June 10th, 2021 7:19am pdt Links have been deleted from a few of the older essays. Forced read ( words) "The removal of so many subjects is going to severely truncate the content here. Heh. Who cares? I was forced into such a decision. 6-6. The second pair of speakers is hooked up. New office improvements all over the place. I still need to thin out the crap, but at least the space is pleasant in the meantime. The outing yesterday served to reinforce my comfort here at home, as usual with those types of trips. We ran some errands and returned a short time later. I then took care of the routine and headed out to the garage for further progress. Not bad. Unfortunately, one of my favorite dinners in the evening went right on by without enjoyment. No taste again. I don't know what to do about that. Yesterday I tried to watch the gangsters in the afternoon as I worked on the speaker project, but alas my neighbor came over to have a powwow about current events. My work was derailed for a little while. It's no big deal, though. I have lots of time these days. The main reasoning behind the gangsters up there on the screens is not the drama or anything else surface-like. I have been watching the acting more than all other aspects, and in doing so I see more than I used to. I also have been seeing the transparency which does not appear all that often these days. The actors -- even those with lesser or short-lived roles -- are people working at their craft and shining due to talent. Off screen they are just people. Like me. A person. But who am I? I am going to continue thinking along these lines. Not only does the subject stir me to the core, but I have little else to speak about anymore. The other points of contention have been chopped off. I just never did anything because I was too afraid. As much as I realize that world and industry has changed, still the idea was far enough back that I could have possibly changed with it. I don't know because I just sat here, like always. A nobody. Oh, people who know me will go on a tirade about how important and wonderful I am as a person, but in the grand scheme I am invisible. Don't argue that one. Remember, I am not opinionated... I am correct. I need to avoid gushing. Between last night and first thing this morning, the gush is in there, waiting. Much effort is going to be required if I am to keep my mouth shut and hands off the letters. Oof. Hopefully nothing will force me into revealing more. On top of that empty feeling, I recall after growing up and being chaperoned around Nevada by an adult who had connections all over the casinos, my head blew up with the idea of 'being' someone. He was well-known everywhere and treated like a celebrity. I walked along next to him with my head held high as if I was the same. And by extension, I was treated very well, even considering my young age. I loved it. As far as I can recall, he and I were there at least once a month for several years. The club felt as a second home. Later in life when I was completely self-sufficient, the trips to those places served as reminders of the early years, yet I felt like nothing more than a number. Now? Worse. I remember strolling through and heading up to the room, after which I would often mutter, 'I want to do something with my life... I want to BE someone', after the same line memorized from a movie. Well, good luck. Here I sit three decades later and still nobody. Could have, would have, should have, did not. I am a vat of constant yearning. Walking the elaborate carpet patterns just a few months ago reinforced the thought of just how small I can be given the right circumstances. Avoiding the other subjects is not easy, although I could just sit here and gush about feeling like crap all the time. That will keep people away. Heh. Another option would be to go into all the trouble I'm having with two of the 'J' names. Last night I almost lost my shit. I'll have to try. No one needs that stuff. The issue is with the characters, not real people. You are likely already aware that my radar tends to point toward fantasy and away from reality. I have to be forced into appearing like a person who is content. Not good. Yesterday was a good reminder of just how closed off I have become. Half the time while my neighbor was here I was fidgeting and did not know what to do. I had much trouble trying to make small talk and catch up. My head continued to calculate what I wished to accomplish and anything short of that was uncomfortable. The interruption in the work was forced into reality by other people. I paced around a little, cracked a second beer to calm my nerves, and eventually pushed forward with the wiring despite having a guest in my space. In the end I wound up fine, though, and likely because I did not just remain seated with mixed up words. When his partner showed up and they went back next door to do some work on the motorcycle, my brain felt relief unlike anything else, except perhaps arriving home earlier after running errands. I was able to finish what I set out to do and then transition inside for the evening. Any work out there which gets anything off the floor is very good. In the future I'll have to remind myself that I made it through the situation unscathed. I do not enjoy being forced into a social event. Oof. The crappy feelings that arrived the other day are still apparent this morning. I know not what is going on inside, so the option I see is to take it easy and watch my diet and intake of booze. I have to be careful these days because time will not slow for any reason. Stress could be a factor. 1.225 million words (give or take) since the first titled entry in fifteen. Just a thought. I'll have to get up soon and care for the Sunday business before heading over to the home of the goddess to work on lamps. Lunch, too. She is very nice and cooks for us quite often. So sweet. The work today will be minimal, just the garbage and some dry cleaning. Maybe I can reorganize some crap after getting the big speakers off the floor. I don't know how I am going to feel, though, so a little at a time. The evening is always welcomed and peaceful. The inside of my head is much like the other day when I wrote in a bad mood, too. I am very close to giving up completely. Often my crappy mood results in wording here which would be better avoided or reworked for good measure. The last time was the fucking thong girl again, and before her was the young one and subject of an entry recently pulled from the site. I said too much. Bad mood equals loose tongue. Not good. When it comes to the thong girl, I understand she is older and the likelihood of her eyes on this site is slimmer than a piece of paper. Still, I cannot have too much flowing here no matter what is taking place to inflame my demeanor on a given day. The entire idea is just not good for anyone, least of all a person who does not know me at all. The bottom line is the subject enters my brain at least once per hour every fucking day, and then problems arise out of nowhere when just a moment prior I am fine. This morning, for example, there are thoughts which bled over from last night which are hindering my ability to carry forward with anything productive. I am preoccupied and there is quite literally nothing I can do about it. The point is though my head descends into nether regions and begins to froth badly, I cannot have the terms placed here. When it comes to the essay I had to remove, the wording was harsh because I felt the same as I do at this very moment. Crappy mood leads to me gushing when I should not, but at least I know it. That has to be worth something. My phone just told me I averaged two hours nine minutes of screen time per day last week. Is that bad? The norm? Whatever. My life has been reduced, remember? I am boiled down. In 'Rails III' I revealed there had been a third installment in my deep yearning some time ago. Well, I now must admit it was not as dramatic as previously described. I'm going to let that one go because retaining too much these days is not going to help anyone. The first was very long ago and I cannot recall her appearance aside from the color red. The second has become key, and relates to a recent passage within that fucking entry I had to remove. It's possible I hit the nail on the head, too. Unbelievable. Normally I do not make those kinds of connections without some help, but alas these late days have me closed off like never before (too many recent mistakes which led to terrible feelings and tremendous embarrassment). After considering that wondrous paragraph, I am even more inclined to believe it is true. Difficulty led me to care, and there is never enough. 