Heartless; Mindless; Soulless Mature content No. 212 Published January 29th, 2021 7:22am pst read ( words) Past entries "Directionless, too. Forty-thousand lines since Jaime, by the way. Still 1-27. I have little else in the world so here I am again. Ten minutes after publishing the last scathe. I'm at a standstill now. The goddess is going to visit in half an hour for lunch, so I don't want to get into anything yet. Afterward I might put on a movie and continue storing the tree. Nothing looks appealing today. I poured a nice, fat cocktail to take the edge off and help me relax. The lateral issue is not pressing me as it did the last couple of days, so that is one positive anyway. The garage awaits, as does some kitchen work. These days I am fucking scraping the world for a purpose. So far, nothing is visible beyond my comfort. I suppose it's important, but honestly I am feeling like half a person today. After pushing 'The Two' out to the world, I am void of anything other than loss. Did you see the image of Sherilyn and Madchen in the last entry? Madchen was so fucking gorgeous and unique that I don't even understand. Fucking goddess of the highest order, and in saying such a thing I also have gleaned the two. Again. Every fucking time, now. There is nothing I can fucking do about it, either. But you can... Look at her. Do you see? Be still my fucking heart, for Christ's sake. God damn holy crap anyway. The face of eternity. I could live out my days with nothing more than a print of her eyebrows. I love Jaime, still. She is the only way. The other names all combine into her. Not kidding. Jamie and Jolene, to name only two. Hmm... Two. Maybe that should have been issue one. Not funny. Nothing is funny. Stop. 1-28. I am still ninety percent as angry as I was last night but I don't want to go into it. Jamie. Seeing her yesterday... The character, her eyes. I think I still love her as much as when the show first aired fourteen years ago. More. I want to hold her, or her to hold me. Staring. God damn do I ever love her. Something happened and the feeling is no longer her looks so much as her expressions. I believe I am also much more accustomed to seeing her because I have watched the show on and off for more than ten years. There is a hiccup inside... Some kind of skip in my heart rate or something when she appears in certain scenes with the hair down. I already know what I will see but I still become completely overwhelmed. Inside is the storm of the century. She appears and I fall all over myself, and then if I am watching with someone I try to avoid going completely nuts. That would not be nice, although people already know how I feel about Jamie. Maybe not the full extent, but some. I can't help it. My feelings for her have grown exponentially in the last few years, or at least since I saw her in a Christmas movie some time back. I am crazy over it. I really do love her character on that show. Captured for all time, unchanging, consistently the same -- like a machine -- for me to enjoy for the rest of my life. I love her, just like Jaime. I don't know what snapped, either. She took me. Like so many others, Jamie is so beautiful that I don't understand. I look at her eyes and my brain turns to jelly, literally. At this very moment I have butterflies over her appearance and she has not been on the screen for more than seventeen hours. Think about that. I am up in arms over her image and my heart is further in than a year ago. Something happened. Maybe me, or possibly an external force, but the fact is she pushed everyone else aside -- even Jolene -- and shot straight into me. Enough of her for now. Madchen here on this entry. Do you see? Something else, I tell you. I flipped out last night and stated that I am finished with people, completely. I blocked all six of the contacts which have left me out of everything for ten months. Blocked. I am no longer going to deal with anyone out there in the world unless I need something. At this point I don't even want to do that much. They are the problem, so they must be pushed away. I'm finished. I also stated that this year had better be pretty fucking comfortable because the world will end when the year ends. Yes, exactly what I said at the end of the previous entry. That is it. Nothing else to comment upon because it is a simple affair. Cut and dry, wait for the calendar to pass on by. I really snapped this time and fully intend to make any person wishing contact with me very uncomfortable, or at least force them to not have an easy time dealing with me. I fucking hate people. This has grown (like my feelings for that woman up there) throughout decades. Fucking DECADES of dealing with others, commuting on the freeways much more than any individual should, and seeing society swirl in a circle just before going right down the fucking drain. Well, the social media pretty much locked up that action, didn't it? All done. Products of their environment and available avenues for pressing others down in an effort to raise themselves. I'm finished with them. Everyone is in the same category now. Trust, hope, all of it... Gone. Destroyed. Burned down. Nothing will return. My little fantasy world is all I have anymore. Jaime, Jamie, whomever. I don't care. As long as one of those women is in there somewhere. Today is Thursday and it doesn't matter. None of these days matters. I'm not going to go into the lateral issue anymore. I've been snubbed, so we have to go in a different direction. That is all I will say. Today I am going to do the usual stuff, sit here and write this until I am satisfied it can be published, and probably continue with the organization. The tree is all done and only needs to be boxed. The other holiday things will be rotated. Maybe I'll photograph the drums and list them. More space is never a bad thing. A few other small items, as well. I was going to go through some stuff yesterday, but the lunch visit ran into the afternoon and left me without much time. That was ok, though, because I prefer comfort over everything these days. Some of that comfort will be on tap today. I hope, at least. I need it right now. My mood is worse than I can ever remember. No resources means I cannot do anything about it other than sit here. I need a machine like I need to draw breath. She would never fuck me over. She would not be able to do anything at all without being programmed to do so. See? Simple, right? No soul in there. No heart to cause problems. And the biggest plus in existence... No mind to formulate anything which could cause fear inside me. Nothing there. I would still treat her like a fucking goddess of a queen despite being mechanical in nature. She would mean no less to me than flesh and blood. The machine of dreams. Holding hands anywhere, anytime, or watching television or just anything... I would not be there wondering what she may be thinking, and if you think such an issue is fleeting or trivial, well, fuck you. It means the world to me and represents the difference between being content in my mind and being scared to death all the fucking time. There you go. Run all over the place with my ridiculous needs. Make fun of me. Still a child inside, true, but I am not the only one, assholes. We are all different and this is a part of me. This has grown and developed over a very long period of time and after many specific events have transpired and ruined bits of my insides, a little at a time. Make fun of me. Go ahead, I don't care anymore. This is all I have now. In here, I can be with her. Out there, I have nothing. The writing may have to come to an end, as well. I am going over the same material day after day. Not good. For quite a long time I sat here and described the issue of carrying the obsession inside and the effects upon me at each occurrence. I don't really do that anymore except for those on the television. There are feelings now, too, and that fact