Causality Mature content No. 271 Published October 27th, 2021 8:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Fuck you. This is a bad time. A time of knowing. We know too much. We have seen enough. No return. Not a chance. One event led to the other, influencing all the while. If the first had not taken place, the second may have been easier to accept. We do not know, however. Too late. Everyone is gone. The information went with them. We are a product of that period. We are also a product of our own decisions. Cause. Effect. Effect bringing cause. Loop. This is a bad time. Weaponry, staring in all directions. Those events CAUSED this frame of mind... This situation... This damage which often takes the day and sends it downward with the force of a thousand wrecking balls. And now we must sit here and fucking live with it because the dream eludes like nothing else. The magic is far away. For today, the dream must be pushed back and ignored (rarely possible) or nothing can be accomplished. The laundry just took a step forward because the rain has let up for a time. We are moving, a little. Lunch in the oven. Dragons on the screen. Cocktail in hand. All the while? Damned, completely. And damning. Damn it all. We are powerless. Only the menial remains available. Never enough. Never us. Not anymore. This is a bad time. One to the other, and now all is shit. We did not do this. Not by a damned sight. The day works on the brain in a way impossible to ignore, yet we must move forward with something. No focus. Or rather, focus not where we need it. The mind's eye is narrowing (expected but not a good thing) to the point of pulling its own focus. Racking. We are in a very bad place, right here between the dreams and the reality, floating along with a sliver of hope that the focus will rack yet again. Toward where we need it. Toward the dream. We may be filled with false hope, though. Nothing is good. Very little is acceptable. The bad is taking over moment by fucking moment. We were there. The dream was flailing in the wind. We are now here and the dream is larger yet still ever flailing. No focus. We shall sit and wait with as much patience as can be mustered. This is a bad time. We cannot leave it alone. Too fucking important. Dire, as it were. The one cut from years ago which may never heal, and we are not speaking of the eighties, either. Fuck that time. Enough keystrokes have gone in that direction and accomplished little. The focus is upon the focus. We are cut again. We were there. Right there. Now we are here. This is a bad time. The day has moved from morning to late morning. We have completed the routine. Nothing awaits because we do not care. The only preoccupation is the largest and most difficult scrape in existence. We must endure this fucking day, or else. The other side is now unavailable. Everything is fucked. This is a bad time. The situation expands. Friday morning and we are in a boat, floating along through the fog toward an unknown island. A very small, rock island. A song comes to mind, one which finds a man on a journey through the water toward an unknown destination. He is frightened and hesitant, yet has no choice but to search. This morning has shown us that the endeavor and situation can drive us to the same. We are not happy. This is a bad morning right in the middle of a bad time. We know not what to do except pass the hours until some work this afternoon. We are seeing places unknown and directions not explored, both past and present. We are here, not there. We were there some years ago but everything fell to pieces and we were left bereft. Left bereft. The minutes are passing like eons. Our friends up there are assisting with the comfort as much as they are able. Still, the dire feelings are at the forefront. We know not what to do. Bad time. Bad hours. Bad everything. Ugh. We do not like feeling this at all. Floating with nary a chance of resolution. This is not good. Bad. We've said it so many fucking times that the words are beginning to lose meaning. Too much of this. But what are we to do? Nothing can change, so do we simply shut up and live with it? Or possibly make some kind of change which can remove the problem at the source? No answer. No nothing. So fucking sick of this. The source is so fucking damaged at this point that all reasonably positive ideas have been nullified. They cannot add up to the dream or what we need so badly that there can be resolution. There can only be an epilogue, and such a fact is depressing as hell. This day is showing us the dark places like never before. In a little over two hours we will leave this house and meet for a job of diagnosing some water issues. We have not the strength right now, but will go anyway out of a sense of duty and responsibility. Stepping out of our comfort zone for a little while will bring joy at returning, just like those days when we wish to remain behind closed doors but go out anyway for the same conclusion. The feeling of arriving will be wonderful. Aside from the duty, we have planned to accomplish very little today. The down has taken us from ourselves for the millionth time. The scrape never goes away. The cause cannot be denied, shoved away, or otherwise dealt with right now. It is permanent. Saturday was nearly erased completely. Now Sunday with a big storm outside. Not much rain, but holy crap the wind is nuts. We have been hoping the antenna farm up there doesn't go flying to another county. The central preoccupation of life actually took a short pause yesterday in favor of recovering from an issue Friday night while out at a restaurant. Not good. The causality is now split right in fucking half between the events mentioned up the page and the fucking situation jamming forks in the brain. Friday will not be forgotten and is now one of the finest examples of reasoning through the forest guns in the previous entry. Everyone is in the same category. Well, some are worse. We consider everything, all the time, and the conclusions are not frivolous, ever. We know what is going on out there. A few more buttons... The job Friday afternoon brought us back to the days of running around caring for small tasks here and there. None of it was difficult. In fact, the job has likely opened the door for some future work, although still nothing full-time. Our work over there was enjoyable. We've been there before. The mood remained light and has helped the causality to pause for a while as we care for some important items. Now that Sunday has arrived after some difficulty, the reasoning behind such a harsh stance has returned. No more good. Just planning. Today will be rather full. A touch of work this morning and then to her house for bathroom plans and possibly some further steps, then back here to finish the Sunday business before heading to the bar for the football game. All of it adds up to Monday morning appearing better and better as time rolls along. Between an interruption in our thinking midway through Friday to the discomfort and mood yesterday, we are going to be very pleased by Monday's arrival. By then we will need it badly. Any lift is important. This is a bad time. Very bad right now. Nothing changes. No matter our posturing, bitching, planning... Everything remains the same from one day to the next. We know not what to do, and such a statement is ongoing. The anger is still there, as is the situation of which we cannot speak. Not good. Even Friday night relaxing at the bar with some snacks and drinks held its share of difficulties, from the scenery to the hammer blow a while later. By the time we exited that beautiful restaurant, the sum was spinning us. And then to the garage for a little cheer and the colored lighting led to violent music and the need to isolate. Eventually we made it through the hours only to find Saturday stolen away due to our reaction to everything. We did not need any of it. This morning is the first quiet time and space enough to plan out the day. Wow, the wind just cut off as quickly as it arose. Very stormy out there this morning. We resisted putting images of Kendall here for quite a while, but the recent inclusion of Paulina walking the runway raised the bar, so here she is. Lots of Kendall discussion a few months ago caused us to research her height, thus three huge photos. The woman has had quite an impact upon the modeling world. That is all we will say. The same situation is slapping us around today. We know not what will take place during the coming hours, either. No way of knowing. The causality is going in circles. One event led to another and the die was cast and cooled long ago, now taking whatever remaining hope and melting it down to a puddle of filthy material. It is useless now. Circles. The rails have no switches or spurs. Continuous. We are currently helpless in moving the train in any other direction because the options have been removed. Jesus, the wind outside right now. The hatches have been battened down already, meaning the outside is fine. We just have to await the storm's passing. The causality will not pass, however. No relational analysis there. Hopefully by close of business and before the game everything will improve. No guarantees. Carmela just dumped a bowl of Ziti into the trash. What a waste. So much more could have happened in this life had we envisioned this position years ago. We did not know the events of the past and those difficult periods were going to leave us sans hope. The situation is both unnerving and saddening. We have surpassed forty thousand lines of code just this calendar year. More of the bad. All the way back to 'The Need and the Salt' from fifteen, this type of thing has occurred on too many occasions to list. Nothing ever changes. Little ups, small moves, some enjoyment, yet in the end we are back at square one with a head full of hell. And the past. And those events. And the scrape. And the sadness. And everything else born of a period unlike any other. We did not know the ugly head would rear itself in one fashion or another day after day, and not this late in life. Years. Sometimes one day is as a year. 'The Need' back then was very different. Completely unrelated to this current period, although there are snippets of imagery from both ten and fifteen which almost compare. Fifteen was very bad. Ten was worse. Eleven? No picnic, either. How we made it this far without completely losing it is surprising. Friday night nearly broke us. We will not make that mistake again, nor what took place later. We have become far too weakened to screw around late into the night. It hurts and accomplishes nothing. Each occasion is just as the last, eventually leading us to isolate and consider where we are in life as opposed to where we could have been. Too many mistakes, honestly, with this latest being the little push necessary for us to chop off yet another facet of living. We are done with that. Clear thinking at the right moments will keep us safe from others. All that shit is related to this feeling which has hung on for a week or more. People do not help. They hinder, really, and leave us within a stone's throw of leaving all of society to the rear for the remainder of life. This consideration may keep us from watching football at the bar tonight. The late games are always a problem. We may rescind our decision of no more live sports here and remain home this evening. We do not believe the bar can be acceptable right now. Not with this shit swirling. If the game is on here, this will not be the first time we have reversed our own position. But the rules shall be firm. No exceptions. We have assumed control. This is a bad time. Monday morning and all is quiet after one of the heaviest storms on record. We thought everything was going to float into the ocean yesterday. Wow. Today has arrived. Saturday was erased, Sunday was not bad, but overall this morning is already feeling free of the remaining world. Just us and the trees, along with a few things to accomplish. Between whatever is done later this morning, we will continue going in circles. Nothing ends, but everything comes to an end, meaning day in and day out we shall think this way out of desperation, longing and a sense of exclusion, eventually being reduced to a lump of sheer nothingness. The end will appear at some point. The circles and the causality keep rolling along, around the curve as we move through the scenery and recall too much. Cruising by pictures of everything, from the simplest moments to the most anticipated events in life. Today will be an extension of the glow, yet we will be detached, as if the entire memory is nothing more than a movie playing out for the purpose of driving us down even further. Further than eleven. All alone. We have things to do, places to go, lots of cleaning, lots of thinking, lots of planning. We cannot have this week mimic the last. Unacceptable. The yard is a mess, but the perimeter treatment did the job. Everything which emerged from the soil due to so much rain is dead. Now we have a solution for the entire year and little worry of anything coming into the house. One positive. We did not know how well the chemical would work on anything until giving it a chance, and now after so much rain in twenty-four hours, the results are excellent. This has been an issue for years. A reason to smile, if only for a moment. Everything returns. Everything has returned. Monday morning means lots of time to consider options. Friends in the background, a little coffee left, and plenty of space right now means we are at the very minimum, comfortable. Mostly. The jury is still out on the remainder of the day. The only necessity aside from the usual routine is the yard. A bit of sweeping out there. Finished. We are now treading water like most days. The back looks much better and there is more evidence of the effectiveness of the treatment. Across the street? Not so nice... Their front yard heritage tree is now leaning twenty some-odd degrees to the east as of the storm. That is very bad. Likely it will have to be removed. We feel for them. And we see Tony sitting and speaking with his therapist. Good idea? Probably not. We cannot move in such directions any longer. Too late. Too much. No answers. Maybe laundry. Heh. Ugh. Whatever. There are projects and chores, yet none of them are very attractive today. After the weekend, not much of anything is appealing. We will likely go back to the bar's office and finish the furniture tomorrow, meaning today may end up falling on it's face. Just like us. The forest mindset is creeping in. It has been on hold due to being around others during the past three days, yet now it is beginning to flare. Perhaps the harsh weather is pushing. We see the forest, although embracing the feelings right now is tough due to being distracted by the shit of life. Now that the most important chores are complete, the brain is searching for satisfaction. Today may be a gateway of sorts. A gateway into a very bad frame of mind. The sentient weapons are apparent. We knew this. Someone out there must pay the fucking tab. We will not. Those guns are not going away. Five out of six will be destroyed. 