Hope and Hope Mature content No. 220 Published February 10th, 2021 8:50am pst read ( words) Past entries "I don't remember exactly how that shit began, but it was bad. Sunday night last -- 2-7, I think -- my head blew up over everything for a little while. The horrid attitude spilled over to Monday morning and tapered as that day moved along. By yesterday afternoon I felt worlds better, however I do know the underlying causes are still inside me. This will happen again. 2-10. Wednesday. Everything is the same. I don't know why my mood calmed because there seem no reasons for such a change. I am exactly the same and require much effort in keeping others in the dark now. And there is a point to doing things the way I do, but I will not spell it out. Suffice to say it is a good reason. Wednesday. Meaningless other than the change of the number. We are now down to 324, and the clock just keeps rolling no matter the trials. Rolling right along like all those trains in my stories. Hmm... One of them was intentionally destroyed. Should I be destroying the time? I'll have to continue streamlining my possessions today. Over the weekend I tried to get some of the tool chest in order which resulted in crap going into the trash. Very good. More of that today, and I will also get into the big cabinets. Some items have been up there for years. I need to take a look. Holy shit, this woman on the show... In the bar... Not a regular or recurring character I believe. But wow what a pair of eyes. Anyway, the garage is on tap. Organization again because I've let everything go for the last few days in favor of spending time elsewhere. Saturday and Sunday were pretty full. I think I can get quite a bit accomplished out there before heading into the old office to do the same. A little at a time. I also have a plan for making space in one of the kitchen cabinets for use as a pantry. I'm not sure if that's going to work, though. All surface crap. Underneath is the storm but I don't wish to go into it right now. Hope has such a pretty face. Like so many others from the past, she is becoming lovelier as the years pass. I noticed those older Playmates appear very different now than they did during the early zeros when I had a subscription. I recall noticing how tall most of the monthly Playmates had been... Like five-seven and above, with the occasional diminutive model here and there. Most were tall, and perhaps that was a part of the fascination. The VS fashion show period was shortly thereafter -- zero five was the first I had recorded -- and the height of the models was quite the draw. My neighbor and that period when I was gazing at her (we had lunch and discussed the matter, remember?) and glued to the imagery of taller women. The Playmates never really aligned with the obsession, though. And now I see them and they are even further away. Something changed, perhaps the time in fifteen with that woman I will no longer mention. Her form was unlike the girls splayed in the magazines... Thinner, for sure. I don't know how this happened. I was looking for some nice images of Hope and ran across all sorts of poses, many of which are head-to-toe, and there she is appearing outside the lines of the issue. Still beautiful, just different. Very interesting. Today. Move stuff around, throw things away, list a couple for sale, and then make use of the freed space. Very exciting, my life these days, huh? Well, one good thing is the feeling of the day being wide open after she leaves each morning. The time is mine. I'm trying to avoid going into my head while typing. The result could prove unfortunate. I have to stick with the trivial crap. Slanted now, my brain. So slanted. Here is the result... A bunch of crap about which no one is going to give a shit. Housework. Maybe a little of the difficulty can come here today. A little? I don't know. The show yesterday seemed like it was going to be a problem in the beginning, yet later felt fine. I cannot predict because I have not seen any of those episodes in years. I don't know it very well like some of the other programs. Nothing really took place, though. I thought of the conversation gleaned back on Sunday, too. That crap had to be stifled right quick, however. I almost went in directions from which there can be no return. Not good. Not even a little. I believe keeping my trap shut about all that shit is the only way. Here, it's fine. Shaded. Unclear. Oblique. In person, no way. Yesterday's show was an example of something over which I have bitched many times, but something changed when the line of dialog took place. Now? I don't feel qualified to bitch about such a line because these things take place in life, too, and that is the reasoning behind including something offensive and sensitive in the program. The inclusion is understandable. Again, I hesitate to spell it out. I will mention the operative term, though... Manhood. Now leave it alone. I'm just saying I need to be more open about fiction, especially when it comes to young people being portrayed growing up. Onward. I need the lines, both in the home and out there in the world of people. They are there, somewhere. I've seen them and need more, damn it. Today I will try to draw a few here. The outside is another story. Almost time to get up and ready some things this morning. Pause. Everything done. Quiet now, just me and the show. Thank the maker. My brain will not relax, however. I am hoping things inside