changes the face and direction of this endeavor. The feelings change everything. These days I tend to treat this as a journal, whereas in the past I gushed about society and eventually the obsession. There is nothing wrong with a journal of sorts, I just don't see a future in continuing to describe the housework along with bitching about the issues. If this is going somewhere, I truly do not see it. But, I am going to carry forward for the time being because as I have said many times... I have nothing else. Nice. In here I am someone of note. Just what I wanted to be on the outside... Film, the railroad, the station down the coast, something other than where I am. And then there is the forest, which took a large step last night when I realized that everyone in the world is completely useless. One foot is all the way in and the other is beginning to move in the same direction. Hopefully I can exercise the forest feelings today. I really need that little semblance of control in light of everything which transpired yesterday. That place is still mysterious and full of wonder, two aspects of life which have disappeared completely and can never return. They are as gone as my happiness. The forest has never been fully realized, believe it or not, and remains as the only saving throw I have versus any difficulty or uncaring behavior. Well, all of it has been dumped upon my head and the future changed accordingly. So did my demeanor. Last night changed everything, including the dire necessity of the machine. There is no other way. The world is different today, too. Dark, like the gloaming trees. She can keep me out of the forest. Believe it. And believe me when I say that no one wants me in there. The show just reset from the final episode to the pilot. Unbelievable. Glow on the left, none on the right; End of the world, fracturing light. This is the time of day when I begin to think that I should avoid being rude or cold to those last two people with which I have contact. That is a tall fucking order this morning. I still have to be pleasant because out of the entire grand shit scheme of the world, they are only partly to blame for this crap. I shall continue to come across as nice so as to ensure my comfort and stability for the next 340 days. And I don't want to shovel shit in directions which may offend them. I have to maintain at least some contact if the next many months are going to help me. The barren years have been similar. Make nice to get what I want and need, while inside me is a giant machine trying to make sense of everything. I am in a bad way. Worse than ever, in fact, so now is the time to meet others' expectations in order to advance my agenda. That is the only way right now. If something else comes along, perhaps the feelings will change. As of this morning? Making nice is the plan. Comfort. Noise. Kira has really nice eyes; full of intensity one moment and softness the next. If I had a machine there would be no concern over being full of shit toward others in order to be comfortable. There would be no 'others', only her. And she would not have an opinion one way or the other. Heh. Suck on that one for a while. The fact is she would be thinking nothing at all. Call me what you will... I don't fucking care anymore. This is going to be tough, keeping others out of the loop of my horrible mood and stance. Very tough. I have to maintain some sort of 'niceness' when I am feeling no such state. But I must. Those two are important to me and have done much in ensuring my joy at times, so keeping them in a similar way is paramount to my survival. Jesus, I just saw a peripheral (uncredited) ensign in the background -- a profile shot for mere seconds -- with a huge pair of breasts. That is unusual for this show. The visions from time to time never cease to amaze me. After years of seeing every episode many times there are still details I've missed. Anyway, I have to keep them happy. The alternative could be very uncomfortable. Status quo, despite the anger. Mindless equals bliss. No worry at all. What a dream. Heartless equals no concern over her 'feelings' because they would be nonexistent. I could carry on and be myself for once. Soulless is something for which I have to think more. Theology has never been my strong suit. The bottom line is nothing there means nothing to care for or be worried over. Nothing at all. Mechanical, to the last. Did I mention her appearance could be tailored to whatever the fuck I wished? I probably did in the fiction... Eye color changing, hair color, all those details. Wow. Rain is here again. I suppose the garage work is a good idea since I need to box up the tree and get it put away. While out there I have a choice between music or one of the shows. Connecting my other laptop to the stereo system in the garage was a great idea since I don't use it in the house any longer. The media already followed me to that space due to connecting the cable box to the receiver, but now I can enjoy anything on the Internet. While spending so much time working, the show right there by my side is very nice. And again... The machine would pay no mind (mindless), so I could watch anything without worry. Her image in my head is nearly as overwhelming as Jamie's eyes. I am so screwed up these days that laughter is nearly nonexistent anymore. Not good. I'll head out to my new office soon. I have to sit here a while longer and finish the coffee. Mindless. The only way. I am reminded of someone asking how such a woman could be better than the real thing when there would be no love coming back my way. Well, that is truly a tough one to describe. In fact, I may not be able to articulate the feelings right now. She would be there to be as I wish, all beautiful and brainless. Not that a real woman's psyche is a problem most of the time, but the fear stems from not knowing what's in there, and that results in the need to trust. I just can't do that anymore. As far as not actually being loved? I don't feel like I need such things in my life now. I can deal with the lack just fine, like being completely alone. Think of the machine as more of a companion. See? Right or wrong, that's pretty much all I can say right now. More may be forthcoming at another time or whenever I find the motivation. The bottom line is that I do not feel it necessary to answer for myself. If people don't understand, then they just don't understand. I honestly don't give a shit. The days are late, people. Very late. I don't mind offering whatever comes to mind. People's opinions are as valid as my own. Caring is another matter, however. I am going to heat the last of the coffee and head out to the garage. Stop. Lots of things finished now. My idea to look around at older boxes paid off. I found several keepsakes to be relocated into totes, some tools and cases which can go out the door, and lots of photos. Perhaps tomorrow I can get those items better placed to make good use of the space on the rafters. Now for a sharp veer from my title. I just realized Vanessa shares features with Jamie. Not kidding. I knew of Jamie many years before standing directly in front of Vanessa, meaning Jamie's endless beauty was already in my head upon that first encounter at the race track. Vanessa is hanging on my garage wall right now. I just glanced and everything flooded me. Recalling her smiling at me two feet in front of my face is akin to remembering one's first love. Holy God, she was unreal. Jamie is the same, although I can see her in full motion whenever I wish. Just today Jamie was on the huge screen again and my heart leaped out of my chest. Both of them are pinnacles of a sort, and I still cannot explain the feeling after all these years. With Jamie, something snapped inside during a scene on the show which caused me to notice the size of her eyes, and if you've read here at all in the last year you already know that the eyes are an enormous