our subscription to Internet access only. The Roku and antenna are both working beautifully, meaning it's time to cut the bill down to the bare minimum. The movies I've been watching have all been recorded on the DVR so they can be seen before dumping the thing. I doubt I'll miss it much. Of the hundreds of channels on the dial, I've embraced perhaps a dozen in the last year. It's just been too much. I suppose one day this week I'll head over there and cut the cord.

Yesterday I completed the RF antenna, anemometer mount and attached everything to one post. If the weather remains cool I can go up there and mount the system, effectively ending the odyssey of relocation and streamlining of everything. I will be happy to see the antennas all together in the same place and mounted solidly. This project has been a long while in development. The benefits are close now. Afterward I can organize the cabling running through the garage and enjoy a neater appearance. I've always been a stickler for wiring neatness. As for the CB, a few tests the other day revealed that no matter the length of antenna cable, the ratio is still a bit high for good operation. I may need to get hold of a matching unit to make up for grounding issues.

I've been avoiding the Arina subject because much has been said and defined already. She is still a problem, however. The desire remains masked, needs are unclear, and the whole of what she represents must be taken apart and addressed. This is a very slow process because it makes me appear weak. No surprise there. The relational situation with what I revealed in 'Send in the Clones' was a toughie for sure, yet I must go further. I am a product of many circumstances, not the least of which are those created by the two who raised me. That essay was almost as damaging as the passenger car. Life-changing, indeed. The possibility that those events drove me into the arms of more than one beautiful woman for comfort cannot be denied. Not even close. Here I sit, still in dire need, but without clarity as to why. And I believe the girl with the cat eyes unearthed more than I have described. She was the EXACT type for which I searched for years. The understanding is one thing, but the beauty? I don't know why it is so important. Perhaps Ashley really did have more of an effect upon me than I've realized. The girl at the race was blonde with very long hair, Ashley's height and build, and those combined could have contributed to this mindset and my need to be in her arms. This is becoming an increasingly fucked up situation as the days pass. I can see her face again. Not good. She should have faded completely by now.

Beauty and desire coupled with emotional eyes and more... The inner workings of what could be described as a machine, honestly. Need above all. A woman seemingly constructed from my thoughts. That is bad. Never before have I felt so out of balance and lost. I brought up the past again, but the truth is I already know much of this shit is my own responsibility. I am a grown adult, meaning the understanding of who I am and why should be at least partially completed by now. Blaming others for everything is unfair.

Eh... Whatever. Again with the solid statements. If Butchy could hear me now. Phil said it best... I just need to take his fucking path.



54


Sitting there watching the Wimbledon championships in the heat and humidity during the summer of ninety-four was one of the most stirring periods in memory. There were three box fans in specific positions around the downstairs rooms to maximize cool air and distribute it effectively. The back room was like an office of sorts, and had an opening which led to the basement where the temperature was always lower. One fan pushed air from that room into the kitchen, one more pushed it at a right angle to the first stream, and then a third washed the living room and part of the dining room. Circulation such as that meant the living area remained comfortable for the most part. And there I was, mid-airstream, sitting at the dining table with my drawings. Remember? Well, sometimes I watched tennis and other times the show. By that point in time, I had nothing more than my truck and a few possessions, having filed for bankruptcy earlier in the year. From a financial or property standpoint, I was a needle at zero. Completely reset.

Watching the championships allowed me to see a lifestyle otherwise unknown. Many of the spectators at that event are quite well-off and appeared to be in more control over their environment than most of the population. Money may not be able to buy happiness, but it can certainly make a person very comfortable during the search for the same. Between the tennis, commercials for cars and dreaming about having air conditioning (her aunt's house was climate-controlled and very comfortable), sitting there at the table had me thinking of myself as insignificant and very small. The only path I could think of was to pick up a lottery ticket every now and again for a chance to be as comfortable as those on the television. Even the magazines I read regularly were full of enormous yachts -- both motor and sail -- which were like giant luxury hotels on the water, meaning they had all those expensive details designed to keep people happy. I sat there and dreamed of everything which was unattainable, but did nothing about it. Just over halfway through my thirties. Plenty of time, right?

That period was driven by daydreaming of impossible and unlikely places and situations. I sat there day after day (school was at night) thinking of seeing all of the drudgery and toil from the comfort of an air-conditioned yacht anchored on the west side of Lake Huron. Detached, safe, and very cozy. Well, that all went to shit because I only dreamed and did not take steps.

I believe the beginning of my dreaming about air conditioning was while driving for the auto parts house a while earlier in the glow. My timeline is becoming distorted, though. I'll have to try and recall references or movies in order to put a date to some of the events. Anyway, while driving between Livermore and Tracy during the summer, the lack of air conditioning in the trucks made the drives quite uncomfortable at times. We had little spray bottles of water to spritz every now and again, but that mostly provided stickiness along with the shot of cool. Many days had me cruising back into town and looking around at the other cars with their windows closed. I would see a woman sitting in her luxury car with hair blowing back from the dash. It looked like a dream.

All those memories carry a constant, and that was the idea that there would always be more... Something to be excited about. Something on the horizon, in the future. I was basically at zero -- like right now -- but was not terribly worried over what may come along, if anything. Lots of time, lots of possibilities. And the dream of the industry came to fruition during that period. A key point was the ending of John McTiernan's direction of the third film within the Die Hard franchise, when the story was finished yet the camera pulling away continued to roll. I watched people milling around on the dock and saw a glimpse inside the production. Just a few seconds and I considered the other side of the process from behind the camera. Shortly before leaving the Midwest was an inkling that I could be a part of the film industry.

