The Hammer

"Today is the first day. After all which has transpired and shot me in the fucking head since Saturday last, I decided to move forward with making things more difficult for those around me, and only for the simple reason that I must fold part of the sheet of paper hiding my face for a time and shove it in a drawer. If this is unclear, I really don't care. Today is the beginning. Yesterday I asked about a barbecue this afternoon and never received an answer, so I made the decision myself. Fuck it. The idea was a test and became a symbol representing the current period with all of the pitfalls therein. I did it not for the obvious reasons, only to confirm what I have been considering for months. As I suspected, that confirmation arrived quickly. My behavior cannot change too soon, though, or the effects will be far too pronounced and cause problems. I can't have that right now. Baby steps toward the trees.

In a bit I will dress and open the garage for business. A few things done and a while later will be the mood. Wait for it. Being isolated in my thinking has caused this. No one gets it. Not a bit. Fuck everyone. The hammer is in hand. By the time the site reaches 1.3 million words, the damage will be done. So will the site.

Next sound you hear. 195. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday?
Next sound you hear. Just wonder.

The end of the last entry summed up my state of mind these days because the facts continue to worsen. I hate this shit. I thought I knew who I was for fifty fucking years. Now I have no idea and the feeling is eating away my insides like a parasite. Combined with physical issues and the idea of being alone in my thought processes, this is not good by any stretch of the word. So, lacking other options or solutions, the anger is going to rule the roost from here on in. I will do whatever I can to keep it right there in front of me and just short of pushing others away. At the limit, always, and from here on in. I've had it with this shit. You know the reasons so I will stop right here. Understand that anger is the reason for the snow.

Carmela just threatened Mr. Wegler. It must be nice to know that she can make a person disappear with nothing more than a sentence to the right individual. I wish I had that power. Eh... Fiction.

Tony's fiancée has huge eyes. And David Strathairn is fucking awesome, always.

A bad mood means shit goes out the door. I'll discard whatever we were going to donate because I want the empty space and don't care. I will still try to donate the food, though. People may need it, although if the food bank is a pain in the ass, all that crap will be tossed, as well. I don't care. Streamlining is much easier when I am angry. Oh, I'll still make nice during the barbecue this afternoon, but know that underneath is the fucking hammer on a hair-trigger to swing. I've had it up to my eyes with the problems, but at least I can be productive.

194. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday?

Sunday holds business and a visit over there. Last night we barbecued some chicken and played a game of cards from my past. The entire afternoon and evening were quite enjoyable. I was pleasant through all of it. What a revelation that I can cover so much, seemingly so easily. Is that strength? Or just bullshit? Eh... None of it matters anyway. The fact is the event was my idea and it worked for everyone, which is rare these days. My handling of two disparate personalities and ensuring both had a nice time did not require as much effort as I had thought beforehand. The mood ran itself and the evening moved along just fine. I saw everything. Still, the weight was apparent and I had to constantly think of each word and moment as if a slip could have wrecked the world. Inside my head was much more than could be allowed to roll off my tongue.

Just wonder.

250 published entries beginning with 'The Air' which dates back nearly six and a half years. 125000 lines. A few years ago I had no idea there would be so much crap that I would become overly compelled to write every day. I used to write on weekends and the entries were shorter. Maybe I just like the sound of the keys. Or perhaps the compulsion has become overwhelming because I cannot seek therapy any longer. Well, commenting upon either the motivation or resulting mood is no longer necessary for anyone, least of all me. The fact is I have used this space for a sounding board for my rampant thought processes and after all this time have pretty much covered everything in spades. There is very little to say now.

'There is no outmost secret if one believes that all is basically secret.'
-- Antoine Faivre

I wrote an essay entitled 'A Line in the Sand', but this is the line. That was just a fleeting mood. The line is moving behind me, the forest just ahead. Hammer.

