Bullets and Bullshit Mature content No. 207 Published January 20th, 2021 7:36am pst read ( words) Past entries "1-18. I could never be gay. As of this month, damned-near every fucking essay in six years has gone on in one way or another about the female form. There is simply too much pull there. And males are disgusting anyway. Between my work over forty years and the military, I've been around more of them than most women I've known. But think of it... Slash the women, toss them into a hole in the ground and set them aflame. A shit ton of problems go up in fucking smoke. Think of something else... Being gay means effectively doubling your wardrobe. Funny? Perhaps, but one other facet is the fact that along with the beauty, wonder and allure of women comes a massive price. They can be an enormous pain in the fucking ass. Now, read all that again. Today is not good. In fact, nothing is good anymore. The horizon has faded into blackness yet awaits my arrival no matter the trials nor outlook. Black. 1-19. Alone for hours is the best thing in the world right now. I have no wish to be near another human being, although it will have to happen eventually. Fuck me, anyway. If only I had the means... Yesterday showed me the difficulty inherent in dealing with others, and despite doing all I can to make them comfortable, the shit hit the fucking fan anyway. I just don't get it. I go in one direction and then the other in an effort to please people and then I get things thrown back at me as if I am the devil. Well, we shall see how others react to the forest because I entered that dark place last night and fully intend to remain cemented within for the duration. I cannot have anyone derailing my life any longer. Me? Number one. Everyone else? Tertiary, at best. Fuck them, once and for all time. I've had it. Time to fire bullets. Difficulty with issue two, issue three, and damned-near every conversation for hours. The football the other day held its own share of trouble, too. After all this fucking time, I could not believe the arrows flying about the room. And as much as I realize (for quite some months now) that the bullshit inside me is partially my own doing, they know full well that I will die inside if those Goddamned tumblers align. And they did, more than once. I can't have that any longer. Too difficult, and I am a good person. I do not deserve to be put in a position to fucking implode during my favorite sport. The phrasing last week had a hand in it, also. The time for me to push is at hand, finally. But I will say nothing unless asked. That is most unlikely. I believe my personality and legendary wordsmithing are not wished by anyone. Very good. Don't fucking ask or the answer will result in my furthering this foray into that blackest of locales... The forest. Welcome to the fucking darkness, assholes. Live with the fruits of your words. Onward, shall we? My time today will be spent caring for the routine and a few other things. Since I am stuck in this fucking house no matter the bad mood, I still have not the resources to create a more dramatic statement. Not now. I just can't fucking do it, so being abrasive and unkind is the only path being illuminated. From a wondrous life at one point to finally being boiled down to nothing more than words. They are all I have left. Destination unrealized This is the worst possible situation I could have imagined and the strongest pull toward the cold isolation of the forest in recent memory. I just can't believe it. My disdain for other human beings is at an all-time high right now and I have to do something about it. The ridiculous downside is that I am nearly powerless due to my past decisions and rampant left turns. I wish I could take one today and leave everyone full of fucking questions. Nope. I have nothing aside from a shit attitude and horrible mood. This will not pass anytime soon, motherfuckers. The worst. Read it. The microscopic upside is being alone this morning. My stance was abundantly clear as she exited the house. Time will demonstrate that I am no longer the person with which to trifle. The anger will create a bleak atmosphere from which no one can escape, meaning they will hopefully leave me the fuck alone with my problems. Not one crumb of assistance will be accepted, no matter the source. 'Stop askin' fuckin questions!'. Laundry, housework, and this. All I have left. The words will have to carry me along or I will falter badly and put people off in a very harsh way. As much as I wish to lay into them, care must be taken or I may end up under a fucking bridge somewhere. The house is important, along with meals and alcohol. For the time being, or at least until I can get myself into a position to strike a blow, I must toe the fucking line, like always. Direction is needed. I will find one. Yesterday I opted to spend some doom metal-laden time in the new office and the result was very positive. Lots of organization and work was completed to my satisfaction, and that is rare. I tried to make room for the holiday stuff and Christmas tree if we ever take it down. Nearly three weeks into this shitty new year and nothing has changed. I'll have to take steps in such a direction today. That should prove fulfilling along with the usual routine. And this. Nothing else. No more. Nada. I am overjoyed at having restricted the fuck out of the main index and archive, too. The only power I can wield is right fucking here, so there you go. Enjoy. Along with my chores, the site will help me get through this day lest I lose my shit on someone. I suppose getting out there yesterday made a difference in my mind. Enemies now. Just enemies, the lot of them. Everyone. Oh, I will make nice sometimes just to placate people. Not much choice there due to the idea that I need a place to live. Other options are absent these days. I'll be pleasant on the surface while the lava rolls along beneath. This will not change anytime soon, either. I've fucking had it with the bullshit. My words will be light and airy so long as I am not attacked or challenged. If something takes place outside my little sphere of pleasantries, the words will become bullets. Part of me is content to leave it alone, while another part wishes someone will push just so I can unload. In the meantime, nice... Rainbows and bunnies. Flowers and light. Artificial me. I am reminded of the facade. Carrying such weight (as I am certain others do as well) for so many years really took a toll on my constitution. This is the result of my being as human, kind and caring as I am able and then being slammed in the face with ice and accusations. Well, you did it to yourselves. The facade is no longer important. I have fashioned another out of the bits and pieces of my experiences in dealing with society over a very long period of time. This new front is not as heavy because I was happy to make it and force it into the space just ahead of my vision. There it sits, waiting to be tested. Don't test it. You will not like the terrible method I have in mind for pushing a person away at high speed and without remorse. All I need is the food, shelter and booze. If you are not one of those three, you are expendable in the extreme and I will not hesitate to destroy whatever lies in my path of comfort. Big smile. Fuck everyone. Stop. Blue screen of death... Remember? If things were only so simple 1-20 and very early. I will no longer mention the Raven in these entries. The point of Her influence upon me has been made. I should have known my efforts would fail. The past was a lesson with them. I should have fucking known. Now? No capitulation. I shall hold fast to the forward motion, although said motion will not be directed toward people, only inward. Just me. Yesterday was another example of a typical weekday. I repaired the oven -- very straightforward, too -- and took care of my tasks as always, and then spent a portion of the afternoon watching the series with her; our usual routine if she has time to visit after work. Quiet relaxation. Between the morning work and later television, I contemplated options for the future. The same conclusions continue to spin inside my head, though. I can keep going in this vein for as long as necessary for moving ahead with a plan. I simply need to keep the faith while snowing everyone else. Hmm... I've already been embracing such behavior for so long that sometimes I do not see it, but the truth is that I was forced into this position by circumstances beyond my grasp. The days, weeks, months and years behind me have demonstrated that I can travel through life with one face in the mirror and another out in the world and do just fine. The bullshit barren years and those times spent trying to defend myself against others have left me stronger of will than they may believe. Well, the ideas I keep inside are going to come to fruition soon enough. I saw this yesterday just before