6-7. As if I did not already know, yesterday closed the door on any possibility of doubt regarding the subject. I am still daydreaming more than sixteen hours later. The day was not without its problems, however. Tool box. Glue. Something. This morning confirmed everything. I'll have to take steps. Hours in the quiet and this space all to myself, thank Christ. I think I need it more today than in the last several months. There is much to consider right now. The morning will roll along and I will choose a direction soon, but for now I have to be mindful of the headspace and explore. The topic above which had been gleaned months ago has to take priority. Understanding such a tremendous need may help explain some of myself. The only downside is that I must keep the details under wraps for fear of backlash. The massive upside is this could explain much of the way I think along with what could be the most important relationship in my life... The juxtaposition of trauma and ethereal bliss. Borderline worship, really. Believe it. Divine worship. And keep in mind the desire has been forced out of me like pulling teeth. No choice. Worship... Forced worship. After last night and this morning, I really need this day to work to my advantage. The gray outside is helping to reinforce the idea of remaining inside for the duration, too. The garage and other projects will always be there, however sometimes I have to turn inward and try to understand myself. This realization is months old, but just yesterday there was a touch of conversation which relit the fire. If true, it could explain much of the last twenty-plus years of dreaming, obsessing, and yearning for something pretty fucking elusive in reality. A type of beauty impossible to describe. More images of radii would be directly related. Unfortunately, I will no longer display such things. Unnecessary. The information is much more important and today I need to collate everything. Right now I cannot overstate the quiet. Sometimes having this much of the day wide open is a problem I cannot solve. The morning is fine with cleaning and getting everything in order for the evening, but all too often I lose my way a short time later. Like right now. It's noon and I already ate, some laundry is finished, but still I do not know what to accomplish because nothing looks appealing. Oh, believe me there is plenty I could be working on. Plenty. Always something to do in support of the house. I have the gangsters on again and no idea of which way to turn. I even went to the grocery store a while ago for a few things. The actors are illuminating one of the facets again, too. One plus I see at the moment is no cocktail with the kitchen work this morning. We are out of one key ingredient in my favorite drink, so I had nothing. Plus, I avoided picking up more while at the market. All this time can be good or bad depending upon how I proceed. Today is not very good. I know not what to do, so here I sit... Again. 6-8. Eh... The cycle begins again. Morning, early. Yesterday I worked a little in the garage after complaining about a lack of drive, so I suppose not all is lost... Yet. I've stated before that this part of the morning feels and full of possibilities. Today is no different, either. I see the yard and the fog out there, everything I could accomplish today awaiting attention, and then behind me is the table with puzzles, models, and the bar. Which way will I turn? The cycle began the second I sat down with this machine and the coffee, and will be complete after I lie down tonight. In between? Who can say? I am still trying. Yesterday afternoon I decided to do some reading for her in favor of watching television. We went back a few months to a time when I was very fearful and threatened. That may have been the peak of the entire period, too. I'm not certain, but I had honestly forgotten much of the wording during the ensuing months. I recall being in a pretty bad mood for quite a while after the holidays, and the writing always reflects such things. Going back like that and reading aloud is a bit unnerving, to tell the truth. I am a little different now but cannot go into it because if you remember, I said goodbye to four topics of conversation just a few days ago. A touch here and there is fine, but I will not belabor the points because there is no longer a point. Heh. I've already said too much. The other aspect I noticed was my overwhelming gushing and professions of love for Jamie and her eyes. I really went off the deep end during the beginning of this year, and then realized I went even further at the end of the next entry. Jesus, I know her character on the show really stirs me into a froth sometimes, but fucking hell anyway. I had forgotten about going on so much. I didn't even write such mush about the girl at the pool, although the drive behind each of them is radically different. Like that woman over whom I nearly destroyed my life six years ago, the girl at the pool is now nothing more than a reference point for one aspect of my personality. She is the main frame of reference, really, and Jamie was a world away from that feeling. Well, whatever they are/were, I was taken aback yesterday at the sheer space dedicated to the beauty. Oof. Maybe going back and peering at some of the older stuff written during the pandemic can help me see from where I've come during the last year. I feel different now, as if everything has settled somehow, and I've fallen even deeper into this little world within the house than I has been last summer when I refrained from leaving as often as possible. I plan to continue reading to her in the coming days, so perhaps between those occasions I can look further back and make a few comparisons. God knows I gushed about a great many things last year, not the least of which is a pair of women whose names begin with the letter 'J'. I need to stop that kind of thing. The older stuff is like a window into the very beginning of my fall from on high. More exploration may be on tap for yours truly. And now the day is mine, for whatever that may be worth. Lots of quiet time for anything I feel or need to do. Part of the daily routine is already finished, too. Very good. If only my brain was in as good a condition. Going back to 'Grace-full' -- which has been removed from the site, possibly for good -- I hit a decent pace with trying to describe my feelings toward one aspect of the fairer sex. Not long after I became pretty damned angry at the foxes in general and spouted disdain for one reason or another. That has since subsided, yet the original analysis of my desire stands as one of the most stirring realizations in life. The beginning may have been the thong girl, soon after fading into the background. I did not think in the same terms for quite some time. There is late-season Jamie again. Damn. I need to find a way to reconcile the reasons for being so fucking drawn to her character. I do not understand as of yet. Anyway, the revealing that my desire possibly stemming from my own past could be very telling. All those images and the closeup radii over which I obsessed for years began to form into a theory, and then I discovered that on many an occasion I felt the reciprocal of pain while diving to my heart's content. If true, there will be both good and bad in the future. I pulled the entry regarding Grace for good reason, but honestly she was not the catalyst, only an example of the draw. I feel it coming right out of left field sometimes. The pain comes and goes on a whim and I am never prepared. I wish there was a way to know for certain that the pull toward such intimacy actually began long ago with a terrible event. Moreover, I need to know if so many parts of my psyche are indeed driven by the same. I honestly do not have anything beyond a clue. None of this is easy, or ever will be. That much is certain. Looking back to the beginning of February and finding more shit about a woman lying on her back with knees up did the job. Reinforcement. I stated that I was trying to understand the draw to those curves, and the model was there as an example, also nearly matching the manner in which the thong girl at the pool graced the lounger. Two such examples, honestly... One less clothed than the other. Both represent different periods in which I attempted to understand just why I felt such a strong need to please them (and myself). There is nothing wrong with such things, either, so shut the fuck up. The fact is between those two women and the entry regarding my past and the relationship they share, I believe my inkling is now slowly proving true. There was a discussion the other day, as well. At this point I have no reason to believe otherwise. It all makes too much sense to be discarded or disregarded. The level of power that entire situation holds over me is staggering. No denying it any longer. I may be a slave, but the cost is far outweighed by the solution. Damn. Unbelievable. So here I am after six-plus years of writing about something seemingly impossible to understand, but now there is a huge difference... I may know the answer. Holy crap. And it's not even surprising. So the afternoon is here, I have the gangsters up there on the television, and once again do not know what to do. My head has been awash since Sunday last and I can't seem to shake it. I guess I'll just sit here and stew. On the upside, while doing laundry in the garage I took some LEDs in hand and developed the lighting for my truck in its display case. Yesterday I mounted the Tiger Whiskey lighted sign just above, so whenever the mood strikes I can install yet another outlet to power both when the colored lighting is powered. Perhaps everything will be done by the 4th. I don't have many occasions to display all my work out there. Right now anything with the ability to keep my brain from heading south is a godsend. Wagons. 