February 12th, 2021 10:18am pst

The entries are no longer aligned due to all of the changes and the transfer process to the new site. We are working toward having everything in matching form. Other than that, the planet continues to rotate.

The Creeping Carrots

 read ( words)

"Well, here we are. Or, more accurately, here we are again. Always, never, whatever. Get it?

Still 2-10.

The routine is finished and a little extra. I went out to the garage and took care of the dangling threads left from the past several days while awaiting the dryer to finish its cycle. That crap is done, as is the inside of the house for the time being. On the television is one of the shows following me throughout the house and garage. My head is not in as good shape as the work, though. I knew this would happen. It is an aftereffect of the morning, the dreams, and my general state of mind these days. Nothing can be done in reality.

After lunch. I was reminded of the episode which began a shitload of trouble. Last summer when it ran, I realized my shows are not always safe, and the resulting worry pushed me to scrutinize the other series' and then things worsened. At some point, every one of them is a problem. This never happened prior to the last few years, either. Decades of watching any number of episodes in each place I lived only brought comfort and a dreamy, ethereal state in which I yearned to be more than I was. Now that type of thinking is all but absent, although the dreams of which I wrote recently still hold true. Unsafe, and the episode which just concluded was the catalyst. Now I am thinking more deeply about this issue than in quite some time.

And the very next in line runs in the opposite direction, but I am still seeing problems. Something took place during the summer -- even with the oldest series -- in which I began to see things differently and looked around each framed scene or shot more than I had before. Now I see far too much. The shit has hit the fan.

2-11 in progress. Heh.

2-12 now.

Yesterday did not go as I had hoped. An idea floated into my brain after the other day while going through some older papers, so I researched the past and learned exactly nothing good. The past is one of those aspects of life which cannot change. Either learn or be doomed, although what I uncovered is nothing I can affect these days because everyone is gone. I don't feel good about this.

Other aspects of yesterday were fine. The usual crap and much time spent at the computer. I should have left everything alone, honestly. My mood has been shitty since last night. I can't shake it.

I see everything and cannot rise above comparisons and worry. After running across some old photos from my safe, there is a scrape developing inside which is going to cause more than one problem and I really don't fucking need it right now. I'm trying to remain fairly positive about everything these days and the effort is already plenty enough. I can't have shit from the past coming to the forefront after all I have tried to analyze up to this point in time. The fact is I am afraid of it... All those years. Combined with two, the result is my being even further away from the peace dangling ahead like a fucking holographic carrot. I just keep moving in the same direction always knowing the target will maintain pace. No way out of this.


If only I could have gone there so many years ago. I first dreamed back during the secondary glow -- fifteen or so years back -- while I spent lots of time alone in the apartment. My truck was in full swing at that time and the fascination with newly-emerging technology as well. That time is when the first dream came about and when I laid out a heartfelt question to like-minded individuals who nearly all misunderstood. They were nice, just missing the point. After gushing about the show (one in particular at that time), I decided to throw the feelers out and see if anyone felt as strongly as I. I just wanted to be there, a place and time in which all my problems could be minimized to the point of being very manageable. The idea quickly overwhelmed my senses. Instead of simply daydreaming and picturing life there just as I did with the home designs a decade prior, I ended up in a deep abyss of depression. And keep in mind that was a period when progress and the upswing of everything was still going. I think I needed the change. Just as now, such a dream was not at all possible. That may have been the beginning of me putting a tremendous effort into pushing reality to the rear.

All this shit would not have taken place. The problems, moves, decisions, whatever... Everything gone in a flash. Sitting here with coffee and the show this morning is nice, but underneath is the trouble. I would not have to deal with it if my dream had come to fruition. The other day I mentioned 'understanding'. Well, that's not going to happen. I will end up alone. None of this is enjoyable. And I might change the images here. Those more revealing sorts are beginning to irritate me.

Ah... That's better. Another Jessica and a tiny reference to Meghan again. Doesn't matter. Nothing changes.

No understanding. And now on top of all the crap is another fucking slap in the face from yesterday, and a situation about which I can do precisely fucking nothing. I should not have gone in such a direction to begin with. Some parts of life are better left undisturbed.

I believe I understand the motivation inside my head for creating the dream a little while back with the tiny girl next to me. Many other dreams throughout years have come along with similar subjects and had me waking to much consideration of how the past has affected me. There are positives, mind you, but I cannot go into them here. When I turned my head to see her standing there, feelings of comfort and security washed over me and took away lots of concern. I felt that the future was finally in line. She was there, I would no longer have need to search, and all of the issues could finally be shoved to the rear in favor of moving forward in whatever manner I saw fit. And she was there with me for the long haul. All these months of dreaming and writing about the only solution to my worry have culminated in that vision right beside me. She was the answer. She was also another fucking carrot. Never me.