'No bitch to me.' Laundry going. Cocktail present. Shy of noon. The sun never shines in the forest. Always cool and overcast, if not snowing. And the snow is as us... Blinding, dividing, useful and necessary. Some of the snow falls from the sky and other snow is blown from us. We have it at the ready, and part of the dire need for snow results from too many years of duality and causality. It must be there, always, just in case the world turns on its ear and begins to become a threat. Buried, shortly thereafter. Buried in our snowstorm of words. The sun never shines in the forest. Those people. Them. Over there, always. They don't know what they are. We know. We know what will happen because we saw it happen before, albeit now the world is different. And it is different because of those people. We cannot stand it but there will be no lashing. Calm, quiet, and peaceful always. And then they get it later. No one knows because they cannot see past the shit created for them and by them. We are not among them. The causality did the job, as it always will. The continuation. The irrevocable events and unforgettable problems. Not our problems, mind you, but those created by the shit and for the shit. The trash. God should have been an incinerator. We have to deal with those people because of the workings of society. We cannot completely isolate lest we become uncomfortable and sans the equipment of life. They were in the bleach. They shall be there in the eyes. Those people. Nicole is one of them, unfortunately, yet still gorgeous. The beauty of the world is a product of people. Those people. 'Them.' You do not know. You can never know. Blinded. This is a bad time. Tuesday morning with coffee and gangsters. Yesterday's work helps to make this day a little brighter for the house. We did much. Lots of cleaning after the big storm. Later today we will continue in the same vein, and probably spend more time right here. Lots going on inside. The 'Need' is beginning to return after being holed up in this house for eighteen months with only one adventure nearly a year ago which did not blow the collective skirts up. The work today will be in support of better thinking, as things always seem to clear when we know much has been accomplished. The routine and then the kitchen to follow yesterday's efforts. All the while we will be considering the act of wandering with the slung camera and wide eyes. That place is calling for the third time since the low of ten. We are also looking forward to the feeling of everything being wide open and possible once the morning business settles and we are in the fold of the quiet. That is the time of the upward glances and reaching thoughts. The causality did this... The near-daily ideas which enter our meager existence and force the dreams to appear. Dreams of being someone, somewhere, and doing something recognizable or important. Instead, we are right here and reaching not for something wonderful, but rather only reaching for understanding. In an hour or possibly a little more, the openness will illuminate for a time before fading, and during the light we can see differently. The eyes change. The causality means in part a feeling that we have been here before out of the sheer need to escape, yet not long after the wonder appears we are right back at square one with nary a clue as to what can be done. A good portion of the wonder is the south calling again. Perhaps this time of year is the push. Our first trip there was in December and the second was in January. The south and the Sea are not destinations for summer or even fall. In a little while we shall be computing what to do, where we can go, or possibly whether or not we can continue on these rails without losing our shit completely. We need those feelings, honestly. They keep the bad parts (the bad time) in check and separate everything into sections which can then be handled one at a time. The brightness appears each and every morning at some point before the routine and remains for a short time before we lose it and lose our way. During those precious minutes, we simply MUST break this current cycle and formulate just enough to allow us to both relax and keep our heads up in spite of the downward slide that began just a week ago. There can be a way out of this and the south will help, no matter whether or not we can embrace that beauty in person. Today will have to be worked with small steps again. We may walk away from this keyboard on and off for most of our alone time, as well. Thoughts will come and go, and like the recent heritage crap memories, there may be some realization in and around everything else going through us. This is a bad time, but we can still steer the ship, somewhat. There was a short discussion the other day related to something we mentioned in the previous entry. This cannot be spelled out. Not by a damned sight, yet the compulsion is becoming overwhelming. There is currently a fight up there in the brain between spilling and clamming. We do not know which can win. The conversation had us at sixes and sevens for a time. Right now -- two days later -- we have become more introspective and less concerned. The main issue now is understanding how these things happen in the first place, although after trying to define the problem for over a year we have hit on some points which ring true. Confidence in our ability to actually understand and then let it go is at an all-time low. Like the statement opening the previous essay, the anger has been taking over and shoving those problems to the rear with force. The only snag is the fact that though we have been inside and trying to embrace the forest mindset and framing our world to suit, on the outside very little has changed, if anything. The discussion brought such a fact to the forefront again and now has us reaching for ideas. We must deal with this or the fall could be very damaging to us as well as other people. We have to find a way of isolating those discussions and remaining conscious of the fact that BOTH the duality and causality are at fault here, not our missing pieces. The keel is swinging down. Port is them, starboard is us. The mast shall catch them upside the head in the worst possible way. Quiet time. Eight in the morning. We are considering splashing the images of Kendall in favor of Josephine. Perhaps just the one below. And done. Josephine has one of those faces which is both striking and frightening at the same time. Quite common for a model from Denmark. Anyway, we are left to whatever devices may heed the call of either the north or the south. We can no longer entertain any other cardinal points, nor may we remain stagnant. The bright feeling is there, along with gazing out toward the changing leaves and green hills. The forest is where we are, but inside us, too. Out there is the world, such as it is. Those people are out there, too, meaning we must keep our distance and rack focus toward whatever still has the power to raise. The compass never changes right here in this house. The keyboard will be our friend for a little while and then to the routine. After? Perhaps a bit of the refrigerator and garage. The holiday is Sunday and we'd like to have the area in order before nightfall that day. Inside the mind, though, everything swirls. One item in particular... The wolves had a conversation we cannot locate at present. Eventually it will turn up and we can include the quoted dialog here. This is bad. At the beginning of the last entry, the heritage had been shoved back in favor of dealing with more pressing matters. The conversation in question was not specifically related, yet one subject can lead to another. Now we are in pain. We were them, now we are the 'other' them. No, not those fucking people brought up here time and again, but the 'them' of the past. We had the opportunity to become the latter 'them' but such a part of life was stifled before heading out the gate. The dialog on the show is insightful and brilliant, at the same time hurtful and revealing of our inner turmoil. Most of it, anyway. At some point we shall vent at length, but not now. We are currently seeking the dialog in question and will place it here soon. Until then, onward. The discussion mentioned three paragraphs above is now sitting directly before us due to the show up there. Ah... There is Nora and her never-ending thrall upon us. She represents the opposite side of the information which became a baseball bat upside the head the other day. We are not going to let this go. Not by any means. Many of the issues mentioned here in the past are related, as are those two fucking shit situations from the eighties. Everything. This is a bad time. Genetic flukes rule the runways forever Here is one of the prime truths of our existence: The control over atmosphere and such is something which has grown throughout the course of many years, now culminating in our mass of time here at home. We are able to control nearly everything related to comfort. On the flip side, and likely the main reasoning for much of our turmoil these days, there are two specifics we most certainly cannot control and never will, and they just happen to be the most powerful draws in the universe. Refilling the coffee a moment ago brought such a thought to mind, so there it is. The third specific is completely unrelated yet just as damaging. Not good. We nearly brought a fourth specific as it is governed by our ongoing double-standard, but that may prove to be unnecessary after tons of entries mentioning beauty throughout years. And the images. See? Not a good idea right now. We do not like being attacked or behaving unfairly, either, yet this is what time and circumstances have created within. Say it again... This is a bad time. Nearly nine o'clock now. Cool and overcast outside, warm and comfortable inside. This may prove to be the bulk of the day. We know not what may pull us later. The lack of control is going to stay right behind our eyes, however. No solution, just as many other parts of our psyche. Causality. The loop. Round and round and fucking round again. We rise and work, and then think and fall. The causes of this shit are few, believe it or not, yet so overwhelming that we cannot pass them and work into any semblance of a future. The dioramas continue to illuminate as we pass each one, and then the duality hit comes along, we sit here and work through some wording to find solutions -- failing again and again -- and then the ride returns to the beginning and we roll past everything as if being tortured by unknown powers. Assailants, all. This may never end. Item 'A' causes item 'B', we begin to consider options, and then item 'B' fades to make room for item 'C'. That one spins us around to see 'A' awaiting the pain once again. Causality... The loop of hell. Those truths above do not help any of it. Years pass. We define the issues, search for clues, but in the end everything remains the same, if not worse. This is a bad time. The dialog on the show will come along at some point. We are not as familiar with specific scenes from this series as the other one with the gangsters, so we grabbed one of the actors involved in the conversation, made a list of his appearances, and are now running the episodes in order. There are twelve in all, and if we are correct the scene in question should appear soon. We have all day. This program will remain in the background until the time comes. And there is Nora again... One of the pitfalls of watching. At least we know what to expect. The opposite side of one of the most overpowering issues in our world, she is. Fuck. Salome's breasts bring to mind the fact that perfection does not exist, yet there are degrees of beauty which point toward the same. The nudity on this program is rampant. We still can't believe what they display at times. Heh. Nothing is funny anymore. Well, Sam -- without a stitch of clothing head to toe -- just beat the holy crap out of three other guys with weapons. Maybe that's a little funny. On the heels of that one? Luna, also completely nude, got the best of another woman. This show is insane. We could write volumes about it. There are already endless sites reviewing, commenting and analyzing this stuff, though. Our insight would likely go unnoticed. The day and work still awaits inspiration. Yesterday was very productive due to the storm. We went along the floors and cleaned after stepping in and out of the house during so much rain. Everything looks much better and we may continue in such a direction today after the routine. Don't know yet, though. We seem to be glued to both the media and keyboard. The conversation which we'd like to quote has yet to come along. Jesus holy God in a cup of blood does Pam ever have an amazing waistline. She is wearing a corset of sorts. Fucking hell did they cast that woman well. Anyway, this is going to be the entry with a quoted conversation if it takes all damned day. We care not for what the clock indicates anymore. Lots of time. Routine, floors, whatever. We shall get to everything in good time. All the while? The causality loop. Round and round we go, where we stop we already know. Shit from the past, shit from the present, shit all over the place. Just... Shit. Uh oh, Russell just snatched Martha's