Foxes Mature content No. 225 Published February 24th, 2021 8:03am pst read ( words) Past entries "2-22. We suppose the central preoccupation is going by the wayside. Too many failures, all those days of hoping and then being disappointed, and then the complete breakdown of ideas have all come to pass and left us without expectations. At least the fear is falling away, too. The catalyst? Anger, hatred, and the one slice we have left in defense of the current world... Uncaring. Both feet in the forest. A matter of time. You'll know it. After yesterday we are overjoyed to have time in front of us for considering everything. So far, the conclusion is to point the guns toward the beginning... The basics. Remember? All the way back, and this morning is the bleach box. Between seeing the path and knowing the forest is taking over, the present has become a holy time, to be sure. Never before have so many circumstances converged and forced us to see things both clearly and with the knowledge that our best defense is none at all. Odd? Perhaps. We shall see. In the background, the gears... All of them. Slide. Push. Relax. Blow. One more time for posterity. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. 7:01am. Almost time to get things ready, after which is the space to do what is necessary for furthering this defense of betrayal and pompous thinking. We shall wait, and melt within waiting. Put yourself to the fucking ground, God damn it. And here we are with the day ahead, along with Susanna's huge, beautiful eyes. Fucking hell, anyway. Blue is not our thing, however her facial expressions make all the difference. Anyway, lots to do today. Yesterday we had an infusion from the big store, so many items to put away and organize. Jesus fuck God damn all of it, that woman is stunning. Five-seven. Yep. We are going to have to kick into gear for a little while and accomplish chores in order to free up time for the visit and show later. Lots to do, although none is difficult. The listings may be pushed out a day in favor of other business. We also need to get the fucking table saw out the door along with the drill press. Right now empty space is our favorite. The office chair is already gone. Pause. 9:35am. Most of our routine is finished. Nothing else in mind this morning. No difficulty, no desire, no nothing. We are stable for the most part, and the remainder of the day is up in the air to this very moment. Some of the items from the big store have been stowed, too. This is good for us today. Progress, but nothing crazy. There must be time for thinking about our entire world. The fact that there is no desire within us is amazing if one considers the vulpine labia pictured below. Do you see the lines? We do, but they matter less and less with each passing hour. The realization of being led around like puppies by that most beautiful object and its thrall upon the planet is now causing great rancor. We need to do something about this. Hence the fucking thinking. This day will go down in history. Anger, the forest right there looming and welcoming us into the fold of the isolated, and the idea of leaving the others without recourse. This is good. One item is listed locally. We are hoping it will head out the door soon. More space to live, more space to think, and less to clean. We may list one for auction, although it will be tough. The foxes are always there. We can do nothing about them. We will stare, dream, whatever, but they will maintain distance as we dictate. Keep the pants up, close the eyes, leave us be. Please. Foxes are dangerous and have been in control since the dawn of time. We must separate ourselves from their lair, lest the devilish draw leads us by the nose forever. God created us; Satan created foxes. Foxes all down the page. Harmless, static, and gorgeous. The operative word is 'static'. Stay that way. We are finding difficulty in avoiding the mid-morning cocktail. It is comforting, delicious, and holds the power to calm our nerves. However, considering our increase in mass and footprint over the last roughly eight months, the heavy shit should be left alone until such time as it feels special again. The creamy drinks used to be attached to holidays, yet now have become commonplace. Not good. Removing any of the special feelings during the best time of year is removing joy. We do have the good beer in the small garage refrigerator again after a lengthy hiatus, meaning we can indulge in the industrial-type of drink if working out there. The last two months or so have seen a barren fridge. Not nice, but the beer was unavailable at the big store. Now that it has been restocked, more garage work is forthcoming. Disdain like never before. Had we seen the fucking light of day years ago we may have been elsewhere now... Some location lacking in the shit of society and the pull of everything evil. Instead, we ran to it all. Now look at us. Absolutely, completely, and in all other ways: Fucked. We loved the foxes too much. They must go. Goddamn the world, what did we do? We did this. And without the 'doing', let it happen. They rolled over us as if we were to be consumed. We happily dove in over and over and fucking over. No more, Butchy. Knives out, hands off. Be the problem and live the result. We will bury you. 10:00am. Caverns IV was only the beginning. Stop. 2-23, 6:23am. Coffee and the show. Cat to our right, thoughts all over the place. We cannot recall the dreams. Shelley was on the television last night, a role from four decades back. We loved her at the time, along with Liza, but no one else seemed to feel so strongly. We still do not understand. Beautiful, both of them. Shelley was very different than other actors. Always... Enamored with her enormous eyes. Still. Yesterday did not see as much accomplished as we would have preferred. A long visit, combined with a very early start at the routine meant we were pretty well tired of everything by lunch. After? Nothing was accomplished. The work in the morning was completed nicely. Some organization, too. The foxes followed along with us all morning. Always there, always looming, always waiting to strike us down through the appearance and longing, ever one step behind. Right fucking there and looking like a million bucks. Always there. We can do nothing about the situation. The foxes will win if we are not vigilant. A good portion of today will be spent in the kitchen. There will be foxes in the head, on the television, and all over the future of the moment. Vulpine. 