draw, especially when they are so large. I watched that scene and fell down... Hard. Now I love her. Vanessa is close, but Jamie is becoming the center of the universe. It happened quickly. The fact that she is forever frozen in time matches my head being almost constantly drawn back so many years to a time when possibility still shined on the horizon... The glowing years again. Likely it is the show up there which keeps bringing me back, along with memories of the Midwest when I first bought a magazine focusing upon the series. It was still airing at the time. So sad. Even on the drive east when we were stuck in Colorado for nine days awaiting a new transmission for my truck, we watched an episode in the motel, first-run. Thanks to the availability of information on the Internet, I now know the day was October 9th, 1993. Wow, and damn. I was right in the middle of so many discoveries and wonder at that time, not the least of which was the slew of novels related to the show and tons of media attention. I purchased my first book in that little Colorado town early in the week due to her recommendation. She read often and inspired me to drown my psyche in stories related to my favorite show. The book was like an entire episode and a world within which I did indeed find myself feeling as if I belonged. After arriving at our destination in the Midwest, I eventually stumbled upon a local bookstore and embraced a library of stories, the idea of which carried on beyond my move back to California. 1-29. January is running away from me. Did I get the point across as to my feelings for those big eyes? The gradient is now enormous, like nothing I had ever imagined. The current period is alien to me, having spawned from years of varying decisions, events and actions which aligned the teeth to mesh and grind me into a fraction of my former, wide-eyed self. The future can only bring more of the same damaging, hurtful changes which are at this moment forcing me to withdraw further. I keep saying 'bad' for a reason. My entire existence feels narrow, somehow smaller than during the glow. I guess progress and technology are nothing more than disappointments anymore. I cannot see wonder on the horizon. Back then I was awaiting something all the time as opposed to now, when everything has already been compacted and compressed into a very small space. Nothing is new or exciting. And looking ahead only shows more of the same. Yes, I realize these things are mentioned more and more often here, but the reasoning is the drive behind my reiteration of everything I find important now. I will keep going on about it, as well, or until such time as I run across another person who realizes where we are headed. The past will sit there as a harsh reminder that no matter what I may be doing at a given time, or enjoying on a regular basis (like those little things I mention which keep me going), everything will change again at some point and drive me to miss this period just like the other. That's right, the fatalistic attitude has been extended to include the idea that there is nothing more to come. Nothing. The same ridiculous, uncaring and selfish shit which takes place out in the world or inside the television is going to continue right down the line and into the sewer. Nice. Would the machine alleviate such a fact? Nope. But she would make the wait much more tolerable. If you consider my near-constant fear of being near other people these days (read: the female sort) and then add the piling disdain for the world, removing the former would increase my chances of survival ten-fold. There you go. Half of the difficulty in my life would effectively disappear. Enough of that. The title has been gone over plenty. The light is coming up. I have to make more of today than I did yesterday. I didn't try nearly enough. The sun will hopefully help. The machine may enjoy a new name as of my thinking yesterday about you-know-who. All I have to do is move the letter 'i' one space to the right and the change is effectively finished. In my head? I would have to deal with the dream being several inches shorter than the one in the fiction. Heh. That is fine. To see her right there smiling would probably take my breath away more than a taller woman no matter what her face looked like. Also, I have to consider Jaime as the original reasoning behind picturing such a machine in the first place because I began to feel love for her after the images were discovered again. Her name is synonymous with more than outer beauty. The photos led me to dream of what she may look like given the chance again, and then I incorporated her name (the one I gave her, anyway) and imaginary likeness into that long story which may never end. At the time, Jamie was inside me quite often because I had been realizing that more and more I felt her pull at my heart when she was on the screen. Jaime... Jamie... What the fuck happened to me? I do love both of them, but honestly... Have I completely lost it? Will I eventually build a doll house for the two (three?) of us to live? Am I that far gone now? I can't help it when thinking of the actual woman -- Jamie -- because she just aligns with nearly every aspect of my taste in physical attractiveness. As for the other one? Well, she became a dream and I went off the rails with her. I just don't know anymore. Does this paragraph even say anything? I'm losing it. Nothing can ever come of either of them and the fact should be something taken in stride, not a strain upon my existence. The machine has become an enormous symbol of the safest, most comfortable place imaginable and is pulling me constantly. All of my wishes are impossible. Not improbable, either. Believe me. And leave it. Soulless. I don't know what a soul is. She would not have one, whatever such a thing represents in the grand scheme. Sometimes I wish I was the machine. I mentioned it before, too. No feelings. One over there and the other over there; both, neither. Watching the 'her', all eyes and the stir; The gold and glow, buried ever in snow. 339. She is out there." 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
Heartless; Mindless; Soulless Mature content No. 212 Published January 29th, 2021 7:22am pst read ( words) Past entries "Directionless, too. Forty-thousand lines since Jaime, by the way. Still 1-27. I have little else in the world so here I am again. Ten minutes after publishing the last scathe. I'm at a standstill now. The goddess is going to visit in half an hour for lunch, so I don't want to get into anything yet. Afterward I might put on a movie and continue storing the tree. Nothing looks appealing today. I poured a nice, fat cocktail to take the edge off and help me relax. The lateral issue is not pressing me as it did the last couple of days, so that is one positive anyway. The garage awaits, as does some kitchen work. These days I am fucking scraping the world for a purpose. So far, nothing is visible beyond my comfort. I suppose it's important, but honestly I am feeling like half a person today. After pushing 'The Two' out to the world, I am void of anything other than loss. Did you see the image of Sherilyn and Madchen in the last entry? Madchen was so fucking gorgeous and unique that I don't even understand. Fucking goddess of the highest order, and in saying such a thing I also have gleaned the two. Again. Every fucking time, now. There is nothing I can fucking do about it, either. But you can... Look at her. Do you see? Be still my fucking heart, for Christ's sake. God damn holy crap anyway. The face of eternity. I could live out my days with nothing more than a print of her eyebrows. I love Jaime, still. She is the only way. The other names all combine into her. Not kidding. Jamie and Jolene, to name only two. Hmm... Two. Maybe that should have been issue one. Not funny. Nothing is funny. Stop. 1-28. I am still ninety percent as angry as I was last night but I