granddaughter. Not good. Ah... There is one half of the conversation participants. Hopefully the scene comes along soon. We need those words here. God fucking damn it, Nora is so gorgeous sometimes. Ugh to the nth. The fortification seems to be creeping in, possibly in response to dealing with causality and duality. It's like an instinctive reaction to difficulty which dates back to the early nineties when we wished to flee this metropolitan area for a far-away locale with few inhabitants. That feeling returned during a trip to Ketchikan, Alaska a few years ago, too. The idea is always enticing. Unfortunately, we cannot do shit right now. We have to stay put and enjoy whatever may be available. The fortification mood comes and goes, but due to the shit in mind we are thinking about such a direction this morning. Streamlining, if you will. Simplicity breeds freedom sometimes, leaving us to realize that short of the ability to run like hell, we can still prepare for whatever may come along in the future. Fortification means protection, and the sum is empowering. We shall do what we can while the hours pass. Maybe pizza will help. There she is again, all dark and alluring. Fuck. And the woman who portrays Lilith stands five-ten. Wow. The time may be at hand for moving forward with the work. We can't sit here all day, honestly. Not good. The list is short, though, and there will be time to return here if the scene comes along. Pause. And here we are after the routine and prior to lunch. Still did not go to the hardware, although that is not terribly pressing right now. Cocktail, vampires, werewolves, and lots of mayhem on the screen. Our scene has still not come to pass. Patience. It's worth it. Cocktail nearly gone. Sad faces. On the upside, one of the faeries on the screen next to the principal character is unreal. I'd like to... Oh, never mind. Enough typing has been dedicated to the pursuit of a desire-filled outlet for ten lifetimes. We still cannot get away from those feelings, partly thanks to our formative years and the remainder being the barren nature of life in general. The two shit situations have jaded us forever. Nothing can be enough, and the search combined with tidbits of evidence have taken their collective toll. We are ruined for all time, sporadic comforts notwithstanding. All they did was inflame us. Now there is nothing left. The causality lingers, the duality retains its position atop our list of shit thanks to the very same media to which we are drawn daily, and the solution continues to elude. This is a bad time. Good Christ... Still waiting for the quotable scene. More patience. This entry was to have three images, yet the length now dictates four, meaning the lovely Josephine and her unbelievably lean structure graces the division before this final section. Do you see? The images are very large. We are able to display them eight-hundred pixels wide with full length. Runway models deserve such command over screen real estate, to be sure. These images, as well as those of Paulina and Kendall, hark back to the 1236 period and our fascination with height. They are all very tall due to the nature of the industry. During that time we went nuts over the December VS fashion shows in high definition for good reason. Anyone with a height fetish will naturally gravitate toward the runway thanks to the minimum number required for walking it. Good and bad there, honestly. The models are just like two of the characters on this program: A breed apart from the average person. They are utopian in nature. Those of us who tend to fixate upon such forms -- male or female -- will inevitably compare ourselves to those in the world of entertainment who appear to be manufactured solely for the purpose of making the world more beautiful, the unfortunate downside of which is most are dissimilar. We no longer think in such terms. The imagery on this entry along with that of media are merely to be appreciated. Fixating upon the differences will only drive us mad. Ah... We have arrived at the scene. Stand by. 'The worst part of being a parent, no matter how hard you try, is you can't keep your kids from eventually learning what a shithole this world is. How corrupt, mean, arbitrary... You just wanna shield them from it. Let 'em believe life is safe and fair. Bad gets punished, good gets rewarded... So if they can believe that, you almost can too. But when you yourself have to be the one to teach them how fucked up things are, well, that's a hell of thing to ever come back from.' -- Jackson Herveaux The context is a father and son spending time together after a ton of trials and finally finding the ability to both identify and understand each other better than in their past. The scene is beautiful. Yes, they are fucking werewolves, but still the subject applies to many. Just because the show is a fantasy does not mean everything is unreal. We cannot speak to such wisdom because the most precious gift in the universe was ripped away from us a very long time ago. The issue is increasing in importance as the second hand moves around the clock. Every fucking day the wonder of what billions have experienced piles more explosive power on top of our heads. The grammar is precise from the script. Verbatim. He is a southerner, meaning the accent really adds drama to his dialog, so if you are so inclined, watch it play out in real time. The subject may not be a big deal to you, though, especially if you have children. To us? It represents something bigger than ourselves and more important than anything else in existence. Both evolution and creationism teach this as why we are here. Well, the mood just took another hit today. We will venture a guess that there has not been enough shit plowed as of yet and we must continue this futile push. Wednesday morning, October 27th. This is a bad time. Days feel as if they are flipping by like a Rolodex being blasted by a fan. Five minutes ago we were sitting right here and it was yesterday. We must remain mindful of the passage of time while moving through the time here at home. Keep it close. Tight. Minutes, perhaps hours, recognized a little more than in the past. Today has to begin such a process lest the days get away from us. That would be bad. We are pretty well sick and tired of the subject here. Causality. This is the time to shove it away and come up with something else either more friendly or easier to explain. We already have enough issues for a lifetime of analysis, so another different title should prove easy. Sick of this shit, and sick of the bad time. There was another little tidbit yesterday about which we can do almost nothing, so the subject pretty much comprises no more than another pain in the fucking ass. We've had just about enough shit in front of the blade. Plowing is becoming more difficult than dealing with heat. But none of it seems to matter to anyone. More and more and fucking more until we sit here and write indistinguishable observations. This site became ridiculous last year and just keeps rolling down the hill. More and more and more. Pause for the morning cause. Hours now. What will we do? Will this afternoon be just as yesterday? Disappointing? Or will we rise? Can we rise in these late days? A few things, for sure, yet the 'more' is tough sometimes. We shall see what can be done today, and soon. So far, we are into the quiet time until the coffee has been exhausted, after which part of the routine will fly by. At some point we need to go to the hardware after skipping it yesterday, and the market while returning. As usual during this first hour of the peace and quiet, the mind moves in the direction of the forest and whatever small steps can be taken toward being as enshrouded mentally as we have become physically. Sometimes such thinking is driven by negatives, too. There was a negative yesterday which has us a bit preoccupied today, and one which must be dealt with daily. There is no getting around it, nor can there ever be a solution. Just like mentioned recently, we are tired of the Goddamned unchangeable situations. They keep biting. The work today may be of the headphone variety in order to combine the forest beliefs with moving around the house. There is Nicole again, second or third appearance on the show. Her eyes express so much feeling that we are continually caught off-guard. The woman is stunning, but her eyes take the cake. What we find interesting is when compared to the two very famous models on this page, there is no chance of two winning out over the one. Nicole is/was not a model like those above, yet we see more genuine beauty in her face. We do not understand the whole thing and merely chalk it up to beauty being the most subjective topic in existence. Kendall has big, dark eyes, dark hair, and is very tall and slender, but she cannot hold a candle (to us) to Nicole's facial expressions. The one aspect we've noticed lately is when there is even a hint of sadness, the beauty shines through more than ever. Once more, the face is everything. Enough of the beauty for today. The causality loop was in character yesterday, with the full-speed aspect coming to town later in the afternoon as we tried to relax. We thought of all those little parts of the wheel and how they often come together at the opportune moments and slam us to the pavement. The feelings will have to be pushed away if we are to accomplish anything aside from drunken ranting. Heh. The loop shows off those scenes we can no longer avoid, causing simultaneous sadness and anger on a daily basis and ending with us sitting and feeling as if nothing is worthwhile anymore because we shall end up in the same place regardless of the effort. We have to rise above that sentiment -- or at least attempt to sidestep the fucking thing -- in order to gain favor and increase the comfort right now. One fucking hour at a time. Perhaps even one moment at a time. So far, the harshest show is on, the coffee remains, and we see lots of time for whatever feels appropriate. The mental and emotional cost of riding this circle is the highest in life thus far. We don't even know how the tab has been paid until now. Causality must be destroyed or otherwise altered so as to allow for the shit to head in the opposite direction. Darkened dioramas, switchgear, something. A push toward those people rather than sitting and awaiting us being shoved by the same. We are willing to stop everything due to the cost. The cost has been far too high. We have paid, regardless. We are now out of compensation. We can pay no more. The guns are looking at you. This is a bad time." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Causality Mature content No. 271 Published October 27th, 2021 8:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Fuck you. This is a bad time. A time of knowing. We know too much. We have seen enough. No return. Not a chance. One event led to the other, influencing all the while. If the first had not taken place, the second may have been easier to accept. We do not know, however. Too late. Everyone is gone. The information went with them. We are a product of that period. We are also a product of our own decisions. Cause. Effect. Effect bringing cause. Loop. This is a bad time. Weaponry, staring in all directions. Those events CAUSED this frame of mind... This situation... This damage which often takes the day and sends it downward with the force of a thousand wrecking balls. And now we must sit here and fucking live with it because the dream eludes like nothing else. The magic is far away. For today, the dream must be pushed back and ignored (rarely possible) or nothing can be accomplished. The laundry just took a step forward because the rain has let up for a time. We are moving, a little. Lunch in the oven. Dragons on the screen. Cocktail in hand. All the while? Damned, completely. And damning. Damn it all. We are powerless. Only the menial remains available. Never enough. Never us. Not anymore. This is a bad time. One to the other, and now all is shit. We did not do this. Not by a damned sight. The day works on the brain in a way impossible to ignore, yet we must move forward with something. No focus. Or rather, focus not where we need it. The mind's eye is narrowing (expected but not a good thing) to the point of pulling its own focus. Racking. We are in a very bad place, right here between the dreams and the reality, floating along with a sliver of hope that the focus will rack yet again. Toward where we need it. Toward the dream. We may be filled with false hope, though. Nothing is good. Very little is acceptable. The bad is taking over moment by fucking moment. We were there. The dream was flailing in the wind. We are now here and the dream is larger yet still ever flailing. No focus. We shall sit and wait with as much patience as can be mustered. This is a bad time. We cannot leave it alone. Too fucking important. Dire, as it were. The one cut from years ago which may never heal, and we are not speaking of the eighties, either. Fuck that time. Enough keystrokes have gone in that direction and accomplished little. The focus is upon the focus. We are cut again. We were there. Right there. Now we are here. This is a bad time. The day has moved from morning to late morning. We have completed the routine. Nothing awaits because we do not care. The only preoccupation is the largest and most difficult scrape in existence. We must endure this fucking day, or else. The other side is now unavailable. Everything is fucked. This is a bad time. The situation expands. Friday morning and we are in a boat, floating along through the fog toward an unknown island. A very small, rock island. A song comes to mind, one which finds a man on a journey through the water toward an unknown destination. He is frightened and hesitant, yet has no choice but to search. This morning has shown us that the endeavor and situation can drive us to the same. We are not happy. This is a bad morning right in the middle of a bad time. We know not what to do except pass the hours until some work this afternoon. We are seeing places unknown and directions not explored, both past and present. We are here, not there. We were there some years ago but