6:45am. The pull has been caused by them, not us. The past is there like a cloaked figure bent upon our destruction, yet so detached that it seems to be fading through time. They do not fade, they multiply... The foxes. There is always at least one on our heels. Pushing and pulling, really. Information comes along and floors us, and then we strike in the only way we know how, and then the wagon loses a wheel, and then the fox smiles. Always smiling with that knowing expression telling us and everyone else just exactly who is in complete control. We need to think about the threat apparent, kill off the flash, and fill the short shot to allow the bridging to take place before everything falls down. Falls off? Maybe. Today feels open. Not every day is the same. Some come along and show us that we are so far from controlling everything necessary that there may not be any point in trying, while others appear available for the taking. Today may be the latter, although the next couple of hours will illuminate one path or the other. We will do whatever we can today. The foxes at bay, the time available, and the space to be us. Alone and left entirely to our devices. This is good. We must carry forward with the effort begun last weekend and move along the path which may lead to more control and less clutter. Today is important to the remainder of the week, as well. The cycle is always Tuesday-forward. The vulpine is trying to get inside, but we have shut it down for the morning. The more we push back, the more we can see the light on the other side of each and every situation. This is a positive unlike any other. One more large item taking up space in the garage disappeared yesterday, never to return. Another will be put up for grabs later this morning. We need the space to breathe. More and more out the door. Some will garner cash, while some just goes away. We don't need all this shit any longer. Years of little things piling up all over the place have stagnated our ability to see clearly into the future. Another step will hopefully follow soon after, and that is a switch from broadcast to streaming programming. We would like to pare down the available options as many just sit unused and are beginning to feel like a waste of money. When some item or service sits unchanged for years, it can become like second nature and eventually the realization is that part of life is being chewed to the bone. Well, it all has to go, one way or another. We are starting to force the issue because the vulpine influence has tainted everything. It is like a bad smell in the house and must go away forever. One step at a time. The fucking foxes are going to have to live with the results. Most of last week had us feeling the same, yet when it came time to make movements in certain directions the will dropped off and did not return. The morning appearances of possibilities did not bear fruit, nor did they pan in any direction. We traveled in large circles and returned to the beginning over and over. Each morning repeated, followed by the same in the afternoon, and then by a certain time we just gave up and sat, awaiting the evening. Not good. We will lose many years by continuing the same fucking situation over and over without a left turn. 7:16am and pause. And finished with getting the noise out the door so we can fucking think. There is much to cover this morning, from the pull to the selling to the organization and on to the minimization of so much. The foxes need to be placed on a shelf. The drill press needs to go away. The house needs care. The vulpine imagery all down the page represents unfound feelings and unrealized dreams. So much to do. They need to go. The foxes equal damage of a type we cannot begin to describe. 10:29am. We have the usual routine finished. The listings are next, although we do not believe there will be a cost for the drill press. That powerhouse was a gift and we intend to pay it forward. We thrashed the kitchen into shape. Hopefully nothing will trip up our intentions today. That would be very bad for the tripper. We need to move along as necessary for keeping the remaining body parts a measure outside the forest. Once inside, we can never exit. All will disappear. We will spout from there, our coldness, the disappointment, and worst of all, the anger. Not one individual wishes to hear it. We have to remain in this position for a while before allowing the trees to welcome our shit attitude. Second show in the background. Ambition still high. Issues are stark and piling atop each other in an attempt to destroy us, primarily driven by foxes and helping us to realize that life has become a chase without end. Recent stabs have proven the permanence of two and methodologies for overcoming that most damaging of circumstances have thus far failed. Not even a moment of peace. We cannot stand this, yet still any lashing must remain a study rather than procedure. We need to keep the emotion turned the hell off for the foreseeable future. Even the episode on at this very fucking moment runs as a knife bent upon our bleeding. Wonderful. And? Unacceptable. We may flip a switch after the next round of chores. But, what to do? Stop. 12:08pm. A few more things out of the way. We are nearing stagnant, which is never good. Thoughts result from downtime. We are going out to the new office soon and the work will become apparent. No dish cocktail today, as well. Yesterday the brain went bad after a nice, smooth modified Russian and we simply cannot have that again. At least, not with an upcoming visit. Alone is fine. One item has been listed for auction. We will list more as the days pass in order to minimize the