Where is Arina? She is around, somewhere. Always.

I said quite a bit up there about need, desire and the drive to find a specific type of comfort in the arms of the right type of woman, but nothing has been solved. Thinking more and more during each day continues to bring the idea that I can learn to change this -- or at least understand why it happens -- and then benefit from a portion of inner strength to hold myself up without that gorgeous attention slathered everywhere. I deal with many absolutes, too. The need and desire cannot be such or I am doomed. I don't like change, but it has to happen. Otherwise? No growth. Adaptation. Improvement through different means. See? Ugh.

The 'more' I spoke of during a time when everything felt wide open and promising has not happened, mostly due to my own limitations. Progress and society are the rest. Again... I cannot lay blame unless certain, and there are very few certainties to this crap. I have to be fair. So far there is only suspicion.

Sometimes Gloria is disgusting in her gestures and words. Very unattractive, and that attached to a woman who is unbelievably gorgeous beyond forty years of age. Yet another example of what takes place inside a person being infinitely more important than whatever may be seen on the outside. Coming from someone like me? Huge statement. Fucking enormous.

Afternoon now. I mounted the anemometer/RF section to the mast on the roof but I don't know if I like it. As much length as I cut off the pipe, it still seems a bit heavy to be up there. I may yet rebuild the thing for the third time, believe it or not. Another option is to clamp the assembly to the laundry vent rather than the mast. That pipe is galvanized and very stout. Mounting plastic to a metal roof vent is fine. Metal to metal is a big no-no. It becomes a lightning rod. Anyway, my routine is finished as well. Now I have time to focus upon whatever feels most pressing, meaning I can sit with this for some time before caring for anything else today. The second big car is in pieces, too. I'll get it in the box shortly and begin on the third. Some of the other projects may sit tight and await more motivation.

Wednesday and the first day after a bit of a revelation which makes me a little more comfortable in the house and where I am. Time will tell if this can last. For now? It is a good thing and I intend to do my best to hold up my end of the deal. At least I know.

Ah today may be a good one. The day is just beginning and I feel comfort at the idea that I'll have the house to myself for a few hours during the afternoon. I went to the market yesterday for some staples, meaning now I can remain here for the duration sans worry. Everything I need is here. Well, almost everything. There is always something unavailable but at least I have learned to live with it. Problems and the fucking never-ending need/desire bullshit coupled with dreaming and searching... Always present in my mind, mostly while alone. Last year was a massive search leading to nothing, I gave up and wallowed over the idea that nothing was out there, and then I nearly gave in to the idea that anything so special was undeserved, eventually leading me to close off most of the way. And then the event of the year took place in a matter of moments and left me wondering if I could have been wrong the entire time. What does that have to do with today? Well, I can see her standing there with the laser beams and for whatever reason she is motivating me to push a little harder than I have lately. This is a good thing born from a bad place. My needy nature and overpowering desire are right there, too, yet I can keep them in check and advance myself as necessary for both peace of mind and physical comfort. She may be the most elusive girl in the world, but she can still help me from afar. Why? Because now I know she is out there.



55


The lovely Arina with her endless thrall now encompasses five different fucking problems. Ugh, but here it is.

Them, over there. Not me, here. Over there. Just like during the period after our trailer years when I referred to some as 'those people' but nothing bad, there are now 'those guys', yet for completely different reasons. Them. Those guys. One of them on the show this morning, also spanning several episodes. His acting talent is fantastic and I love the voice. His character is as a guest star for a time before going away in the story, yet the imprint has been lasting since more than a year ago. He is fictional, meaning not one of 'those guys', but still the image remains the same as in reality. Someone created the character, cast the actor, and the combination worked perfectly considering the section of storyline with which he is involved. I have to say the casting on this show has been unbelievably fitting.

An episode during the second season the other day cemented the idea that there are personality aspects which I can never share with some of the other people around me. They are impossible as my die was cooled long ago and I am old enough to recall the period in which I became me. And then years and years of compliments that took my head into a vise as relational imagery was stuffed into me. Everyone. And there is a huge problem with that as it stems from the opposite sex, but I will tell you it is more touchy than anything explored here in years, meaning I cannot describe the problem without being attacked. I have displayed huge and very detailed images of the female sex, but those are nothing compared to some social subjects. Backlash. No guarantee of such things, though. I may try, just not now. Anyway, the years of being described in a specific way which proved universal over time have jaded me so badly that there is no fixing it. All I can do is try to understand. Something along the same lines happening these days typically causes me to distance myself from everyone and withdraw. My little world never disappoints.

What I referred to up there is a duality that can destroy people from the inside out, and I hate it. You want to talk about hypocrisy? The worst of such a word. Believe it. I am the way I am partially out of decades of constantly defending myself. The truth, right there. Write it down.

'Man is driven in toto by his insecurities.' -- Heshy McHeshster, otherwise known as the desert person.

The ship full of platitudes and bullshit sailed last year when I discovered something playing directly to my fears... A newly-fashioned tenet of this life's problems and ruling from a place of hiding. The issue was there and cannot be denied, and then to be patronized as a result of revealing a few problems? Fuck that. The situation above regarding hypocrisy is going to continue inside me, however I am accustomed to dealing with people in many ways -- often convincing enough to get almost anything I want -- and can continue such behavior with nary a tinge of conscience rearing up. Those parts of society and media that once became fearful have relaxed almost completely in light of this fifth facet of the goddess of the world. The duality means lies, yet I must abide by whatever comes to pass in order to maintain a peaceful atmosphere around me, and that is entirely for myself, not others. They can build their own fortresses. In one way I'm glad all that fear came about recently, if only to transform my worrisome stance into anger. I tend to be a more efficient human being when upset. Everything is simplified. The ship is gone and I don't care. In the end? I'll be just fine all by myself.