6-9. I guess what I need doesn't matter. I tried and failed. The ideas expressed to me years ago must be far more elusive than I had thought at the time. Here we are all this time later and I feel the same. One of the largest weights upon my head and there is nothing I can do about it. Either everything ends up destroyed, or not. I no longer have that European outlet, either, so I have to fucking sit here and think about it all the time with nary a chance of rising. Or being risen. Lifted. Any of it, really. I thought there were three, and for a while it was true. But the real number is two. WAS two. Whatever. Counting on anything is a waste of effort. Now? This is going to place a damper upon my morning and the day ahead. Whereas yesterday I accomplished much and still had time to watch the show in the afternoon, today I really don't give a shit about anything or anyone and will behave accordingly. Failed. Well, the one small upside is there are still subjects remaining which can be addressed here until they run out. And then there is Jamie up there, late sixth season. Doesn't help, but then again nothing does. I just like seeing her in the mid-twenties and frozen in time. If only I could have been stopped like that many years ago, too. Perhaps this shit hanging over my head would not have developed into a fucking unsolvable mess. Of all the bullshit I decided to eliminate from the site (meaning no more discussing certain aspects of life), I believe what is foremost on my mind should have been at the top of the list. Honestly, when my head is in such a condition, nothing else can be satisfying at all. Oh, of course I will still get things done and move onward and upward in some ways, but the truth is I am fucking heartbroken. Moreover, one of my biggest dreams has been chopped off this space and that was the road home. Nice, right? Maybe I don't matter enough for some parts of life to come to fruition solely for my own benefit. Just like Tony said. Believe it. Sitting here at this very moment with the gangsters and coffee means I have to fight on and off to keep my head straight. This is not fucking fair, and I don't give half a shit who is responsible. Leaving all the other subjects alive here was not a good option, hence they are gone. But one... That may have helped. Er... Maybe not. I don't fucking know anymore. Not fucking happy right now. Yesterday I attached LEDs to the underside of the top panel on the display case for my truck. I am going to try getting the wiring in order so the Tiger sign and the truck respond to the colored lighting commands. And maybe some dry cleaning. Or perhaps I will venture out for some staples at the market. The chicken from last night is going to be used in salads, so the store is on my list. I could go to the hardware, but so far I'm not sure if that store will be necessary for the day's work. All the while will be that battle in my head and the overarching disappointment in knowing that all my years of analysis have yielded nothing, and other people have learned even less. Maybe I don't speak enough, or maybe I do. I don't know, but the fact remains there has been enough there for a conclusion and I am fucking tired of trying to get it across. The projects today will be up against the front line of the war. If I can refrain from drinking before ten in the morning, the rest of the day may be tolerable. No promises. The way I feel right now? I'm glad I accomplished those little things yesterday because I am beginning to lose the caring completely. And here I am for the duration. Alone in the quiet save for the gangsters. Heh. I think I will focus upon tossing some of the crap I was going to donate. I'm sick of those things continuing to occupy real estate in my garage. Last Sunday I could have stuffed some in the gray can but didn't think of it until later. No worries, though, because when I set my mind to emptying useless shit from the house, it happens soon enough. More space. The feeling of being somewhat in control of the garage helps me to deal with having been forced into this situation. Better I focus upon the work than the alternative, which is speaking my mind. If I do that? Parts of my lifestyle could be permanently removed. I can't have that right now. The little things must endure if I am to get anywhere. So, shit out the door today, and then a repurpose of the space. 6-10. Wow. Just... Wow. Had I known everything would become a violent sum in my head during a quiet, somber period, perhaps the ability and drive to spare others would have taken flight. A big fucking ‘no' to that idea. Once again? Further into the forest. People wonder what that means because not a living soul has the first fucking clue. Well, they shall see very soon. Both feet in. Wait for it. I ordered another model because I need something to distract me from the current period. Media does not always work in that respect. After installing the last outlet for additional lighting in the garage, I made the decision to indeed toss some things in the trash later. I have little reason to wait for anything related to taxes. I just don't care. Minimization is the key right now, and if for nothing more than my own sanity. I was on the fence for a while, but the recent snap seems to have simplified everything in my head. I'm glad this took place because I had been floating along for quite some time with a distinct lack of direction. Oh, there are little accomplishments, but the bigger picture was always blurry. A little 'flip the fuck out' and I feel driven to make changes. Force may be key. The massive, unrelenting gradient where I was and where I need to be is ever-increasing. Forced to live in a manner inconsistent with the lifestyle required for happiness. Fucking forced. Cornered. Not good. I'll spit. 204. Yep, that again. The reason is I already know how all of this will turn out in the end. Exactly the same. The passage of time is going to ruin my life. Everything which kept me going is gone, and everything which pushes me further down is flourishing. Two zero five now. Both feet in, as forced by other people." This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
June 10th, 2021 7:19am pdt Links have been deleted from a few of the older essays. Forced read ( words) "The removal of so many subjects is going to severely truncate the content here. Heh. Who cares? I was forced into such a decision. 6-6. The second pair of speakers is hooked up. New office improvements all over the place. I still need to thin out the crap, but at least the space is pleasant in the meantime. The outing yesterday served to reinforce my comfort here at home, as usual with those types of trips. We ran some errands and returned a short time later. I then took care of the routine and headed out to the garage for further progress. Not bad. Unfortunately, one of my favorite dinners in the evening went right on by without enjoyment. No taste again. I don't know what to do about that. Yesterday I tried to watch the gangsters in the afternoon as I worked on the speaker project, but alas my neighbor came over to have a powwow about current events. My work was derailed for a little while. It's no big deal, though. I have lots of time these days. The main reasoning behind the gangsters up there on the screens is not the drama or anything else surface-like. I have been watching the acting more than all other aspects, and in doing so I see more than I used to. I also have been seeing the transparency which does not appear all that often these days. The actors -- even those with lesser or short-lived roles -- are people working at their craft and shining due to talent. Off screen they are just people. Like me. A person. But who am I? I am going to continue thinking along these lines. Not only does the subject stir me to the core, but I have little else to speak about anymore. The other points of contention have been chopped off. I just never did anything because I was