shipping being overwhelming. So far, so good today. The pull is minimal. Exit. 2-24, 6:35am. Yesterday did not go as planned due to the influence and unending regard for the foxes. We still finished a few things, though. The new office shaped up a touch more. And now there is a film from the glow up there glowing. Damn. We see them fro time to time. Not only that period before the Midwest, but the after as well. The adventure of building our first surround system for the parents and then scoping the titles with the proper logo on the box to indicate the audio process. And here it is above us at this very moment. We can recall the disc, too. All those logos displayed along the bottom which identified everything which went into building the science of audio and those responsible for such encoding. The very sight of those packaged dreams was like a wonderland of discoveries, especially considering such emerging technology and the excitement over being even a tiny part of bringing film into the home. That was the only connection we had to the dream of the industry, and the timing was unreal. Another part of the glow... The industry. Everything is either going away or gone. We are doomed. Nearly unacceptable now. All of it. We are feeling quite a lot of the pressure this morning, and we are not referring to anything other than society. There can be too much at times and no matter which way we turn, another stab appears out of nowhere. Nothing has taken place this morning other than a touch of research for information's sake, yet still those little things which seem to be commonplace and meaningless to the mass continue to hurt. We know not why. Perhaps the solidifying of some aspects of life are unimportant to people anymore and brushed aside in favor of whatever else may be going on in their lives. We do not know. Even the research seems to cause trouble alongside any learning. We try. In these late days, the massive gap between those who care and those who take flight is widening. There seems to be nothing between. Gripped and frozen, limping and weak. As such, helpless. The foxes did this. A few other things here and there throughout the decades, although there were foxes during those periods as well. They are everywhere. Moreover, no matter which way we turn in search of understanding, none is apparent. Even those places where we found compassion way back during the Rollercoaster Girl period have gone somewhat awry of late. This is becoming more tedious than imagined at the outset of the year. Perhaps our inkling and musings regarding the second of January were correct... We should not be here now. But we are. Right on through those days as if everything was peachy. Nope. Not even close. We cannot expect a woman to understand, just as she cannot expect us to understand. Too fucking different. But we try anyway. The process has been going on since the dawn of human beings. It will never change. Locating anything helpful out there in the world is becoming more and more difficult. Add to that the very idea of our patience and willingness to believe there can be truth inside as diminishing like the waning sun in December, and the result is the distinct possibility that we have been doomed from the beginning. The path was there, lying in wait and illuminated for our following. Predetermined and planned. Was it? Tell us. There will be more of this later. No solutions mean the exposition is difficult, downtrodden. We need motivation yet it is rarer than the understanding. Whatever today may hold, we are still on the path which began Monday last. Not good. Angry, full of disdain, and nearing the den of opposites. That will be a day, we tell you. We will have to remain busy for most of the daylight hours or suffer the consequences. After the morning coffee, the new office and some music will likely be on tap, followed by quiet time. The afternoon is still up in the air, the evening will be the same as all the rest for eleven months (longer?). Time to do something. The sun is shining. Everything awaits attention, including our sordid, fearful mind. We must push upward and keep the foxes away. They are poison. She is out there, however we are not searching any longer. 'She' is not good for us. Nothing can be done about the fucking past, yet we still look up to the beauty of then and now. We are moving into other territory... Sans foxes." 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
Foxes Mature content No. 225 Published February 24th, 2021 8:03am pst read ( words) Past entries "2-22. We suppose the central preoccupation is going by the wayside. Too many failures, all those days of hoping and then being disappointed, and then the complete breakdown of ideas have all come to pass and left us without expectations. At least the fear is falling away, too. The catalyst? Anger, hatred, and the one slice we have left in defense of the current world... Uncaring. Both feet in the forest. A matter of time. You'll know it. After yesterday we are overjoyed to have time in front of us for considering everything. So far, the conclusion is to point the guns toward the beginning... The basics. Remember? All the way back, and this morning is the bleach box. Between seeing the path and knowing the forest is taking over, the present has become a holy time, to be sure. Never before have so many circumstances converged and forced us to see things both clearly and with the knowledge that our best defense is none at all. Odd? Perhaps. We shall see. In the background, the gears... All of them. Slide. Push. Relax. Blow. One more time for posterity. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. 