everything fell to pieces and we were left bereft. Left bereft. The minutes are passing like eons. Our friends up there are assisting with the comfort as much as they are able. Still, the dire feelings are at the forefront. We know not what to do. Bad time. Bad hours. Bad everything. Ugh. We do not like feeling this at all. Floating with nary a chance of resolution. This is not good. Bad. We've said it so many fucking times that the words are beginning to lose meaning. Too much of this. But what are we to do? Nothing can change, so do we simply shut up and live with it? Or possibly make some kind of change which can remove the problem at the source? No answer. No nothing. So fucking sick of this. The source is so fucking damaged at this point that all reasonably positive ideas have been nullified. They cannot add up to the dream or what we need so badly that there can be resolution. There can only be an epilogue, and such a fact is depressing as hell. This day is showing us the dark places like never before. In a little over two hours we will leave this house and meet for a job of diagnosing some water issues. We have not the strength right now, but will go anyway out of a sense of duty and responsibility. Stepping out of our comfort zone for a little while will bring joy at returning, just like those days when we wish to remain behind closed doors but go out anyway for the same conclusion. The feeling of arriving will be wonderful. Aside from the duty, we have planned to accomplish very little today. The down has taken us from ourselves for the millionth time. The scrape never goes away. The cause cannot be denied, shoved away, or otherwise dealt with right now. It is permanent. Saturday was nearly erased completely. Now Sunday with a big storm outside. Not much rain, but holy crap the wind is nuts. We have been hoping the antenna farm up there doesn't go flying to another county. The central preoccupation of life actually took a short pause yesterday in favor of recovering from an issue Friday night while out at a restaurant. Not good. The causality is now split right in fucking half between the events mentioned up the page and the fucking situation jamming forks in the brain. Friday will not be forgotten and is now one of the finest examples of reasoning through the forest guns in the previous entry. Everyone is in the same category. Well, some are worse. We consider everything, all the time, and the conclusions are not frivolous, ever. We know what is going on out there. A few more buttons... The job Friday afternoon brought us back to the days of running around caring for small tasks here and there. None of it was difficult. In fact, the job has likely opened the door for some future work, although still nothing full-time. Our work over there was enjoyable. We've been there before. The mood remained light and has helped the causality to pause for a while as we care for some important items. Now that Sunday has arrived after some difficulty, the reasoning behind such a harsh stance has returned. No more good. Just planning. Today will be rather full. A touch of work this morning and then to her house for bathroom plans and possibly some further steps, then back here to finish the Sunday business before heading to the bar for the football game. All of it adds up to Monday morning appearing better and better as time rolls along. Between an interruption in our thinking midway through Friday to the discomfort and mood yesterday, we are going to be very pleased by Monday's arrival. By then we will need it badly. Any lift is important. This is a bad time. Very bad right now. Nothing changes. No matter our posturing, bitching, planning... Everything remains the same from one day to the next. We know not what to do, and such a statement is ongoing. The anger is still there, as is the situation of which we cannot speak. Not good. Even Friday night relaxing at the bar with some snacks and drinks held its share of difficulties, from the scenery to the hammer blow a while later. By the time we exited that beautiful restaurant, the sum was spinning us. And then to the garage for a little cheer and the colored lighting led to violent music and the need to isolate. Eventually we made it through the hours only to find Saturday stolen away due to our reaction to everything. We did not need any of it. This morning is the first quiet time and space enough to plan out the day. Wow, the wind just cut off as quickly as it arose. Very stormy out there this morning. We resisted putting images of Kendall here for quite a while, but the recent inclusion of Paulina walking the runway raised the bar, so here she is. Lots of Kendall discussion a few months ago caused us to research her height, thus three huge photos. The woman has had quite an impact upon the modeling world. That is all we will say. The same situation is slapping us around today. We know not what will take place during the coming hours, either. No way of knowing. The causality is going in circles. One event led to another and the die was cast and cooled long ago, now taking whatever remaining hope and melting it down to a puddle of filthy material. It is useless now. Circles. The rails have no switches or spurs. Continuous. We are currently helpless in moving the train in any other direction because the options have been removed. Jesus, the wind outside right now. The hatches have been battened down already, meaning the outside is fine. We just have to await the storm's passing. The causality will not pass, however. No relational analysis there. Hopefully by close of business and before the game everything will improve. No guarantees. Carmela just dumped a bowl of Ziti into the trash. What a waste. So much more could have happened in this life had we envisioned this position years ago. We did not know the events of the past and those difficult periods were going to leave us sans hope. The situation is both unnerving and saddening. We have surpassed forty thousand lines of code just this calendar year. More of the bad. All the way back to 'The Need and the Salt' from fifteen, this type of thing has occurred on too many occasions to list. Nothing ever changes. Little ups, small moves, some enjoyment, yet in the end we are back at square one with a head full of hell. And the past. And those events. And the scrape. And the sadness. And everything else born of a period unlike any other. We did not know the ugly head would rear itself in one fashion or another day after day, and not this late in life. Years. Sometimes one day is as a year. 'The Need' back then was very different. Completely unrelated to this current period, although there are snippets of imagery from both ten and fifteen which almost compare. Fifteen was very bad. Ten was worse. Eleven? No picnic, either. How we made it this far without completely losing it is surprising. Friday night nearly broke us. We will not make that mistake again, nor what took place later. We have become far too weakened to screw around late into the night. It hurts and accomplishes nothing. Each occasion is just as the last, eventually leading us to isolate and consider where we are in life as opposed to where we could have been. Too many mistakes, honestly, with this latest being the little push necessary for us to chop off yet another facet of living. We are done with that. Clear thinking at the right moments will keep us safe from others. All that shit is related to this feeling which has hung on for a week or more. People do not help. They hinder, really, and leave us within a stone's throw of leaving all of society to the rear for the remainder of life. This consideration may keep us from watching football at the bar tonight. The late games are always a problem. We may rescind our decision of no more live sports here and remain home this evening. We do not believe the bar can be acceptable right now. Not with this shit swirling. If the game is on here, this will not be the first time we have reversed our own position. But the rules shall be firm. No exceptions. We have assumed control. This is a bad time. Monday morning and all is quiet after one of the heaviest storms on record. We thought everything was going to float into the ocean yesterday. Wow. Today has arrived. Saturday was erased, Sunday was not bad, but overall this morning is already feeling free of the remaining world. Just us and the trees, along with a few things to accomplish. Between whatever is done later this morning, we will continue going in circles. Nothing ends, but everything comes to an end, meaning day in and day out we shall think this way out of desperation, longing and a sense of exclusion, eventually being reduced to a lump of sheer nothingness. The end will appear at some point. The circles and the causality keep rolling along, around the curve as we move through the scenery and recall too much. Cruising by pictures of everything, from the simplest moments to the most anticipated events in life. Today will be an extension of the glow, yet we will be detached, as if the entire memory is nothing more than a movie playing out for the purpose of driving us down even further. Further than eleven. All alone. We have things to do, places to go, lots of cleaning, lots of thinking, lots of planning. We cannot have this week mimic the last. Unacceptable. The yard is a mess, but the perimeter treatment did the job. Everything which emerged from the soil due to so much rain is dead. Now we have a solution for the entire year and little worry of anything coming into the house. One positive. We did not know how well the chemical would work on anything until giving it a chance, and now after so much rain in twenty-four hours, the results are excellent. This has been an issue for years. A reason to smile, if only for a moment. Everything returns. Everything has returned. Monday morning means lots of time to consider options. Friends in the background, a little coffee left, and plenty of space right now means we are at the very minimum, comfortable. Mostly. The jury is still out on the remainder of the day. The only necessity aside from the usual routine is the yard. A bit of sweeping out there. Finished. We are now treading water like most days. The back looks much better and there is more evidence of the effectiveness of the treatment. Across the street? Not so nice... Their front yard heritage tree is now leaning twenty some-odd degrees to the east as of the storm. That is very bad. Likely it will have to be removed. We feel for them. And we see Tony sitting and speaking with his therapist. Good idea? Probably not. We cannot move in such directions any longer. Too late. Too much. No answers. Maybe laundry. Heh. Ugh. Whatever. There are projects and chores, yet none of them are very attractive today. After the weekend, not much of anything is appealing. We will likely go back to the bar's office and finish the furniture tomorrow, meaning today may end up falling on it's face. Just like us. The forest mindset is creeping in. It has been on hold due to being around others during the past three days, yet now it is beginning to flare. Perhaps the harsh weather is pushing. We see the forest, although embracing the feelings right now is tough due to being distracted by the shit of life. Now that the most important chores are complete, the brain is searching for satisfaction. Today may be a gateway of sorts. A gateway into a very bad frame of mind. The sentient weapons are apparent. We knew this. Someone out there must pay the fucking tab. We will not. Those guns are not going away. Five out of six will be destroyed. 'No bitch to me.' Laundry going. Cocktail present. Shy of noon. The sun never shines in the forest. Always cool and overcast, if not snowing. And the snow is as us... Blinding, dividing, useful and necessary. Some of the snow falls from the sky and other snow is blown from us. We have it at the ready, and part of the dire need for snow results from too many years of duality and causality. It must be there, always, just in case the world turns on its ear and begins to become a threat. Buried, shortly thereafter. Buried in our snowstorm of words. The sun never shines in the forest. Those people. Them. Over there, always. They don't know what they are. We know. We know what will happen because we saw it happen before, albeit now the world is different. And it is different because of those people. We cannot stand it but there will be no lashing. Calm, quiet, and peaceful always. And then they get it later. No one knows because they cannot see past the shit created for them and by them. We are not among them. The causality did the job, as it always will. The continuation. The irrevocable events and unforgettable problems. Not our problems, mind you, but those created by the shit and for the shit. The trash. God should have been an incinerator. We have to deal with those people because of the workings of society. We cannot completely isolate lest we become uncomfortable and sans the equipment of life. They were in the bleach. They shall be there in the eyes. Those people. Nicole is one of them, unfortunately, yet still gorgeous. The beauty of the world is a product of people. Those people. 