too afraid. As much as I realize that world and industry has changed, still the idea was far enough back that I could have possibly changed with it. I don't know because I just sat here, like always. A nobody. Oh, people who know me will go on a tirade about how important and wonderful I am as a person, but in the grand scheme I am invisible. Don't argue that one. Remember, I am not opinionated... I am correct. I need to avoid gushing. Between last night and first thing this morning, the gush is in there, waiting. Much effort is going to be required if I am to keep my mouth shut and hands off the letters. Oof. Hopefully nothing will force me into revealing more. On top of that empty feeling, I recall after growing up and being chaperoned around Nevada by an adult who had connections all over the casinos, my head blew up with the idea of 'being' someone. He was well-known everywhere and treated like a celebrity. I walked along next to him with my head held high as if I was the same. And by extension, I was treated very well, even considering my young age. I loved it. As far as I can recall, he and I were there at least once a month for several years. The club felt as a second home. Later in life when I was completely self-sufficient, the trips to those places served as reminders of the early years, yet I felt like nothing more than a number. Now? Worse. I remember strolling through and heading up to the room, after which I would often mutter, 'I want to do something with my life... I want to BE someone', after the same line memorized from a movie. Well, good luck. Here I sit three decades later and still nobody. Could have, would have, should have, did not. I am a vat of constant yearning. Walking the elaborate carpet patterns just a few months ago reinforced the thought of just how small I can be given the right circumstances. Avoiding the other subjects is not easy, although I could just sit here and gush about feeling like crap all the time. That will keep people away. Heh. Another option would be to go into all the trouble I'm having with two of the 'J' names. Last night I almost lost my shit. I'll have to try. No one needs that stuff. The issue is with the characters, not real people. You are likely already aware that my radar tends to point toward fantasy and away from reality. I have to be forced into appearing like a person who is content. Not good. Yesterday was a good reminder of just how closed off I have become. Half the time while my neighbor was here I was fidgeting and did not know what to do. I had much trouble trying to make small talk and catch up. My head continued to calculate what I wished to accomplish and anything short of that was uncomfortable. The interruption in the work was forced into reality by other people. I paced around a little, cracked a second beer to calm my nerves, and eventually pushed forward with the wiring despite having a guest in my space. In the end I wound up fine, though, and likely because I did not just remain seated with mixed up words. When his partner showed up and they went back next door to do some work on the motorcycle, my brain felt relief unlike anything else, except perhaps arriving home earlier after running errands. I was able to finish what I set out to do and then transition inside for the evening. Any work out there which gets anything off the floor is very good. In the future I'll have to remind myself that I made it through the situation unscathed. I do not enjoy being forced into a social event. Oof. The crappy feelings that arrived the other day are still apparent this morning. I know not what is going on inside, so the option I see is to take it easy and watch my diet and intake of booze. I have to be careful these days because time will not slow for any reason. Stress could be a factor. 1.225 million words (give or take) since the first titled entry in fifteen. Just a thought. I'll have to get up soon and care for the Sunday business before heading over to the home of the goddess to work on lamps. Lunch, too. She is very nice and cooks for us quite often. So sweet. The work today will be minimal, just the garbage and some dry cleaning. Maybe I can reorganize some crap after getting the big speakers off the floor. I don't know how I am going to feel, though, so a little at a time. The evening is always welcomed and peaceful. The inside of my head is much like the other day when I wrote in a bad mood, too. I am very close to giving up completely. Often my crappy mood results in wording here which would be better avoided or reworked for good measure. The last time was the fucking thong girl again, and before her was the young one and subject of an entry recently pulled from the site. I said too much. Bad mood equals loose tongue. Not good. When it comes to the thong girl, I understand she is older and the likelihood of her eyes on this site is slimmer than a piece of paper. Still, I cannot have too much flowing here no matter what is taking place to inflame my demeanor on a given day. The entire idea is just not good for anyone, least of all a person who does not know me at all. The bottom line is the subject enters my brain at least once per hour every fucking day, and then problems arise out of nowhere when just a moment prior I am fine. This morning, for example, there are thoughts which bled over from last night which are hindering my ability to carry forward with anything productive. I am preoccupied and there is quite literally nothing I can do about it. The point is though my head descends into nether regions and begins to froth badly, I cannot have the terms placed here. When it comes to the essay I had to remove, the wording was harsh because I felt the same as I do at this very moment. Crappy mood leads to me gushing when I should not, but at least I know it. That has to be worth something. My phone just told me I averaged two hours nine minutes of screen time per day last week. Is that bad? The norm? Whatever. My life has been reduced, remember? I am boiled down. In 'Rails III' I revealed there had been a third installment in my deep yearning some time ago. Well, I now must admit it was not as dramatic as previously described. I'm going to let that one go because retaining too much these days is not going to help anyone. The first was very long ago and I cannot recall her appearance aside from the color red. The second has become key, and relates to a recent passage within that fucking entry I had to remove. It's possible I hit the nail on the head, too. Unbelievable. Normally I do not make those kinds of connections without some help, but alas these late days have me closed off like never before (too many recent mistakes which led to terrible feelings and tremendous embarrassment). After considering that wondrous paragraph, I am even more inclined to believe it is true. Difficulty led me to care, and there is never enough. 6-7. As if I did not already know, yesterday closed the door on any possibility of doubt regarding the subject. I am still daydreaming more than sixteen hours later. The day was not without its problems, however. Tool box. Glue. Something. This morning confirmed everything. I'll have to take steps. Hours in the quiet and this space all to myself, thank Christ. I think I need it more today than in the last several months. There is much to consider right now. The morning will roll along and I will choose a direction soon, but for now I have to be mindful of the headspace and explore. The topic above which had been gleaned months ago has to take priority. Understanding such a tremendous need may help explain some of myself. The only downside is that I must keep the details under wraps for fear of backlash. The massive upside is this could explain much of the way I think along with what could be the most important relationship in my life... The juxtaposition of trauma and ethereal bliss. Borderline worship, really. Believe it. Divine worship. And keep in mind the desire has been forced out of me like pulling teeth. No choice. Worship... Forced worship. After last night and this morning, I really need this day to work to my advantage. The gray outside is helping to reinforce the idea of remaining inside for the duration, too. The garage and other projects will always be there, however sometimes I have to turn inward and try to understand myself. This realization is months old, but just yesterday there was a touch of conversation which relit the fire. If true, it could explain much of the last twenty-plus years of dreaming, obsessing, and yearning for something pretty fucking elusive in reality. A type of beauty impossible to describe. More images of radii would be directly related. Unfortunately, I will no longer display such things. Unnecessary. The information is much more important and today I need to collate everything. Right now I cannot overstate the quiet. Sometimes having this much of the day wide open is a problem I cannot solve. The morning is fine with cleaning and getting everything in order for the evening, but all too often I lose my way a short time later. Like right now. It's noon and I already ate, some laundry is finished, but still I do not know what to accomplish because nothing looks appealing. Oh, believe me there is plenty I could be working on. Plenty. Always something to do in support of the house. I have the gangsters on again and no idea of which way to turn. I even went to the grocery store a while ago for a few things. The actors are illuminating one of the facets again, too. One plus I see at the moment is no cocktail with the kitchen work this morning. We are out of one key ingredient in my favorite drink, so I had nothing. Plus, I avoided picking up more while at the market. All this time can be good or bad depending upon how I proceed. Today is not very good. I know not what to do, so here I sit... Again. 