7:01am. Almost time to get things ready, after which is the space to do what is necessary for furthering this defense of betrayal and pompous thinking. We shall wait, and melt within waiting. Put yourself to the fucking ground, God damn it. And here we are with the day ahead, along with Susanna's huge, beautiful eyes. Fucking hell, anyway. Blue is not our thing, however her facial expressions make all the difference. Anyway, lots to do today. Yesterday we had an infusion from the big store, so many items to put away and organize. Jesus fuck God damn all of it, that woman is stunning. Five-seven. Yep. We are going to have to kick into gear for a little while and accomplish chores in order to free up time for the visit and show later. Lots to do, although none is difficult. The listings may be pushed out a day in favor of other business. We also need to get the fucking table saw out the door along with the drill press. Right now empty space is our favorite. The office chair is already gone. Pause. 9:35am. Most of our routine is finished. Nothing else in mind this morning. No difficulty, no desire, no nothing. We are stable for the most part, and the remainder of the day is up in the air to this very moment. Some of the items from the big store have been stowed, too. This is good for us today. Progress, but nothing crazy. There must be time for thinking about our entire world. The fact that there is no desire within us is amazing if one considers the vulpine labia pictured below. Do you see the lines? We do, but they matter less and less with each passing hour. The realization of being led around like puppies by that most beautiful object and its thrall upon the planet is now causing great rancor. We need to do something about this. Hence the fucking thinking. This day will go down in history. Anger, the forest right there looming and welcoming us into the fold of the isolated, and the idea of leaving the others without recourse. This is good. One item is listed locally. We are hoping it will head out the door soon. More space to live, more space to think, and less to clean. We may list one for auction, although it will be tough. The foxes are always there. We can do nothing about them. We will stare, dream, whatever, but they will maintain distance as we dictate. Keep the pants up, close the eyes, leave us be. Please. Foxes are dangerous and have been in control since the dawn of time. We must separate ourselves from their lair, lest the devilish draw leads us by the nose forever. God created us; Satan created foxes. Foxes all down the page. Harmless, static, and gorgeous. The operative word is 'static'. Stay that way. We are finding difficulty in avoiding the mid-morning cocktail. It is comforting, delicious, and holds the power to calm our nerves. However, considering our increase in mass and footprint over the last roughly eight months, the heavy shit should be left alone until such time as it feels special again. The creamy drinks used to be attached to holidays, yet now have become commonplace. Not good. Removing any of the special feelings during the best time of year is removing joy. We do have the good beer in the small garage refrigerator again after a lengthy hiatus, meaning we can indulge in the industrial-type of drink if working out there. The last two months or so have seen a barren fridge. Not nice, but the beer was unavailable at the big store. Now that it has been restocked, more garage work is forthcoming. Disdain like never before. Had we seen the fucking light of day years ago we may have been elsewhere now... Some location lacking in the shit of society and the pull of everything evil. Instead, we ran to it all. Now look at us. Absolutely, completely, and in all other ways: Fucked. We loved the foxes too much. They must go. Goddamn the world, what did we do? We did this. And without the 'doing', let it happen. They rolled over us as if we were to be consumed. We happily dove in over and over and fucking over. No more, Butchy. Knives out, hands off. Be the problem and live the result. We will bury you. 10:00am. Caverns IV was only the beginning. Stop. 2-23, 6:23am. Coffee and the show. Cat to our right, thoughts all over the place. We cannot recall the dreams. Shelley was on the television last night, a role from four decades back. We loved her at the time, along with Liza, but no one else seemed to feel so strongly. We still do not understand. Beautiful, both of them. Shelley was very different than other actors. Always... Enamored with her enormous eyes. Still. Yesterday did not see as much accomplished as we would have preferred. A long visit, combined with a very early start at the routine meant we were pretty well tired of everything by lunch. After? Nothing was accomplished. The work in the morning was completed nicely. Some organization, too. The foxes followed along with us all morning. Always there, always looming, always waiting to strike us down through the appearance and longing, ever one step behind. Right fucking there and looking like a million bucks. Always there. We can do nothing about the situation. The foxes will win if we are not vigilant. A good portion of today will be spent in the kitchen. There will be foxes in the head, on the television, and all over the future of the moment. Vulpine. 6:45am. The pull has been caused by them, not us. The past is there like a cloaked figure bent upon our destruction, yet so detached that it seems to be fading through time. They do not fade, they multiply... The foxes. There is always at least one on our heels. Pushing and pulling, really. Information comes along and floors us, and then we strike in the only way we know how, and then the wagon loses a wheel, and then the fox smiles. Always smiling with that knowing expression telling us and everyone else just exactly who is in complete control. We need to think about the threat apparent, kill off the flash, and fill the short shot to allow the bridging to take place before everything falls down. Falls off? Maybe. Today feels open. Not every day is the same. Some come along and show us that we are so far from controlling everything necessary that there may not be any point in trying, while others appear available for the taking. Today may be the latter, although the next couple of hours will illuminate one path or the other. We will do whatever we can today. The foxes at bay, the time available, and the space to be us. Alone and left entirely to our devices. This is good. We must carry forward with the effort begun last