Such thoughts are in my head every single fucking day lately. Even more than the barren years or that period when I thought I would lose my life without something boosting me. Every day. In one way or another they creep in due to imagery or some sort of reference -- be it internal or otherwise -- and then become unwilling to let up. There are situations I recall which stay inside for hours at a time and try to derail my intentions to push forth and stay busy around this place. And then I stop. Well, that dream alleviated all of the concern which arises each day for one reason or another. It all melted away, and the idea of having her there with me for whatever I wished took a back seat to simply feeling the weights off my shoulders. Physical comfort these days is very important, yet the wonder of knowing I had nothing to worry about with her took over everything. Right next to me. Too bad I have no idea who she was. Eh... Probably just a figure comprised of my dreaming for so many years. Not a morning has passed without me wishing to go right back to that moment when she tossed her hair back. I could live those few seconds over and over forever without missing a fucking thing. Pretty damned bad, I see.

I suppose today will continue where Wednesday left off. I began to compact and streamline some of my things which is why I ran across the old papers which drove me to learn of my past. I can continue that stuff today along with the usual crap. At some point I need to rearrange the totes so all our holiday stuff can stay in the house while other items go up into the garage. I've already gone through some space out there and am pleased with what I found. So, between wallowing over yesterday and dealing with the dream being gone for good, I think staying busy will help to keep my head out of the proverbial oven today. If I can get to the late afternoon and evening unscathed, the work on the horizon will keep me out of the shit again. Very exciting.

I am not who I thought I was, and to add that on top of the other unending issue, I do not feel good this morning. I'll have to keep myself busy when the time comes.


I have not even been able to fully define the problem. There have been occasions in which I communicated the details but then something went awry. Nearly every time. The wonder and magic fill my brain for a while, too. And then... Something I cannot put into words. A feeling, perhaps, and one that cannot come to pass no matter what I say or do. There are pictures inside, like dreams built from a combination of experiences and imagery. As soon as they begin to form, my mind tries to work out the best way to proceed. There must be understanding or nothing will work. The last period I can recall when everything was in line seems to be many years ago, even before the fork. Or maybe after, like in Florida. Shit, I don't know. Terry and Alexander up there this morning, nearly the same height. I've always liked both of them.

Later today is going to be tough. Those chores I mentioned must be attacked or I will fall down again like last week. I can't have that right now, especially considering being slapped in the face yesterday. None of it is going away as of yet. Along with the constant problem which I cannot detail, this day already appears as the uphill from hell. Like always... Vigilance. Pause.

And here I am for the day. Alone and worried. One leads to four and then back to two. I don't know why two and four are related, but perhaps it has to do with the perception of my own strength. Not sure. The fact is that after all this time, bullshit, writing, and everything else I've tried with regard to minimizing two, it is now worse than at the beginning when I first defined that crap. Maybe I am weak these days to the point of a rampant paranoia and inability to put life in perspective. Something happens and I fall apart. At my age I should not be this beaten down. There are accomplishments in the past which should offset the bad.

Even the fucking Cardassians are a problem these days. Fuck me, anyway.

If indeed those two situations just a few years apart back in the eighties are the primary causes of how I developed, they are going to make me angry. The first cannot go away no matter what I may believe, and the second was just plain stupid. That should never have happened in the first place. It was cold and unfair, and when aimed at a young person not fully understanding of the ways of the world, well... I wish I could have lashed back. Maybe firing toward the source could have reduced the amount of heartache involved. All these years later I am pretty fucked up and I know it well enough to realize I may never find the peace and solace for which I continue to search. It's just bad, and I see limits imposed upon myself throughout time which have stunted any ability to grow and rise. I am a product of that time. And I would say 'good or bad', yet I am seeing less and less of the good.

Fuck me, this woman on the show. She makes one, two and four flare unlike anything else. Jesus. Bad, seeing her right now. The woman is a fucking slew of problems all rolled up and tied with a bow. How in the holy fuck did I turn out like this? Is the obsession somehow related to those events mentioned above? Some kind of defense mechanism? Or is it the idea of the damned machine and that comfort which feels impossible? She is an actor doing her job, cast for both talent and beauty, yet inside me is a fucking cyclone of feelings that are unrelated to said beauty. I just don't get it anymore. Something happened and I am all fucked up as a result. Is there any fucking thing in this world besides booze and pizza which have the power to help me feel comfortable? Damn it all, anyway. I hate this.

Carrots creeping into my psyche and leaving me a boiling pot of molten fear. Nice.

Coffee gone. Her on the television. Now what the fuck can I do? Oh, I forgot... Nothing. Just fucking swallow everything and keep compacting it like a damned junkyard crusher. Did I do this to myself?