My dissatisfaction has been questioned, as has the manner in which I view society. Well, there are many different people out there in the world, some of which have hurt me and caused chronic problems beyond comprehension and effectively removed a facet of human life that I cannot get back. In addition, those closest to me created a fog of bullshit the likes of which I could not have imagined. Those two situations have jaded me in the extreme, and I will never cease the hatred for where I am right now as a result. The only option is to cut off any possible future options (as they have been ripped from me) and remain right fucking here. I cannot stress those facts enough, but apparently I have not gotten the point across clearly. I will have to tighten up this entry. Above, I mentioned today is Sunday and the business upon which I generally comment. Well, no more of that. Just like the issues and the trains, the subject has been chopped. Soon there will be nothing to place here aside from images, and there is little point in doing so. I knew things would go this way. I knew it by the middle of last year. Everything turns to shit, even my site. Oh, and the little story in blue which recently popped up? That was going to be a big deal, and I will reveal right fucking now that it was to bridge the content of these essays and the fiction I had been writing last year. It was all going to come together and be amazing and stirring. Well, fucking forget it. The words will be on paper and reside nowhere other than in my office safe. Gone. Just wonder. I am going to place all that material with my other fiction which began two and a half decades back when I wanted to be a writer. No one will read it. Period.

193. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday?

I have been sleeping fine and do not know why. Months ago I would wake up in the early morning to use the bathroom and then remain awake. There are a few entries from last year in which I had been here typing in front of four in the morning. Lately? None of that. If I do awaken, right back to sleep. Exciting, right? Sleep? Patterns? Does anyone give a shit? The plus is less worry about how I am doing physically. Honestly, the mention is only to reinforce the idea that my thinking has never been clearer, especially with regard to people around me and those outside the door in front of me. I know where I stand and I know where they stand. I will explore a little of it, though, because there is too much flying around for me to keep the fingers off this keyboard. But don't worry... There will be no more, and soon.

This is the first morning since the hammer became necessary and in-hand. Not the knives... The hammer. Between Saturday last and this moment, I have been collating and considering all that I can do while alone, and here I sit at the outset of the first alone and peaceful time -- likely the absolute necessity right now -- and a feeling I cannot deny. In less than an hour I will be able to embrace the control over my atmosphere and leave the world out of my life for a little while. I just hope the time does not fly by too quickly. Daydreaming for two-plus days about being alone has caused me to become a little impatient. Now that the time is at hand, I feel more relaxed. My space, my agenda.

7:59am and I made it to the quiet. Now what?

'Accept the fact that you're second rate
Life is easy for you
It's all served up on a gold plated plate
Don't even have to talk to you
Your face is normal; that's the way you were bred
And that's the way it's going to stay in your head...
It's firmly nailed to your TV channel
But someone else's fingers on the control panel.'

My work and then the model. That is that. In and around? More consideration of where I am going and why. Once again there was a rub yesterday which I cannot seem to reconcile. At least everything is pointing inward lately so I can reduce myself to the necessities without issue. And speaking of the word 'issue', the decision I made to cease writing about those four is actually helping. Sometimes I focus so much that I actually make myself feel worse than before typing. And I don't care now, anyway. Other people are not going to cause distress as much because like the other night, I will slam pretty badly. Harsh. And then one of two outcomes. Either the end of communication or others simply shutting their mouths when I say something. Time will tell, but the way I have felt lately is not going to allow much pleasant behavior. This day's activities will be primary, yet all the while in the background I will be planning. Believe it.

I am losing interest in what people are saying and am fairly close to losing patience with whatever may be inside. Ever since learning and realizing that being alone is the most comfortable position in existence, everything else seems to be falling away, plus the blood is dictating some of my mood because there is no getting around it. Just yesterday was another conversation -- partially revealing that there are others out there in the world having been the recipients of similar blows related to the past -- which began to eat away at my patience and nearly left me unwilling to communicate further. And on the heels of such a subject? The other one which turns my stomach all too often. The feelings there led all over the place shortly after. And then I had the idea of clamming up but it is not easy sometimes. I began to turn around mentally, though. When I hear voices, my nerves respond and I begin to fidget uncontrollably. There is no stopping it, yet afterward when I am in the quiet everything goes away and my head can relax. This is not fucking good by any stretch, although I saw it coming months ago. The only voices I wish to hear are those emanating from the television. I have control over those. Control... Something I did not consider very often prior to the pandemic, but now cannot live without. And it keeps expanding. Hence the topic of this paragraph.