don't want to go into it. Jamie. Seeing her yesterday... The character, her eyes. I think I still love her as much as when the show first aired fourteen years ago. More. I want to hold her, or her to hold me. Staring. God damn do I ever love her. Something happened and the feeling is no longer her looks so much as her expressions. I believe I am also much more accustomed to seeing her because I have watched the show on and off for more than ten years. There is a hiccup inside... Some kind of skip in my heart rate or something when she appears in certain scenes with the hair down. I already know what I will see but I still become completely overwhelmed. Inside is the storm of the century. She appears and I fall all over myself, and then if I am watching with someone I try to avoid going completely nuts. That would not be nice, although people already know how I feel about Jamie. Maybe not the full extent, but some. I can't help it. My feelings for her have grown exponentially in the last few years, or at least since I saw her in a Christmas movie some time back. I am crazy over it. I really do love her character on that show. Captured for all time, unchanging, consistently the same -- like a machine -- for me to enjoy for the rest of my life. I love her, just like Jaime. I don't know what snapped, either. She took me. Like so many others, Jamie is so beautiful that I don't understand. I look at her eyes and my brain turns to jelly, literally. At this very moment I have butterflies over her appearance and she has not been on the screen for more than seventeen hours. Think about that. I am up in arms over her image and my heart is further in than a year ago. Something happened. Maybe me, or possibly an external force, but the fact is she pushed everyone else aside -- even Jolene -- and shot straight into me. Enough of her for now. Madchen here on this entry. Do you see? Something else, I tell you. I flipped out last night and stated that I am finished with people, completely. I blocked all six of the contacts which have left me out of everything for ten months. Blocked. I am no longer going to deal with anyone out there in the world unless I need something. At this point I don't even want to do that much. They are the problem, so they must be pushed away. I'm finished. I also stated that this year had better be pretty fucking comfortable because the world will end when the year ends. Yes, exactly what I said at the end of the previous entry. That is it. Nothing else to comment upon because it is a simple affair. Cut and dry, wait for the calendar to pass on by. I really snapped this time and fully intend to make any person wishing contact with me very uncomfortable, or at least force them to not have an easy time dealing with me. I fucking hate people. This has grown (like my feelings for that woman up there) throughout decades. Fucking DECADES of dealing with others, commuting on the freeways much more than any individual should, and seeing society swirl in a circle just before going right down the fucking drain. Well, the social media pretty much locked up that action, didn't it? All done. Products of their environment and available avenues for pressing others down in an effort to raise themselves. I'm finished with them. Everyone is in the same category now. Trust, hope, all of it... Gone. Destroyed. Burned down. Nothing will return. My little fantasy world is all I have anymore. Jaime, Jamie, whomever. I don't care. As long as one of those women is in there somewhere. Today is Thursday and it doesn't matter. None of these days matters. I'm not going to go into the lateral issue anymore. I've been snubbed, so we have to go in a different direction. That is all I will say. Today I am going to do the usual stuff, sit here and write this until I am satisfied it can be published, and probably continue with the organization. The tree is all done and only needs to be boxed. The other holiday things will be rotated. Maybe I'll photograph the drums and list them. More space is never a bad thing. A few other small items, as well. I was going to go through some stuff yesterday, but the lunch visit ran into the afternoon and left me without much time. That was ok, though, because I prefer comfort over everything these days. Some of that comfort will be on tap today. I hope, at least. I need it right now. My mood is worse than I can ever remember. No resources means I cannot do anything about it other than sit here. I need a machine like I need to draw breath. She would never fuck me over. She would not be able to do anything at all without being programmed to do so. See? Simple, right? No soul in there. No heart to cause problems. And the biggest plus in existence... No mind to formulate anything which could cause fear inside me. Nothing there. I would still treat her like a fucking goddess of a queen despite being mechanical in nature. She would mean no less to me than flesh and blood. The machine of dreams. Holding hands anywhere, anytime, or watching television or just anything... I would not be there wondering what she may be thinking, and if you think such an issue is fleeting or trivial, well, fuck you. It means the world to me and represents the difference between being content in my mind and being scared to death all the fucking time. There you go. Run all over the place with my ridiculous needs. Make fun of me. Still a child inside, true, but I am not the only one, assholes. We are all different and this is a part of me. This has grown and developed over a very long period of time and after many specific events have transpired and ruined bits of my insides, a little at a time. Make fun of me. Go ahead, I don't care anymore. This is all I have now. In here, I can be with her. Out there, I have nothing. The writing may have to come to an end, as well. I am going over the same material day after day. Not good. For quite a long time I sat here and described the issue of carrying the obsession inside and the effects upon me at each occurrence. I don't really do that anymore except for those on the television. There are feelings now, too, and that fact changes the face and direction of this endeavor. The feelings change everything. These days I tend to treat this as a journal, whereas in the past I gushed about society and eventually the obsession. There is nothing wrong with a journal of sorts, I just don't see a future in continuing to describe the housework along with bitching about the issues. If this is going somewhere, I truly do not see it. But, I am going to carry forward for the time being because as I have said many times... I have nothing else. Nice. In here I am someone of note. Just what I wanted to be on the outside... Film, the railroad, the station down the coast, something other than where I am. And then there is the forest, which took a large step last night when I realized that everyone in the world is completely useless. One foot is all the way in and the other is beginning to move in the same direction. Hopefully I can exercise the forest feelings today. I really need that little semblance of control in light of everything which transpired yesterday. That place is still mysterious and full of wonder, two aspects of life which have disappeared completely and can never return. They are as gone as my happiness. The forest has never been fully realized, believe it or not, and remains as the only saving throw I have versus any difficulty or uncaring behavior. Well, all of it has been dumped upon my head and the future changed accordingly. So did my demeanor. Last night changed everything, including the dire necessity of the machine. There is no other way. The world is different today, too. Dark, like the gloaming trees. She can keep me out of the forest. Believe it. And believe me when I say that no one wants me in there. The show just reset from the final episode to the pilot. Unbelievable. Glow on the