6-8. Eh... The cycle begins again. Morning, early. Yesterday I worked a little in the garage after complaining about a lack of drive, so I suppose not all is lost... Yet. I've stated before that this part of the morning feels and full of possibilities. Today is no different, either. I see the yard and the fog out there, everything I could accomplish today awaiting attention, and then behind me is the table with puzzles, models, and the bar. Which way will I turn? The cycle began the second I sat down with this machine and the coffee, and will be complete after I lie down tonight. In between? Who can say? I am still trying. Yesterday afternoon I decided to do some reading for her in favor of watching television. We went back a few months to a time when I was very fearful and threatened. That may have been the peak of the entire period, too. I'm not certain, but I had honestly forgotten much of the wording during the ensuing months. I recall being in a pretty bad mood for quite a while after the holidays, and the writing always reflects such things. Going back like that and reading aloud is a bit unnerving, to tell the truth. I am a little different now but cannot go into it because if you remember, I said goodbye to four topics of conversation just a few days ago. A touch here and there is fine, but I will not belabor the points because there is no longer a point. Heh. I've already said too much. The other aspect I noticed was my overwhelming gushing and professions of love for Jamie and her eyes. I really went off the deep end during the beginning of this year, and then realized I went even further at the end of the next entry. Jesus, I know her character on the show really stirs me into a froth sometimes, but fucking hell anyway. I had forgotten about going on so much. I didn't even write such mush about the girl at the pool, although the drive behind each of them is radically different. Like that woman over whom I nearly destroyed my life six years ago, the girl at the pool is now nothing more than a reference point for one aspect of my personality. She is the main frame of reference, really, and Jamie was a world away from that feeling. Well, whatever they are/were, I was taken aback yesterday at the sheer space dedicated to the beauty. Oof. Maybe going back and peering at some of the older stuff written during the pandemic can help me see from where I've come during the last year. I feel different now, as if everything has settled somehow, and I've fallen even deeper into this little world within the house than I has been last summer when I refrained from leaving as often as possible. I plan to continue reading to her in the coming days, so perhaps between those occasions I can look further back and make a few comparisons. God knows I gushed about a great many things last year, not the least of which is a pair of women whose names begin with the letter 'J'. I need to stop that kind of thing. The older stuff is like a window into the very beginning of my fall from on high. More exploration may be on tap for yours truly. And now the day is mine, for whatever that may be worth. Lots of quiet time for anything I feel or need to do. Part of the daily routine is already finished, too. Very good. If only my brain was in as good a condition. Going back to 'Grace-full' -- which has been removed from the site, possibly for good -- I hit a decent pace with trying to describe my feelings toward one aspect of the fairer sex. Not long after I became pretty damned angry at the foxes in general and spouted disdain for one reason or another. That has since subsided, yet the original analysis of my desire stands as one of the most stirring realizations in life. The beginning may have been the thong girl, soon after fading into the background. I did not think in the same terms for quite some time. There is late-season Jamie again. Damn. I need to find a way to reconcile the reasons for being so fucking drawn to her character. I do not understand as of yet. Anyway, the revealing that my desire possibly stemming from my own past could be very telling. All those images and the closeup radii over which I obsessed for years began to form into a theory, and then I discovered that on many an occasion I felt the reciprocal of pain while diving to my heart's content. If true, there will be both good and bad in the future. I pulled the entry regarding Grace for good reason, but honestly she was not the catalyst, only an example of the draw. I feel it coming right out of left field sometimes. The pain comes and goes on a whim and I am never prepared. I wish there was a way to know for certain that the pull toward such intimacy actually began long ago with a terrible event. Moreover, I need to know if so many parts of my psyche are indeed driven by the same. I honestly do not have anything beyond a clue. None of this is easy, or ever will be. That much is certain. Looking back to the beginning of February and finding more shit about a woman lying on her back with knees up did the job. Reinforcement. I stated that I was trying to understand the draw to those curves, and the model was there as an example, also nearly matching the manner in which the thong girl at the pool graced the lounger. Two such examples, honestly... One less clothed than the other. Both represent different periods in which I attempted to understand just why I felt such a strong need to please them (and myself). There is nothing wrong with such things, either, so shut the fuck up. The fact is between those two women and the entry regarding my past and the relationship they share, I believe my inkling is now slowly proving true. There was a discussion the other day, as well. At this point I have no reason to believe otherwise. It all makes too much sense to be discarded or disregarded. The level of power that entire situation holds over me is staggering. No denying it any longer. I may be a slave, but the cost is far outweighed by the solution. Damn. Unbelievable. So here I am after six-plus years of writing about something seemingly impossible to understand, but now there is a huge difference... I may know the answer. Holy crap. And it's not even surprising. So the afternoon is here, I have the gangsters up there on the television, and once again do not know what to do. My head has been awash since Sunday last and I can't seem to shake it. I guess I'll just sit here and stew. On the upside, while doing laundry in the garage I took some LEDs in hand and developed the lighting for my truck in its display case. Yesterday I mounted the Tiger Whiskey lighted sign just above, so whenever the mood strikes I can install yet another outlet to power both when the colored lighting is powered. Perhaps everything will be done by the 4th. I don't have many occasions to display all my work out there. Right now anything with the ability to keep my brain from heading south is a godsend. Wagons. 