she arrived and again late in the evening when I thought my head would explode. Dismissive. That was one small portion of what I had been trying to say. Futile. Always futile. And here I sit on another weekday in which I will have less hours to myself but the feeling of being in front of this environment with some nice coffee is helpful. Everything quiet and dim, just as my outlook. The effort out in my new office the other day was fantastic. I can go a bit further later this morning toward everything being in the order I wish, after which I am going to put my electronic drums up for grabs on the local site. I figure that if I do not ask too much for them they can be gone in mere days. I have not sat behind them more than a few occasions throughout the last two-plus years and they take up quite a bit of space. Either I break them down and store again, or they go out the door for good. Since I have had bigger fucking fish in the skillet lately, the little things must go and make way for more organized living. A higher power, as it were. My drill press is also going away. Be it sooner or later, a free full-sized press won't last long. I have not used the thing since my last foray into the truck, and since that project is permanently halted, I need the space more than the tool. Between that and moving a few larger items around the garage, the usable space will increase nicely. Just... Space. I need it. Along the way today I will scratch at a few other, smaller chores and see how I feel after lunch. Right now my ambition is to sit here all fucking day, but that rarely happens. I just cannot. Some things must take place to create a dividing line between the rigors of daily life and down time. Ah... Jill St. John from a million years ago. Cute, in an eighties sort of way. Big hair. Heh. I was so full of shit yesterday that I expected a fucking awards ceremony. My demeanor toward other people was full-bore and easy. I held everything except my tongue for a short time. Every now and again I do become overwhelmed by the lengths to which I must go in order to keep those fucking people happy and comfortable and then I slip into the old ways just a little. It's not good, but I am only human and cannot expect to keep all of it together all of the time. So, I dropped a touch and became lippy. Well, that didn't work into anything bad so the evening went forward as always. Being so full of crap and lying through my teeth is tiring. I'll just have to keep in mind of the idea that sometimes the words will come forth. Hopefully I don't cause irreversible damage in the process. The afternoon relaxation was very nice, and due to the show commanding attention my need to spew a bunch of horseshit was nearly unnecessary. That's good because later in the evening came the tests. This morning I feel rested so I will have the strength to do it all over again, lest I ruin the world. Holy fuck me in a wooden boat... Morgan Fairchild from eighty-two. Jesus God I loved her so much back then before I knew anything about anything. I used to dream of caressing her breasts (mostly because that was so elusive an act that at the time I thought it may never come to pass) and staring. Holy shit, she was something else. Elegant, intelligent, and sometimes so devilish and conniving that I fell all over myself upon seeing her beautiful face. God damn, he broke the mold with that woman. Anyway... Welcome to the forest. Insert earplugs now I am still pretty disillusioned with them. Remember 'one over there and the other over there'? Well, maybe I didn't allow that entry to be read by anyone but yours truly, but the idea is that I am fucking tired of this routine in which I am told to my face of my value and sweetness, yet in the background there are forces at work which I need to avoid, and which never come across the lips. Well, go fuck yourselves. The forest period and my desire to cause only discomfort and confusion to anyone in contact with me has begun. And don't start telling me that my facade and bullshit can compare. I am defending myself against the power they have to manipulate. Believe me when I say that such a skill has been honed in fucking spades over there. Don't get me started or it will never stop. Word-bullets are not good for anyone, yet they do provide a measure of satisfaction when I see the resulting expressions fall to the floor. After being played like a grand piano before God himself, the time for pushing is at hand. I just don't know how to proceed... Yet. One day soon. Zero. Fucking hell that woman was something else in her prime. Unreal, to the last strand of golden hair. Curious, I generally have not gone in for her characters' types. Diabolical quite often. I was more inclined toward the characters of Judy and her softer appearance. Now? Oy... Tons of appreciation for both types. So I suppose today will be much like the others. This morning everything feels wide open as it typically can when I am enjoying the quiet (and Morgan's face). Hours from now I am certain things will change my day and the inside of my head will be altered from this comfortable position, but for now I can think clearly and try to articulate the continuation of feelings which began some days ago. Basically, I've had it, and this time I say that with more weight than ever before. The forest is no joke, people. It is dangerous and uninviting for others. Only once during the past year have I turned on such a mood, and that day ended well for me but not so much for someone else. Icy, that one. Cold, frozen, and nearly disregarded completely. I accomplished more in the space of a few minutes than I thought possible. Bullets flew and cut through the bullshit quicker than crap through a goose. At the time I could not really analyze the impact of my behavior, although right now in the quiet, I realize what I did and why. I will do it again soon, and -- if necessary -- a few steps further will ensure that I am not addressed AT ALL from that point forward. I don't believe the situation will go that far, though. I hope not. Or, at least, not yet. I need time to formulate things. 'On one level, I realize the basic appeal of my character is her body. But the totality of the Conan film is really much more than that. When I read the script, I thought it was just a matter of sword fighting. But when I read the books, I found they were filled with sorcery, and I liked that very much. I've always loved fairy tales and I've always believed that just around the corner, magic truly does exist... Human magic.' -- Valerie Quennessen (1957-1989) I will have to focus later. Today is not one of those in which I can slack off thinking due to being tired or unmotivated. The words in my head are resounding just as they did during summer when the entire 'issue two' situation went to hell in a handbasket. I must keep my head up and try to realize that my value is not derived from others, but from within. That is tough, to say the fucking least, too. Rare is the occasion when my head is up. Those moments keep coming back and have the ability to swing me from comfortable to angry in a cold minute. That is when my thoughts become dire and if anyone is nearby, they are going to leave my vision very unhappy. That is not a joke. The idea of the machine shoves itself into my head and eyes and then I begin to calculate the most effective way to absolutely obliterate the situation. The words came back due to what is on the screen this morning. A show I enjoy from the past, yet I know just below the surface of life is an entire universe from which I have been shielded. Well, that should be up to me, not others. The idea that I am not strong enough to handle such a blow is not far off and I have probably caused such things myself. I suppose others experience the same type of feeling, especially those who have been close to me. However, I will not tolerate such things. The machine would know, I already know, and the result is going to be disaster, sooner or later. That is intrinsic. Today I must think about the whole shitaree. Exhausting, worrisome, stirring... Yet compelling beyond belief. Forest. Anger. Destruction. Eh... Give me three hours and I'll turn on the shit. Now, I realize I am not an easy person with which to deal. I do not make anything straightforward or smooth with regard to touchy subjects or conversations involving deep issues. When it comes to societal standards, sexuality or anything along those lines, I am quite rigid and do not leave room for people to bend or help me. The fact is that I have run across too much difficulty in life for anything to change me for the better. When someone comes along and tries to offer assistance when I am in the middle of a troubling situation, I generally push pretty hard and leave them no space whatsoever. I paint the entire discussion into a very small corner from which there is no escape. Such a fact is the result