weekend and move along the path which may lead to more control and less clutter. Today is important to the remainder of the week, as well. The cycle is always Tuesday-forward. The vulpine is trying to get inside, but we have shut it down for the morning. The more we push back, the more we can see the light on the other side of each and every situation. This is a positive unlike any other. One more large item taking up space in the garage disappeared yesterday, never to return. Another will be put up for grabs later this morning. We need the space to breathe. More and more out the door. Some will garner cash, while some just goes away. We don't need all this shit any longer. Years of little things piling up all over the place have stagnated our ability to see clearly into the future. Another step will hopefully follow soon after, and that is a switch from broadcast to streaming programming. We would like to pare down the available options as many just sit unused and are beginning to feel like a waste of money. When some item or service sits unchanged for years, it can become like second nature and eventually the realization is that part of life is being chewed to the bone. Well, it all has to go, one way or another. We are starting to force the issue because the vulpine influence has tainted everything. It is like a bad smell in the house and must go away forever. One step at a time. The fucking foxes are going to have to live with the results. Most of last week had us feeling the same, yet when it came time to make movements in certain directions the will dropped off and did not return. The morning appearances of possibilities did not bear fruit, nor did they pan in any direction. We traveled in large circles and returned to the beginning over and over. Each morning repeated, followed by the same in the afternoon, and then by a certain time we just gave up and sat, awaiting the evening. Not good. We will lose many years by continuing the same fucking situation over and over without a left turn. 7:16am and pause. And finished with getting the noise out the door so we can fucking think. There is much to cover this morning, from the pull to the selling to the organization and on to the minimization of so much. The foxes need to be placed on a shelf. The drill press needs to go away. The house needs care. The vulpine imagery all down the page represents unfound feelings and unrealized dreams. So much to do. They need to go. The foxes equal damage of a type we cannot begin to describe. 10:29am. We have the usual routine finished. The listings are next, although we do not believe there will be a cost for the drill press. That powerhouse was a gift and we intend to pay it forward. We thrashed the kitchen into shape. Hopefully nothing will trip up our intentions today. That would be very bad for the tripper. We need to move along as necessary for keeping the remaining body parts a measure outside the forest. Once inside, we can never exit. All will disappear. We will spout from there, our coldness, the disappointment, and worst of all, the anger. Not one individual wishes to hear it. We have to remain in this position for a while before allowing the trees to welcome our shit attitude. Second show in the background. Ambition still high. Issues are stark and piling atop each other in an attempt to destroy us, primarily driven by foxes and helping us to realize that life has become a chase without end. Recent stabs have proven the permanence of two and methodologies for overcoming that most damaging of circumstances have thus far failed. Not even a moment of peace. We cannot stand this, yet still any lashing must remain a study rather than procedure. We need to keep the emotion turned the hell off for the foreseeable future. Even the episode on at this very fucking moment runs as a knife bent upon our bleeding. Wonderful. And? Unacceptable. We may flip a switch after the next round of chores. But, what to do? Stop. 12:08pm. A few more things out of the way. We are nearing stagnant, which is never good. Thoughts result from downtime. We are going out to the new office soon and the work will become apparent. No dish cocktail today, as well. Yesterday the brain went bad after a nice, smooth modified Russian and we simply cannot have that again. At least, not with an upcoming visit. Alone is fine. One item has been listed for auction. We will list more as the days pass in order to minimize the shipping being overwhelming. So far, so good today. The pull is minimal. Exit. 2-24, 6:35am. Yesterday did not go as planned due to the influence and unending regard for the foxes. We still finished a few things, though. The new office shaped up a touch more. And now there is a film from the glow up there glowing. Damn. We see them fro time to time. Not only that period before the Midwest, but the after as well. The adventure of building our first surround system for the parents and then scoping the titles with the proper logo on the box to indicate the audio process. And here it is above us at this very moment. We can recall the disc, too. All those logos displayed along the bottom which identified everything which went into building the science of audio and those responsible for such encoding. The very sight of those packaged dreams was like a wonderland of discoveries, especially considering such emerging technology and the excitement over being even a tiny part of bringing film into the home. That was the only connection we had to the dream of the industry, and the timing was unreal. Another part of the glow... The industry. Everything is either going away or gone. We are doomed. Nearly unacceptable now. All of it. We are feeling quite a lot of the pressure this morning, and we are not referring to anything other than society. There can be too much at times and no matter which way we turn, another stab appears out of nowhere. Nothing has taken place this morning other than a touch of research for information's sake, yet still those little things which seem to be commonplace and meaningless to the mass continue to hurt. We know not