The duality is something she would never embrace. In fact, she would probably toss it aside and find other genuine terms. That is what I do. None of that bullshit as it relates to a person's appearance. Them... Over there. On the screen. Occasionally out in the world, but that is very rare indeed. Mostly on the screen, be it real or fictional, but everything else is the same. No getting around this. The fucking ruse has been exposed, motherfuckers. Now I know. This changes quite a few things in my life. Quite a fucking few. Yesterday I typed the words for the first time and that action began an unavoidable chain worse than the railroad lines from hell. Duality equals unacceptable, yet unlike all those other parts of people's personalities which I refer to as the same, this 'unacceptable' is the tallest order in the world. Everything is gone now. I will not spell it out, either, so don't ask. Just wonder. I would rather be labeled as devious and manipulative rather than being attacked unfairly, and such a statement does not mean my position is weak, either. The subject can cause nothing aside from arguments. I am still suffering from the title terms, however. Those will not go away. Weak and desperate.

I remember referring to some as 'those people' back when we lived in Dublin. I was not angry. In fact the feeling inside more often than not was a bit of envy because they always seemed to be fine, even in the face of much difficulty. I complained some -- which I should have avoided because it was a bit unfair -- and sat in wonder of their lifestyle, dreaming that one day maybe I could be like them. Well, the next decade and a half flew by like five minutes, and little did I know but we had become like those people toward the end. Between the cars, income, lifestyle and friends, I inadvertently rolled right into something I had dreamed without even realizing it until after the fact. Way after, to be sure. Much too late for anything positive, yet the feeling is still there a little. Ok, now the 'other people' are not the type to be defined by lifestyle. They are defined by much more, half inside and half outside. And therein lies the trouble because of yet more people. As I said above (somewhere), I cannot fully define any of this shit aside from 'those people' from the past or I'll end up in the middle of a storm. Too tired for that. And no, I don't care. The original 'those people' do not seem to exist any longer, or perhaps their importance as related to me simply faded away over time. The others were on the rise recently and squashed everything thanks to some individuals and their fucking two-faced bullshit. I know. Believe me... I really do. All these years of remaining in the shadows of life have helped to shape me into a person constantly observing and analyzing, meaning I miss nearly nothing these days. All of this served to eliminate one word from my vocabulary, and it is something necessary for personal relationships. No, I won't reveal that either. Live with it. Just know that the ship is gone, sunk, burned, whatever. The duality will continue because I have no control over it, and whenever I have expressed a few words in that direction all I get in return is bullshit anyway. The one word now gone covers quite a bit of life. Did I mention alone? I am standing alone no matter who may be right there next to me.

All that shit is part of the gorgeous woman now. Five items. Do you see Cindy's form below? She is full of problems, just like every other soul on this planet or elsewhere. Believe it. Beautiful, successful, rich, popular, or powerful... Nothing comes without problems. Buy your way out of them and they will come back when least expected. Cindy's legs have a high price. Good thing they can blind a person forever. Inside her? Dreams, desires, hellish pain, flame and dissatisfaction. She is a symbol. Eh... I mean Arina, not Cindy. Oops.

Back to this day. Wednesday. I have an idea to remove the mast I attached yesterday. I think I mentioned that I don't like the way it looks, plus now on top of that I noticed the weather receiver has not acquired the signal from the anemometer. Something is wrong up there. It's coming down today. I might get another lighter aluminum mast, too. The plastic is bending slightly in the wind. Like me, the material is very weak and in need of more strength. That is one thing to care for today. I also have the usual and some laundry, and then maybe continuing to pull apart the cars. Three are in their boxes now. Two remain. The weather is totally gray and cool so far this morning. The ocean is in charge.

Desperation. I use that word even though I can be balanced and steady at times. The main reason is that fucking reach weeks ago when she looked at me. Want to know the scary part? What happens if it was all in my head? As if I am so fucking desperate for the dreams that I created the situation from nothing more than an everyday glance? That could be bad, and I don't believe it. Possible, though. What I saw was the power of Jodhi's eyes from the movie the other day. Sentences out of an expression. Power, emotion, and the amazing transmission of so much thinking in the space of seconds. I saw it, but was it her or me? Desperate. Last year's fruitless and pathetic search for something spilled over to the race and may have caused me to reach further than ever before. This is not good.



56

Too bad she's not alone in the frame


I will not sit here and deny the fact that her body was the first thing I noticed. And don't give me a blast of shit, either. People are subjective that way because it is natural. Like when you see a person in a bar or other social situation. Approaching means you like what you see. That is first most of the time. Don't like their appearance or demeanor? Don't approach. My eyes are always out there looking, as I'm sure many others are, too. I just happened to notice her dramatic stance and gait because those made her stand out and above the other models nearby. I am not shallow by any means, yet what I saw was so stunning that I had to pull back and regroup my fucking brain. Was there desire? I will not lie, of course. I believe that is also natural, and considering how similar her features were to Ashley, my brain went in those directions fairly quickly. But the problem has already been stated. Not her pants, legs, none of it. Physical desperation would be preferable to what I feel at this very moment, to be honest. Being out there in the world and far from home while the draw of the universe is upon my shoulders can be excruciating at times. She formed imagery in my head so quickly that I had to force the issue aside and behave like a fucking normal person. One thing is certain, however, and that is the fact that I'll take that trouble in a cold minute over the process that is churning me into butter over a pair of eyes. I'll fucking take it. At least I am not so weak as to approach a woman anymore like those ill-begotten days of the obsessive project that drove me to print business cards and believe there could be real, living breathing subjects with open mindedness to the point of my actually performing mathematical experiments. I may be done with that shit -- obsession notwithstanding -- forever. No matter what I do or who I connect with, there will not likely be any understanding anyway. And I'll be all fucked up by the beauty. Ugh. Infirmi et desperatis. At least I no longer feel that I am being led around like a few weeks ago. That could be worse. I still have a stitch of dignity.