6-9. I guess what I need doesn't matter. I tried and failed. The ideas expressed to me years ago must be far more elusive than I had thought at the time. Here we are all this time later and I feel the same. One of the largest weights upon my head and there is nothing I can do about it. Either everything ends up destroyed, or not. I no longer have that European outlet, either, so I have to fucking sit here and think about it all the time with nary a chance of rising. Or being risen. Lifted. Any of it, really. I thought there were three, and for a while it was true. But the real number is two. WAS two. Whatever. Counting on anything is a waste of effort. Now? This is going to place a damper upon my morning and the day ahead. Whereas yesterday I accomplished much and still had time to watch the show in the afternoon, today I really don't give a shit about anything or anyone and will behave accordingly. Failed. Well, the one small upside is there are still subjects remaining which can be addressed here until they run out. And then there is Jamie up there, late sixth season. Doesn't help, but then again nothing does. I just like seeing her in the mid-twenties and frozen in time. If only I could have been stopped like that many years ago, too. Perhaps this shit hanging over my head would not have developed into a fucking unsolvable mess. Of all the bullshit I decided to eliminate from the site (meaning no more discussing certain aspects of life), I believe what is foremost on my mind should have been at the top of the list. Honestly, when my head is in such a condition, nothing else can be satisfying at all. Oh, of course I will still get things done and move onward and upward in some ways, but the truth is I am fucking heartbroken. Moreover, one of my biggest dreams has been chopped off this space and that was the road home. Nice, right? Maybe I don't matter enough for some parts of life to come to fruition solely for my own benefit. Just like Tony said. Believe it. Sitting here at this very moment with the gangsters and coffee means I have to fight on and off to keep my head straight. This is not fucking fair, and I don't give half a shit who is responsible. Leaving all the other subjects alive here was not a good option, hence they are gone. But one... That may have helped. Er... Maybe not. I don't fucking know anymore. Not fucking happy right now. Yesterday I attached LEDs to the underside of the top panel on the display case for my truck. I am going to try getting the wiring in order so the Tiger sign and the truck respond to the colored lighting commands. And maybe some dry cleaning. Or perhaps I will venture out for some staples at the market. The chicken from last night is going to be used in salads, so the store is on my list. I could go to the hardware, but so far I'm not sure if that store will be necessary for the day's work. All the while will be that battle in my head and the overarching disappointment in knowing that all my years of analysis have yielded nothing, and other people have learned even less. Maybe I don't speak enough, or maybe I do. I don't know, but the fact remains there has been enough there for a conclusion and I am fucking tired of trying to get it across. The projects today will be up against the front line of the war. If I can refrain from drinking before ten in the morning, the rest of the day may be tolerable. No promises. The way I feel right now? I'm glad I accomplished those little things yesterday because I am beginning to lose the caring completely. And here I am for the duration. Alone in the quiet save for the gangsters. Heh. I think I will focus upon tossing some of the crap I was going to donate. I'm sick of those things continuing to occupy real estate in my garage. Last Sunday I could have stuffed some in the gray can but didn't think of it until later. No worries, though, because when I set my mind to emptying useless shit from the house, it happens soon enough. More space. The feeling of being somewhat in control of the garage helps me to deal with having been forced into this situation. Better I focus upon the work than the alternative, which is speaking my mind. If I do that? Parts of my lifestyle could be permanently removed. I can't have that right now. The little things must endure if I am to get anywhere. So, shit out the door today, and then a repurpose of the space. 6-10. Wow. Just... Wow. Had I known everything would become a violent sum in my head during a quiet, somber period, perhaps the ability and drive to spare others would have taken flight. A big fucking ‘no' to that idea. Once again? Further into the forest. People wonder what that means because not a living soul has the first fucking clue. Well, they shall see very soon. Both feet in. Wait for it. I ordered another model because I need something to distract me from the current period. Media does not always work in that respect. After installing the last outlet for additional lighting in the garage, I made the decision to indeed toss some things in the trash later. I have little reason to wait for anything related to taxes. I just don't care. Minimization is the key right now, and if for nothing more than my own sanity. I was on the fence for a while, but the recent snap seems to have simplified everything in my head. I'm glad this took place because I had been floating along for quite some time with a distinct lack of direction. Oh, there are little accomplishments, but the bigger picture was always blurry. A little 'flip the fuck out' and I feel driven to make changes. Force may be key. The massive, unrelenting gradient where I was and where I need to be is ever-increasing. Forced to live in a manner inconsistent with the lifestyle required for happiness. Fucking forced. Cornered. Not good. I'll spit. 204. Yep, that again. The reason is I already know how all of this will turn out in the end. Exactly the same. The passage of time is going to ruin my life. Everything which kept me going is gone, and everything which pushes me further down is flourishing. Two zero five now. Both feet in, as forced by other people."
June 10th, 2021 7:19am pdt
Links have been deleted from a few of the older essays.
Forced
read ( words)
"The removal of so many subjects is going to severely truncate the content here. Heh. Who cares? I was forced into such a decision. 6-6. The second pair of speakers is hooked up. New office improvements all over the place. I still need to thin out the crap, but at least the space is pleasant in the meantime. The outing yesterday served to reinforce my comfort here at home, as usual with those types of trips. We ran some errands and returned a short time later. I then took care of the routine and headed out to the garage for further progress. Not bad. Unfortunately, one of my favorite dinners in the evening went right on by without enjoyment. No taste again. I don't know what to do about that. Yesterday I tried to watch the gangsters in the afternoon as I worked on the speaker project, but alas my neighbor came over to have a powwow about current events. My work was derailed for a little while. It's no big deal, though. I have lots of time these days. The main reasoning behind the gangsters up there on the screens is not the drama or anything else surface-like. I have been watching the acting more than all other aspects, and in doing so I see more than I used to. I also have been seeing the transparency which does not appear all that often these days. The actors -- even those with lesser or short-lived roles -- are people working at their craft and shining due to talent. Off screen they are just people. Like me. A person. But who am I? I am going to continue thinking along these lines. Not only does the subject stir me to the core, but I have little else to speak about anymore. The other points of contention have been chopped off. I just never did anything because I was too afraid. As much as I realize that world and industry has changed, still the idea was far enough back that I could have possibly changed with it. I don't know because I just sat here, like always. A nobody. Oh, people who know me will go on a tirade about how important and wonderful I am as a person, but in the grand scheme I am invisible. Don't argue that one. Remember, I am not opinionated... I am correct. I need to avoid gushing. Between last night and first thing this morning, the gush is in there, waiting. Much effort is going to be required if I am to keep my mouth shut and hands off the letters. Oof. Hopefully nothing will force me into revealing more. On top of that empty feeling, I recall after growing up and being chaperoned around Nevada by an adult who had connections all over the casinos, my head blew up with the idea of 'being' someone. He was well-known everywhere and treated like a celebrity. I walked along next to him with my head held high as if I was the same. And by extension, I was treated very well, even considering my young age. I loved it. As far as I can recall, he and I were there at least once a month for several years. The club felt as a second home. Later in life when I was completely self-sufficient, the trips to those places served as reminders of the early years, yet I felt like nothing more than a number. Now? Worse. I remember strolling through and heading up to the room, after which I would often mutter, 'I want to do something with my life... I want to BE someone', after the same line memorized from a movie. Well, good luck. Here I sit three decades later and still nobody. Could have, would have, should have, did not. I am a vat of constant yearning. Walking the elaborate carpet patterns just a few months ago reinforced the thought of just how small I can be given the right circumstances.