why. Perhaps the solidifying of some aspects of life are unimportant to people anymore and brushed aside in favor of whatever else may be going on in their lives. We do not know. Even the research seems to cause trouble alongside any learning. We try. In these late days, the massive gap between those who care and those who take flight is widening. There seems to be nothing between. Gripped and frozen, limping and weak. As such, helpless. The foxes did this. A few other things here and there throughout the decades, although there were foxes during those periods as well. They are everywhere. Moreover, no matter which way we turn in search of understanding, none is apparent. Even those places where we found compassion way back during the Rollercoaster Girl period have gone somewhat awry of late. This is becoming more tedious than imagined at the outset of the year. Perhaps our inkling and musings regarding the second of January were correct... We should not be here now. But we are. Right on through those days as if everything was peachy. Nope. Not even close. We cannot expect a woman to understand, just as she cannot expect us to understand. Too fucking different. But we try anyway. The process has been going on since the dawn of human beings. It will never change. Locating anything helpful out there in the world is becoming more and more difficult. Add to that the very idea of our patience and willingness to believe there can be truth inside as diminishing like the waning sun in December, and the result is the distinct possibility that we have been doomed from the beginning. The path was there, lying in wait and illuminated for our following. Predetermined and planned. Was it? Tell us. There will be more of this later. No solutions mean the exposition is difficult, downtrodden. We need motivation yet it is rarer than the understanding. Whatever today may hold, we are still on the path which began Monday last. Not good. Angry, full of disdain, and nearing the den of opposites. That will be a day, we tell you. We will have to remain busy for most of the daylight hours or suffer the consequences. After the morning coffee, the new office and some music will likely be on tap, followed by quiet time. The afternoon is still up in the air, the evening will be the same as all the rest for eleven months (longer?). Time to do something. The sun is shining. Everything awaits attention, including our sordid, fearful mind. We must push upward and keep the foxes away. They are poison. She is out there, however we are not searching any longer. 'She' is not good for us. Nothing can be done about the fucking past, yet we still look up to the beauty of then and now. We are moving into other territory... Sans foxes."
Foxes
Mature content No. 225 Published February 24th, 2021 8:03am pst read ( words) Past entries
"2-22. We suppose the central preoccupation is going by the wayside. Too many failures, all those days of hoping and then being disappointed, and then the complete breakdown of ideas have all come to pass and left us without expectations. At least the fear is falling away, too. The catalyst? Anger, hatred, and the one slice we have left in defense of the current world... Uncaring. Both feet in the forest. A matter of time. You'll know it. After yesterday we are overjoyed to have time in front of us for considering everything. So far, the conclusion is to point the guns toward the beginning... The basics. Remember? All the way back, and this morning is the bleach box. Between seeing the path and knowing the forest is taking over, the present has become a holy time, to be sure. Never before have so many circumstances converged and forced us to see things both clearly and with the knowledge that our best defense is none at all. Odd? Perhaps. We shall see. In the background, the gears... All of them. Slide. Push. Relax. Blow. One more time for posterity. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. 7:01am. Almost time to get things ready, after which is the space to do what is necessary for furthering this defense of betrayal and pompous thinking. We shall wait, and melt within waiting. Put yourself to the fucking ground, God damn it. And here we are with the day ahead, along with Susanna's huge, beautiful eyes. Fucking hell, anyway. Blue is not our thing, however her facial expressions make all the difference. Anyway, lots to do today. Yesterday we had an infusion from the big store, so many items to put away and organize. Jesus fuck God damn all of it, that woman is stunning. Five-seven. Yep. We are going to have to kick into gear for a little while and accomplish chores in order to free up time for the visit and show later. Lots to do, although none is difficult. The listings may be pushed out a day in favor of other business. We also need to get the fucking table saw out the door along with the drill press. Right now empty space is our favorite. The office chair is already gone. Pause. 9:35am. Most of our routine is finished. Nothing else in mind this morning. No difficulty, no desire, no nothing. We are stable for the most part, and the remainder of the day is up in the air to this very moment. Some of the items from the big store have been stowed, too. This is good for us today. Progress, but nothing crazy. There must be time for thinking about our entire world. The fact that there is no desire within us is amazing if one considers the vulpine labia pictured below. Do you see the lines? We do, but they matter less and less with each passing hour. The realization of being led around like puppies by that most beautiful object and its thrall upon the planet is now causing great rancor. We need to do something about this. Hence the fucking thinking. This day will go down in history. Anger, the forest right there looming and welcoming us into the fold of the isolated, and the idea of leaving the others without recourse. This is good. One item is listed locally. We are hoping it will head out the door soon. More space to live, more space to think, and less to clean. We may list one for auction, although it will be tough.