I have no desire to hear another person speak. Doesn't matter who that person may be. This is radically different than last year, and something unusual in the eyes of other people. Oh, there are the occasional glances with needing to be alone or something similar, yet on a larger scale the idea does not compute. This will either transition into a disastrous situation or simply become funny. Either is fine.

192. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday?

I don't know, but I shall try to rise above the loss that was the previous day. Right now the day feels wide open and I should do my best to embrace the upcoming quiet and the mass of time ahead. I did not see as much yesterday at this hour. For some reason, today feels more open to possibility.

Unfortunately for others, some aspects of life and parts of me are not longer entertaining possibilities. Too bad, but not for me. The issue of my sitting here exploring has become too much a point of contention and the downside is the fact that I am willing to keep everything to myself very soon. Don't worry, I don't feel all that important. I mean that veiling the site forever or possibly moving it far enough so that others cannot follow likely will not matter in the least. Just because I am pissed off at everything does not mean what I've been doing here is important to anyone aside from myself. No conceit whatsoever.

There was some comfort yesterday for a little while. Some. Today already feels different somehow, as if the previous few days were required for me to wrap my head around the bliss of being alone before I could fully relax and enjoy. Plus, I rose earlier this morning so there is more time before I must take care of morning business. Afterward will be the test... I may turn the time in to something good, or I may fall on my face completely and lose the path. Right now I don't know. My mood is still not positive, however. Moving around is a requirement in life. Doing it does not mean that I wish it, however. I only need whatever is necessary for my head to remain quiet like the inside of the house. I believe yesterday I felt that point for a little while in the late morning.

And that is about as good as life gets anymore. All of the changes both within me and outside (mostly inside, of course) have altered my view of everything nearly halfway in less than a year. In fact, only in the last few months have I really become difficult. And I am no longer willing to look outward. I will stay right here in the little world created out of necessity. Others be damned. Erase me from the list of future ventures. I'm done.

I will not comment much upon the forest now, either. Little point to it, like so many other subjects. Besides, no one knows what it means and I must keep it that way. Just think of the word 'unpleasant'.

Everything goes unnamed, no description, no nothing. All is put aside. Even the feelings. Everything boiled to a mere dark brown crust on the inside of the now-ruined saucepan. Finished.

'You sit there watch it all burn down
It's easy and breezy for you
You play your life to a different sound
No edge; no edge; you got no knife, have you?
Life's a six lane highway to nowhere
You're going so fast you're never ever gonna get down there
Where the heroes sit by the river
With their magic and their music as they eat raw liver.'

All those heroes. Or are they?

I don't know what they are, although I know I am not one of them. Impossible because there is too much in the past still pressing me down. And don't tell me to let it go and rise above. Just don't. I am not you. Leave it. The fact is I see them over there with their hammers and I try to emulate, but to no avail. Too weak and undecided all the time. I can never know them. Out there doing what they do. They are in the forest. If so, heading all the way in may kill me. Now I don't know anything.

I have my own hammer, though.

They are natural and I am not. They are powerful and confident, as well. All of it ties in together. Every single trait relates or stems from another, and in the end after all of the physical and mental development they become beings unequaled in this world. Universe, really. Nothing else can compare. They do what they do and move through life with head high and muscles flexing. They sit by the river with magic. Raw, unwilling to apologize for who they are, and unmoved by the remainder of society. Swords, beards, power. And the fire.

And they reside in the forest.

And the jawline.
And the knowledge.
And the strength.
And the constitution.
And then the stories and laughter as the weak are trod and buried.
And never me, hammer or not.
And they might BE the forest.

Not happy in the least. I'll have to increase the power and output of my snowmaking machine. I've had many different conversations and taken issue with others' words enough to indicate that my feelings regarding certain subjects are not to be trifled. The fact that some subjects continue to be floated means those on the receiving end of my fucking words are either not listening or they are merely placating. It also means I am completely alone in the thinking. The snow will increase as I make nice and bullshit my way through every Goddamned day from now until the end of everything. I don't mind, plus I am an expert at fabricating shit to keep people thinking in my direction, or at least to keep them from asking any questions. They are usually painted into a corner. I've been told, anyway. And no, I do not feel good about embracing the uncomfortable ability to railroad someone. It is a defense mechanism, nothing more. I wish to be left alone but there are times when conversation is necessary. Most of those with whom I have spent time seem to have a difficult time accepting the fact that I do not bend at all. I can understand such thinking, too. I never make things easy for people. Then again, I am in contact with very few anymore, anyway.