left, none on the right; End of the world, fracturing light. This is the time of day when I begin to think that I should avoid being rude or cold to those last two people with which I have contact. That is a tall fucking order this morning. I still have to be pleasant because out of the entire grand shit scheme of the world, they are only partly to blame for this crap. I shall continue to come across as nice so as to ensure my comfort and stability for the next 340 days. And I don't want to shovel shit in directions which may offend them. I have to maintain at least some contact if the next many months are going to help me. The barren years have been similar. Make nice to get what I want and need, while inside me is a giant machine trying to make sense of everything. I am in a bad way. Worse than ever, in fact, so now is the time to meet others' expectations in order to advance my agenda. That is the only way right now. If something else comes along, perhaps the feelings will change. As of this morning? Making nice is the plan. Comfort. Noise. Kira has really nice eyes; full of intensity one moment and softness the next. If I had a machine there would be no concern over being full of shit toward others in order to be comfortable. There would be no 'others', only her. And she would not have an opinion one way or the other. Heh. Suck on that one for a while. The fact is she would be thinking nothing at all. Call me what you will... I don't fucking care anymore. This is going to be tough, keeping others out of the loop of my horrible mood and stance. Very tough. I have to maintain some sort of 'niceness' when I am feeling no such state. But I must. Those two are important to me and have done much in ensuring my joy at times, so keeping them in a similar way is paramount to my survival. Jesus, I just saw a peripheral (uncredited) ensign in the background -- a profile shot for mere seconds -- with a huge pair of breasts. That is unusual for this show. The visions from time to time never cease to amaze me. After years of seeing every episode many times there are still details I've missed. Anyway, I have to keep them happy. The alternative could be very uncomfortable. Status quo, despite the anger. Mindless equals bliss. No worry at all. What a dream. Heartless equals no concern over her 'feelings' because they would be nonexistent. I could carry on and be myself for once. Soulless is something for which I have to think more. Theology has never been my strong suit. The bottom line is nothing there means nothing to care for or be worried over. Nothing at all. Mechanical, to the last. Did I mention her appearance could be tailored to whatever the fuck I wished? I probably did in the fiction... Eye color changing, hair color, all those details. Wow. Rain is here again. I suppose the garage work is a good idea since I need to box up the tree and get it put away. While out there I have a choice between music or one of the shows. Connecting my other laptop to the stereo system in the garage was a great idea since I don't use it in the house any longer. The media already followed me to that space due to connecting the cable box to the receiver, but now I can enjoy anything on the Internet. While spending so much time working, the show right there by my side is very nice. And again... The machine would pay no mind (mindless), so I could watch anything without worry. Her image in my head is nearly as overwhelming as Jamie's eyes. I am so screwed up these days that laughter is nearly nonexistent anymore. Not good. I'll head out to my new office soon. I have to sit here a while longer and finish the coffee. Mindless. The only way. I am reminded of someone asking how such a woman could be better than the real thing when there would be no love coming back my way. Well, that is truly a tough one to describe. In fact, I may not be able to articulate the feelings right now. She would be there to be as I wish, all beautiful and brainless. Not that a real woman's psyche is a problem most of the time, but the fear stems from not knowing what's in there, and that results in the need to trust. I just can't do that anymore. As far as not actually being loved? I don't feel like I need such things in my life now. I can deal with the lack just fine, like being completely alone. Think of the machine as more of a companion. See? Right or wrong, that's pretty much all I can say right now. More may be forthcoming at another time or whenever I find the motivation. The bottom line is that I do not feel it necessary to answer for myself. If people don't understand, then they just don't understand. I honestly don't give a shit. The days are late, people. Very late. I don't mind offering whatever comes to mind. People's opinions are as valid as my own. Caring is another matter, however. I am going to heat the last of the coffee and head out to the garage. Stop. Lots of things finished now. My idea to look around at older boxes paid off. I found several keepsakes to be relocated into totes, some tools and cases which can go out the door, and lots of photos. Perhaps tomorrow I can get those items better placed to make good use of the space on the rafters. Now for a sharp veer from my title. I just realized Vanessa shares features with Jamie. Not kidding. I knew of Jamie many years before standing directly in front of Vanessa, meaning Jamie's endless beauty was already in my head upon that first encounter at the race track. Vanessa is hanging on my garage wall right now. I just glanced and everything flooded me. Recalling her smiling at me two feet in front of my face is akin to remembering one's first love. Holy God, she was unreal. Jamie is the same, although I can see her in full motion whenever I wish. Just today Jamie was on the huge screen again and my heart leaped out of my chest. Both of them are pinnacles of a sort, and I still cannot explain the feeling after all these years. With Jamie, something snapped inside during a scene on the show which caused me to notice the size of her eyes, and if you've read here at all in the last year you already know that the eyes are an enormous draw, especially when they are so large. I watched that scene and fell down... Hard. Now I love her. Vanessa is close, but Jamie is becoming the center of the universe. It happened quickly. The fact that she is forever frozen in time matches my head being almost constantly drawn back so many years to a time when possibility still shined on the horizon... The glowing years again. Likely it is the show up there which keeps bringing me back, along with memories of the Midwest when I first bought a magazine focusing upon the series. It was still airing at the time. So sad. Even on the drive east when we were stuck in Colorado for nine days awaiting a new transmission for my truck, we watched an episode in the motel, first-run. Thanks to the availability of information on the Internet, I now know the day was October 9th, 1993. Wow, and damn. I was right in the middle of so many discoveries and wonder at that time, not the least of which was the slew of novels related to the show and tons of media attention. I purchased my first book in that little Colorado town early in the week due to her recommendation. She read often and inspired me to drown my psyche in stories related to my favorite show. The book was like an entire episode and a world within which I did indeed find myself feeling as if I belonged. After arriving at our destination in the Midwest, I eventually stumbled upon a local bookstore and embraced a library of stories, the idea of which carried on beyond my move back to California. 