'Them.' You do not know. You can never know. Blinded. This is a bad time. Tuesday morning with coffee and gangsters. Yesterday's work helps to make this day a little brighter for the house. We did much. Lots of cleaning after the big storm. Later today we will continue in the same vein, and probably spend more time right here. Lots going on inside. The 'Need' is beginning to return after being holed up in this house for eighteen months with only one adventure nearly a year ago which did not blow the collective skirts up. The work today will be in support of better thinking, as things always seem to clear when we know much has been accomplished. The routine and then the kitchen to follow yesterday's efforts. All the while we will be considering the act of wandering with the slung camera and wide eyes. That place is calling for the third time since the low of ten. We are also looking forward to the feeling of everything being wide open and possible once the morning business settles and we are in the fold of the quiet. That is the time of the upward glances and reaching thoughts. The causality did this... The near-daily ideas which enter our meager existence and force the dreams to appear. Dreams of being someone, somewhere, and doing something recognizable or important. Instead, we are right here and reaching not for something wonderful, but rather only reaching for understanding. In an hour or possibly a little more, the openness will illuminate for a time before fading, and during the light we can see differently. The eyes change. The causality means in part a feeling that we have been here before out of the sheer need to escape, yet not long after the wonder appears we are right back at square one with nary a clue as to what can be done. A good portion of the wonder is the south calling again. Perhaps this time of year is the push. Our first trip there was in December and the second was in January. The south and the Sea are not destinations for summer or even fall. In a little while we shall be computing what to do, where we can go, or possibly whether or not we can continue on these rails without losing our shit completely. We need those feelings, honestly. They keep the bad parts (the bad time) in check and separate everything into sections which can then be handled one at a time. The brightness appears each and every morning at some point before the routine and remains for a short time before we lose it and lose our way. During those precious minutes, we simply MUST break this current cycle and formulate just enough to allow us to both relax and keep our heads up in spite of the downward slide that began just a week ago. There can be a way out of this and the south will help, no matter whether or not we can embrace that beauty in person. Today will have to be worked with small steps again. We may walk away from this keyboard on and off for most of our alone time, as well. Thoughts will come and go, and like the recent heritage crap memories, there may be some realization in and around everything else going through us. This is a bad time, but we can still steer the ship, somewhat. There was a short discussion the other day related to something we mentioned in the previous entry. This cannot be spelled out. Not by a damned sight, yet the compulsion is becoming overwhelming. There is currently a fight up there in the brain between spilling and clamming. We do not know which can win. The conversation had us at sixes and sevens for a time. Right now -- two days later -- we have become more introspective and less concerned. The main issue now is understanding how these things happen in the first place, although after trying to define the problem for over a year we have hit on some points which ring true. Confidence in our ability to actually understand and then let it go is at an all-time low. Like the statement opening the previous essay, the anger has been taking over and shoving those problems to the rear with force. The only snag is the fact that though we have been inside and trying to embrace the forest mindset and framing our world to suit, on the outside very little has changed, if anything. The discussion brought such a fact to the forefront again and now has us reaching for ideas. We must deal with this or the fall could be very damaging to us as well as other people. We have to find a way of isolating those discussions and remaining conscious of the fact that BOTH the duality and causality are at fault here, not our missing pieces. The keel is swinging down. Port is them, starboard is us. The mast shall catch them upside the head in the worst possible way. Quiet time. Eight in the morning. We are considering splashing the images of Kendall in favor of Josephine. Perhaps just the one below. And done. Josephine has one of those faces which is both striking and frightening at the same time. Quite common for a model from Denmark. Anyway, we are left to whatever devices may heed the call of either the north or the south. We can no longer entertain any other cardinal points, nor may we remain stagnant. The bright feeling is there, along with gazing out toward the changing leaves and green hills. The forest is where we are, but inside us, too. Out there is the world, such as it is. Those people are out there, too, meaning we must keep our distance and rack focus toward whatever still has the power to raise. The compass never changes right here in this house. The keyboard will be our friend for a little while and then to the routine. After? Perhaps a bit of the refrigerator and garage. The holiday is Sunday and we'd like to have the area in order before nightfall that day. Inside the mind, though, everything swirls. One item in particular... The wolves had a conversation we cannot locate at present. Eventually it will turn up and we can include the quoted dialog here. This is bad. At the beginning of the last entry, the heritage had been shoved back in favor of dealing with more pressing matters. The conversation in question was not specifically related, yet one subject can lead to another. Now we are in pain. We were them, now we are the 'other' them. No, not those fucking people brought up here time and again, but the 'them' of the past. We had the opportunity to become the latter 'them' but such a part of life was stifled before heading out the gate. The dialog on the show is insightful and brilliant, at the same time hurtful and revealing of our inner turmoil. Most of it, anyway. At some point we shall vent at length, but not now. We are currently seeking the dialog in question and will place it here soon. Until then, onward. The discussion mentioned three paragraphs above is now sitting directly before us due to the show up there. Ah... There is Nora and her never-ending thrall upon us. She represents the opposite side of the information which became a baseball bat upside the head the other day. We are not going to let this go. Not by any means. Many of the issues mentioned here in the past are related, as are those two fucking shit situations from the eighties. Everything. This is a bad time. Genetic flukes rule the runways forever Here is one of the prime truths of our existence: The control over atmosphere and such is something which has grown throughout the course of many years, now culminating in our mass of time here at home. We are able to control nearly everything related to comfort. On the flip side, and likely the main reasoning for much of our turmoil these days, there are two specifics we most certainly cannot control and never will, and they just happen to be the most powerful draws in the universe. Refilling the coffee a moment ago brought such a thought to mind, so there it is. The third specific is completely unrelated yet just as damaging. Not good. We nearly brought a fourth specific as it is governed by our ongoing double-standard, but that may prove to be unnecessary after tons of entries mentioning beauty throughout years. And the images. See? Not a good idea right now. We do not like being attacked or behaving unfairly, either, yet this is what time and circumstances have created within. Say it again... This is a bad time. Nearly nine o'clock now. Cool and overcast outside, warm and comfortable inside. This may prove to be the bulk of the day. We know not what may pull us later. The lack of control is going to stay right behind our eyes, however. No solution, just as many other parts of our psyche. Causality. The loop. Round and round and fucking round again. We rise and work, and then think and fall. The causes of this shit are few, believe it or not, yet so overwhelming that we cannot pass them and work into any semblance of a future. The dioramas continue to illuminate as we pass each one, and then the duality hit comes along, we sit here and work through some wording to find solutions -- failing again and again -- and then the ride returns to the beginning and we roll past everything as if being tortured by unknown powers. Assailants, all. This may never end. Item 'A' causes item 'B', we begin to consider options, and then item 'B' fades to make room for item 'C'. That one spins us around to see 'A' awaiting the pain once again. Causality... The loop of hell. Those truths above do not help any of it. Years pass. We define the issues, search for clues, but in the end everything remains the same, if not worse. This is a bad time. The dialog on the show will come along at some point. We are not as familiar with specific scenes from this series as the other one with the gangsters, so we grabbed one of the actors involved in the conversation, made a list of his appearances, and are now running the episodes in order. There are twelve in all, and if we are correct the scene in question should appear soon. We have all day. This program will remain in the background until the time comes. And there is Nora again... One of the pitfalls of watching. At least we know what to expect. The opposite side of one of the most overpowering issues in our world, she is. Fuck. Salome's breasts bring to mind the fact that perfection does not exist, yet there are degrees of beauty which point toward the same. The nudity on this program is rampant. We still can't believe what they display at times. Heh. Nothing is funny anymore. Well, Sam -- without a stitch of clothing head to toe -- just beat the holy crap out of three other guys with weapons. Maybe that's a little funny. On the heels of that one? Luna, also completely nude, got the best of another woman. This show is insane. We could write volumes about it. There are already endless sites reviewing, commenting and analyzing this stuff, though. Our insight would likely go unnoticed. The day and work still awaits inspiration. Yesterday was very productive due to the storm. We went along the floors and cleaned after stepping in and out of the house during so much rain. Everything looks much better and we may continue in such a direction today after the routine. Don't know yet, though. We seem to be glued to both the media and keyboard. The conversation which we'd like to quote has yet to come along. Jesus holy God in a cup of blood does Pam ever have an amazing waistline. She is wearing a corset of sorts. Fucking hell did they cast that woman well. Anyway, this is going to be the entry with a quoted conversation if it takes all damned day. We care not for what the clock indicates anymore. Lots of time. Routine, floors, whatever. We shall get to everything in good time. All the while? The causality loop. Round and round we go, where we stop we already know. Shit from the past, shit from the present, shit all over the place. Just... Shit. Uh oh, Russell just snatched Martha's granddaughter. Not good. Ah... There is one half of the conversation participants. Hopefully the scene comes along soon. We need those words here. God fucking damn it, Nora is so gorgeous sometimes. Ugh to the nth. The fortification seems to be creeping in, possibly in response to dealing with causality and duality. It's like an instinctive reaction to difficulty which dates back to the early nineties when we wished to flee this metropolitan area for a far-away locale with few inhabitants. That feeling returned during a trip to Ketchikan, Alaska a few years ago, too. The idea is always enticing. Unfortunately, we cannot do shit right now. We have to stay put and enjoy whatever may be available. The fortification mood comes and goes, but due to the shit in mind we are thinking about such a direction this morning. Streamlining, if you will. Simplicity breeds freedom sometimes, leaving us to realize that short of the ability to run like hell, we can still prepare for whatever may come along in the future. Fortification means protection, and the sum is empowering. We shall do what we can while the hours pass. Maybe pizza will help. There she is again, all dark and alluring. Fuck. And the woman who portrays Lilith stands five-ten. Wow. The time may be at hand for moving forward with the work. We can't sit here all day, honestly. Not good. The list is short, though, and there will be time to return here if the scene comes along. Pause. And here we are after the routine and prior to lunch. Still did not go to the hardware, although that is not terribly pressing right now. Cocktail, vampires, werewolves, and lots of mayhem on the screen. Our scene has still not come to pass. Patience. It's worth it. Cocktail nearly gone. Sad faces. On the upside, one of the faeries on the screen next to the principal character is unreal. I'd like to... Oh, never mind. Enough typing has been dedicated to the pursuit of a desire-filled outlet for ten lifetimes. We still cannot get away from those feelings, partly thanks to our formative years and the remainder being the barren nature of life in general. The two shit situations have jaded us forever. Nothing can be enough, and the search combined with tidbits of evidence have taken their collective toll. We are ruined for all time, sporadic comforts notwithstanding. All they did was inflame us. Now there is nothing left. The causality lingers, the duality retains its position atop our list of shit thanks to the very same media to which we are drawn daily, and the solution continues to elude. This is a bad time. Good Christ... Still waiting for the quotable scene. More patience. This entry was to have three images, yet the length now dictates four, meaning the lovely Josephine and her unbelievably lean structure graces the division before this final section. Do you see? The images are very large. We are able to display them eight-hundred pixels wide with full length. Runway models deserve such command over screen real estate, to be sure. These images, as well as those of Paulina and Kendall, hark back to the 1236 period and our fascination with height. They are all very tall due to the nature of the industry. During that time we went nuts over the December VS fashion shows in high definition for good reason. Anyone with a height fetish will naturally gravitate toward the runway thanks to the minimum number required for walking it. Good and bad there, honestly. The models are just like two of the characters on this program: A breed apart from the average person. They are utopian in nature. Those of us who tend to fixate upon such forms -- male or female -- will inevitably compare ourselves to those in the world of entertainment who appear to be manufactured solely for the purpose of making the world more beautiful, the unfortunate downside of which is most are dissimilar. We no longer think in such terms. The imagery on this entry along with that of media are merely to be appreciated. Fixating upon the differences will only drive us mad. Ah... We have arrived at the scene. Stand by. 