I don't need to see him up there right now, either. More bad. Not a carrot, just a flash of conversation back in eleven that shoved a knife into me. Forced, really. I knew what was going on there and tried to reason with her, but alas nothing I can say to another person will have any weight whatsoever. I knew, and she rejected my suspicions. That was the longest line of desperate bullshit in memory. All the way back to the late eighties the problem was the same... I tried and failed. Now I cannot believe a fucking word out of anyone's mouth. I already know, so the trying has ceased. The subject makes me very angry, yet to grate against it seems to cause only myself more problems. Trying to leave it alone is difficult, however, as the compulsion to lash and strike always takes over. The bullshit carries to this very moment and the reminder up there is ruining my possible positive mood for the day. I don't need it, God damn all of you. As I have shoved forth many times, figure it out, write it down and shove it in your stupid ass. I cannot have that these days because there are enough aspects of life ramming me into the dream. I reside on the opposite end of that spectrum but I will not budge one iota for anyone's benefit. They just have to live with it. This is what I've become.

The Pandora ads are annoying the hell out of me. Valentines day needs to pass.


Some sunshine out there after heavy rain last night. The concrete pad in the backyard was a lake again. Ugh. I hope the sun remains for a while today to heat the south end of the house.

I need comfort. Years ago that meant either drunkenness or death, but now it carries something completely different. Not better, just not the same. Two will not allow comfort, nor will three. Everything is related. Four is fine right now because I am diligently working at this and planning my work for the day. I can keep that one away. The others are out of my reach, though. Nothing I can do. The paragraph regarding that conversation ten years ago really pisses me off. That problematic time was rife with difficulties between me and one other person. I believe that is the time when all the trust when away, never to return. It was bad enough to drive me into the dire thinking territory and only those scarce moments of comfort kept me above ground. The price was far too high, however. Too much. She also dangled a carrot quite often. Fucking bullshit, that situation. And I ran right into it like a champ. No comfort for me. Not anymore.

The routine is going to kick off as soon as I push this crap to production. Beyond that, I will try to go further with the organization. Hopefully any drive I feel now will not disappear. Sometimes the issues are enough to cause me to sit still. I just can't have that today.

Comfort. What a fucking joke. No one understands and I cannot make them see. The only sliver lately is working in the fucking kitchen in the morning and during dinner preparations. You should have seen me all excited last night at the idea of frying bacon while watching one of the shows. Fucking pathetic. During the day the situation feels different because I am alone. I wish I could be more like this Jem'Hadar on the show right now. He is amazing, powerful, forthright, and will not bend under any sort of pressure. Wondrous, strong, and intriguing. My wildest dreams could never make anything like that happen. He is awesome, and not only the character, either. The actor did a fantastic job. Does he make two come to mind? Some, but I have too much respect to blame him. Absolutely awesome work they did with this story. It almost offsets the fucking desire I drown into when SHE comes to the screen. Ugh. Everything is just ugh anymore. Damn it. All related, all a pile of steaming shit.

I was talking about comfort. Well, maybe it doesn't matter. Just another impossibility in a sea of the same.

Nearly ten in the morning, more sunshine now, and very little motivation to do anything. I'll have to force the issue today, I suppose. The dream-fantasy-whatever keeps creeping in, just like the carrots out front.

Gardeners next door making everything nice. Bless them for the effort.

I wish I could go back in time with some sort of detached view and learn of when everything turned into such a pile of shit. Some of it could have been me, too. I am famous for making things difficult for others, but whatever caused that is at issue. I started out an infant, like a needle at zero and heading in the right direction, yet at some point little things chipped away pieces and I developed into an overly-analytical soul who cannot deal very well with reality. Maybe that is too much to take all at once. I don't fucking know.

Four is still hanging there like another carrot, but of the damaging sort. Today is already uphill -- pretty damned steep -- but soon I will work with the house and hopefully it can fade. I'll put on the fourth show in the background as I have been following along for weeks now. The problem that appeared at the end of the fourth season (or maybe the outset of the fifth, I'm uncertain) is now behind and I do not recall anything else coming up as the last two seasons play out. Traveling along through space with my surrogate family can bring a measure of solace. They help my day go by as needed.


One hundred thousand lines of this shit now. Over nineteen years, although the last five have been key. I made the decision to reveal those trips to the goblet born of a deep need for being invisible yet in a place full of people and possibilities. And comfort of a type for which I still yearn. Elusive and tricky, that one. In the goblet I had a hell of a time -- especially earlier trips when I literally lived from one day to the next not knowing if my life would be cut short -- but at least was able to sink into the plush and find physical peace and quiet. None of that is available anywhere else on earth, not even here at home. It was a unique embrace I still have yet to fully articulate. Sitting here each morning drives my thinking to some of those days when every fucking second was critical. Now? Nowhere near the same. Still dire, but lacking much of what was experienced while deep in that world.

That entire paragraph is ridiculous. Such wonder and demonstrative comfort cannot return. I should leave it alone and let the stories do their job.

Done with this crap today. I must get things done just in case the time for watching the other show becomes available. One, two, three, four... Why?

Perhaps I need a continuous and intravenous injection of Ketracel-white. Go ahead and laugh. It could help, lest I fall further from the world.

On to the next to the next and so on. For my remaining days. 322 of them to be exact.

She is out there."