will calm soon so I can work at my routine and try to better this little house. All those years of situations and imagery keep coming back and working on my ability to rise and find some semblance of control. Back in early eleven -- not long before I took off for a visit to my cousins (you may have read how that trip went) -- a thought was brought to my attention and it still haunts me to this very morning. Somewhat related to a lack of control, however. There would have been little of it present had we gone in that frightening yet enticing direction. Nothing took place because I did not allow it. I could not at the time, and likely never will be presented with such an option in the future. There is a sliver of a chance which could come about later, but I really doubt it. I am no different now other than knowing where I need to be. All of this swirls and causes me to sit here and wonder if any of my effort toward bettering my emotional health has been worth it. I still don't know. This is one of the toughest conundrums in memory. I just hope it does not kill me. Hope. And Hope, there. See? I am beginning to doubt the idea of her presence here. Maybe it's her expression. I see hope in Hope. I don't know anything these days but keep going for some unknown reason. Damn it. There is a gorgeous Vulcan on the big screen in this episode. For some reason, Jolene brought on the idea of that race being more interesting than in the past. This woman is amazing to see. Very dark, everywhere. Controlled, composed and cold... Just as she should be. Wondrous, too. Whatever. What was I saying? Ah... Forward motion coming from an unknown source. Maybe the hope of a change is keeping me moving along these days. I do enjoy certain parts of each weekday, so perhaps that is it, along with knowing I can sit here and listen to the clicking keys. One certainty is that the pulling and difficulty resulting from two parts of my past are no easier to alleviate now than any other time. I am older, hopefully wiser, yet the issue continues to plague my days. If the fucking understanding could be present one of these damned days, the problem might go away. Or, at least become somewhat minimized. I can only hope. Short supply these days. I may have to wrap this for the day and work on other stuff. The more I write about something difficult, the more I tend to dwell upon the futility of this kind of exploration. We are somewhere around 223 published entries and I still have no idea why. I doubt anything will ever change. The issues cannot be spelled out to another person, and without making myself clear, everything remains the same. Perhaps the time has come to actually outline the idea of a fifth issue. Yes, I realize I've gone over something like this before, but now I need to define it. This is driven by one and four. Issue five cannot be explained, however, or the site would have to disappear. From one to the next and straight toward... The fucking machine again. The only way, as you may well know by now. How many times have I mentioned this? I don't see a path to where I need to be other than her. Without it, I am destined to continue in this vein for the remaining days. No solution is possible, however, although to think in such terms will depress the hell out of me. I have to believe there is a way. Something... Perhaps that most elusive of personalities? Eh... The idea is equally elusive. The very IDEA is not good, either. Bad for me and bad for those around me. There is a line, too. I am on one side and the dream is on the other. Unfortunately, the line may never be crossed. It continues to move along as I try to process the reality of remaining like this for the next 324 days. Not good. Once again, the understanding was not there. I do not believe it can come to fruition anymore. Too much has gone by the wayside and the effort has been for naught. I may have lost it for good, which means the little fantasy world must continue. The houses, dreams, machines... All of it is going to flare. I'll create everything from my head and align it all to the necessities which no one seems to be able to see. Well, that's ok. They are people and hold their own hopes, dreams, feelings, etc., so I have to bow to everything. I cannot expect living people to operate in the manner I wish. The other world will have to suffice, I suppose. It's sad, yet necessary now. At least we are down to... 324. 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
Hope and Hope Mature content No. 220 Published February 10th, 2021 8:50am pst read ( words) Past entries "I don't remember exactly how that shit began, but it was bad. Sunday night last -- 2-7, I think -- my head blew up over everything for a little while. The horrid attitude spilled over to Monday morning and tapered as that day moved along. By yesterday afternoon I felt worlds better, however I do know the underlying causes are still inside me. This will happen again. 