Arina is all over the place now. I thought she would be a good idea considering the way I always try to organize everything, yet now she is a mess. A container of things, lovely to look at, and a figure who could help me to understand not only the issues themselves, but the relationships between them. The combinations, too. One leading to another and then another. The connections. The hope was she would help me deal with these feelings daily. I guess she's not going anywhere soon. At least you can see the driving forces behind so much repeating here. I just keep reaching and thinking that something will pop into my head and form sentences.

The desire is not good but has its place, I suppose. Natural for some. Not for me. I've arrived in a locale where the desire begins to dictate thinking and actions. There is a word for it, too... Weakness. I would give up all of my dreams if someone could tell me why, but even more would be sacrificed to see that expression and feel the beams again. This is not good. Of all the issues with the same 'bad' label, this may be the worst. Yep, even more powerful than the anger over that fucking duality shit. Whatever. 'I yam what I yam', right Popeye?

The sight of a lifetime and the most striking indication that I am way less than I thought. The Latin title is right on the money. From where I was a year ago, this direction seems correct. Blah, blah, blah fishcakes. Furio has a big nose.

I need to learn exactly what is missing inside me. That pretty much sums much of this crap. If I am so desperate and see what I saw that day, either there are forces at work in the cosmos (unlikely, yet possible) or I am ruined (unfortunately more likely). She looked at me not as a vendor or representative, but did I really see it? Was something there? Again with the desperation? Yeah... Again with the desperation. Carmine and his big fish lips said it best. All references aside, some pieces are not present anymore, and that is if they were there in the first place. I realize I keep treading that shit, but the importance cannot be overstated. If I were a real grown up type of person, none of this would be necessary. Less, anyway.

Back to today.

I'll have the house to myself in a little while. Being left to my own world is a good thing these days and provides more comfort and solace than anything presently connected to me. I need it like oxygen. Anyway, the new mast will come down and be reconfigured for the second time, and I can work on my usual stuff in and around being in the garage. Yesterday I printed the diagrams for replacing the blower resistor in her car and still the operation went south. They do not mention the knee bolster airbag at all. I could not see a good way for removing the airbag, and messing with those is not a good idea without clear instructions. So, I put everything back together once again and will wait until she returns from the City later. I have the rest of the week before she returns to work. I'll have to snake my way under the dash again to see if what I found last week is the correct location. If so, replacing the faulty unit should not be terribly difficult. I hope, anyway.

Let us do a concise recap of a few key facts.

Two events between eighty and eighty-two could have had lasting effects upon my self-esteem and confidence as a man. Right around that same time -- plus a vivid relapse a decade later -- the imaginary girl from childhood (several years earlier) resurfaced in my head and heart and began to show me images of wonder I had not before envisioned. She was a dream, and one aligned ideally with the type of person I was at the time. With her, I did not need to worry about embarrassment, understanding or ridicule. She accepted me no matter the crap inside. Shilo was the first serious deviation from reality. Cut to the early nineties and I became smitten with several different actors all sharing three traits: Dark hair, eyes, and a slender build, just as Shilo. The rails of my life rolled underneath for quite some time before the next key period, that being the end of the glow and that CD girl. Shortly after? The one from 'Our Man Bashir'. And then life cruised into high-definition television and the rollercoaster girl just before the one at the car wash. Ok, lots of key facts.

Afternoon now. Most of my stuff is finished but the sun is shining and warm, so the antenna mast will probably wait until a foggy day. Gangsters again. Fourth season coming to a close.

All those tidbits up there sum what I have become, yet still there is no 'why'. I don't know if the jabs forty years ago have had a lasting effect or caused me to feel the need for constant reassurance, or what the fuck else. And why reassurance from beauty? Where was the beauty forty years ago? In my head? Typical teenage dreams are one thing, but for it to hold on all this time seems ridiculous. Either the importance snowballed or something else took place to void my need for just anyone. Oof, another scene gauged by humor. There are three such during this series, the first being in the midst of the third season, and the last way later at the outset of the sixth. I've read about them in detail and seem to be the only individual who has a problem with such storytelling. I don't want to go into manipulative scripting anymore. Tired of it. That other show we tried to follow went to hell for similar reasoning, albeit with different circumstances. Ugh... Off the road again. Anyway, Arina does not have answers to any of the above questions, nor do I feel that placing everything within yet another fucking gorgeous woman was a good idea. Not bad, necessarily, just kind of reaching in the wrong direction. Now I sit here daily and wonder how she came to be in the first place. All the decisions which led me from place to place throughout the course of years were originally there to help explain why I went to such lengths -- both selfish and hurtful -- to find something so elusive and detailed. I just don't know anymore. Very few of those examples of the draw were actually in contact with me. Some were dreams while others were merely in view. I hope I didn't make a mountain out of a molehill.