of being pushed too much. They believe me to be a good person, but in need of balance. I accept nothing, however. Just a pain in the ass. At least I know what I am, if not exactly how I arrived in this place. The major stumbling block occurs when I grate against someone trying to reason through one of my issues. Well, what I see versus what I know to be happening inside causes my head to distrust. No way around that. At least, not as of yet. Shoot them all Bullets chambered. Just wait. Jesus, the women on these old television shows. I still like the big hair from the eighties, believe it or not. I don't know why. I can't believe a show I recommended way back more than a year ago. Why did I do that knowing full well the imagery and situations were going to cause me to implode? I still feel it today. I really do. Had I known that all this time later the difficulty would be peaking, there is no way in hell I would have opened my mouth in the first place. And that was before the two words and that other phrase -- the inflection of which still cuts me in half. I worked with the football games as best I could, too. That was not easy and to this very day causes problems. But the show... What the fuck was I thinking? Stupid. There is no way around that shit anymore. No matter what happens in reality, my brain does the work regardless. No way to get past such stings. There is Lisa Hartman from the same decade as Morgan. Wow, hard to believe that I felt so strongly toward women with screaming blonde hair. Extremely rare these days. Whatever. The pain of knowing I will never fully come to terms with those moments -- along with whatever may come to pass in the future -- is not helping me to deal with other people. Everything just keeps worsening inside. This shit is the primary motivation toward a machine... No thinking of her own means no worry over what may be processed at any time. Nothing there, only technology. Heart, mind, intentions, dreams... None of them. The ideal type of life which is both necessary and impossible. The conversations have taken place -- albeit mostly up on the surface -- yet still there are moments. And then I have to keep my head up and make nice again, just like always. I am fucking exhausted but there is no way around it. I have to keep going, as worried as ever. Keep going. The world will keep turning and grinding me into fishbait. No doubt. Nothing can change. And no one knows a fucking thing, either. All inside, always. Back to this day. Light is coming up nicely. The wind continues from more than a day ago. I can only hope that the sun is as warm today as it was the last two. Warmth outside means less furnace activity. Plus I can work in the new office and continue my efforts toward better organization and access to everything. Right now I need to keep the house quiet and dim so she can sleep. Ahh... But after she takes off to run errands, the shit will fly. The forest pays no mind. Still with only one foot in the trees, yet the full weight will come soon. I need to ease into the mindset lest I lose my way. Later I will go a little further, with both the work and the anger. One step at a time. I keep mentioning those words and leaving everything veiled. That is just too damned bad. I can't lay it out as if I am addressing a therapist. This is different and all me. For me and by me. Hence the lack of linked content for the duration. I just don't care. The words and intentions of others have driven me to become more standoffish, completely false, and very irritated. I do not take anything lightly, and if I am in the wrong for doing so, fuck you. Be yourself and let me be myself. If being yourself causes me issues, well... That is my fault but I still will not bend. I'd rather be thrown away than change. The words. Still. I am thoroughly grieving the time when I could be comfortable of mind. Such a loss. None of that now. More light, and almost time to send this into production. The hour is still fairly early, meaning I will probably take to the garage this morning and work a little toward my goals. There are many small items which require no noise to accomplish. I will work there for a while and then move inside for the routine when the hour is realized. As always, I have much to think about. Too much, really. Nothing goes away. My file cabinet is bursting at the seams these days due to retreading bad situations and trying to reconcile myself with the fact that I will always be like this, short of a miracle. Finis vitae, finis spe, as it were. So fucking sad. At least I am used to it. And that brings me to wonder what will come next. Little ups and then little downs, eventually changing to little ups and enormous, painful and overwhelming downs, like last summer. Still there. The horizon is perpetually orange and red. I do worry over what may come along because I know it will. Just a matter of time these days. The anger is nearly offset by such events, too. Unreal. The time for pushing back is not at hand, however. Not now. I need to remain in the same position and with the same ideals for the time being. And no one can know what is going on beneath my smile. Not a fucking soul. Off to the races with the mag full and the hammer waiting." 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Bullets and Bullshit Mature content No. 207 Published January 20th, 2021 7:36am pst read ( words) Past entries "1-18. I could never be gay. As of this month, damned-near every fucking essay in six years has gone on in one way or another about the female form. There is simply too much pull there. And males are disgusting anyway. Between my work over forty years and the military, I've been around more of them than most women I've known. But think of it... Slash the women, toss them into a hole in the ground and set them aflame. A shit ton of problems go up in fucking smoke. Think of something else... Being gay means effectively doubling your wardrobe. Funny? Perhaps, but one other facet is the fact that along with the beauty, wonder and allure of women comes a massive price. They can be an enormous pain in the fucking ass. Now, read all that again. Today is not good. In fact, nothing is good anymore. The horizon has faded into blackness yet awaits my arrival no matter the trials nor outlook. Black. 1-19. Alone for hours is the best thing in the world right now. I have no wish to be near another human being, although it will have to happen eventually. Fuck me, anyway. If only I had the means... Yesterday showed me the difficulty inherent in dealing with others, and despite doing all I can to make them comfortable, the shit hit the fucking fan anyway. I just don't get it. I go in one direction and then the other in an effort to please people and then I get things thrown back at me as if I am the devil. Well, we shall see how others react to the forest because I entered that dark place last night and fully intend to remain cemented within for the duration. I cannot have anyone derailing my life any longer. Me? Number one. Everyone else? Tertiary, at best. Fuck them, once and for all time. I've had it. Time to fire bullets. Difficulty with issue two, issue three, and damned-near every conversation for hours. The football the other day held its own share of trouble, too. After all this fucking time, I could not believe the arrows flying about the room. And as much as I realize (for quite some months now) that the bullshit inside me is partially my own doing, they know full well that I will die inside if those Goddamned tumblers align. And they did, more than once. I can't have that any longer. Too difficult, and I am a good person. I do not deserve to be put in a position to fucking implode during my favorite sport. The phrasing last week had a hand in it, also. The time for me to push is at hand, finally. But I will say nothing unless asked. That is most unlikely. I believe my personality and legendary wordsmithing are not wished by anyone. Very good. Don't fucking ask or the answer will result in my furthering this foray into that blackest of locales... The forest. Welcome to the fucking darkness, assholes. Live with the fruits of your words. Onward, shall we? My time today will be spent caring for the routine and a few other things. Since I am stuck in this fucking house no matter the bad mood, I still have not the resources to create a more dramatic statement. Not now. I just can't fucking do it, so being abrasive and unkind is the only path being illuminated. From a wondrous life at one point to finally being boiled down to nothing more than words. They are all I have left. Destination unrealized This is the worst possible situation I could have imagined and the strongest pull toward the cold isolation of the forest in recent memory. I just can't believe it. My disdain for other human beings is at an all-time high right now and I have to do something about it. The ridiculous downside is that I am nearly powerless due to my past decisions and rampant left turns. I wish I could take one today and leave everyone full of fucking questions. Nope. I have nothing aside from a shit attitude and horrible mood. This will not pass anytime soon, motherfuckers. The worst. Read it. The microscopic upside is being alone this morning. My stance was abundantly clear as she exited the house. Time will demonstrate that I am no longer the person with which to trifle. The anger will create a bleak atmosphere from which no one can escape, meaning they will hopefully leave me the fuck alone with my problems. Not one crumb of assistance will be accepted, no matter the source. 