The foxes are always there. We can do nothing about them. We will stare, dream, whatever, but they will maintain distance as we dictate. Keep the pants up, close the eyes, leave us be. Please. Foxes are dangerous and have been in control since the dawn of time. We must separate ourselves from their lair, lest the devilish draw leads us by the nose forever. God created us; Satan created foxes. Foxes all down the page. Harmless, static, and gorgeous. The operative word is 'static'. Stay that way. We are finding difficulty in avoiding the mid-morning cocktail. It is comforting, delicious, and holds the power to calm our nerves. However, considering our increase in mass and footprint over the last roughly eight months, the heavy shit should be left alone until such time as it feels special again. The creamy drinks used to be attached to holidays, yet now have become commonplace. Not good. Removing any of the special feelings during the best time of year is removing joy. We do have the good beer in the small garage refrigerator again after a lengthy hiatus, meaning we can indulge in the industrial-type of drink if working out there. The last two months or so have seen a barren fridge. Not nice, but the beer was unavailable at the big store. Now that it has been restocked, more garage work is forthcoming. Disdain like never before. Had we seen the fucking light of day years ago we may have been elsewhere now... Some location lacking in the shit of society and the pull of everything evil. Instead, we ran to it all. Now look at us. Absolutely, completely, and in all other ways: Fucked. We loved the foxes too much. They must go. Goddamn the world, what did we do? We did this. And without the 'doing', let it happen. They rolled over us as if we were to be consumed. We happily dove in over and over and fucking over. No more, Butchy. Knives out, hands off. Be the problem and live the result. We will bury you. 10:00am. Caverns IV was only the beginning. Stop. 2-23, 6:23am. Coffee and the show. Cat to our right, thoughts all over the place. We cannot recall the dreams. Shelley was on the television last night, a role from four decades back. We loved her at the time, along with Liza, but no one else seemed to feel so strongly. We still do not understand. Beautiful, both of them. Shelley was very different than other actors. Always... Enamored with her enormous eyes. Still. Yesterday did not see as much accomplished as we would have preferred. A long visit, combined with a very early start at the routine meant we were pretty well tired of everything by lunch. After? Nothing was accomplished. The work in the morning was completed nicely. Some organization, too. The foxes followed along with us all morning. Always there, always looming, always waiting to strike us down through the appearance and longing, ever one step behind. Right fucking there and looking like a million bucks. Always there. We can do nothing about the situation. The foxes will win if we are not vigilant. A good portion of today will be spent in the kitchen. There will be foxes in the head, on the television, and all over the future of the moment. Vulpine.
6:45am. The pull has been caused by them, not us. The past is there like a cloaked figure bent upon our destruction, yet so detached that it seems to be fading through time. They do not fade, they multiply... The foxes. There is always at least one on our heels. Pushing and pulling, really. Information comes along and floors us, and then we strike in the only way we know how, and then the wagon loses a wheel, and then the fox smiles. Always smiling with that knowing expression telling us and everyone else just exactly who is in complete control. We need to think about the threat apparent, kill off the flash, and fill the short shot to allow the bridging to take place before everything falls down. Falls off? Maybe. Today feels open. Not every day is the same. Some come along and show us that we are so far from controlling everything necessary that there may not be any point in trying, while others appear available for the taking. Today may be the latter, although the next couple of hours will illuminate one path or the other. We will do whatever we can today. The foxes at bay, the time available, and the space to be us. Alone and left entirely to our devices. This is good. We must carry forward with the effort begun last weekend and move along the path which may lead to more control and less clutter. Today is important to the remainder of the week, as well. The cycle is always Tuesday-forward. The vulpine is trying to get inside, but we have shut it down for the morning. The more we push back, the more we can see the light on the other side of each and every situation. This is a positive unlike any other. One more large item taking up space in the garage disappeared yesterday, never to return. Another will be put up for grabs later this morning. We need the space to breathe. More and more out the door. Some will garner cash, while some just goes away. We don't need all this shit any longer. Years of little things piling up all over the place have stagnated our ability to see clearly into the future. Another step will hopefully follow soon after, and that is a switch from broadcast to streaming programming. We would like to pare down the available options as many just sit unused and are beginning to feel like a waste of money. When some item or service sits unchanged for years, it can become like second nature and eventually the realization is that part of life is being chewed to the bone. Well, it all has to go, one way or another. We are starting to force the issue because the vulpine influence has tainted everything. It is like a bad smell in the house and must go away forever. One step at a time. The fucking foxes are going to have to live with the results. Most of last week had us feeling the same, yet when it came time to make movements in certain directions the will dropped off and did not return. The morning appearances of possibilities did not bear fruit, nor did they pan in any direction. We traveled in large circles and returned to the beginning over and over. Each morning repeated, followed by the same in the afternoon, and then by a certain time we just gave up and sat, awaiting the evening. Not good. We will lose many years by continuing the same fucking situation over and over without a left turn. 7:16am and pause. And finished with getting the noise out the door so we can fucking think. There is much to cover this morning, from the pull to the selling to the organization and on to the minimization of so much. The foxes need to be placed on a shelf. The drill press needs to go away. The house needs care. The vulpine imagery all down the page represents unfound feelings and unrealized dreams. So much to do. They need to go. The foxes equal damage of a type we cannot begin to describe.