2-10. Wednesday. Everything is the same. I don't know why my mood calmed because there seem no reasons for such a change. I am exactly the same and require much effort in keeping others in the dark now. And there is a point to doing things the way I do, but I will not spell it out. Suffice to say it is a good reason. Wednesday. Meaningless other than the change of the number. We are now down to 324, and the clock just keeps rolling no matter the trials. Rolling right along like all those trains in my stories. Hmm... One of them was intentionally destroyed. Should I be destroying the time? I'll have to continue streamlining my possessions today. Over the weekend I tried to get some of the tool chest in order which resulted in crap going into the trash. Very good. More of that today, and I will also get into the big cabinets. Some items have been up there for years. I need to take a look. Holy shit, this woman on the show... In the bar... Not a regular or recurring character I believe. But wow what a pair of eyes. Anyway, the garage is on tap. Organization again because I've let everything go for the last few days in favor of spending time elsewhere. Saturday and Sunday were pretty full. I think I can get quite a bit accomplished out there before heading into the old office to do the same. A little at a time. I also have a plan for making space in one of the kitchen cabinets for use as a pantry. I'm not sure if that's going to work, though. All surface crap. Underneath is the storm but I don't wish to go into it right now. Hope has such a pretty face. Like so many others from the past, she is becoming lovelier as the years pass. I noticed those older Playmates appear very different now than they did during the early zeros when I had a subscription. I recall noticing how tall most of the monthly Playmates had been... Like five-seven and above, with the occasional diminutive model here and there. Most were tall, and perhaps that was a part of the fascination. The VS fashion show period was shortly thereafter -- zero five was the first I had recorded -- and the height of the models was quite the draw. My neighbor and that period when I was gazing at her (we had lunch and discussed the matter, remember?) and glued to the imagery of taller women. The Playmates never really aligned with the obsession, though. And now I see them and they are even further away. Something changed, perhaps the time in fifteen with that woman I will no longer mention. Her form was unlike the girls splayed in the magazines... Thinner, for sure. I don't know how this happened. I was looking for some nice images of Hope and ran across all sorts of poses, many of which are head-to-toe, and there she is appearing outside the lines of the issue. Still beautiful, just different. Very interesting. Today. Move stuff around, throw things away, list a couple for sale, and then make use of the freed space. Very exciting, my life these days, huh? Well, one good thing is the feeling of the day being wide open after she leaves each morning. The time is mine. I'm trying to avoid going into my head while typing. The result could prove unfortunate. I have to stick with the trivial crap. Slanted now, my brain. So slanted. Here is the result... A bunch of crap about which no one is going to give a shit. Housework. Maybe a little of the difficulty can come here today. A little? I don't know. The show yesterday seemed like it was going to be a problem in the beginning, yet later felt fine. I cannot predict because I have not seen any of those episodes in years. I don't know it very well like some of the other programs. Nothing really took place, though. I thought of the conversation gleaned back on Sunday, too. That crap had to be stifled right quick, however. I almost went in directions from which there can be no return. Not good. Not even a little. I believe keeping my trap shut about all that shit is the only way. Here, it's fine. Shaded. Unclear. Oblique. In person, no way. Yesterday's show was an example of something over which I have bitched many times, but something changed when the line of dialog took place. Now? I don't feel qualified to bitch about such a line because these things take place in life, too, and that is the reasoning behind including something offensive and sensitive in the program. The inclusion is understandable. Again, I hesitate to spell it out. I will mention the operative term, though... Manhood. Now leave it alone. I'm just saying I need to be more open about fiction, especially when it comes to young people being portrayed growing up. Onward. I need the lines, both in the home and out there in the world of people. They are there, somewhere. I've seen them and need more, damn it. Today I will try to draw a few here. The outside is another story. Almost time to get up and ready some things this morning. Pause. Everything done. Quiet now, just me and the show. Thank the maker. My brain will not relax, however. I am hoping things inside will calm soon so I can work at my routine and try to better this little house. All those years of situations and imagery keep coming back and working on my ability to rise and find some semblance of control. Back in early eleven -- not long before I took off for a visit to my cousins (you may have read how that trip went) -- a thought was brought to my attention and it still haunts me to this very morning. Somewhat related to a lack of control, however. There would have been little of it present had we gone in that frightening yet enticing direction. Nothing took place because I did not allow it. I could not at the time, and likely never will be presented with such an option in the future. There is a sliver of a chance which could come about later, but I really doubt it. I am no different now other than knowing where I need to be. All of this swirls and causes me to sit here and wonder if any of my effort toward bettering my emotional health has been worth it. I still don't