57

Fuck


For crying out loud. Enough already.

Today is both good and bad. The feelings of being scraped returned for a while and right smack dab in the middle of my work. I can't have that, although the derailment did not last very long this time. I just end up feeling at a huge loss and then getting back to business takes that much more effort. The good is not outweighing the bad as of yet, but I can get there. All of the laundry and other routine items are in full swing. This is good. I can reserve some of the afternoon for doing more enjoyable things, like continuing my disassembly of the models. Three are in boxes. I may have said that already. Alas, these entries are quite lengthy and I lose track all the time.

'I was on the phone with Devin. We had to do an Algebra problem.'

Yeah... Right. What was the problem? How many times you need to tug at her bra before finally unhooking it? Heh. This show just kills me sometimes.

I need to do more research and searching for the media involving the rollercoaster girl. I saw her during the Dublin years -- once we had the HD programming and television -- which means between fourteen and seventeen years ago. Believe it or not, I can still see her bright smile every day. Hair bouncing on the Tower of Terror in Disneyworld. What are the odds that I can't see a face from weeks ago but I can still see the rollercoaster girl? Strange, yet stirring beyond belief. I have not the capacity to calculate the reason. Maybe when Anthony gets past Devin's bra strap he can help me. Heh... Again. Seriously, I do need to find that program. In this day and age, and even back in the mid-zeros, media does not fade completely. It is somewhere, and I say that because everything else for which I have searched bore fruit. I can find her again and figure a way to save the video, just like the Mojo Girl (a woman never to be identified, by the way). I have the Mojo Girl saved and backed up four different ways, not to mention having uploaded her to the Internet. [As an aside, I realized that not every occurrence of the word 'Internet' had been capitalized (which is proper grammar), so I did a site-wide find and replace. I found many. Oops.] The rollercoaster girl could be one of the many answers to all this crap, and seeing the program again may help me to better define her role within the obsession and possibly other facets of where I've gone. The video has to be out there, somewhere.

The CD changer girl was different, and I am certain I've gone over this before. She was next to me, twice. And now we have fifth season Jamie. Ugh. Oh... Fuck me in a film canister, I just learned that we lost Frank Vincent four fucking years ago. God damn it all. Everyone is going away. Sadness. What a fucking legend.

I'm all over the place. Maybe I should work at something besides this shit.

Another morning with the sun partially out and my coffee to the right. Quiet cats, gangsters, the whole shitaree. Today's big push is trying to define one of the terms inside that beautiful woman and then work a bit further on the projects. Yesterday went fine. Mostly laundry and such. Afterward, I continued pulling apart car number four. I just noticed Anthony and one other student are wearing the exact same outfit in the school. Uniform or dress code, possibly. Curious that I did not see it until this morning. Anyway, this is the part of the day when everything feels possible. At some point that feeling will begin to diminish, but today I am going to pay more attention from one moment to the next and see if I can't stifle anything which tries to usurp my ambition. And now there is Terence in one of three cameos. That guy has so much talent that I think he needs to pull a trailer for the excess.

Dreams again, and this time the kitchen showed up. That was the 'Katie' kitchen way back last year when I was with two people in a commercial setting, like I was going to work there. Well, this was a little different in that Katie was irritated with me for some reason, wearing only black and looking at me with the most stern eyes imaginable. Did I still want to jump her like the first time? Not really, probably because of the mood. I felt like I had done something wrong, or at least something to upset her and the other woman. In the past I have disappointed so many people that I cannot even begin to categorize them or relate any to the dream, so the end of it having zero resolution and my waking without a clue as to the subject is not surprising at all. But there was one detail both odd and stirring, and a sight which nearly had me on the floor. Katie was dressed as the girl at the race, yet with her own dark features rather than the bright and blonde aspects of the model. I saw that and almost lost my shit completely before regaining composure to deal with whatever had been wrong. I still gazed, though. That is my way of late. Just like the strike in the big liquor store last weekend, I did my damnedest to navigate in and around while appearing to be doing nothing more than shopping for wine. All to get a better angle. Yep. Call me whatever you wish. I felt the same standing in that kitchen because I needed to see more of her without getting myself into further trouble.

Katie is tall, the one in the store the other day was my height, and then the model at the race above me. There is something about that shit but I still do not believe it began with the VS fashion show. There has to be something else. Just a thought.

The dream helped me to realize that the 'more' which took place during the visit to the Toyota exhibit will be a point of contention for some time. Two problems inherent, as well. One is that I want to see her again, and the other is learning of why that girl looked at me the way she did. Either it was real or I am so fucking desperate that I saw something which was never there. Real? I don't know. Me being desperate? More likely, yet I cannot know and that is what stirs me into a froth. This is becoming the very definition of one of Arina's facets... The dream. The very idea that a woman like Ellie, Natalie or Ashley can actually exist these days and be out there walking around. Mysterious, and more. The dream is the least balanced and most difficult part of Arina, and a problem that cannot possibly have a solution in reality. No way. The situation reminds me of other events or parts of life which seem so exciting at the outset or planning stage and then disappoint when they actually take place. You know what I mean. We flew to Maui many years ago -- my first trip to those islands -- and I was overly excited about seeing such an exotic place. Well, the flight to Maui was fantastic, from the comfort to the service and on to the movie. Every segment of trip felt ideal, plus we were on our way to the destination which means the anticipation was at its maximum. Several days later and we cut to the return flight. Mediocre movie, lots of turbulence due to the weather, plus we were headed home and soon returning to the typical work week. There is a part of me that needs someone to be out there -- and yes the girl at the race reinforced such a fact in the worst way -- but somehow I know the dream can only end in disappointment. I could be wrong, though. What happened that afternoon at the track was a simple little exchange during mere minutes of our day, yet became one of the most amazing and stirring periods in memory. She was a problem, IS still a problem, and I just may spend the lion's share of my time trying to understand how or why that took place. That means one part of Arina could be here for the long haul. I may never know if anything at that race was real. I saw more in a few seconds than years all added together, but did it happen? Weak and desperate... Those are the only real certainties anymore.