'The worst part of being a parent, no matter how hard you try, is you can't keep your kids from eventually learning what a shithole this world is. How corrupt, mean, arbitrary... You just wanna shield them from it. Let 'em believe life is safe and fair. Bad gets punished, good gets rewarded... So if they can believe that, you almost can too. But when you yourself have to be the one to teach them how fucked up things are, well, that's a hell of thing to ever come back from.' -- Jackson Herveaux The context is a father and son spending time together after a ton of trials and finally finding the ability to both identify and understand each other better than in their past. The scene is beautiful. Yes, they are fucking werewolves, but still the subject applies to many. Just because the show is a fantasy does not mean everything is unreal. We cannot speak to such wisdom because the most precious gift in the universe was ripped away from us a very long time ago. The issue is increasing in importance as the second hand moves around the clock. Every fucking day the wonder of what billions have experienced piles more explosive power on top of our heads. The grammar is precise from the script. Verbatim. He is a southerner, meaning the accent really adds drama to his dialog, so if you are so inclined, watch it play out in real time. The subject may not be a big deal to you, though, especially if you have children. To us? It represents something bigger than ourselves and more important than anything else in existence. Both evolution and creationism teach this as why we are here. Well, the mood just took another hit today. We will venture a guess that there has not been enough shit plowed as of yet and we must continue this futile push. Wednesday morning, October 27th. This is a bad time. Days feel as if they are flipping by like a Rolodex being blasted by a fan. Five minutes ago we were sitting right here and it was yesterday. We must remain mindful of the passage of time while moving through the time here at home. Keep it close. Tight. Minutes, perhaps hours, recognized a little more than in the past. Today has to begin such a process lest the days get away from us. That would be bad. We are pretty well sick and tired of the subject here. Causality. This is the time to shove it away and come up with something else either more friendly or easier to explain. We already have enough issues for a lifetime of analysis, so another different title should prove easy. Sick of this shit, and sick of the bad time. There was another little tidbit yesterday about which we can do almost nothing, so the subject pretty much comprises no more than another pain in the fucking ass. We've had just about enough shit in front of the blade. Plowing is becoming more difficult than dealing with heat. But none of it seems to matter to anyone. More and more and fucking more until we sit here and write indistinguishable observations. This site became ridiculous last year and just keeps rolling down the hill. More and more and more. Pause for the morning cause. Hours now. What will we do? Will this afternoon be just as yesterday? Disappointing? Or will we rise? Can we rise in these late days? A few things, for sure, yet the 'more' is tough sometimes. We shall see what can be done today, and soon. So far, we are into the quiet time until the coffee has been exhausted, after which part of the routine will fly by. At some point we need to go to the hardware after skipping it yesterday, and the market while returning. As usual during this first hour of the peace and quiet, the mind moves in the direction of the forest and whatever small steps can be taken toward being as enshrouded mentally as we have become physically. Sometimes such thinking is driven by negatives, too. There was a negative yesterday which has us a bit preoccupied today, and one which must be dealt with daily. There is no getting around it, nor can there ever be a solution. Just like mentioned recently, we are tired of the Goddamned unchangeable situations. They keep biting. The work today may be of the headphone variety in order to combine the forest beliefs with moving around the house. There is Nicole again, second or third appearance on the show. Her eyes express so much feeling that we are continually caught off-guard. The woman is stunning, but her eyes take the cake. What we find interesting is when compared to the two very famous models on this page, there is no chance of two winning out over the one. Nicole is/was not a model like those above, yet we see more genuine beauty in her face. We do not understand the whole thing and merely chalk it up to beauty being the most subjective topic in existence. Kendall has big, dark eyes, dark hair, and is very tall and slender, but she cannot hold a candle (to us) to Nicole's facial expressions. The one aspect we've noticed lately is when there is even a hint of sadness, the beauty shines through more than ever. Once more, the face is everything. Enough of the beauty for today. The causality loop was in character yesterday, with the full-speed aspect coming to town later in the afternoon as we tried to relax. We thought of all those little parts of the wheel and how they often come together at the opportune moments and slam us to the pavement. The feelings will have to be pushed away if we are to accomplish anything aside from drunken ranting. Heh. The loop shows off those scenes we can no longer avoid, causing simultaneous sadness and anger on a daily basis and ending with us sitting and feeling as if nothing is worthwhile anymore because we shall end up in the same place regardless of the effort. We have to rise above that sentiment -- or at least attempt to sidestep the fucking thing -- in order to gain favor and increase the comfort right now. One fucking hour at a time. Perhaps even one moment at a time. So far, the harshest show is on, the coffee remains, and we see lots of time for whatever feels appropriate. The mental and emotional cost of riding this circle is the highest in life thus far. We don't even know how the tab has been paid until now. Causality must be destroyed or otherwise altered so as to allow for the shit to head in the opposite direction. Darkened dioramas, switchgear, something. A push toward those people rather than sitting and awaiting us being shoved by the same. We are willing to stop everything due to the cost. The cost has been far too high. We have paid, regardless. We are now out of compensation. We can pay no more. The guns are looking at you. This is a bad time."
Causality
Mature content No. 271 Published October 27th, 2021 8:26am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Fuck you. This is a bad time. A time of knowing. We know too much. We have seen enough. No return. Not a chance. One event led to the other, influencing all the while. If the first had not taken place, the second may have been easier to accept. We do not know, however. Too late. Everyone is gone. The information went with them. We are a product of that period. We are also a product of our own decisions. Cause. Effect. Effect bringing cause. Loop. This is a bad time. Weaponry, staring in all directions. Those events CAUSED this frame of mind... This situation... This damage which often takes the day and sends it downward with the force of a thousand wrecking balls. And now we must sit here and fucking live with it because the dream eludes like nothing else. The magic is far away. For today, the dream must be pushed back and ignored (rarely possible) or nothing can be accomplished. The laundry just took a step forward because the rain has let up for a time. We are moving, a little. Lunch in the oven. Dragons on the screen. Cocktail in hand. All the while? Damned, completely. And damning. Damn it all. We are powerless. Only the menial remains available. Never enough. Never us. Not anymore. This is a bad time. One to the other, and now all is shit. We did not do this. Not by a damned sight. The day works on the brain in a way impossible to ignore, yet we must move forward with something. No focus. Or rather, focus not where we need it. The mind's eye is narrowing (expected but not a good thing) to the point of pulling its own focus. Racking. We are in a very bad place, right here between the dreams and the reality, floating along with a sliver of hope that the focus will rack yet again. Toward where we need it. Toward the dream. We may be filled with false hope, though. Nothing is good. Very little is acceptable. The bad is taking over moment by fucking moment. We were there. The dream was flailing in the wind. We are now here and the dream is larger yet still ever flailing. No focus. We shall sit and wait with as much patience as can be mustered. This is a bad time. We cannot leave it alone. Too fucking important. Dire, as it were. The one cut from years ago which may never heal, and we are not speaking of the eighties, either. Fuck that time. Enough keystrokes have gone in that direction and accomplished little. The focus is upon the focus. We are cut again. We were there. Right there. Now we are here. This is a bad time. The day has moved from morning to late morning. We have completed the routine. Nothing awaits because we do not care. The only preoccupation is the largest and most difficult scrape in existence. We must endure this fucking day, or else. The other side is now unavailable. Everything is fucked. This is a bad time. The situation expands. Friday morning and we are in a boat, floating along through the fog toward an unknown island. A very small, rock island. A song comes to mind, one which finds a man on a journey through the water toward an unknown destination. He is frightened and hesitant, yet has no choice but to search. This morning has shown us that the endeavor and situation can drive us to the same. We are not happy. This is a bad morning right in the middle of a bad time. We know not what to do except pass the hours until some work this afternoon. We are seeing places unknown and directions not explored, both past and present. We are here, not there. We were there some years ago but everything fell to pieces and we were left bereft. Left bereft. The minutes are passing like eons. Our friends up there are assisting with the comfort as much as they are able. Still, the dire feelings are at the forefront. We know not what to do. Bad time. Bad hours. Bad everything. Ugh. We do not like feeling this at all. Floating with nary a chance of resolution. This is not good. Bad. We've said it so many fucking times that the words are beginning to lose meaning. Too much of this. But what are we to do? Nothing can change, so do we simply shut up and live with it? Or possibly make some kind of change which can remove the problem at the source? No answer. No nothing. So fucking sick of this. The source is so fucking damaged at this point that all reasonably positive ideas have been nullified. They cannot add up to the dream or what we need so badly that there can be resolution. There can only be an epilogue, and such a fact is depressing as hell. This day is showing us the dark places like never before. In a little over two hours we will leave this house and meet for a job of diagnosing some water issues. We have not the strength right now, but will go anyway out of a sense of duty and responsibility. Stepping out of our comfort zone for a little while will bring joy at returning, just like those days when we wish to remain behind closed doors but go out anyway for the same conclusion. The feeling of arriving will be wonderful. Aside from the duty, we have planned to accomplish very little today. The down has taken us from ourselves for the millionth time. The scrape never goes away. The cause cannot be denied, shoved away, or otherwise dealt with right now. It is permanent. Saturday was nearly erased completely. Now Sunday with a big storm outside. Not much rain, but holy crap the wind is nuts. We have been hoping the antenna farm up there doesn't go flying to another county. The central preoccupation of life actually took a short pause yesterday in favor of recovering from an issue Friday night while out at a restaurant. Not good. The causality is now split right in fucking half between the events mentioned up the page and the fucking situation jamming forks in the brain. Friday will not be forgotten and is now one of the finest examples of reasoning through the forest guns in the previous entry. Everyone is in the same category. Well, some are worse. We consider everything, all the time, and the conclusions are not frivolous, ever. We know what is going on out there. A few more buttons... The job Friday afternoon brought us back to the days of running around caring for small tasks here and there. None of it was difficult. In fact, the job has likely opened the door for some future work, although still nothing full-time. Our work over there was enjoyable. We've been there before. The mood remained light and has helped the causality to pause for a while as we care for some important items. Now that Sunday has arrived after some difficulty, the reasoning behind such a harsh stance has returned. No more good. Just planning. Today will be rather full. A touch of work this morning and then to her house for bathroom plans and possibly some further steps, then back here to finish the Sunday business before heading to the bar for the football game. All of it adds up to Monday morning appearing better and better as time rolls along. Between an interruption in our thinking midway through Friday to the discomfort and mood yesterday, we are going to be very pleased by Monday's arrival. By then we will need it badly. Any lift is important. This is a bad time. Very bad right now.