know. This is one of the toughest conundrums in memory. I just hope it does not kill me. Hope. And Hope, there. See? I am beginning to doubt the idea of her presence here. Maybe it's her expression. I see hope in Hope. I don't know anything these days but keep going for some unknown reason. Damn it. There is a gorgeous Vulcan on the big screen in this episode. For some reason, Jolene brought on the idea of that race being more interesting than in the past. This woman is amazing to see. Very dark, everywhere. Controlled, composed and cold... Just as she should be. Wondrous, too. Whatever. What was I saying? Ah... Forward motion coming from an unknown source. Maybe the hope of a change is keeping me moving along these days. I do enjoy certain parts of each weekday, so perhaps that is it, along with knowing I can sit here and listen to the clicking keys. One certainty is that the pulling and difficulty resulting from two parts of my past are no easier to alleviate now than any other time. I am older, hopefully wiser, yet the issue continues to plague my days. If the fucking understanding could be present one of these damned days, the problem might go away. Or, at least become somewhat minimized. I can only hope. Short supply these days. I may have to wrap this for the day and work on other stuff. The more I write about something difficult, the more I tend to dwell upon the futility of this kind of exploration. We are somewhere around 223 published entries and I still have no idea why. I doubt anything will ever change. The issues cannot be spelled out to another person, and without making myself clear, everything remains the same. Perhaps the time has come to actually outline the idea of a fifth issue. Yes, I realize I've gone over something like this before, but now I need to define it. This is driven by one and four. Issue five cannot be explained, however, or the site would have to disappear. From one to the next and straight toward... The fucking machine again. The only way, as you may well know by now. How many times have I mentioned this? I don't see a path to where I need to be other than her. Without it, I am destined to continue in this vein for the remaining days. No solution is possible, however, although to think in such terms will depress the hell out of me. I have to believe there is a way. Something... Perhaps that most elusive of personalities? Eh... The idea is equally elusive. The very IDEA is not good, either. Bad for me and bad for those around me. There is a line, too. I am on one side and the dream is on the other. Unfortunately, the line may never be crossed. It continues to move along as I try to process the reality of remaining like this for the next 324 days. Not good. Once again, the understanding was not there. I do not believe it can come to fruition anymore. Too much has gone by the wayside and the effort has been for naught. I may have lost it for good, which means the little fantasy world must continue. The houses, dreams, machines... All of it is going to flare. I'll create everything from my head and align it all to the necessities which no one seems to be able to see. Well, that's ok. They are people and hold their own hopes, dreams, feelings, etc., so I have to bow to everything. I cannot expect living people to operate in the manner I wish. The other world will have to suffice, I suppose. It's sad, yet necessary now. At least we are down to... 324. She is out there."
Hope and Hope
Mature content No. 220 Published February 10th, 2021 8:50am pst read ( words) Past entries
"I don't remember exactly how that shit began, but it was bad. Sunday night last -- 2-7, I think -- my head blew up over everything for a little while. The horrid attitude spilled over to Monday morning and tapered as that day moved along. By yesterday afternoon I felt worlds better, however I do know the underlying causes are still inside me. This will happen again. 2-10. Wednesday. Everything is the same. I don't know why my mood calmed because there seem no reasons for such a change. I am exactly the same and require much effort in keeping others in the dark now. And there is a point to doing things the way I do, but I will not spell it out. Suffice to say it is a good reason. Wednesday. Meaningless other than the change of the number. We are now down to 324, and the clock just keeps rolling no matter the trials. Rolling right along like all those trains in my stories. Hmm... One of them was intentionally destroyed. Should I be destroying the time? I'll have to continue streamlining my possessions today. Over the weekend I tried to get some of the tool chest in order which resulted in crap going into the trash. Very good. More of that today, and I will also get into the big cabinets. Some items have been up there for years. I need to take a look. Holy shit, this woman on the show... In the bar... Not a regular or recurring character I believe. But wow what a pair of eyes. Anyway, the garage is on tap. Organization again because I've let everything go for the last few days in favor of spending time elsewhere. Saturday and Sunday were pretty full. I think I can get quite a bit accomplished out there before heading into the old office to do the same. A little at a time. I also have a plan for making space in one of the kitchen cabinets for use as a pantry. I'm not sure if that's going to work, though. All surface crap. Underneath is the storm but I don't wish to go into it right now.