'Stop askin' fuckin questions!'. Laundry, housework, and this. All I have left. The words will have to carry me along or I will falter badly and put people off in a very harsh way. As much as I wish to lay into them, care must be taken or I may end up under a fucking bridge somewhere. The house is important, along with meals and alcohol. For the time being, or at least until I can get myself into a position to strike a blow, I must toe the fucking line, like always. Direction is needed. I will find one. Yesterday I opted to spend some doom metal-laden time in the new office and the result was very positive. Lots of organization and work was completed to my satisfaction, and that is rare. I tried to make room for the holiday stuff and Christmas tree if we ever take it down. Nearly three weeks into this shitty new year and nothing has changed. I'll have to take steps in such a direction today. That should prove fulfilling along with the usual routine. And this. Nothing else. No more. Nada. I am overjoyed at having restricted the fuck out of the main index and archive, too. The only power I can wield is right fucking here, so there you go. Enjoy. Along with my chores, the site will help me get through this day lest I lose my shit on someone. I suppose getting out there yesterday made a difference in my mind. Enemies now. Just enemies, the lot of them. Everyone. Oh, I will make nice sometimes just to placate people. Not much choice there due to the idea that I need a place to live. Other options are absent these days. I'll be pleasant on the surface while the lava rolls along beneath. This will not change anytime soon, either. I've fucking had it with the bullshit. My words will be light and airy so long as I am not attacked or challenged. If something takes place outside my little sphere of pleasantries, the words will become bullets. Part of me is content to leave it alone, while another part wishes someone will push just so I can unload. In the meantime, nice... Rainbows and bunnies. Flowers and light. Artificial me. I am reminded of the facade. Carrying such weight (as I am certain others do as well) for so many years really took a toll on my constitution. This is the result of my being as human, kind and caring as I am able and then being slammed in the face with ice and accusations. Well, you did it to yourselves. The facade is no longer important. I have fashioned another out of the bits and pieces of my experiences in dealing with society over a very long period of time. This new front is not as heavy because I was happy to make it and force it into the space just ahead of my vision. There it sits, waiting to be tested. Don't test it. You will not like the terrible method I have in mind for pushing a person away at high speed and without remorse. All I need is the food, shelter and booze. If you are not one of those three, you are expendable in the extreme and I will not hesitate to destroy whatever lies in my path of comfort. Big smile. Fuck everyone. Stop. Blue screen of death... Remember? If things were only so simple 1-20 and very early. I will no longer mention the Raven in these entries. The point of Her influence upon me has been made. I should have known my efforts would fail. The past was a lesson with them. I should have fucking known. Now? No capitulation. I shall hold fast to the forward motion, although said motion will not be directed toward people, only inward. Just me. Yesterday was another example of a typical weekday. I repaired the oven -- very straightforward, too -- and took care of my tasks as always, and then spent a portion of the afternoon watching the series with her; our usual routine if she has time to visit after work. Quiet relaxation. Between the morning work and later television, I contemplated options for the future. The same conclusions continue to spin inside my head, though. I can keep going in this vein for as long as necessary for moving ahead with a plan. I simply need to keep the faith while snowing everyone else. Hmm... I've already been embracing such behavior for so long that sometimes I do not see it, but the truth is that I was forced into this position by circumstances beyond my grasp. The days, weeks, months and years behind me have demonstrated that I can travel through life with one face in the mirror and another out in the world and do just fine. The bullshit barren years and those times spent trying to defend myself against others have left me stronger of will than they may believe. Well, the ideas I keep inside are going to come to fruition soon enough. I saw this yesterday just before she arrived and again late in the evening when I thought my head would explode. Dismissive. That was one small portion of what I had been trying to say. Futile. Always futile. And here I sit on another weekday in which I will have less hours to myself but the feeling of being in front of this environment with some nice coffee is helpful. Everything quiet and dim, just as my outlook. The effort out in my new office the other day was fantastic. I can go a bit further later this morning toward everything being in the order I wish, after which I am going to put my electronic drums up for grabs on the local site. I figure that if I do not ask too much for them they can be gone in mere days. I have not sat behind them more than a few occasions throughout the last two-plus years and they take up quite a bit of space. Either I break them down and store again, or they go out the door for good. Since I have had bigger fucking fish in the skillet lately, the little things must go and make way for more organized living. A higher power, as it were. My drill press is also going away. Be it sooner or later, a free full-sized press won't last long. I have not used the thing since my last foray into the truck, and since that project is permanently halted, I need the space more than the tool. Between that and moving a few larger items around the garage, the usable space will increase nicely. Just... Space. I need it. Along the way today I will scratch at a few other, smaller chores and see how I feel after lunch. Right now my ambition is to sit here all fucking day, but that rarely happens. I just cannot. Some things must take place to create a dividing line between the rigors of daily life and down time. Ah... Jill St. John from a million years ago. Cute, in an eighties sort of way. Big hair. Heh. I was so full of shit yesterday that I expected a fucking awards ceremony. My demeanor toward other people was full-bore and easy. I held everything except my tongue for a short time. Every now and again I do become overwhelmed by the lengths to which I must go in order to keep those fucking people happy and comfortable and then I slip into the old ways just a little. It's not good, but I am only human and cannot expect to keep all of it together all of the time. So, I dropped a touch and became lippy. Well, that didn't work into anything bad so the evening went forward as always. Being so full of crap and lying through my teeth is tiring. I'll just have to keep in mind of the idea that sometimes the words will come forth. Hopefully I don't cause irreversible damage in the process. The afternoon relaxation was very nice, and due to the show commanding attention my need to spew a bunch of horseshit was nearly unnecessary. That's good because later in the evening came the tests. This morning I feel rested so I will have the strength to do it all over again, lest I ruin the world. Holy fuck me in a wooden boat... Morgan Fairchild from eighty-two. Jesus God I loved her so much back then before I knew anything about anything. I used to dream of caressing her breasts (mostly because that was so elusive an act that at the time I thought it may never come to pass) and staring. Holy shit, she was something else. Elegant, intelligent, and sometimes so devilish and conniving that I fell all over myself upon seeing her beautiful face. God damn, he broke the mold with that woman. Anyway... Welcome to the forest. Insert earplugs now I am still pretty disillusioned with them. Remember 'one over there and the other over there'? Well, maybe I didn't allow that entry to be read by anyone but yours truly, but the idea is