10:29am. We have the usual routine finished. The listings are next, although we do not believe there will be a cost for the drill press. That powerhouse was a gift and we intend to pay it forward. We thrashed the kitchen into shape. Hopefully nothing will trip up our intentions today. That would be very bad for the tripper. We need to move along as necessary for keeping the remaining body parts a measure outside the forest. Once inside, we can never exit. All will disappear. We will spout from there, our coldness, the disappointment, and worst of all, the anger. Not one individual wishes to hear it. We have to remain in this position for a while before allowing the trees to welcome our shit attitude. Second show in the background. Ambition still high. Issues are stark and piling atop each other in an attempt to destroy us, primarily driven by foxes and helping us to realize that life has become a chase without end. Recent stabs have proven the permanence of two and methodologies for overcoming that most damaging of circumstances have thus far failed. Not even a moment of peace. We cannot stand this, yet still any lashing must remain a study rather than procedure. We need to keep the emotion turned the hell off for the foreseeable future. Even the episode on at this very fucking moment runs as a knife bent upon our bleeding. Wonderful. And? Unacceptable. We may flip a switch after the next round of chores. But, what to do? Stop. 12:08pm. A few more things out of the way. We are nearing stagnant, which is never good. Thoughts result from downtime. We are going out to the new office soon and the work will become apparent. No dish cocktail today, as well. Yesterday the brain went bad after a nice, smooth modified Russian and we simply cannot have that again. At least, not with an upcoming visit. Alone is fine. One item has been listed for auction. We will list more as the days pass in order to minimize the shipping being overwhelming. So far, so good today. The pull is minimal. Exit. 2-24, 6:35am. Yesterday did not go as planned due to the influence and unending regard for the foxes. We still finished a few things, though. The new office shaped up a touch more. And now there is a film from the glow up there glowing. Damn. We see them fro time to time. Not only that period before the Midwest, but the after as well. The adventure of building our first surround system for the parents and then scoping the titles with the proper logo on the box to indicate the audio process. And here it is above us at this very moment. We can recall the disc, too. All those logos displayed along the bottom which identified everything which went into building the science of audio and those responsible for such encoding. The very sight of those packaged dreams was like a wonderland of discoveries, especially considering such emerging technology and the excitement over being even a tiny part of bringing film into the home. That was the only connection we had to the dream of the industry, and the timing was unreal. Another part of the glow... The industry. Everything is either going away or gone. We are doomed.
Nearly unacceptable now. All of it. We are feeling quite a lot of the pressure this morning, and we are not referring to anything other than society. There can be too much at times and no matter which way we turn, another stab appears out of nowhere. Nothing has taken place this morning other than a touch of research for information's sake, yet still those little things which seem to be commonplace and meaningless to the mass continue to hurt. We know not why. Perhaps the solidifying of some aspects of life are unimportant to people anymore and brushed aside in favor of whatever else may be going on in their lives. We do not know. Even the research seems to cause trouble alongside any learning. We try. In these late days, the massive gap between those who care and those who take flight is widening. There seems to be nothing between. Gripped and frozen, limping and weak. As such, helpless. The foxes did this. A few other things here and there throughout the decades, although there were foxes during those periods as well. They are everywhere. Moreover, no matter which way we turn in search of understanding, none is apparent. Even those places where we found compassion way back during the Rollercoaster Girl period have gone somewhat awry of late. This is becoming more tedious than imagined at the outset of the year. Perhaps our inkling and musings regarding the second of January were correct... We should not be here now. But we are. Right on through those days as if everything was peachy. Nope. Not even close. We cannot expect a woman to understand, just as she cannot expect us to understand. Too fucking different. But we try anyway. The process has been going on since the dawn of human beings. It will never change. Locating anything helpful out there in the world is becoming more and more difficult. Add to that the very idea of our patience and willingness to believe there can be truth inside as diminishing like the waning sun in December, and the result is the distinct possibility that we have been doomed from the beginning. The path was there, lying in wait and illuminated for our following. Predetermined and planned. Was it? Tell us. There will be more of this later. No solutions mean the exposition is difficult, downtrodden. We need motivation yet it is rarer than the understanding. Whatever today may hold, we are still on the path which began Monday last. Not good. Angry, full of disdain, and nearing the den of opposites. That will be a day, we tell you. We will have to remain busy for most of the daylight hours or suffer the consequences. After the morning coffee, the new office and some music will likely be on tap, followed by quiet time. The afternoon is still up in the air, the evening will be the same as all the rest for eleven months (longer?). Time to do something. The sun is shining. Everything awaits attention, including our sordid, fearful mind. We must push upward and keep the foxes away. They are poison. She is out there, however we are not searching any longer. 'She' is not good for us. Nothing can be done about the fucking past, yet we still look up to the beauty of then and now. We are moving into other territory... Sans foxes."
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