Avoiding the other subjects is not easy, although I could just sit here and gush about feeling like crap all the time. That will keep people away. Heh. Another option would be to go into all the trouble I'm having with two of the 'J' names. Last night I almost lost my shit. I'll have to try. No one needs that stuff. The issue is with the characters, not real people. You are likely already aware that my radar tends to point toward fantasy and away from reality. I have to be forced into appearing like a person who is content. Not good. Yesterday was a good reminder of just how closed off I have become. Half the time while my neighbor was here I was fidgeting and did not know what to do. I had much trouble trying to make small talk and catch up. My head continued to calculate what I wished to accomplish and anything short of that was uncomfortable. The interruption in the work was forced into reality by other people. I paced around a little, cracked a second beer to calm my nerves, and eventually pushed forward with the wiring despite having a guest in my space. In the end I wound up fine, though, and likely because I did not just remain seated with mixed up words. When his partner showed up and they went back next door to do some work on the motorcycle, my brain felt relief unlike anything else, except perhaps arriving home earlier after running errands. I was able to finish what I set out to do and then transition inside for the evening. Any work out there which gets anything off the floor is very good. In the future I'll have to remind myself that I made it through the situation unscathed. I do not enjoy being forced into a social event. Oof. The crappy feelings that arrived the other day are still apparent this morning. I know not what is going on inside, so the option I see is to take it easy and watch my diet and intake of booze. I have to be careful these days because time will not slow for any reason. Stress could be a factor. 1.225 million words (give or take) since the first titled entry in fifteen. Just a thought. I'll have to get up soon and care for the Sunday business before heading over to the home of the goddess to work on lamps. Lunch, too. She is very nice and cooks for us quite often. So sweet. The work today will be minimal, just the garbage and some dry cleaning. Maybe I can reorganize some crap after getting the big speakers off the floor. I don't know how I am going to feel, though, so a little at a time. The evening is always welcomed and peaceful. The inside of my head is much like the other day when I wrote in a bad mood, too. I am very close to giving up completely. Often my crappy mood results in wording here which would be better avoided or reworked for good measure. The last time was the fucking thong girl again, and before her was the young one and subject of an entry recently pulled from the site. I said too much. Bad mood equals loose tongue. Not good. When it comes to the thong girl, I understand she is older and the likelihood of her eyes on this site is slimmer than a piece of paper. Still, I cannot have too much flowing here no matter what is taking place to inflame my demeanor on a given day. The entire idea is just not good for anyone, least of all a person who does not know me at all. The bottom line is the subject enters my brain at least once per hour every fucking day, and then problems arise out of nowhere when just a moment prior I am fine. This morning, for example, there are thoughts which bled over from last night which are hindering my ability to carry forward with anything productive. I am preoccupied and there is quite literally nothing I can do about it. The point is though my head descends into nether regions and begins to froth badly, I cannot have the terms placed here. When it comes to the essay I had to remove, the wording was harsh because I felt the same as I do at this very moment. Crappy mood leads to me gushing when I should not, but at least I know it. That has to be worth something. My phone just told me I averaged two hours nine minutes of screen time per day last week. Is that bad? The norm? Whatever. My life has been reduced, remember? I am boiled down. In 'Rails III' I revealed there had been a third installment in my deep yearning some time ago. Well, I now must admit it was not as dramatic as previously described. I'm going to let that one go because retaining too much these days is not going to help anyone. The first was very long ago and I cannot recall her appearance aside from the color red. The second has become key, and relates to a recent passage within that fucking entry I had to remove. It's possible I hit the nail on the head, too. Unbelievable. Normally I do not make those kinds of connections without some help, but alas these late days have me closed off like never before (too many recent mistakes which led to terrible feelings and tremendous embarrassment). After considering that wondrous paragraph, I am even more inclined to believe it is true. Difficulty led me to care, and there is never enough. 6-7. As if I did not already know, yesterday closed the door on any possibility of doubt regarding the subject. I am still daydreaming more than sixteen hours later. The day was not without its problems, however. Tool box. Glue. Something. This morning confirmed everything. I'll have to take steps. Hours in the quiet and this space all to myself, thank Christ. I think I need it more today than in the last several months. There is much to consider right now. The morning will roll along and I will choose a direction soon, but for now I have to be mindful of the headspace and explore. The topic above which had been gleaned months ago has to take priority. Understanding such a tremendous need may help explain some of myself. The only downside is that I must keep the details under wraps for fear of backlash. The massive upside is this could explain much of the way I think along with what could be the most important relationship in my life... The juxtaposition of trauma and ethereal bliss. Borderline worship, really. Believe it. Divine worship. And keep in mind the desire has been forced out of me like pulling teeth. No choice. Worship... Forced worship. After last night and this morning, I really need this day to work to my advantage. The gray outside is helping to reinforce the idea of remaining inside for the duration, too. The garage and other projects will always be there, however sometimes I have to turn inward and try to understand myself. This realization is months old, but just yesterday there was a touch of conversation which relit the fire. If true, it could explain much of the last twenty-plus years of dreaming, obsessing, and yearning for something pretty fucking elusive in reality. A type of beauty impossible to describe. More images of radii would be directly related. Unfortunately, I will no longer display such things. Unnecessary. The information is much more important and today I need to collate everything. Right now I cannot overstate the quiet.
Sometimes having this much of the day wide open is a problem I cannot solve. The morning is fine with cleaning and getting everything in order for the evening, but all too often I lose my way a short time later. Like right now. It's noon and I already ate, some laundry is finished, but still I do not know what to accomplish because nothing looks appealing. Oh, believe me there is plenty I could be working on. Plenty. Always something to do in support of the house. I have the gangsters on again and no idea of which way to turn. I even went to the grocery store a while ago for a few things. The actors are illuminating one of the facets again, too. One plus I see at the moment is no cocktail with the kitchen work this morning. We are out of one key ingredient in my favorite drink, so I had nothing. Plus, I avoided picking up more while at the market. All this time can be good or bad depending upon how I proceed. Today is not very good. I know not what to do, so here I sit... Again. 6-8. Eh... The cycle begins again. Morning, early. Yesterday I worked a little in the garage after complaining about a lack of drive, so I suppose not all is lost... Yet. I've stated before that this part of the morning feels and full of possibilities. Today is no different, either. I see the yard and the fog out there, everything I could accomplish today awaiting attention, and then behind me is the table with puzzles, models, and the bar. Which way will I turn? The cycle began the second I sat down with this machine and the coffee, and will be complete after I lie down tonight. In between? Who can say? I am still trying. Yesterday afternoon I decided to do some reading for her in favor of watching television. We went back a few months to a time when I was very fearful and threatened. That may have been the peak of the entire period, too. I'm not certain, but I had honestly forgotten much of the wording during the ensuing months. I recall being in a pretty bad mood for quite a while after the holidays, and the writing always reflects such things. Going back like that and reading aloud is a bit unnerving, to tell the truth. I am a little different now but cannot go into it because if you remember, I said goodbye to four topics of conversation just a few days ago. A touch here and there is fine, but I will not belabor the points because there is no longer a point. Heh. I've already said too much. The other aspect I noticed was my overwhelming gushing and professions of love for Jamie and her eyes. I really went off the deep end during the beginning of this year, and then realized I went even further at the end of the next entry. Jesus, I know her character on the show really stirs me into a froth sometimes, but fucking hell anyway. I had forgotten about going on so much. I didn't even write such mush about the girl at the pool, although the drive behind each of them is radically different. Like that woman over whom I nearly destroyed my life six years ago, the girl at the pool is now nothing more than a reference point for one aspect of my personality. She is the main frame of reference, really, and Jamie was a world away from that feeling. Well, whatever they are/were, I was taken aback yesterday at the sheer space dedicated to the beauty. Oof. Maybe going back and peering at some of the older stuff written during the pandemic can help me see from where I've come during the last year. I feel different now, as if everything has settled somehow, and I've fallen even deeper into this little world within the house than I has been last summer when I refrained from leaving as often as possible. I plan to continue reading to her in the coming days, so perhaps between those occasions I can look further back and make a few comparisons. God knows I gushed about a great many things last year, not the least of which is a pair of women whose names begin with the letter 'J'. I need to stop that kind of thing. The older stuff is like a window into the very beginning of my fall from on high. More exploration may be on tap for yours truly. And now the day is mine, for whatever that may be worth. Lots of quiet time for anything I feel or need to do. Part of the daily routine is already finished, too. Very good. If only my brain was in as good a condition. Going back to 'Grace-full' -- which has been removed from the site, possibly for good -- I hit a decent pace with trying to describe my feelings toward one aspect of the fairer sex. Not long after I became pretty damned angry at the foxes in general and spouted disdain for one reason or another. That has since subsided, yet the original analysis of my desire stands as one of the most stirring realizations in life. The beginning may have been the thong girl, soon after fading into the background. I did not think in the same terms for quite some time. There is late-season Jamie again. Damn. I need to find a way to reconcile the reasons for being so fucking drawn to her character. I do not understand as of yet. Anyway, the revealing that my desire possibly stemming from my own past could be very telling. All those images and the closeup radii over which I obsessed for years began to form into a theory, and then I discovered that on many an occasion I felt the reciprocal of pain while diving to my heart's content. If true, there will be both good and bad in the future. I pulled the entry regarding Grace for good reason, but honestly she was not the catalyst, only an example of the draw. I feel it coming right out of left field sometimes. The pain comes and goes on a whim and I am never prepared. I wish there was a way to know for certain that the pull toward such intimacy actually began long ago with a terrible event. Moreover, I need to know if so many parts of my psyche are indeed driven by the same. I honestly do not have anything beyond a clue. None of this is easy, or ever will be. That much is certain. Looking back to the beginning of February and finding more shit about a woman lying on her back with knees up did the job. Reinforcement. I stated that I was trying to understand the draw to those curves, and the model was there as an example, also nearly matching the manner in which the thong girl at the pool graced the lounger. Two such examples, honestly... One less clothed than the other. Both represent different periods in which I attempted to understand just why I felt such a strong need to please them (and myself). There is nothing wrong with such things, either, so shut the fuck up. The fact is between those two women and the entry regarding my past and the relationship they share, I believe my inkling is now slowly proving true. There was a discussion the other day, as well. At this point I have no reason to believe otherwise. It all makes too much sense to be discarded or disregarded. The level of power that entire situation holds over me is staggering. No denying it any longer. I may be a slave, but the cost is far outweighed by the solution. Damn. Unbelievable. So here I am after six-plus years of writing about something seemingly impossible to understand, but now there is a huge difference... I may know the answer. Holy crap. And it's not even surprising.