1-29. January is running away from me. Did I get the point across as to my feelings for those big eyes? The gradient is now enormous, like nothing I had ever imagined. The current period is alien to me, having spawned from years of varying decisions, events and actions which aligned the teeth to mesh and grind me into a fraction of my former, wide-eyed self. The future can only bring more of the same damaging, hurtful changes which are at this moment forcing me to withdraw further. I keep saying 'bad' for a reason. My entire existence feels narrow, somehow smaller than during the glow. I guess progress and technology are nothing more than disappointments anymore. I cannot see wonder on the horizon. Back then I was awaiting something all the time as opposed to now, when everything has already been compacted and compressed into a very small space. Nothing is new or exciting. And looking ahead only shows more of the same. Yes, I realize these things are mentioned more and more often here, but the reasoning is the drive behind my reiteration of everything I find important now. I will keep going on about it, as well, or until such time as I run across another person who realizes where we are headed. The past will sit there as a harsh reminder that no matter what I may be doing at a given time, or enjoying on a regular basis (like those little things I mention which keep me going), everything will change again at some point and drive me to miss this period just like the other. That's right, the fatalistic attitude has been extended to include the idea that there is nothing more to come. Nothing. The same ridiculous, uncaring and selfish shit which takes place out in the world or inside the television is going to continue right down the line and into the sewer. Nice. Would the machine alleviate such a fact? Nope. But she would make the wait much more tolerable. If you consider my near-constant fear of being near other people these days (read: the female sort) and then add the piling disdain for the world, removing the former would increase my chances of survival ten-fold. There you go. Half of the difficulty in my life would effectively disappear. Enough of that. The title has been gone over plenty. The light is coming up. I have to make more of today than I did yesterday. I didn't try nearly enough. The sun will hopefully help. The machine may enjoy a new name as of my thinking yesterday about you-know-who. All I have to do is move the letter 'i' one space to the right and the change is effectively finished. In my head? I would have to deal with the dream being several inches shorter than the one in the fiction. Heh. That is fine. To see her right there smiling would probably take my breath away more than a taller woman no matter what her face looked like. Also, I have to consider Jaime as the original reasoning behind picturing such a machine in the first place because I began to feel love for her after the images were discovered again. Her name is synonymous with more than outer beauty. The photos led me to dream of what she may look like given the chance again, and then I incorporated her name (the one I gave her, anyway) and imaginary likeness into that long story which may never end. At the time, Jamie was inside me quite often because I had been realizing that more and more I felt her pull at my heart when she was on the screen. Jaime... Jamie... What the fuck happened to me? I do love both of them, but honestly... Have I completely lost it? Will I eventually build a doll house for the two (three?) of us to live? Am I that far gone now? I can't help it when thinking of the actual woman -- Jamie -- because she just aligns with nearly every aspect of my taste in physical attractiveness. As for the other one? Well, she became a dream and I went off the rails with her. I just don't know anymore. Does this paragraph even say anything? I'm losing it. Nothing can ever come of either of them and the fact should be something taken in stride, not a strain upon my existence. The machine has become an enormous symbol of the safest, most comfortable place imaginable and is pulling me constantly. All of my wishes are impossible. Not improbable, either. Believe me. And leave it. Soulless. I don't know what a soul is. She would not have one, whatever such a thing represents in the grand scheme. Sometimes I wish I was the machine. I mentioned it before, too. No feelings. One over there and the other over there; both, neither. Watching the 'her', all eyes and the stir; The gold and glow, buried ever in snow. 339. She is out there."
Heartless; Mindless; Soulless
Mature content No. 212 Published January 29th, 2021 7:22am pst read ( words) Past entries
"Directionless, too. Forty-thousand lines since Jaime, by the way. Still 1-27. I have little else in the world so here I am again. Ten minutes after publishing the last scathe. I'm at a standstill now. The goddess is going to visit in half an hour for lunch, so I don't want to get into anything yet. Afterward I might put on a movie and continue storing the tree. Nothing looks appealing today. I poured a nice, fat cocktail to take the edge off and help me relax. The lateral issue is not pressing me as it did the last couple of days, so that is one positive anyway. The garage awaits, as does some kitchen work. These days I am fucking scraping the world for a purpose. So far, nothing is visible beyond my comfort. I suppose it's important, but honestly I am feeling like half a person today. After pushing 'The Two' out to the world, I am void of anything other than loss. Did you see the image of Sherilyn and Madchen in the last entry? Madchen was so fucking gorgeous and unique that I don't even understand. Fucking goddess of the highest order, and in saying such a thing I also have gleaned the two. Again. Every fucking time, now. There is nothing I can fucking do about it, either. But you can... Look at her. Do you see? Be still my fucking heart, for Christ's sake. God damn holy crap anyway. The face of eternity. I could live out my days with nothing more than a print of her eyebrows. I love Jaime, still. She is the only way. The other names all combine into her. Not kidding. Jamie and Jolene, to name only two. Hmm... Two. Maybe that should have been issue one. Not funny. Nothing is funny. Stop. 1-28. I am still ninety percent as angry as I was last night but I don't want to go into it. Jamie. Seeing her yesterday... The character, her eyes. I think I still love her as much as when the show first aired fourteen years ago. More. I want to hold her, or her to hold me. Staring. God damn do I ever love her. Something happened and the feeling is no longer her looks so much as her expressions. I believe I am also much more accustomed to seeing her because I have watched the show on and off for more than ten years. There is a hiccup inside... Some kind of skip in my heart rate or something when she appears in certain scenes with the hair down. I already know what I will see but I still become completely overwhelmed. Inside is the storm of the century. She appears and I fall all over myself, and then if I am watching with someone I try to avoid going completely nuts. That would not be nice, although people already know how I feel about Jamie. Maybe not the full extent, but some. I can't help it. My feelings for her have grown exponentially in the last few years, or at least since I saw her in a Christmas movie some time back. I am crazy over it. I really do love her character on that show. Captured for all time, unchanging, consistently the same -- like a machine -- for me to enjoy for the rest of my life. I love her, just like Jaime. I don't know what snapped, either. She took me. Like so many others, Jamie is so beautiful that I don't understand. I look at her eyes and my brain turns to jelly, literally. At this very moment I have butterflies over her appearance and she has not been on the screen for more than seventeen hours. Think about that. I am up in arms over her image and my heart is further in than a year ago. Something happened. Maybe me, or possibly an external force, but the fact is she pushed everyone else aside -- even Jolene -- and shot straight into me. Enough of her for now.