Nothing changes. No matter our posturing, bitching, planning... Everything remains the same from one day to the next. We know not what to do, and such a statement is ongoing. The anger is still there, as is the situation of which we cannot speak. Not good. Even Friday night relaxing at the bar with some snacks and drinks held its share of difficulties, from the scenery to the hammer blow a while later. By the time we exited that beautiful restaurant, the sum was spinning us. And then to the garage for a little cheer and the colored lighting led to violent music and the need to isolate. Eventually we made it through the hours only to find Saturday stolen away due to our reaction to everything. We did not need any of it. This morning is the first quiet time and space enough to plan out the day. Wow, the wind just cut off as quickly as it arose. Very stormy out there this morning. We resisted putting images of Kendall here for quite a while, but the recent inclusion of Paulina walking the runway raised the bar, so here she is. Lots of Kendall discussion a few months ago caused us to research her height, thus three huge photos. The woman has had quite an impact upon the modeling world. That is all we will say. The same situation is slapping us around today. We know not what will take place during the coming hours, either. No way of knowing. The causality is going in circles. One event led to another and the die was cast and cooled long ago, now taking whatever remaining hope and melting it down to a puddle of filthy material. It is useless now. Circles. The rails have no switches or spurs. Continuous. We are currently helpless in moving the train in any other direction because the options have been removed. Jesus, the wind outside right now. The hatches have been battened down already, meaning the outside is fine. We just have to await the storm's passing. The causality will not pass, however. No relational analysis there. Hopefully by close of business and before the game everything will improve. No guarantees. Carmela just dumped a bowl of Ziti into the trash. What a waste. So much more could have happened in this life had we envisioned this position years ago. We did not know the events of the past and those difficult periods were going to leave us sans hope. The situation is both unnerving and saddening. We have surpassed forty thousand lines of code just this calendar year. More of the bad. All the way back to 'The Need and the Salt' from fifteen, this type of thing has occurred on too many occasions to list. Nothing ever changes. Little ups, small moves, some enjoyment, yet in the end we are back at square one with a head full of hell. And the past. And those events. And the scrape. And the sadness. And everything else born of a period unlike any other. We did not know the ugly head would rear itself in one fashion or another day after day, and not this late in life. Years. Sometimes one day is as a year. 'The Need' back then was very different. Completely unrelated to this current period, although there are snippets of imagery from both ten and fifteen which almost compare. Fifteen was very bad. Ten was worse. Eleven? No picnic, either. How we made it this far without completely losing it is surprising. Friday night nearly broke us. We will not make that mistake again, nor what took place later. We have become far too weakened to screw around late into the night. It hurts and accomplishes nothing. Each occasion is just as the last, eventually leading us to isolate and consider where we are in life as opposed to where we could have been. Too many mistakes, honestly, with this latest being the little push necessary for us to chop off yet another facet of living. We are done with that. Clear thinking at the right moments will keep us safe from others. All that shit is related to this feeling which has hung on for a week or more. People do not help. They hinder, really, and leave us within a stone's throw of leaving all of society to the rear for the remainder of life. This consideration may keep us from watching football at the bar tonight. The late games are always a problem. We may rescind our decision of no more live sports here and remain home this evening. We do not believe the bar can be acceptable right now. Not with this shit swirling. If the game is on here, this will not be the first time we have reversed our own position. But the rules shall be firm. No exceptions. We have assumed control. This is a bad time. Monday morning and all is quiet after one of the heaviest storms on record. We thought everything was going to float into the ocean yesterday. Wow. Today has arrived. Saturday was erased, Sunday was not bad, but overall this morning is already feeling free of the remaining world. Just us and the trees, along with a few things to accomplish. Between whatever is done later this morning, we will continue going in circles. Nothing ends, but everything comes to an end, meaning day in and day out we shall think this way out of desperation, longing and a sense of exclusion, eventually being reduced to a lump of sheer nothingness. The end will appear at some point. The circles and the causality keep rolling along, around the curve as we move through the scenery and recall too much. Cruising by pictures of everything, from the simplest moments to the most anticipated events in life. Today will be an extension of the glow, yet we will be detached, as if the entire memory is nothing more than a movie playing out for the purpose of driving us down even further. Further than eleven. All alone. We have things to do, places to go, lots of cleaning, lots of thinking, lots of planning. We cannot have this week mimic the last. Unacceptable. The yard is a mess, but the perimeter treatment did the job. Everything which emerged from the soil due to so much rain is dead. Now we have a solution for the entire year and little worry of anything coming into the house. One positive. We did not know how well the chemical would work on anything until giving it a chance, and now after so much rain in twenty-four hours, the results are excellent. This has been an issue for years. A reason to smile, if only for a moment. Everything returns. Everything has returned. Monday morning means lots of time to consider options. Friends in the background, a little coffee left, and plenty of space right now means we are at the very minimum, comfortable. Mostly. The jury is still out on the remainder of the day. The only necessity aside from the usual routine is the yard. A bit of sweeping out there. Finished. We are now treading water like most days. The back looks much better and there is more evidence of the effectiveness of the treatment. Across the street? Not so nice... Their front yard heritage tree is now leaning twenty some-odd degrees to the east as of the storm. That is very bad. Likely it will have to be removed. We feel for them. And we see Tony sitting and speaking with his therapist. Good idea? Probably not. We cannot move in such directions any longer. Too late. Too much. No answers. Maybe laundry. Heh. Ugh. Whatever. There are projects and chores, yet none of them are very attractive today. After the weekend, not much of anything is appealing. We will likely go back to the bar's office and finish the furniture tomorrow, meaning today may end up falling on it's face. Just like us. The forest mindset is creeping in. It has been on hold due to being around others during the past three days, yet now it is beginning to flare. Perhaps the harsh weather is pushing. We see the forest, although embracing the feelings right now is tough due to being distracted by the shit of life. Now that the most important chores are complete, the brain is searching for satisfaction. Today may be a gateway of sorts. A gateway into a very bad frame of mind. The sentient weapons are apparent. We knew this. Someone out there must pay the fucking tab. We will not. Those guns are not going away. Five out of six will be destroyed. 'No bitch to me.'
Laundry going. Cocktail present. Shy of noon. The sun never shines in the forest. Always cool and overcast, if not snowing. And the snow is as us... Blinding, dividing, useful and necessary. Some of the snow falls from the sky and other snow is blown from us. We have it at the ready, and part of the dire need for snow results from too many years of duality and causality. It must be there, always, just in case the world turns on its ear and begins to become a threat. Buried, shortly thereafter. Buried in our snowstorm of words. The sun never shines in the forest. Those people. Them. Over there, always. They don't know what they are. We know. We know what will happen because we saw it happen before, albeit now the world is different. And it is different because of those people. We cannot stand it but there will be no lashing. Calm, quiet, and peaceful always. And then they get it later. No one knows because they cannot see past the shit created for them and by them. We are not among them. The causality did the job, as it always will. The continuation. The irrevocable events and unforgettable problems. Not our problems, mind you, but those created by the shit and for the shit. The trash. God should have been an incinerator. We have to deal with those people because of the workings of society. We cannot completely isolate lest we become uncomfortable and sans the equipment of life. They were in the bleach. They shall be there in the eyes. Those people. Nicole is one of them, unfortunately, yet still gorgeous. The beauty of the world is a product of people. Those people. 'Them.' You do not know. You can never know. Blinded. This is a bad time. Tuesday morning with coffee and gangsters. Yesterday's work helps to make this day a little brighter for the house. We did much. Lots of cleaning after the big storm. Later today we will continue in the same vein, and probably spend more time right here. Lots going on inside. The 'Need' is beginning to return after being holed up in this house for eighteen months with only one adventure nearly a year ago which did not blow the collective skirts up. The work today will be in support of better thinking, as things always seem to clear when we know much has been accomplished. The routine and then the kitchen to follow yesterday's efforts. All the while we will be considering the act of wandering with the slung camera and wide eyes. That place is calling for the third time since the low of ten. We are also looking forward to the feeling of everything being wide open and possible once the morning business settles and we are in the fold of the quiet. That is the time of the upward glances and reaching thoughts. The causality did this... The near-daily ideas which enter our meager existence and force the dreams to appear. Dreams of being someone, somewhere, and doing something recognizable or important. Instead, we are right here and reaching not for something wonderful, but rather only reaching for understanding. In an hour or possibly a little more, the openness will illuminate for a time before fading, and during the light we can see differently. The eyes change. The causality means in part a feeling that we have been here before out of the sheer need to escape, yet not long after the wonder appears we are right back at square one with nary a clue as to what can be done. A good portion of the wonder is the south calling again. Perhaps this time of year is the push. Our first trip there was in December and the second was in January. The south and the Sea are not destinations for summer or even fall. In a little while we shall be computing what to do, where we can go, or possibly whether or not we can continue on these rails without losing our shit completely. We need those feelings, honestly. They keep the bad parts (the bad time) in check and separate everything into sections which can then be handled one at a time. The brightness appears each and every morning at some point before the routine and remains for a short time before we lose it and lose our way. During those precious minutes, we simply MUST break this current cycle and formulate just enough to allow us to both relax and keep our heads up in spite of the downward slide that began just a week ago. There can be a way out of this and the south will help, no matter whether or not we can embrace that beauty in person. Today will have to be worked with small steps again. We may walk away from this keyboard on and off for most of our alone time, as well. Thoughts will come and go, and like the recent heritage crap memories, there may be some realization in and around everything else going through us. This is a bad time, but we can still steer the ship, somewhat. There was a short discussion the other day related to something we mentioned in the previous entry. This cannot be spelled out. Not by a damned sight, yet the compulsion is becoming overwhelming. There is currently a fight up there in the brain between spilling and clamming. We do not know which can win. The conversation had us at sixes and sevens for a time. Right now -- two days later -- we have become more introspective and less concerned. The main issue now is understanding how these things happen in the first place, although after trying to define the problem for over a year we have hit on some points which ring true. Confidence in our ability to actually understand and then let it go is at an all-time low. Like the statement opening the previous essay, the anger has been taking over and shoving those problems to the rear with force. The only snag is the fact that though we have been inside and trying to embrace the forest mindset and framing our world to suit, on the outside very little has changed, if anything. The discussion brought such a fact to the forefront again and now has us reaching for ideas. We must deal with this or the fall could be very damaging to us as well as other people. We have to find a way of isolating those discussions and remaining conscious of the fact that BOTH the duality and causality are at fault here, not our missing pieces. The keel is swinging down. Port is them, starboard is us. The mast shall catch them upside the head in the worst possible way. Quiet time. Eight in the morning. We are considering splashing the images of Kendall in favor of Josephine. Perhaps just the one below. And done. Josephine has one of those faces which is both striking and frightening at the same time. Quite common for a model from Denmark. Anyway, we are left to whatever devices may heed the call of either the north or the south. We can no longer entertain any other cardinal points, nor may we remain stagnant. The bright feeling is there, along with gazing out toward the changing leaves and green hills. The forest is where we are, but inside us, too. Out there is the world, such as it is. Those people are out there, too, meaning we must keep our distance and rack focus toward whatever still has the power to raise. The compass never changes right here in this house. The keyboard will be our friend for a little while and then to the routine. After? Perhaps a bit of the refrigerator and garage. The holiday is Sunday and we'd like to have the area in order before nightfall that day. Inside the mind, though, everything swirls. One item in particular... The wolves had a conversation we cannot locate at present. Eventually it will turn up and we can include the quoted dialog here. This is bad. At the beginning of the last entry, the heritage had been shoved back in favor of dealing with more pressing matters. The conversation in question was not specifically related, yet one subject can lead to another. Now we are in pain. We were them, now we are the 'other' them. No, not those fucking people brought up here time and again, but the 'them' of the past. We had the opportunity to become the latter 'them' but such a part of life was stifled before heading out the gate. The dialog on the show is insightful and brilliant, at the same time hurtful and revealing of our inner turmoil. Most of it, anyway. At some point we shall vent at length, but not now. We are currently seeking the dialog in question and will place it here soon. Until then, onward. The discussion mentioned three paragraphs above is now sitting directly before us due to the show up there. Ah... There is Nora and her never-ending thrall upon us. She represents the opposite side of the information which became a baseball bat upside the head the other day. We are not going to let this go. Not by any means. Many of the issues mentioned here in the past are related, as are those two fucking shit situations from the eighties. Everything. This is a bad time.