that I am fucking tired of this routine in which I am told to my face of my value and sweetness, yet in the background there are forces at work which I need to avoid, and which never come across the lips. Well, go fuck yourselves. The forest period and my desire to cause only discomfort and confusion to anyone in contact with me has begun. And don't start telling me that my facade and bullshit can compare. I am defending myself against the power they have to manipulate. Believe me when I say that such a skill has been honed in fucking spades over there. Don't get me started or it will never stop. Word-bullets are not good for anyone, yet they do provide a measure of satisfaction when I see the resulting expressions fall to the floor. After being played like a grand piano before God himself, the time for pushing is at hand. I just don't know how to proceed... Yet. One day soon. Zero. Fucking hell that woman was something else in her prime. Unreal, to the last strand of golden hair. Curious, I generally have not gone in for her characters' types. Diabolical quite often. I was more inclined toward the characters of Judy and her softer appearance. Now? Oy... Tons of appreciation for both types. So I suppose today will be much like the others. This morning everything feels wide open as it typically can when I am enjoying the quiet (and Morgan's face). Hours from now I am certain things will change my day and the inside of my head will be altered from this comfortable position, but for now I can think clearly and try to articulate the continuation of feelings which began some days ago. Basically, I've had it, and this time I say that with more weight than ever before. The forest is no joke, people. It is dangerous and uninviting for others. Only once during the past year have I turned on such a mood, and that day ended well for me but not so much for someone else. Icy, that one. Cold, frozen, and nearly disregarded completely. I accomplished more in the space of a few minutes than I thought possible. Bullets flew and cut through the bullshit quicker than crap through a goose. At the time I could not really analyze the impact of my behavior, although right now in the quiet, I realize what I did and why. I will do it again soon, and -- if necessary -- a few steps further will ensure that I am not addressed AT ALL from that point forward. I don't believe the situation will go that far, though. I hope not. Or, at least, not yet. I need time to formulate things. 'On one level, I realize the basic appeal of my character is her body. But the totality of the Conan film is really much more than that. When I read the script, I thought it was just a matter of sword fighting. But when I read the books, I found they were filled with sorcery, and I liked that very much. I've always loved fairy tales and I've always believed that just around the corner, magic truly does exist... Human magic.' -- Valerie Quennessen (1957-1989) I will have to focus later. Today is not one of those in which I can slack off thinking due to being tired or unmotivated. The words in my head are resounding just as they did during summer when the entire 'issue two' situation went to hell in a handbasket. I must keep my head up and try to realize that my value is not derived from others, but from within. That is tough, to say the fucking least, too. Rare is the occasion when my head is up. Those moments keep coming back and have the ability to swing me from comfortable to angry in a cold minute. That is when my thoughts become dire and if anyone is nearby, they are going to leave my vision very unhappy. That is not a joke. The idea of the machine shoves itself into my head and eyes and then I begin to calculate the most effective way to absolutely obliterate the situation. The words came back due to what is on the screen this morning. A show I enjoy from the past, yet I know just below the surface of life is an entire universe from which I have been shielded. Well, that should be up to me, not others. The idea that I am not strong enough to handle such a blow is not far off and I have probably caused such things myself. I suppose others experience the same type of feeling, especially those who have been close to me. However, I will not tolerate such things. The machine would know, I already know, and the result is going to be disaster, sooner or later. That is intrinsic. Today I must think about the whole shitaree. Exhausting, worrisome, stirring... Yet compelling beyond belief. Forest. Anger. Destruction. Eh... Give me three hours and I'll turn on the shit. Now, I realize I am not an easy person with which to deal. I do not make anything straightforward or smooth with regard to touchy subjects or conversations involving deep issues. When it comes to societal standards, sexuality or anything along those lines, I am quite rigid and do not leave room for people to bend or help me. The fact is that I have run across too much difficulty in life for anything to change me for the better. When someone comes along and tries to offer assistance when I am in the middle of a troubling situation, I generally push pretty hard and leave them no space whatsoever. I paint the entire discussion into a very small corner from which there is no escape. Such a fact is the result of being pushed too much. They believe me to be a good person, but in need of balance. I accept nothing, however. Just a pain in the ass. At least I know what I am, if not exactly how I arrived in this place. The major stumbling block occurs when I grate against someone trying to reason through one of my issues. Well, what I see versus what I know to be happening inside causes my head to distrust. No way around that. At least, not as of yet. Shoot them all Bullets chambered. Just wait. Jesus, the women on these old television shows. I still like the big hair from the eighties, believe it or not. I don't know why. I can't believe a show I recommended way back more than a year ago. Why did I do that knowing full well the imagery and situations were going to cause me to implode? I still feel it today. I really do. Had I known that all this time later the difficulty would be peaking, there is no way in hell I would have opened my mouth in the first place. And that was before the two words and that other phrase -- the inflection of which still cuts me in half. I worked with the football games as best I could, too. That was not easy and to this very day causes problems. But the show... What the fuck was I thinking? Stupid. There is no way around that shit anymore. No matter what happens in reality, my brain does the work regardless. No way to get past such stings. There is Lisa Hartman from the same decade as Morgan. Wow, hard to believe that I felt so strongly toward women with screaming blonde hair. Extremely rare these days. Whatever. The pain of knowing I will never fully come to terms with those moments -- along with whatever may come to pass in the future -- is not helping me to deal with other people. Everything just keeps worsening inside. This shit is the primary motivation toward a machine... No thinking of her own means no worry over what may be processed at any time. Nothing there, only technology. Heart, mind, intentions, dreams... None of them. The ideal type of life which is both necessary and impossible. The conversations have taken place -- albeit mostly up on the surface -- yet still there are moments. And then I have to keep my head up and make nice again, just like always. I am fucking exhausted but there is no way around it. I have to keep going, as worried as ever. Keep going. The world will keep turning and grinding me into fishbait. No doubt. Nothing can change. And no one knows a fucking thing, either. All inside, always. Back to this day. Light is coming up nicely. The wind continues from more than a day ago. I can only hope that the sun is as warm today as it was the last two. Warmth outside means less furnace activity. Plus I can work in the new office and continue my efforts toward better organization and access to everything. Right now I need to keep the house quiet and dim so she can sleep. Ahh... But after she takes off to run errands, the shit will fly. The forest pays no mind. Still with only one foot in the trees, yet the full weight will come soon. I need to ease into the mindset lest I lose my way. Later I will go a little further, with both the work and the anger. One step at a time. I keep mentioning those words and leaving everything veiled. That is just too damned bad. I can't lay it out as if I am addressing a therapist. This is different and all me. For me and by me. Hence the lack of linked content for the duration. I just don't care. The words and intentions of others have driven me to become more standoffish, completely false, and very irritated. I do not take anything lightly, and if I am in the wrong for doing so, fuck you. Be yourself and