Damaging. Destructive. Dismissive.

I will say that I have often manipulated circumstances not necessarily to my advantage, but enough to find myself in a position where there is less worry about what is going on in other peoples' heads. If you want to call it an advantage, whatever. I don't care. We all move in directions which enable us to survive, and for me the direction is usually away from others. If I need be nearby or within earshot, well... I'll use my snow and toolbox to craft whatever may be needed in order to be comfortable. I am exhausted from the effort, yet lately my dislike for the sound of voices is becoming enough of a problem to drive me to this. Anyone listening? I doubt it. I am not that important anymore.

Eh... Maybe I should have left my words on the local machine way back when. Late zero three was a bad time -- that whole running away to the goblet thing -- and it seemed perfectly natural to explore the feelings and lay them out on the site. Had I not gone in such a direction then, this may not have developed into such a huge mess. I don't know, honestly. But I suppose none of it matters anyway. The snow is key. I'll do whatever feels best for keeping myself organized daily and then flood the world in person with bullshit because what I may be thinking will never compute. Stick that in your floppy drive and explore.

And here we go...

No chores to describe, no additional work on the models will be detailed here, and no more of the kitchen feeling, either. Where do I go now? I have to swing the fucking hammer and exercise the only control I have left in the world, and that is to leave people wondering. All I have anymore. This is the end of it. The words are flailing and failing. As I have said before... The end of the page is the end. 'No more a'dis, Butchy.'

Start wondering. The end is right down there.

'In heaven, all the interesting people are missing.'
-- Friedrich Nietzsche

No matter what conversation takes place between myself and another person, eventually the subject goes bad if there is any emotional component whatsoever. That points to the idea that I am having trouble pushing the difficulty aside in order to be personable. Others don't need my shit. And the same thing has been happening here... Except this is completely one-sided. A diary, but one available for public consumption. I can't have that anymore. This will sit on the index for a while and then nothing. Throughout the course of the average week, I must speak to at least a few people just to live life. That is fine because I am used to it. Also, I am used to this after writing for so long. The change will be simple, however. I can cut off nearly everything and will likely feel a little more secure afterward. Those few individuals with whom I speak in person have already been informed that I am only content in the quiet. That is a step. Nearly impossible, but a step nonetheless.

The forest... Right there. The hammer... In hand. The only power and control in existence. For me, anyway.

Fidgeting again, just like yesterday.

The blue dress is no longer visible. The cavern entrance has fallen prey to a rock slide. The wind has ceased. All calm, all quiet. No more. That entire world has disappeared like all the others... Even those I created. No more dress. The knives? I dropped them days ago as I fell silent after a stab. I could not hold on because my strength was drained by the words of another person. The rock slides will continue because there is no force in existence which can push against the endless tide. Not even a little. It will wash over everything, convolute everyone, and then recede and leave a swath of damage behind. The powerful versus the powerless, and I know exactly where I stand.

No solutions, so why keep writing here? No faith, so why keep hoping? No answers, so why keep asking? Answer me. Or don't. Eh... Never mind. I don't give a shit anymore. You shouldn't, either. This site is just a mess. I have been hammering the keyboard with nary a clue to what this is anymore. Once I mentioned the idea of enjoying the sound of the keys. Maybe that's all I have here. The pencil and paper may give way to an old electric typewriter. That way I can keep everything to myself and there will be no concern over software or anything else failing. I can keep a typewriter going forever because I am good at troubleshooting and repair. That sounds like a wonderful idea and nearly has me smiling. Nearly.

No solutions. Part of the fact is me while other parts are THEIR doing. They don't even know, either. You should know, however. Splendid. Those people again. I can't fight everything. No one can. The path is before me... One only I can understand. Trees out there. Nothing solved, though. Just a path.