Why I dreamed about Katie again is beyond me. I have not seen anything starring her in quite some time and always thought of her as a flash in the pan. When I went back to 'Exhaustion' to locate the dream which involved her and a kitchen, I felt nothing upon seeing the images again. Nothing. Sure, she's lovely, but there is nothing more to it now. I also need to allow for the possibility that the dreams are meaningless.



58

Just... Fuck


Five different problems, some of which are probably connected to each other. I went on about those people and the possible horseshit involved when dealing with the opposite sex, yet never really went anywhere with the subject. Well, maybe there is nowhere to go. I see it all the time, both in reality and on the television. I guess I'll just sit on it for now. Enough pissy words up there already.

The sun is shining again. Yesterday I opened a few windows in the cardinal compass directions, but the sun never really warmed that much. I found myself running around and closing them during the early evening to stop the temperature inside from dropping too much. Heh. Maybe today I can go up on the roof and pull the double mount to reconfigure it. I thought of guying the mast to keep it steady, too. That may look bad, though. I have no wish to make an eyesore in this neighborhood. The other option is what I mentioned before of relocating the anemometer to the laundry vent all by itself. That would take some stress off the mast and ensure the CB antenna is above everything else. Hmm... I don't know.

Maybe I can't just sit on it.

I can't get that face out of my head now. She is competing with the rollercoaster girl who never goes away. Cindy's eyes in the top image are a good example of what I saw, yet different somehow. She saw right through me, I think. Tired of hearing 'cat eyes'? Well, they were. Right in front of me. And now the look and feel of the moment has been burned into my brain, seemingly for all time. I cannot let it go and move forward without fear of forgetting one of the most striking events ever. All this shit over a short period of time. The other three original facets of Arina are being minimized, although they still cause deep thinking from time to time. I don't know what to do about them. One, as I said, is impossible. I cannot change it no matter what happens from here forward. Another is the past and one of the most amazing parts of life imaginable, again something I cannot deal with because not only is it gone but I keep reaching back for the purpose of remembering, and then my weakness builds comparisons which accomplish nothing more than to make the present look that much worse. The only one with even the slightest chance of a solution is the industry, and at my age it is beyond a stretch. I still fear change, and that would be a big one. The movie a few weeks back, combined with what I read about the lengthy and complex production, pushed me to realize that the industry may not have become as truncated and advanced as much as I feared. I honestly would not have the first clue as to how to proceed, however. This little space I inhabit has become pretty fucking comfortable, and that right there is the main draw which holds back many parts of life I would love to embrace. Paths not taken. Places never seen. The industry is a big one. And then the fifth fucking pile of shit I brought up three sections above. Arina had four issues already weighing on my head. The fifth is bad and cannot be changed no matter the circumstances. The face of the girl is beginning to represent everything I never did, history which jaded me to the point of thinking I had connections to something beautiful, and everything I am not. Gorgeous, intimidating and haunting, all the while driving desire into my brain like harpoons from God's fishing gear. This entire endeavor is cementing the title.

I am beginning to feel as I did the other day regarding the fortification and such. The garage must be dealt with so our emergency materials and supplies are both readily accessible and up to date, plus there needs to be a measure of space out there just in case the shit hits the fan. Those public safety power shutdowns really irritate some people, but I see them as drills for a major disaster. That puts thoughts in my head for preparations. Today I can go out there and evaluate everything for a while, at the same time considering the antenna situation. I might even pull out the shortwave radio and see if my CB is actually receiving as well as I had hoped, or if the noise is prevalent. The CB and shortwave radios are key to being informed during a time when infrastructure has been compromised. The airwaves are free and always there in one fashion or another. One aspect of working to such an end is the idea that I feel purposeful while out there. Unlike the little decorative stuff and lighting, this work is important and could prove critical for our well-being if something threatens daily life. I'll be out there shortly. Something kind of interesting as the current period relates to last year when I first routed audio from the television is recalling when I strolled out there for a cigarette and nearly had tears in my eyes when I heard the second show emanating from the garage audio system. It was a reminder of the Midwest and what being buried within my devices began to mean. None of it has diminished. Not a bit. When I head out there in a bit, something will be following along so I can have the familiar embrace of my friends and family.

Wow. I just ran a search for the word 'desire' in this entry and learned that these long compositions are beginning to see repeated sections, even entire sentences. Perhaps I need to shorten some. All I wanted to do was learn of how much I described the desire for that girl. And I am referring to the physical type, nothing more. No emotion, just drive. Stating that I felt such things may come across differently to different people, as well, but I have no control over it (hopefully after my threatening statements and shit attitude toward anyone commenting or criticizing, I need not be concerned anyway). What I feel is what I feel, and what I felt was quite a bit, possibly even to the point of recalling that clad-in-red car salesperson way back in the nineties and my immediate need to swallow her entire self in one shot. The girl at the race has become a turning point in the direction of both my head and the site. I will be going on about her for the fucking duration, or until I run out of HQ images of Cindy. Heh. Laugh it up, fuckers. The bottom line is that I was stirred up more than in memory by a stare. The most important aspect was the feeling. Referring to desire is fine, but it remains secondary. Coming from me? That is tantamount to pigs flying.