let me be myself. If being yourself causes me issues, well... That is my fault but I still will not bend. I'd rather be thrown away than change. The words. Still. I am thoroughly grieving the time when I could be comfortable of mind. Such a loss. None of that now. More light, and almost time to send this into production. The hour is still fairly early, meaning I will probably take to the garage this morning and work a little toward my goals. There are many small items which require no noise to accomplish. I will work there for a while and then move inside for the routine when the hour is realized. As always, I have much to think about. Too much, really. Nothing goes away. My file cabinet is bursting at the seams these days due to retreading bad situations and trying to reconcile myself with the fact that I will always be like this, short of a miracle. Finis vitae, finis spe, as it were. So fucking sad. At least I am used to it. And that brings me to wonder what will come next. Little ups and then little downs, eventually changing to little ups and enormous, painful and overwhelming downs, like last summer. Still there. The horizon is perpetually orange and red. I do worry over what may come along because I know it will. Just a matter of time these days. The anger is nearly offset by such events, too. Unreal. The time for pushing back is not at hand, however. Not now. I need to remain in the same position and with the same ideals for the time being. And no one can know what is going on beneath my smile. Not a fucking soul. Off to the races with the mag full and the hammer waiting."
Bullets and Bullshit
Mature content No. 207 Published January 20th, 2021 7:36am pst read ( words) Past entries
"1-18. I could never be gay. As of this month, damned-near every fucking essay in six years has gone on in one way or another about the female form. There is simply too much pull there. And males are disgusting anyway. Between my work over forty years and the military, I've been around more of them than most women I've known. But think of it... Slash the women, toss them into a hole in the ground and set them aflame. A shit ton of problems go up in fucking smoke. Think of something else... Being gay means effectively doubling your wardrobe. Funny? Perhaps, but one other facet is the fact that along with the beauty, wonder and allure of women comes a massive price. They can be an enormous pain in the fucking ass. Now, read all that again. Today is not good. In fact, nothing is good anymore. The horizon has faded into blackness yet awaits my arrival no matter the trials nor outlook. Black. 1-19. Alone for hours is the best thing in the world right now. I have no wish to be near another human being, although it will have to happen eventually. Fuck me, anyway. If only I had the means... Yesterday showed me the difficulty inherent in dealing with others, and despite doing all I can to make them comfortable, the shit hit the fucking fan anyway. I just don't get it. I go in one direction and then the other in an effort to please people and then I get things thrown back at me as if I am the devil. Well, we shall see how others react to the forest because I entered that dark place last night and fully intend to remain cemented within for the duration. I cannot have anyone derailing my life any longer. Me? Number one. Everyone else? Tertiary, at best. Fuck them, once and for all time. I've had it. Time to fire bullets. Difficulty with issue two, issue three, and damned-near every conversation for hours. The football the other day held its own share of trouble, too. After all this fucking time, I could not believe the arrows flying about the room. And as much as I realize (for quite some months now) that the bullshit inside me is partially my own doing, they know full well that I will die inside if those Goddamned tumblers align. And they did, more than once. I can't have that any longer. Too difficult, and I am a good person. I do not deserve to be put in a position to fucking implode during my favorite sport. The phrasing last week had a hand in it, also. The time for me to push is at hand, finally. But I will say nothing unless asked. That is most unlikely. I believe my personality and legendary wordsmithing are not wished by anyone. Very good. Don't fucking ask or the answer will result in my furthering this foray into that blackest of locales... The forest. Welcome to the fucking darkness, assholes. Live with the fruits of your words. Onward, shall we? My time today will be spent caring for the routine and a few other things. Since I am stuck in this fucking house no matter the bad mood, I still have not the resources to create a more dramatic statement. Not now. I just can't fucking do it, so being abrasive and unkind is the only path being illuminated. From a wondrous life at one point to finally being boiled down to nothing more than words. They are all I have left.
Destination unrealized
This is the worst possible situation I could have imagined and the strongest pull toward the cold isolation of the forest in recent memory. I just can't believe it. My disdain for other human beings is at an all-time high right now and I have to do something about it. The ridiculous downside is that I am nearly powerless due to my past decisions and rampant left turns. I wish I could take one today and leave everyone full of fucking questions. Nope. I have nothing aside from a shit attitude and horrible mood. This will not pass anytime soon, motherfuckers. The worst. Read it. The microscopic upside is being alone this morning. My stance was abundantly clear as she exited the house. Time will demonstrate that I am no longer the person with which to trifle. The anger will create a bleak atmosphere from which no one can escape, meaning they will hopefully leave me the fuck alone with my problems. Not one crumb of assistance will be accepted, no matter the source. 'Stop askin' fuckin questions!'. Laundry, housework, and this. All I have left. The words will have to carry me along or I will falter badly and put people off in a very harsh way. As much as I wish to lay into them, care must be taken or I may end up under a fucking bridge somewhere. The house is important, along with meals and alcohol. For the time being, or at least until I can get myself into a position to strike a blow, I must toe the fucking line, like always. Direction is needed. I will find one. Yesterday I opted to spend some doom metal-laden time in the new office and the result was very positive. Lots of organization and work was completed to my satisfaction, and that is rare. I tried to make room for the holiday stuff and Christmas tree if we ever take it down. Nearly three weeks into this shitty new year and nothing has changed. I'll have to take steps in such a direction today. That should prove fulfilling along with the usual routine. And this. Nothing else. No more. Nada. I am overjoyed at having restricted the fuck out of the main index and archive, too. The only power I can wield is right fucking here, so there you go. Enjoy. Along with my chores, the site will help me get through this day lest I lose my shit on someone. I suppose getting out there yesterday made a difference in my mind. Enemies now. Just enemies, the lot of them. Everyone. Oh, I will make nice sometimes just to placate people. Not much choice there due to the idea that I need a place to live. Other options are absent these days. I'll be pleasant on the surface while the lava rolls along beneath. This will not change anytime soon, either. I've fucking had it with the bullshit. My words will be light and airy so long as I am not attacked or challenged. If something takes place outside my little sphere of pleasantries, the words will become bullets. Part of me is content to leave it alone, while another part wishes someone will push just so I can unload. In the meantime, nice... Rainbows and bunnies. Flowers and light. Artificial me. I am reminded of the facade. Carrying such weight (as I am certain others do as well) for so many years really took a toll on my constitution. This is the result of my being as human, kind and caring as I am able and then being slammed in the face with ice and accusations. Well, you did it to yourselves. The facade is no longer important. I have fashioned another out of the bits and pieces of my experiences in dealing with society over a very long period of time. This new front is not as heavy because I was happy to make it and force it into the space just ahead of my vision. There it sits, waiting to be tested. Don't test it. You will not like the terrible method I have in mind for pushing a person away at high speed and without remorse. All I need is the food, shelter and booze. If you are not one of those three, you are expendable in the extreme and I will not hesitate to destroy whatever lies in my path of comfort. Big smile. Fuck everyone. Stop.