Madchen here on this entry. Do you see? Something else, I tell you. I flipped out last night and stated that I am finished with people, completely. I blocked all six of the contacts which have left me out of everything for ten months. Blocked. I am no longer going to deal with anyone out there in the world unless I need something. At this point I don't even want to do that much. They are the problem, so they must be pushed away. I'm finished. I also stated that this year had better be pretty fucking comfortable because the world will end when the year ends. Yes, exactly what I said at the end of the previous entry. That is it. Nothing else to comment upon because it is a simple affair. Cut and dry, wait for the calendar to pass on by. I really snapped this time and fully intend to make any person wishing contact with me very uncomfortable, or at least force them to not have an easy time dealing with me. I fucking hate people. This has grown (like my feelings for that woman up there) throughout decades. Fucking DECADES of dealing with others, commuting on the freeways much more than any individual should, and seeing society swirl in a circle just before going right down the fucking drain. Well, the social media pretty much locked up that action, didn't it? All done. Products of their environment and available avenues for pressing others down in an effort to raise themselves. I'm finished with them. Everyone is in the same category now. Trust, hope, all of it... Gone. Destroyed. Burned down. Nothing will return. My little fantasy world is all I have anymore. Jaime, Jamie, whomever. I don't care. As long as one of those women is in there somewhere. Today is Thursday and it doesn't matter. None of these days matters. I'm not going to go into the lateral issue anymore. I've been snubbed, so we have to go in a different direction. That is all I will say. Today I am going to do the usual stuff, sit here and write this until I am satisfied it can be published, and probably continue with the organization. The tree is all done and only needs to be boxed. The other holiday things will be rotated. Maybe I'll photograph the drums and list them. More space is never a bad thing. A few other small items, as well. I was going to go through some stuff yesterday, but the lunch visit ran into the afternoon and left me without much time. That was ok, though, because I prefer comfort over everything these days. Some of that comfort will be on tap today. I hope, at least. I need it right now. My mood is worse than I can ever remember. No resources means I cannot do anything about it other than sit here. I need a machine like I need to draw breath. She would never fuck me over. She would not be able to do anything at all without being programmed to do so. See? Simple, right? No soul in there. No heart to cause problems. And the biggest plus in existence... No mind to formulate anything which could cause fear inside me. Nothing there. I would still treat her like a fucking goddess of a queen despite being mechanical in nature. She would mean no less to me than flesh and blood. The machine of dreams. Holding hands anywhere, anytime, or watching television or just anything... I would not be there wondering what she may be thinking, and if you think such an issue is fleeting or trivial, well, fuck you. It means the world to me and represents the difference between being content in my mind and being scared to death all the fucking time. There you go. Run all over the place with my ridiculous needs. Make fun of me. Still a child inside, true, but I am not the only one, assholes. We are all different and this is a part of me. This has grown and developed over a very long period of time and after many specific events have transpired and ruined bits of my insides, a little at a time. Make fun of me. Go ahead, I don't care anymore. This is all I have now. In here, I can be with her. Out there, I have nothing. The writing may have to come to an end, as well. I am going over the same material day after day. Not good. For quite a long time I sat here and described the issue of carrying the obsession inside and the effects upon me at each occurrence. I don't really do that anymore except for those on the television. There are feelings now, too, and that fact changes the face and direction of this endeavor. The feelings change everything. These days I tend to treat this as a journal, whereas in the past I gushed about society and eventually the obsession. There is nothing wrong with a journal of sorts, I just don't see a future in continuing to describe the housework along with bitching about the issues. If this is going somewhere, I truly do not see it. But, I am going to carry forward for the time being because as I have said many times... I have nothing else. Nice. In here I am someone of note. Just what I wanted to be on the outside... Film, the railroad, the station down the coast, something other than where I am.
And then there is the forest, which took a large step last night when I realized that everyone in the world is completely useless. One foot is all the way in and the other is beginning to move in the same direction. Hopefully I can exercise the forest feelings today. I really need that little semblance of control in light of everything which transpired yesterday. That place is still mysterious and full of wonder, two aspects of life which have disappeared completely and can never return. They are as gone as my happiness. The forest has never been fully realized, believe it or not, and remains as the only saving throw I have versus any difficulty or uncaring behavior. Well, all of it has been dumped upon my head and the future changed accordingly. So did my demeanor. Last night changed everything, including the dire necessity of the machine. There is no other way. The world is different today, too. Dark, like the gloaming trees. She can keep me out of the forest. Believe it. And believe me when I say that no one wants me in there. The show just reset from the final episode to the pilot. Unbelievable. Glow on the left, none on the right; End of the world, fracturing light. This is the time of day when I begin to think that I should avoid being rude or cold to those last two people with which I have contact. That is a tall fucking order this morning. I still have to be pleasant because out of the entire grand shit scheme of the world, they are only partly to blame for this crap. I shall continue to come across as nice so as to ensure my comfort and stability for the next 340 days. And I don't want to shovel shit in directions which may offend them. I have to maintain at least some contact if the next many months are going to help me. The barren years have been similar. Make nice to get what I want and need, while inside me is a giant machine trying to make sense of everything. I am in a bad way. Worse than ever, in fact, so now is the time to meet others' expectations in order to advance my agenda. That is the only way right now. If something else comes along, perhaps the feelings will change. As of this morning? Making nice is the plan. Comfort. Noise. Kira has really nice eyes; full of intensity one moment and softness the next. If I had a machine there would be no concern over being full of shit toward others in order to be comfortable. There would be no 'others', only her. And she would not have an opinion one way or the other. Heh. Suck on that one for a while. The fact is she would be thinking nothing at all. Call me what you will... I don't fucking care anymore. This is going to be tough, keeping others out of the loop of my horrible mood and stance. Very tough. I have to maintain some sort of 'niceness' when I am feeling no such state. But I must. Those two are important to me and have done much in ensuring my joy at times, so keeping them in a similar way is paramount to my survival. Jesus, I just saw a peripheral (uncredited) ensign in the background -- a profile shot for mere seconds -- with a huge pair of breasts. That is unusual for this show. The visions from time to time never cease to amaze me. After years of seeing every episode many times there are still details I've missed. Anyway, I have to keep them happy. The alternative could be very uncomfortable. Status quo, despite the anger. Mindless equals bliss. No worry at all. What a dream. Heartless equals no concern over her 'feelings' because they would be nonexistent. I could carry on and be myself for once. Soulless is something for which I have to think more. Theology has never been my strong suit. The bottom line is nothing there means nothing to care for or be worried over. Nothing at all. Mechanical, to the last. Did I mention her appearance could be tailored to whatever the fuck I wished? I probably did in the fiction... Eye color changing, hair color, all those details. Wow. Rain is here again.