I can see her eyes again, all surrounded by more hair than I've seen in some time. Sometimes I wish I could snap my fingers and make her disappear, while other times I want to snatch her and run away toward some semblance of understanding myself. Neither is likely, nor is the idea of me reaching any conclusion with regard to ANY OF THIS FUCKING SHIT.

There is TB's fiancéee and her enormous eyes again. I noticed some weeks ago that hers seem to be sunk a bit rather than typically right there below the eyebrows. It could be the makeup, but I don't know. She has the opposite structure than others, a good example of which is the goddess up the street. Her eyes are huge as well, yet further out. Both types are attractive beyond belief but more different than I can possibly describe. TB's girl is often super cute, while at other times frightening. The goddess is only the former. Anyway...

The five Arina entries thus far encompass nearly as many lines of code as the first thirteen years of text on this site. The fuck? What IS that? Moreover, does the line count even matter if I'm saying the same things over and over? Not funny. The girl and her cat eyes drove much of this. Arina, too. I've tried to organize and understand things throughout this series, yet still I feel a huge loss. The biggest question, and one which may not have an answer to my satisfaction, is what AM I?

Ugh... But David Strathairn is awesome, even while portraying rather an asshole. Heh.

Dreaming could destroy me, especially considering how deeply within it I tend to sink. Reality ends up secondary. This is not good.



59


I still see her looking at me. Desperation. Weakness. Thrall. That one moment in time is beginning to control me. Did I say 'not good'? Not good. Infirmi et desperatis. The rule of life these days. Everything I say, write, do, all of it is dictated by those two terms. I won't even go into the fear.

Nearly ten in the morning. I need to do something else.

The three names I mentioned above -- twice, I believe -- were unique individuals with huge hearts and a very caring nature toward me during times when I sought someone to lean upon. Needy beyond belief. The question is why the arms of those women? And did the race girl drive the same type of thinking? I don't know how this shit comes about but I can say it is screwy. The more days that pass bring me more thoughts of that girl. I lost sight for a while, too. Lately she has returned as a physical symbol of everything wrong inside me. Ah, shit. I've gone over that and the two events from the past. Maybe that's all there is? The situations which shaped me? There may be nothing underneath it all. Nothing. That means I already did figure it out. And a thought just now: Can a beautiful woman be the solution through confirmation and validation that I am actually alright? The problems developed while young can be validated through them? Is that what I was seeking? Confirmation that I am viable, important, or something more? Am I finding the right words here? Not a wordsmith. Oh fuck, I just thought of something else and I cannot even spell it out here. Fucking hell. A big one. Damn it, I'll have to jot down the ideas within Google Docs so as to remember and explore later. I simply cannot place them here or I'll suffer backlash from some. Others may see it as a massive engram which can explain much of this, however I can't take the fucking chance. They may completely understand and not make fun, but I'll never know. Holy shit. I think something has been realized. Oy. I've gone around the world and back trying to figure if this shit is helpful or not, but now I see that the ongoing analysis can indeed lead to something wonderful. Oh, believe me when I say the realization is not good, but at least I fucking KNOW. That is better than the alternative. I'd rather know and be concerned than not know at all. Fuck. Switch, for the love of Christ.

Through all of my straightening and organization of the garage recently, I inadvertently misplaced the vacuum hose and a box of light bulbs. The box is small and understandable, but the hose? It's pretty big and does not seem easy to misplace. Sometimes I think the more work I finish creates as many problems as it does solutions out there. Heh. I suppose I can look around while doing the usual chores and such. Can't hurt. I also need to address the blower resistor again. Yesterday's foray into the dash went to shit, but if I recall correctly, the item in question may be accessible without too much disassembly. I am pretty sure I saw the thing and did not give it much thought because there was no resemblance to the replacement I ordered. Well, I could have ordered the wrong part. It's cheap so I don't really care, but I want the thing operational today. In and around my routine I'll search for missing crap. Maybe some antenna work, too. I have ideas. They are both enjoyable and useful, not to mention being possible assistance during an outage. Fire season is here. Stop.

And evening has arrived, same day. Thursday. I have the fifth series on in favor of the gangsters since I am not home alone. The day has been fairly productive, though, despite my devices not entirely present. For one thing, I mounted the Solarcon to the laundry vent with excellent results. The reflected power is nearly nil, meaning the ground plane need not be added to the mast. This is very good and nearly blew my skirt up at the first test. I also removed the Tram base antenna (because it will not match to the radio no matter what I try) and lowered the anemometer/RF section so it is more stable. The Tram was the reason I needed the anemometer up so high, so without it the tee is much more solid. Another plus. Now all I need to do is reroute the cabling across the garage roof and into one of the eave vents. That will keep everything away from the patio cover. So far, this project is moving along nicely despite the mass of money I originally threw at it. Just for shits and grins, I will say that the Solarcon has been in the garage for more than five years. Yep, that's how I operate.

I did not get around to the fucking resistor in her car because I don't really feel like laying under the dash and reaching. Maybe tomorrow or Saturday. Too much sunshine. The roof was bad enough.