So the afternoon is here, I have the gangsters up there on the television, and once again do not know what to do. My head has been awash since Sunday last and I can't seem to shake it. I guess I'll just sit here and stew. On the upside, while doing laundry in the garage I took some LEDs in hand and developed the lighting for my truck in its display case. Yesterday I mounted the Tiger Whiskey lighted sign just above, so whenever the mood strikes I can install yet another outlet to power both when the colored lighting is powered. Perhaps everything will be done by the 4th. I don't have many occasions to display all my work out there. Right now anything with the ability to keep my brain from heading south is a godsend. Wagons. 6-9. I guess what I need doesn't matter. I tried and failed. The ideas expressed to me years ago must be far more elusive than I had thought at the time. Here we are all this time later and I feel the same. One of the largest weights upon my head and there is nothing I can do about it. Either everything ends up destroyed, or not. I no longer have that European outlet, either, so I have to fucking sit here and think about it all the time with nary a chance of rising. Or being risen. Lifted. Any of it, really. I thought there were three, and for a while it was true. But the real number is two. WAS two. Whatever. Counting on anything is a waste of effort. Now? This is going to place a damper upon my morning and the day ahead. Whereas yesterday I accomplished much and still had time to watch the show in the afternoon, today I really don't give a shit about anything or anyone and will behave accordingly. Failed. Well, the one small upside is there are still subjects remaining which can be addressed here until they run out. And then there is Jamie up there, late sixth season. Doesn't help, but then again nothing does. I just like seeing her in the mid-twenties and frozen in time. If only I could have been stopped like that many years ago, too. Perhaps this shit hanging over my head would not have developed into a fucking unsolvable mess. Of all the bullshit I decided to eliminate from the site (meaning no more discussing certain aspects of life), I believe what is foremost on my mind should have been at the top of the list. Honestly, when my head is in such a condition, nothing else can be satisfying at all. Oh, of course I will still get things done and move onward and upward in some ways, but the truth is I am fucking heartbroken. Moreover, one of my biggest dreams has been chopped off this space and that was the road home. Nice, right? Maybe I don't matter enough for some parts of life to come to fruition solely for my own benefit. Just like Tony said. Believe it. Sitting here at this very moment with the gangsters and coffee means I have to fight on and off to keep my head straight. This is not fucking fair, and I don't give half a shit who is responsible. Leaving all the other subjects alive here was not a good option, hence they are gone. But one... That may have helped. Er... Maybe not. I don't fucking know anymore. Not fucking happy right now. Yesterday I attached LEDs to the underside of the top panel on the display case for my truck. I am going to try getting the wiring in order so the Tiger sign and the truck respond to the colored lighting commands. And maybe some dry cleaning. Or perhaps I will venture out for some staples at the market. The chicken from last night is going to be used in salads, so the store is on my list. I could go to the hardware, but so far I'm not sure if that store will be necessary for the day's work. All the while will be that battle in my head and the overarching disappointment in knowing that all my years of analysis have yielded nothing, and other people have learned even less. Maybe I don't speak enough, or maybe I do. I don't know, but the fact remains there has been enough there for a conclusion and I am fucking tired of trying to get it across. The projects today will be up against the front line of the war. If I can refrain from drinking before ten in the morning, the rest of the day may be tolerable. No promises. The way I feel right now? I'm glad I accomplished those little things yesterday because I am beginning to lose the caring completely. And here I am for the duration. Alone in the quiet save for the gangsters. Heh. I think I will focus upon tossing some of the crap I was going to donate. I'm sick of those things continuing to occupy real estate in my garage. Last Sunday I could have stuffed some in the gray can but didn't think of it until later. No worries, though, because when I set my mind to emptying useless shit from the house, it happens soon enough. More space. The feeling of being somewhat in control of the garage helps me to deal with having been forced into this situation. Better I focus upon the work than the alternative, which is speaking my mind. If I do that? Parts of my lifestyle could be permanently removed. I can't have that right now. The little things must endure if I am to get anywhere. So, shit out the door today, and then a repurpose of the space. 6-10. Wow. Just... Wow. Had I known everything would become a violent sum in my head during a quiet, somber period, perhaps the ability and drive to spare others would have taken flight. A big fucking ‘no' to that idea. Once again? Further into the forest. People wonder what that means because not a living soul has the first fucking clue. Well, they shall see very soon. Both feet in. Wait for it. I ordered another model because I need something to distract me from the current period. Media does not always work in that respect. After installing the last outlet for additional lighting in the garage, I made the decision to indeed toss some things in the trash later. I have little reason to wait for anything related to taxes. I just don't care. Minimization is the key right now, and if for nothing more than my own sanity. I was on the fence for a while, but the recent snap seems to have simplified everything in my head. I'm glad this took place because I had been floating along for quite some time with a distinct lack of direction. Oh, there are little accomplishments, but the bigger picture was always blurry. A little 'flip the fuck out' and I feel driven to make changes. Force may be key. The massive, unrelenting gradient where I was and where I need to be is ever-increasing. Forced to live in a manner inconsistent with the lifestyle required for happiness. Fucking forced. Cornered. Not good. I'll spit. 204. Yep, that again. The reason is I already know how all of this will turn out in the end. Exactly the same. The passage of time is going to ruin my life. Everything which kept me going is gone, and everything which pushes me further down is flourishing. Two zero five now. Both feet in, as forced by other people."
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