All of a sudden the idea of ceasing this feels completely correct in at least one way. You can wonder what that may be. Fidgeting again. Morning, noon and night.

Just wonder.

I will provide a clue. See below...

People are nails.
People are nails.
People are nails.
People are nails.
People are nails.
People are nails.
People are nails.
People are nails.
People are nails.
People are nails.

I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. That means stop fucking commenting, asking questions or otherwise distracting me from what I need to do in order to survive. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. Push me some more and the next sound you hear will indicate that I no longer have the ability to hear a human voice. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be fucked up. I cannot be any better. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. I cannot be anyone else. I can only be me. Next sound you hear, people.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

Mustard. The roost is ruled.

'But I gotta get some relief on this otha situation.'

All the way back in zero four I stated that everything would turn bad. I knew it. What I did not know was the 'when'. Well, here it is. I will continue the same... Worried, disappointed, and constantly analyzing every single aspect of life and each word spoken. There is no possibility of the type of comfort I need, nor will there be a chance of the quiet required for me to remain calm each day. Voices are storms now. Cyclones, all swirling and destructive. The hours alone will have to suffice for the time being because I have no other options. Embrace, isolate, and extinguish, like the EEE of the business world but my own version. Spending hours in consideration of my circumstance is not a bad thing. Even when there can be no planning, I still have the calm wrapped around me like a childhood blanket. The only issue there is when my calm is broken. People.

Mustard. Anthony, what did I fuckin' tell you? Answer me.

Drizzle outside this morning.

Losing my way today. The noise is gone and I am alone for the duration, yet somehow nothing ever feels like it is enough. All this time can be good or bad. Or both. At some point I will go to the market, and then at another point I will have the gangsters up there. The small chores will go away one at a time like always.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

I will not waver so do not ask. This is it for all time. Tumblers aligned. Leave me alone. I own this fucking thing. Again... Next sound you hear (thanks, Credenzo).

The gray out there in the mist; the ravens all over any reachable perch; the branches sagging with the weight of Spring snow. Everything is cold. Blue dress? Nice cars. Everything is cold. Mustard again. Everything is just cold. Freezing, in fact. The mustard is flowing like molasses in January. I don't even know how I made it this far. Better to keep my trap shut forever. Speaking is a problem, others hearing my words has become a problem, and the ideas I have are never to be understood by anyone else. My mind has gone too far off the rails for most of what I say to be absorbed in earnest. No one wants to hear it anymore.

8:03am.

Caverns? No one understands.

No one understands.
No one understands.
No one understands.
No one understands.
No one understands.
No one understands.
No one understands.
No one understands.
No one understands.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'

Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.
Ya get the bald guy out.

Ya get the bald guy the fuck out forever, and then smash his bald head into the soil with a hammer. No one understands the repeating occurrence of those lines anyway. And if I have my way, no one will ever know. Be happy I did not run with my original idea of repeating each section until the entry reaches 10k lines.

Everything is folding in on itself.

'Every deep thinker is more afraid of being understood than of being misunderstood.'
-- Friedrich Nietzsche

The bald guy's head has more power over me than I had ever thought possible. Now, and after a couple of years' worth of dealing with that fucking situation? I should have driven over the issue in the parking lot after a nice lunch. Maybe two issues could have been squashed at that time. Although, I do need my comfort and if I would have caused any damage, things at this moment could be very different. That is a big, fat no-no. This will never go away and guide me toward whatever end is in store, and I mean in earnest. Pushing, hard. Every fucking day I see the gradient and despise it, yet there is nothing to be done. The end of all things has graced these pages for a very long time -- all the way back to Julianne, believe it or not -- and the God's honest truth is there is no way around it (number one) and I may have been buried in the fucking end times since sometime in seventeen (number two). Those heroes by the river are unmoved by my performance here. They have couched it as trivial and weak. I can tell. More raw liver. Nothing I can do about it. Nothing.

No more good days.

All those facts should be dragging me down tremendously but they are not. At least, not as much as one might expect. The truth is that I STILL find the time and space to be where I need. Even in the middle of such a fucking storm, I am too intelligent to completely fall down. There are options in front of me, some of which can help keep my head out of the fire. Unfortunately for the site, none of those options are here.