I suppose the garage work is a good idea since I need to box up the tree and get it put away. While out there I have a choice between music or one of the shows. Connecting my other laptop to the stereo system in the garage was a great idea since I don't use it in the house any longer. The media already followed me to that space due to connecting the cable box to the receiver, but now I can enjoy anything on the Internet. While spending so much time working, the show right there by my side is very nice. And again... The machine would pay no mind (mindless), so I could watch anything without worry. Her image in my head is nearly as overwhelming as Jamie's eyes. I am so screwed up these days that laughter is nearly nonexistent anymore. Not good. I'll head out to my new office soon. I have to sit here a while longer and finish the coffee. Mindless. The only way. I am reminded of someone asking how such a woman could be better than the real thing when there would be no love coming back my way. Well, that is truly a tough one to describe. In fact, I may not be able to articulate the feelings right now. She would be there to be as I wish, all beautiful and brainless. Not that a real woman's psyche is a problem most of the time, but the fear stems from not knowing what's in there, and that results in the need to trust. I just can't do that anymore. As far as not actually being loved? I don't feel like I need such things in my life now. I can deal with the lack just fine, like being completely alone. Think of the machine as more of a companion. See? Right or wrong, that's pretty much all I can say right now. More may be forthcoming at another time or whenever I find the motivation. The bottom line is that I do not feel it necessary to answer for myself. If people don't understand, then they just don't understand. I honestly don't give a shit. The days are late, people. Very late. I don't mind offering whatever comes to mind. People's opinions are as valid as my own. Caring is another matter, however. I am going to heat the last of the coffee and head out to the garage. Stop. Lots of things finished now. My idea to look around at older boxes paid off. I found several keepsakes to be relocated into totes, some tools and cases which can go out the door, and lots of photos. Perhaps tomorrow I can get those items better placed to make good use of the space on the rafters. Now for a sharp veer from my title. I just realized Vanessa shares features with Jamie. Not kidding. I knew of Jamie many years before standing directly in front of Vanessa, meaning Jamie's endless beauty was already in my head upon that first encounter at the race track. Vanessa is hanging on my garage wall right now. I just glanced and everything flooded me. Recalling her smiling at me two feet in front of my face is akin to remembering one's first love. Holy God, she was unreal. Jamie is the same, although I can see her in full motion whenever I wish. Just today Jamie was on the huge screen again and my heart leaped out of my chest. Both of them are pinnacles of a sort, and I still cannot explain the feeling after all these years. With Jamie, something snapped inside during a scene on the show which caused me to notice the size of her eyes, and if you've read here at all in the last year you already know that the eyes are an enormous draw, especially when they are so large. I watched that scene and fell down... Hard. Now I love her. Vanessa is close, but Jamie is becoming the center of the universe. It happened quickly. The fact that she is forever frozen in time matches my head being almost constantly drawn back so many years to a time when possibility still shined on the horizon... The glowing years again. Likely it is the show up there which keeps bringing me back, along with memories of the Midwest when I first bought a magazine focusing upon the series. It was still airing at the time. So sad. Even on the drive east when we were stuck in Colorado for nine days awaiting a new transmission for my truck, we watched an episode in the motel, first-run. Thanks to the availability of information on the Internet, I now know the day was October 9th, 1993. Wow, and damn. I was right in the middle of so many discoveries and wonder at that time, not the least of which was the slew of novels related to the show and tons of media attention. I purchased my first book in that little Colorado town early in the week due to her recommendation. She read often and inspired me to drown my psyche in stories related to my favorite show. The book was like an entire episode and a world within which I did indeed find myself feeling as if I belonged. After arriving at our destination in the Midwest, I eventually stumbled upon a local bookstore and embraced a library of stories, the idea of which carried on beyond my move back to California. 1-29. January is running away from me. Did I get the point across as to my feelings for those big eyes? The gradient is now enormous, like nothing I had ever imagined. The current period is alien to me, having spawned from years of varying decisions, events and actions which aligned the teeth to mesh and grind me into a fraction of my former, wide-eyed self. The future can only bring more of the same damaging, hurtful changes which are at this moment forcing me to withdraw further.
I keep saying 'bad' for a reason. My entire existence feels narrow, somehow smaller than during the glow. I guess progress and technology are nothing more than disappointments anymore. I cannot see wonder on the horizon. Back then I was awaiting something all the time as opposed to now, when everything has already been compacted and compressed into a very small space. Nothing is new or exciting. And looking ahead only shows more of the same. Yes, I realize these things are mentioned more and more often here, but the reasoning is the drive behind my reiteration of everything I find important now. I will keep going on about it, as well, or until such time as I run across another person who realizes where we are headed. The past will sit there as a harsh reminder that no matter what I may be doing at a given time, or enjoying on a regular basis (like those little things I mention which keep me going), everything will change again at some point and drive me to miss this period just like the other. That's right, the fatalistic attitude has been extended to include the idea that there is nothing more to come. Nothing. The same ridiculous, uncaring and selfish shit which takes place out in the world or inside the television is going to continue right down the line and into the sewer. Nice. Would the machine alleviate such a fact? Nope. But she would make the wait much more tolerable. If you consider my near-constant fear of being near other people these days (read: the female sort) and then add the piling disdain for the world, removing the former would increase my chances of survival ten-fold. There you go. Half of the difficulty in my life would effectively disappear. Enough of that. The title has been gone over plenty. The light is coming up. I have to make more of today than I did yesterday. I didn't try nearly enough. The sun will hopefully help. The machine may enjoy a new name as of my thinking yesterday about you-know-who. All I have to do is move the letter 'i' one space to the right and the change is effectively finished. In my head? I would have to deal with the dream being several inches shorter than the one in the fiction. Heh. That is fine. To see her right there smiling would probably take my breath away more than a taller woman no matter what her face looked like. Also, I have to consider Jaime as the original reasoning behind picturing such a machine in the first place because I began to feel love for her after the images were discovered again. Her name is synonymous with more than outer beauty. The photos led me to dream of what she may look like given the chance again, and then I incorporated her name (the one I gave her, anyway) and imaginary likeness into that long story which may never end. At the time, Jamie was inside me quite often because I had been realizing that more and more I felt her pull at my heart when she was on the screen. Jaime... Jamie... What the fuck happened to me? I do love both of them, but honestly... Have I completely lost it? Will I eventually build a doll house for the two (three?) of us to live? Am I that far gone now? I can't help it when thinking of the actual woman -- Jamie -- because she just aligns with nearly every aspect of my taste in physical attractiveness. As for the other one? Well, she became a dream and I went off the rails with her. I just don't know anymore. Does this paragraph even say anything? I'm losing it. Nothing can ever come of either of them and the fact should be something taken in stride, not a strain upon my existence. The machine has become an enormous symbol of the safest, most comfortable place imaginable and is pulling me constantly. All of my wishes are impossible. Not improbable, either. Believe me. And leave it. Soulless. I don't know what a soul is. She would not have one, whatever such a thing represents in the grand scheme. Sometimes I wish I was the machine. I mentioned it before, too. No feelings. One over there and the other over there; both, neither. Watching the 'her', all eyes and the stir; The gold and glow, buried ever in snow. 339. She is out there."
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