Blue screen of death... Remember? If things were only so simple
1-20 and very early. I will no longer mention the Raven in these entries. The point of Her influence upon me has been made. I should have known my efforts would fail. The past was a lesson with them. I should have fucking known. Now? No capitulation. I shall hold fast to the forward motion, although said motion will not be directed toward people, only inward. Just me. Yesterday was another example of a typical weekday. I repaired the oven -- very straightforward, too -- and took care of my tasks as always, and then spent a portion of the afternoon watching the series with her; our usual routine if she has time to visit after work. Quiet relaxation. Between the morning work and later television, I contemplated options for the future. The same conclusions continue to spin inside my head, though. I can keep going in this vein for as long as necessary for moving ahead with a plan. I simply need to keep the faith while snowing everyone else. Hmm... I've already been embracing such behavior for so long that sometimes I do not see it, but the truth is that I was forced into this position by circumstances beyond my grasp. The days, weeks, months and years behind me have demonstrated that I can travel through life with one face in the mirror and another out in the world and do just fine. The bullshit barren years and those times spent trying to defend myself against others have left me stronger of will than they may believe. Well, the ideas I keep inside are going to come to fruition soon enough. I saw this yesterday just before she arrived and again late in the evening when I thought my head would explode. Dismissive. That was one small portion of what I had been trying to say. Futile. Always futile. And here I sit on another weekday in which I will have less hours to myself but the feeling of being in front of this environment with some nice coffee is helpful. Everything quiet and dim, just as my outlook. The effort out in my new office the other day was fantastic. I can go a bit further later this morning toward everything being in the order I wish, after which I am going to put my electronic drums up for grabs on the local site. I figure that if I do not ask too much for them they can be gone in mere days. I have not sat behind them more than a few occasions throughout the last two-plus years and they take up quite a bit of space. Either I break them down and store again, or they go out the door for good. Since I have had bigger fucking fish in the skillet lately, the little things must go and make way for more organized living. A higher power, as it were. My drill press is also going away. Be it sooner or later, a free full-sized press won't last long. I have not used the thing since my last foray into the truck, and since that project is permanently halted, I need the space more than the tool. Between that and moving a few larger items around the garage, the usable space will increase nicely. Just... Space. I need it. Along the way today I will scratch at a few other, smaller chores and see how I feel after lunch. Right now my ambition is to sit here all fucking day, but that rarely happens. I just cannot. Some things must take place to create a dividing line between the rigors of daily life and down time. Ah... Jill St. John from a million years ago. Cute, in an eighties sort of way. Big hair. Heh. I was so full of shit yesterday that I expected a fucking awards ceremony. My demeanor toward other people was full-bore and easy. I held everything except my tongue for a short time. Every now and again I do become overwhelmed by the lengths to which I must go in order to keep those fucking people happy and comfortable and then I slip into the old ways just a little. It's not good, but I am only human and cannot expect to keep all of it together all of the time. So, I dropped a touch and became lippy. Well, that didn't work into anything bad so the evening went forward as always. Being so full of crap and lying through my teeth is tiring. I'll just have to keep in mind of the idea that sometimes the words will come forth. Hopefully I don't cause irreversible damage in the process. The afternoon relaxation was very nice, and due to the show commanding attention my need to spew a bunch of horseshit was nearly unnecessary. That's good because later in the evening came the tests. This morning I feel rested so I will have the strength to do it all over again, lest I ruin the world. Holy fuck me in a wooden boat... Morgan Fairchild from eighty-two. Jesus God I loved her so much back then before I knew anything about anything. I used to dream of caressing her breasts (mostly because that was so elusive an act that at the time I thought it may never come to pass) and staring. Holy shit, she was something else. Elegant, intelligent, and sometimes so devilish and conniving that I fell all over myself upon seeing her beautiful face. God damn, he broke the mold with that woman. Anyway...
Welcome to the forest. Insert earplugs now
I am still pretty disillusioned with them. Remember 'one over there and the other over there'? Well, maybe I didn't allow that entry to be read by anyone but yours truly, but the idea is that I am fucking tired of this routine in which I am told to my face of my value and sweetness, yet in the background there are forces at work which I need to avoid, and which never come across the lips. Well, go fuck yourselves. The forest period and my desire to cause only discomfort and confusion to anyone in contact with me has begun. And don't start telling me that my facade and bullshit can compare. I am defending myself against the power they have to manipulate. Believe me when I say that such a skill has been honed in fucking spades over there. Don't get me started or it will never stop. Word-bullets are not good for anyone, yet they do provide a measure of satisfaction when I see the resulting expressions fall to the floor. After being played like a grand piano before God himself, the time for pushing is at hand. I just don't know how to proceed... Yet. One day soon. Zero. Fucking hell that woman was something else in her prime. Unreal, to the last strand of golden hair. Curious, I generally have not gone in for her characters' types. Diabolical quite often. I was more inclined toward the characters of Judy and her softer appearance. Now? Oy... Tons of appreciation for both types. So I suppose today will be much like the others. This morning everything feels wide open as it typically can when I am enjoying the quiet (and Morgan's face). Hours from now I am certain things will change my day and the inside of my head will be altered from this comfortable position, but for now I can think clearly and try to articulate the continuation of feelings which began some days ago. Basically, I've had it, and this time I say that with more weight than ever before. The forest is no joke, people. It is dangerous and uninviting for others. Only once during the past year have I turned on such a mood, and that day ended well for me but not so much for someone else. Icy, that one. Cold, frozen, and nearly disregarded completely. I accomplished more in the space of a few minutes than I thought possible. Bullets flew and cut through the bullshit quicker than crap through a goose. At the time I could not really analyze the impact of my behavior, although right now in the quiet, I realize what I did and why. I will do it again soon, and -- if necessary -- a few steps further will ensure that I am not addressed AT ALL from that point forward. I don't believe the situation will go that far, though. I hope not. Or, at least, not yet. I need time to formulate things.