Being home but not alone really illuminates my time during the weekdays. Monday is four days away but I am already looking forward to being here and having space to myself. I miss it. Thinking -- especially after the sudden and striking realization earlier -- is going to be much easier when the house is quiet and all mine. The last four days have reinforced my need for solitude. I must have space in order to work out the issues inherent in said realization, mostly so I can have a conversation with myself and attempt to learn of why this came about after so many years of agonizing analysis. I can bullshit and snowstorm my way through anything, as evidenced by recent contacts and their frozen ears, so getting to my alone time with this computer is an exercise I know very well. I'll get there, and that right soon.

I can't describe the situation. Something popped into my head while typing this morning and helped me to see the path behind and why it formed in such a fashion. This will be both my Achilles' heel and savior all rolled into one. I'll gush some more, too. Wait for it. Regarding the race track girl, I have not even cracked the shell of the egg and let slip the dogs of sex. You have no idea, and that considering all of the entries with splayed labia in great detail (gone now, but it doesn't matter). I used to joke about experimentation. Well, it's less of a joke these days. Believe it.

Friday morning. One cat milling around and the other sleeping to my right. Coffee and gangsters parading through my brain as guided by fifth-season Jamie eyes. There is a scene which may have been the catalyst and before noticing the 'conversation' way late in the series, and it took place a few episodes back. I noticed yesterday and thought about it before the massive wrecking ball hit my head and drove me to see something about myself that I never noticed. Even just over halfway through this season her eyes are already unbelievable. Oh, I'm sorry... Have I said that before? And believe me when I say I know precisely what others see during this episode while I am gazing into her windows, but I try not to think about it. This program is typically on while I'm alone anyway.

People have a 'type'. Some, anyway. I believe my preference for certain features formed during the early zeros and before watching this show. I also believe that upon feeling the way I do about the woman on the screen, my 'type' began to zero in upon her features. This may be completely normal, too. I don't know how others consider what they like or do not like, though, or if they may describe combinations of features as derived from several faces. Ooh-fa, this is too much. Basically, the infirmi et desperatis has been partially driven by me trying to learn why she became so important to me, and I believe the reason may be her emotional eyes and kind, caring nature sometimes. Don't get me wrong, she was a basket case and very difficult at times, but during the last two seasons she became much of what I dreamed daily. Her character, idiots, not the actor. I've said that enough by now that you should fucking get it. Anyway, when I see those big eyes expressing something meaningful to her or important, my head sees something I constructed last year. Yep. Not only has my 'type' become extremely narrow and unlikely, but Jamie is nearly all of it. I know I mention her quite often because I am smitten, however she is important due to me trying to understand being so fucking weak and distorted that I do this type of thing on a regular basis. Last year I thought I was out of balance due to dreaming of a mechanical woman. Now? Worse, yet also very different. Please don't give me any shit about her or how often I go on all goo ga regarding her beauty. There is much more. Jamie is important in ways which supersede the physical.



60


She becomes snippy when speaking of 'Felicia'. Someone needs to look in the mirror. Holy shit. So beautiful. Nothing I say is ever enough. Frozen in time, forever, just like I wished to be.

Ah... Today. I have to get this crap to production. Maybe I'll toss the cabling over the roof and get it neatened a bit. The routine, some more work on the last model (freaking huge), and perhaps some trimming of the trees so the green waste doesn't fill up with flies again. Beyond the norm, my head is in need of rest from the main subjects in the title. I'm tired of trying to figure things out. That means whatever I end up doing today must be pretty basic.

I realized something and it makes sense. Not very good, and it is beginning to grate against some terms with which I have already wrestled for months, but any knowledge is a good thing. I don't even know how it happened. The words are simple. Maybe I just had them in the wrong order. One certainty related to the content here for the last nineteen-plus years is the idea that I do not know everything. No one does. The positive to that is there is always something to learn, and what took place yesterday just as I readied myself to close this and work in the garage was about the harshest and quickest information injection in history. For me, anyway. I simply connected a few things while speaking of the race girl because her draw upon my senses may have been the most powerful in recent memory. I might never see her again and have nothing more to look forward to than sporadic wrestling matches with my feelings toward what took place that day, but she likely lit the fire of something more important than I can possibly put into words here. Huge realization. This morning it feels even more key to my life than last night. Unbelievable. I wish I could thank her.

There is her smiling face again. Not a big smile, but one more calculating and intelligent. Searching? No, that is my desperation talking. My only wish. I can see her right now.

This is done for now. Long entries mean less titles, and I don't care anyway. All me, all mine.

Going above and beyond yesterday around the house was partially driven by the massive engram (or whatever the fuck you call it). I felt as if at least some weight was lifted and it enabled me to move around with more confidence and ambition. Nothing crazy, but I know I felt it. That means today will hopefully follow suit. As I said above, the usual and maybe a little more.

Well, at least I have a direction. All of the above bullshit is overwhelming and has left me in the worst mindset I could have imagined, despite some good coming out of the effort. While I can admit much of the shit is my doing, other people have contributed lately. I'm tired of that, but should probably leave the subject alone due to the pan already being full of fish. I shall continue in this vein and consider the above possibility -- even though I cannot bring the words here -- until I can no longer move my fingers to type. And if some cease reading here because I am going over the same shit each week, I don't care. This has become too important to my life. Maybe you should not have been here in the first place. Go back to seventeen in the archive and look at the things I typed during that period. Suicidal, all the time. Now I am not, though remaining here in the world and in contact with people will probably be worse than disappearing. Half for them, half for me. Heh. They have to hear it, and they will, sure as hell.

I will never change. The keyboard will continue its clicking, though.

Next sound you hear."



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