'Good life is contradiction
Because of crucifixion
If you're ready and have the need
I will take your soul and plant my seed'

The day will move along as it does, leaving me full of questions. Every day is the same.

I never took a step toward the largest dream and I am sitting here now because of it. I did not reach toward the other thing because I tried and it was difficult, and I am sitting here now because of the decision. I ceased the third venture because it became very arduous and my self-conscious nature would not allow me to relax and do the work, and I am sitting here now because of the stoppage. And then there was the last-ditch effort in school to advance me for my own satisfaction but I became bored and left the classes, and I am sitting here now because of it. The big one? There was much -- the career was only a facet -- but again I became bored and ran away, and I am sitting here now because of the change. I forced it. And I failed.

And then the past reared its ugly triple-head and destroyed all possibility of joy.
And then I withdrew from everything social.
And then I drowned myself in the house.
And then the straw came along and I realized I am not who I thought.
And then I finally came to the conclusion that I will never leave myself alone over anything.

And here I am.

As much as I am to blame for the manner in which I live life, the real catalyst is the world. Not those choices, but the external forces which never cease. They do not care. Disagree? Go make your own site and tell everyone. See where that leads.

11:40am.

Finis spe.

'You just gotta listen to the night at the ending of the day
You just gotta listen to the night as safety slips away
Moving out of sight are the things you need to see to feel
And as they slip away... Becoming so unreal, unreal
You just gotta listen to the night as you're going up the stairs
You just gotta listen to the night and don't forget to say your prayers
And as you lose control to the eyes in dark disguise
And icy fingers send electric lies...

Lies.'

Red-letter day, this one. And holy Jesus God in heaven above does she look fucking stunning in this episode. Well, none of that matters any longer. There is no Jamie, Jaime... Nothing. Everything has been used up or otherwise forcibly made to disappear from my vision. Blurry, cased, done. Cased, like a standard on a limousine. Look it up. Cased forever. Rolled up and stuffed. Whatever... I already knew years ago this would happen. I just had no idea of when. At least the realization formed before the hour became too late. I can still work with everything and think my way through what needs to be done. I am really sick of people and their influence upon me, although I ceased the allowance some years ago. Still, there are problems which have to be addressed despite the knowing.

This entry is very sporadic and haphazard. I can't help it because that is how my mind operates lately. All those beginnings and hints of upcoming stories or thoughts are going unrealized. I will no longer stretch myself to write anything interesting. The hell took control. So did the hammer and what it represents. I will not explain any of it because I don't fucking care. Not much more to this now.

Just wonder. Finis vitae. Arrival of evil.

191. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday?

A little closer to the bottom of the page.

I can't talk about her anymore, either. One above others... THE one for ALL time. She is nothing but a problem, really. All of them eventually become problems. That is all me. I do not believe my feelings matter in the grand scheme. I can do nothing about them anyway. I should have had my eyes removed along with two other parts many years ago. Who knows, maybe I would have turned out better. Funny? Not at all. They only cause problems. And don't get me started on the latter subject. That will go bad very quickly. All of them have to remain away for right now, or at least until I write elsewhere. The more I gushed about whomever struck me upside the head at a given point, the more I felt further from people. I am now way the fuck out there. Throughout the last year, her importance has grown out of control and I do not know why. Perhaps just the familiarity. The fact remains that the feelings caused all manner of trouble and still do. Even the Goddamned girl six hundred miles away at that fucking pool did not cause this much shit in my head, and she was nearly nude. Well, the one in question trumps her by a dramatic degree because the issue is not in my head but in my heart. I can do nothing about it. Not a fucking thing. I just have to stew. Thus? She's done here. Bye, my dear.

And that leads me to...

This venture began as a place to share photos with family members. We took lots of pictures with the digital camera back then, and I was usually the one with the software to process and email images to others. After creating a site for my parents' company, I decided to begin one for myself and add the photos so everyone could see no matter where they lived. Well, that only lasted a little over a year before my head began to descend. Slowly all of the content related to family, vehicles and projects disappeared as I altered my stance toward the world. [I will admit a good portion of that feeling was the incident involving my car and audio system way back when. That was the catalyst for the longest shitty mood on record.] By the summer of 2003, all information on the site had been pared down to just my words. At this point they are the lion's share of content. The truck returned, although I gave up on that project a while ago. Last year, I think. So now all I do is type out whatever happens to be floating inside.