'On one level, I realize the basic appeal of my character is her body. But the totality of the Conan film is really much more than that. When I read the script, I thought it was just a matter of sword fighting. But when I read the books, I found they were filled with sorcery, and I liked that very much. I've always loved fairy tales and I've always believed that just around the corner, magic truly does exist... Human magic.' -- Valerie Quennessen (1957-1989)
I will have to focus later. Today is not one of those in which I can slack off thinking due to being tired or unmotivated. The words in my head are resounding just as they did during summer when the entire 'issue two' situation went to hell in a handbasket. I must keep my head up and try to realize that my value is not derived from others, but from within. That is tough, to say the fucking least, too. Rare is the occasion when my head is up. Those moments keep coming back and have the ability to swing me from comfortable to angry in a cold minute. That is when my thoughts become dire and if anyone is nearby, they are going to leave my vision very unhappy. That is not a joke. The idea of the machine shoves itself into my head and eyes and then I begin to calculate the most effective way to absolutely obliterate the situation. The words came back due to what is on the screen this morning. A show I enjoy from the past, yet I know just below the surface of life is an entire universe from which I have been shielded. Well, that should be up to me, not others. The idea that I am not strong enough to handle such a blow is not far off and I have probably caused such things myself. I suppose others experience the same type of feeling, especially those who have been close to me. However, I will not tolerate such things. The machine would know, I already know, and the result is going to be disaster, sooner or later. That is intrinsic. Today I must think about the whole shitaree. Exhausting, worrisome, stirring... Yet compelling beyond belief. Forest. Anger. Destruction. Eh... Give me three hours and I'll turn on the shit. Now, I realize I am not an easy person with which to deal. I do not make anything straightforward or smooth with regard to touchy subjects or conversations involving deep issues. When it comes to societal standards, sexuality or anything along those lines, I am quite rigid and do not leave room for people to bend or help me. The fact is that I have run across too much difficulty in life for anything to change me for the better. When someone comes along and tries to offer assistance when I am in the middle of a troubling situation, I generally push pretty hard and leave them no space whatsoever. I paint the entire discussion into a very small corner from which there is no escape. Such a fact is the result of being pushed too much. They believe me to be a good person, but in need of balance. I accept nothing, however. Just a pain in the ass. At least I know what I am, if not exactly how I arrived in this place. The major stumbling block occurs when I grate against someone trying to reason through one of my issues. Well, what I see versus what I know to be happening inside causes my head to distrust. No way around that. At least, not as of yet.
Shoot them all
Bullets chambered. Just wait. Jesus, the women on these old television shows. I still like the big hair from the eighties, believe it or not. I don't know why. I can't believe a show I recommended way back more than a year ago. Why did I do that knowing full well the imagery and situations were going to cause me to implode? I still feel it today. I really do. Had I known that all this time later the difficulty would be peaking, there is no way in hell I would have opened my mouth in the first place. And that was before the two words and that other phrase -- the inflection of which still cuts me in half. I worked with the football games as best I could, too. That was not easy and to this very day causes problems. But the show... What the fuck was I thinking? Stupid. There is no way around that shit anymore. No matter what happens in reality, my brain does the work regardless. No way to get past such stings. There is Lisa Hartman from the same decade as Morgan. Wow, hard to believe that I felt so strongly toward women with screaming blonde hair. Extremely rare these days. Whatever. The pain of knowing I will never fully come to terms with those moments -- along with whatever may come to pass in the future -- is not helping me to deal with other people. Everything just keeps worsening inside. This shit is the primary motivation toward a machine... No thinking of her own means no worry over what may be processed at any time. Nothing there, only technology. Heart, mind, intentions, dreams... None of them. The ideal type of life which is both necessary and impossible. The conversations have taken place -- albeit mostly up on the surface -- yet still there are moments. And then I have to keep my head up and make nice again, just like always. I am fucking exhausted but there is no way around it. I have to keep going, as worried as ever. Keep going. The world will keep turning and grinding me into fishbait. No doubt. Nothing can change. And no one knows a fucking thing, either. All inside, always. Back to this day. Light is coming up nicely. The wind continues from more than a day ago. I can only hope that the sun is as warm today as it was the last two. Warmth outside means less furnace activity. Plus I can work in the new office and continue my efforts toward better organization and access to everything. Right now I need to keep the house quiet and dim so she can sleep. Ahh... But after she takes off to run errands, the shit will fly. The forest pays no mind. Still with only one foot in the trees, yet the full weight will come soon. I need to ease into the mindset lest I lose my way. Later I will go a little further, with both the work and the anger. One step at a time. I keep mentioning those words and leaving everything veiled. That is just too damned bad. I can't lay it out as if I am addressing a therapist. This is different and all me. For me and by me. Hence the lack of linked content for the duration. I just don't care. The words and intentions of others have driven me to become more standoffish, completely false, and very irritated. I do not take anything lightly, and if I am in the wrong for doing so, fuck you. Be yourself and let me be myself. If being yourself causes me issues, well... That is my fault but I still will not bend. I'd rather be thrown away than change. The words. Still. I am thoroughly grieving the time when I could be comfortable of mind. Such a loss. None of that now. More light, and almost time to send this into production. The hour is still fairly early, meaning I will probably take to the garage this morning and work a little toward my goals. There are many small items which require no noise to accomplish. I will work there for a while and then move inside for the routine when the hour is realized. As always, I have much to think about. Too much, really. Nothing goes away. My file cabinet is bursting at the seams these days due to retreading bad situations and trying to reconcile myself with the fact that I will always be like this, short of a miracle. Finis vitae, finis spe, as it were. So fucking sad. At least I am used to it. And that brings me to wonder what will come next. Little ups and then little downs, eventually changing to little ups and enormous, painful and overwhelming downs, like last summer. Still there. The horizon is perpetually orange and red. I do worry over what may come along because I know it will. Just a matter of time these days. The anger is nearly offset by such events, too. Unreal. The time for pushing back is not at hand, however. Not now. I need to remain in the same position and with the same ideals for the time being. And no one can know what is going on beneath my smile. Not a fucking soul. Off to the races with the mag full and the hammer waiting."
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