Genetic flukes rule the runways forever
Here is one of the prime truths of our existence: The control over atmosphere and such is something which has grown throughout the course of many years, now culminating in our mass of time here at home. We are able to control nearly everything related to comfort. On the flip side, and likely the main reasoning for much of our turmoil these days, there are two specifics we most certainly cannot control and never will, and they just happen to be the most powerful draws in the universe. Refilling the coffee a moment ago brought such a thought to mind, so there it is. The third specific is completely unrelated yet just as damaging. Not good. We nearly brought a fourth specific as it is governed by our ongoing double-standard, but that may prove to be unnecessary after tons of entries mentioning beauty throughout years. And the images. See? Not a good idea right now. We do not like being attacked or behaving unfairly, either, yet this is what time and circumstances have created within. Say it again... This is a bad time. Nearly nine o'clock now. Cool and overcast outside, warm and comfortable inside. This may prove to be the bulk of the day. We know not what may pull us later. The lack of control is going to stay right behind our eyes, however. No solution, just as many other parts of our psyche. Causality. The loop. Round and round and fucking round again. We rise and work, and then think and fall. The causes of this shit are few, believe it or not, yet so overwhelming that we cannot pass them and work into any semblance of a future. The dioramas continue to illuminate as we pass each one, and then the duality hit comes along, we sit here and work through some wording to find solutions -- failing again and again -- and then the ride returns to the beginning and we roll past everything as if being tortured by unknown powers. Assailants, all. This may never end. Item 'A' causes item 'B', we begin to consider options, and then item 'B' fades to make room for item 'C'. That one spins us around to see 'A' awaiting the pain once again. Causality... The loop of hell. Those truths above do not help any of it. Years pass. We define the issues, search for clues, but in the end everything remains the same, if not worse. This is a bad time. The dialog on the show will come along at some point. We are not as familiar with specific scenes from this series as the other one with the gangsters, so we grabbed one of the actors involved in the conversation, made a list of his appearances, and are now running the episodes in order. There are twelve in all, and if we are correct the scene in question should appear soon. We have all day. This program will remain in the background until the time comes. And there is Nora again... One of the pitfalls of watching. At least we know what to expect. The opposite side of one of the most overpowering issues in our world, she is. Fuck. Salome's breasts bring to mind the fact that perfection does not exist, yet there are degrees of beauty which point toward the same. The nudity on this program is rampant. We still can't believe what they display at times. Heh. Nothing is funny anymore. Well, Sam -- without a stitch of clothing head to toe -- just beat the holy crap out of three other guys with weapons. Maybe that's a little funny. On the heels of that one? Luna, also completely nude, got the best of another woman. This show is insane. We could write volumes about it. There are already endless sites reviewing, commenting and analyzing this stuff, though. Our insight would likely go unnoticed. The day and work still awaits inspiration. Yesterday was very productive due to the storm. We went along the floors and cleaned after stepping in and out of the house during so much rain. Everything looks much better and we may continue in such a direction today after the routine. Don't know yet, though. We seem to be glued to both the media and keyboard. The conversation which we'd like to quote has yet to come along. Jesus holy God in a cup of blood does Pam ever have an amazing waistline. She is wearing a corset of sorts. Fucking hell did they cast that woman well. Anyway, this is going to be the entry with a quoted conversation if it takes all damned day. We care not for what the clock indicates anymore. Lots of time. Routine, floors, whatever. We shall get to everything in good time. All the while? The causality loop. Round and round we go, where we stop we already know. Shit from the past, shit from the present, shit all over the place. Just... Shit. Uh oh, Russell just snatched Martha's granddaughter. Not good. Ah... There is one half of the conversation participants. Hopefully the scene comes along soon. We need those words here. God fucking damn it, Nora is so gorgeous sometimes. Ugh to the nth. The fortification seems to be creeping in, possibly in response to dealing with causality and duality. It's like an instinctive reaction to difficulty which dates back to the early nineties when we wished to flee this metropolitan area for a far-away locale with few inhabitants. That feeling returned during a trip to Ketchikan, Alaska a few years ago, too. The idea is always enticing. Unfortunately, we cannot do shit right now. We have to stay put and enjoy whatever may be available. The fortification mood comes and goes, but due to the shit in mind we are thinking about such a direction this morning. Streamlining, if you will. Simplicity breeds freedom sometimes, leaving us to realize that short of the ability to run like hell, we can still prepare for whatever may come along in the future. Fortification means protection, and the sum is empowering. We shall do what we can while the hours pass. Maybe pizza will help. There she is again, all dark and alluring. Fuck. And the woman who portrays Lilith stands five-ten. Wow. The time may be at hand for moving forward with the work. We can't sit here all day, honestly. Not good. The list is short, though, and there will be time to return here if the scene comes along. Pause. And here we are after the routine and prior to lunch. Still did not go to the hardware, although that is not terribly pressing right now. Cocktail, vampires, werewolves, and lots of mayhem on the screen. Our scene has still not come to pass. Patience. It's worth it. Cocktail nearly gone. Sad faces. On the upside, one of the faeries on the screen next to the principal character is unreal. I'd like to... Oh, never mind. Enough typing has been dedicated to the pursuit of a desire-filled outlet for ten lifetimes. We still cannot get away from those feelings, partly thanks to our formative years and the remainder being the barren nature of life in general. The two shit situations have jaded us forever. Nothing can be enough, and the search combined with tidbits of evidence have taken their collective toll. We are ruined for all time, sporadic comforts notwithstanding. All they did was inflame us. Now there is nothing left. The causality lingers, the duality retains its position atop our list of shit thanks to the very same media to which we are drawn daily, and the solution continues to elude. This is a bad time.
Good Christ...
Still waiting for the quotable scene. More patience. This entry was to have three images, yet the length now dictates four, meaning the lovely Josephine and her unbelievably lean structure graces the division before this final section. Do you see? The images are very large. We are able to display them eight-hundred pixels wide with full length. Runway models deserve such command over screen real estate, to be sure. These images, as well as those of Paulina and Kendall, hark back to the 1236 period and our fascination with height. They are all very tall due to the nature of the industry. During that time we went nuts over the December VS fashion shows in high definition for good reason. Anyone with a height fetish will naturally gravitate toward the runway thanks to the minimum number required for walking it. Good and bad there, honestly. The models are just like two of the characters on this program: A breed apart from the average person. They are utopian in nature. Those of us who tend to fixate upon such forms -- male or female -- will inevitably compare ourselves to those in the world of entertainment who appear to be manufactured solely for the purpose of making the world more beautiful, the unfortunate downside of which is most are dissimilar. We no longer think in such terms. The imagery on this entry along with that of media are merely to be appreciated. Fixating upon the differences will only drive us mad. Ah... We have arrived at the scene. Stand by.
'The worst part of being a parent, no matter how hard you try, is you can't keep your kids from eventually learning what a shithole this world is. How corrupt, mean, arbitrary... You just wanna shield them from it. Let 'em believe life is safe and fair. Bad gets punished, good gets rewarded... So if they can believe that, you almost can too. But when you yourself have to be the one to teach them how fucked up things are, well, that's a hell of thing to ever come back from.' -- Jackson Herveaux
The context is a father and son spending time together after a ton of trials and finally finding the ability to both identify and understand each other better than in their past. The scene is beautiful. Yes, they are fucking werewolves, but still the subject applies to many. Just because the show is a fantasy does not mean everything is unreal. We cannot speak to such wisdom because the most precious gift in the universe was ripped away from us a very long time ago. The issue is increasing in importance as the second hand moves around the clock. Every fucking day the wonder of what billions have experienced piles more explosive power on top of our heads. The grammar is precise from the script. Verbatim. He is a southerner, meaning the accent really adds drama to his dialog, so if you are so inclined, watch it play out in real time. The subject may not be a big deal to you, though, especially if you have children. To us? It represents something bigger than ourselves and more important than anything else in existence. Both evolution and creationism teach this as why we are here. Well, the mood just took another hit today. We will venture a guess that there has not been enough shit plowed as of yet and we must continue this futile push. Wednesday morning, October 27th. This is a bad time. Days feel as if they are flipping by like a Rolodex being blasted by a fan. Five minutes ago we were sitting right here and it was yesterday. We must remain mindful of the passage of time while moving through the time here at home. Keep it close. Tight. Minutes, perhaps hours, recognized a little more than in the past. Today has to begin such a process lest the days get away from us. That would be bad. We are pretty well sick and tired of the subject here. Causality. This is the time to shove it away and come up with something else either more friendly or easier to explain. We already have enough issues for a lifetime of analysis, so another different title should prove easy. Sick of this shit, and sick of the bad time. There was another little tidbit yesterday about which we can do almost nothing, so the subject pretty much comprises no more than another pain in the fucking ass. We've had just about enough shit in front of the blade. Plowing is becoming more difficult than dealing with heat. But none of it seems to matter to anyone. More and more and fucking more until we sit here and write indistinguishable observations. This site became ridiculous last year and just keeps rolling down the hill. More and more and more. Pause for the morning cause. Hours now. What will we do? Will this afternoon be just as yesterday? Disappointing? Or will we rise? Can we rise in these late days? A few things, for sure, yet the 'more' is tough sometimes. We shall see what can be done today, and soon. So far, we are into the quiet time until the coffee has been exhausted, after which part of the routine will fly by. At some point we need to go to the hardware after skipping it yesterday, and the market while returning. As usual during this first hour of the peace and quiet, the mind moves in the direction of the forest and whatever small steps can be taken toward being as enshrouded mentally as we have become physically. Sometimes such thinking is driven by negatives, too. There was a negative yesterday which has us a bit preoccupied today, and one which must be dealt with daily. There is no getting around it, nor can there ever be a solution. Just like mentioned recently, we are tired of the Goddamned unchangeable situations. They keep biting. The work today may be of the headphone variety in order to combine the forest beliefs with moving around the house. There is Nicole again, second or third appearance on the show. Her eyes express so much feeling that we are continually caught off-guard. The woman is stunning, but her eyes take the cake. What we find interesting is when compared to the two very famous models on this page, there is no chance of two winning out over the one. Nicole is/was not a model like those above, yet we see more genuine beauty in her face. We do not understand the whole thing and merely chalk it up to beauty being the most subjective topic in existence. Kendall has big, dark eyes, dark hair, and is very tall and slender, but she cannot hold a candle (to us) to Nicole's facial expressions. The one aspect we've noticed lately is when there is even a hint of sadness, the beauty shines through more than ever. Once more, the face is everything. Enough of the beauty for today. The causality loop was in character yesterday, with the full-speed aspect coming to town later in the afternoon as we tried to relax. We thought of all those little parts of the wheel and how they often come together at the opportune moments and slam us to the pavement. The feelings will have to be pushed away if we are to accomplish anything aside from drunken ranting. Heh. The loop shows off those scenes we can no longer avoid, causing simultaneous sadness and anger on a daily basis and ending with us sitting and feeling as if nothing is worthwhile anymore because we shall end up in the same place regardless of the effort. We have to rise above that sentiment -- or at least attempt to sidestep the fucking thing -- in order to gain favor and increase the comfort right now. One fucking hour at a time. Perhaps even one moment at a time. So far, the harshest show is on, the coffee remains, and we see lots of time for whatever feels appropriate. The mental and emotional cost of riding this circle is the highest in life thus far. We don't even know how the tab has been paid until now. Causality must be destroyed or otherwise altered so as to allow for the shit to head in the opposite direction. Darkened dioramas, switchgear, something. A push toward those people rather than sitting and awaiting us being shoved by the same. We are willing to stop everything due to the cost. The cost has been far too high. We have paid, regardless. We are now out of compensation. We can pay no more. The guns are looking at you. This is a bad time."
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