Now I feel that whether or not what I've done here is good, bad, helpful or otherwise, I don't want the content out there in public any longer. I will probably move some of the information elsewhere in a manner no one can see but me (like the documents, perhaps) and then allow the paid space to run out. There is no reason to do this anymore. I am not changing.

'Just another face in the crowd
Wandering towards obscurity
Driven by the dull desires
Of a worn out routine.

Stagnant in the suffocating silence
Of emotional exile,
A fugitive from freedom
Surrenders to mediocrity.

A helpless voice
Starting to sink.
You could make a choice
But you never learned to think.'

Ah... We hit 1.3 million words somewhere up above. There it is.

I have been saying the same things for a very long time and asking the same questions. There is no longer a point to this endeavor. Perhaps there has not been for months. Am I still trying in the real world? Of course. I'm still here, aren't I? That is something. It's just this site... No more reasons. The most powerful idea I can embrace right now is silence.

190. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday?
This day. The usual. You know.

So many ideas. All those years, and then this space crafted initially for sharing, soon morphing into something all but unrecognizable. The same problems over and over, day after day for a very long time. Tons of images of the female form now appear alien to me. The images I shot over the years are much better, although I do not view them as I once did. I had spent much time in the lens. Lately? I don't feel it, nor have I been out with the big camera for some time. And then the other images... Logos and whatnot placed here to emphasize either an idea or mood. They are fine. Nearly all of the images of labia have been removed. When I look around from this day forward, I will remove others if found. There is no reason to display such things. The celebrities? I might pull them, too. The wording is often harsh and not exactly friendly, and I am beginning to feel that those faces placed within some of the entries may be better absent. I do not like the relationship now. The archives prior to 2020 are already gone, as are a few links within the remaining content. Once again I have truncated the site. I cannot find reason for some of my feelings to be available. Not anymore. Time for a cocktail. 10:43am. I am tired.

The next sound you hear will be from the forest itself, if you hear it at all. The thought of privacy is beginning to take over. I never should have done this in the first place. Another mistake. What did I say back in zero three when I flew the coop for the first time? Ah, yes... Another hash mark on my gunstock of mistakes. That was just a simple thought, but nearly eighteen years later I can see it was the infantile beginning to one of the most difficult periods imaginable. Had I known, there is no way I would have allowed another fucking soul into my life. What a maroon. Red hammer now. Yes, I said maroon.

Hard to believe that just a few days ago when I published 'Kreplach' I was in a decent mood. Hilarious.

189. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday?

Further along. I barely know what that means anymore.

Business done. My physical self is messed up this morning. I know not why, but will probably have to remain indoors for the duration. There is much on my mind anyway. I need to be here, I need all that shit which keeps me sane nowadays, and I need to reorganize the world... If it is even possible now.

Everything has been reduced far too much for me to cater to those individuals who are -- and there is no way around such a fact -- parts of the machine. Society is a toilet in need of a flush. Unfortunately, that will never happen. It is impossible because no one sees the problems, they simply try to equate the whole world to their own issues and then move along as if everything is fine. Blind. While I can admit that there is not nor has never been an instruction manual for living, the fact is others are going to continue pushing down whomever is nearby in order to raise themselves. The situation cannot change. Humor may be a way for people to get through life and still smile, but honestly? Not at the expense of feelings. There it is. Write it down and cram it where the 'sun don't shine'.

This is ill-found and has been for many years. Phil said it best. Slimmer, simpler, and more angry. A ton of entries have been removed from the archives because I no longer wish anyone to read them. Due to such length, I will try to leave this live for some time before it disappears. Moreover, the spouting about how much I dislike society will be mostly absent from future writing, bad moods notwithstanding.

Foggy outside. Just what I need right now.

I am far too weak to swing the hammer, so... Finis. Kaput.

Enda linu."