Hope has such a pretty face. Like so many others from the past, she is becoming lovelier as the years pass. I noticed those older Playmates appear very different now than they did during the early zeros when I had a subscription. I recall noticing how tall most of the monthly Playmates had been... Like five-seven and above, with the occasional diminutive model here and there. Most were tall, and perhaps that was a part of the fascination. The VS fashion show period was shortly thereafter -- zero five was the first I had recorded -- and the height of the models was quite the draw. My neighbor and that period when I was gazing at her (we had lunch and discussed the matter, remember?) and glued to the imagery of taller women. The Playmates never really aligned with the obsession, though. And now I see them and they are even further away. Something changed, perhaps the time in fifteen with that woman I will no longer mention. Her form was unlike the girls splayed in the magazines... Thinner, for sure. I don't know how this happened. I was looking for some nice images of Hope and ran across all sorts of poses, many of which are head-to-toe, and there she is appearing outside the lines of the issue. Still beautiful, just different. Very interesting. Today. Move stuff around, throw things away, list a couple for sale, and then make use of the freed space. Very exciting, my life these days, huh? Well, one good thing is the feeling of the day being wide open after she leaves each morning. The time is mine. I'm trying to avoid going into my head while typing. The result could prove unfortunate. I have to stick with the trivial crap. Slanted now, my brain. So slanted. Here is the result... A bunch of crap about which no one is going to give a shit. Housework. Maybe a little of the difficulty can come here today. A little? I don't know. The show yesterday seemed like it was going to be a problem in the beginning, yet later felt fine. I cannot predict because I have not seen any of those episodes in years. I don't know it very well like some of the other programs. Nothing really took place, though. I thought of the conversation gleaned back on Sunday, too. That crap had to be stifled right quick, however. I almost went in directions from which there can be no return. Not good. Not even a little. I believe keeping my trap shut about all that shit is the only way. Here, it's fine. Shaded. Unclear. Oblique. In person, no way. Yesterday's show was an example of something over which I have bitched many times, but something changed when the line of dialog took place. Now? I don't feel qualified to bitch about such a line because these things take place in life, too, and that is the reasoning behind including something offensive and sensitive in the program. The inclusion is understandable. Again, I hesitate to spell it out. I will mention the operative term, though... Manhood. Now leave it alone. I'm just saying I need to be more open about fiction, especially when it comes to young people being portrayed growing up. Onward. I need the lines, both in the home and out there in the world of people. They are there, somewhere. I've seen them and need more, damn it. Today I will try to draw a few here. The outside is another story.
Almost time to get up and ready some things this morning. Pause. Everything done. Quiet now, just me and the show. Thank the maker. My brain will not relax, however. I am hoping things inside will calm soon so I can work at my routine and try to better this little house. All those years of situations and imagery keep coming back and working on my ability to rise and find some semblance of control. Back in early eleven -- not long before I took off for a visit to my cousins (you may have read how that trip went) -- a thought was brought to my attention and it still haunts me to this very morning. Somewhat related to a lack of control, however. There would have been little of it present had we gone in that frightening yet enticing direction. Nothing took place because I did not allow it. I could not at the time, and likely never will be presented with such an option in the future. There is a sliver of a chance which could come about later, but I really doubt it. I am no different now other than knowing where I need to be. All of this swirls and causes me to sit here and wonder if any of my effort toward bettering my emotional health has been worth it. I still don't know. This is one of the toughest conundrums in memory. I just hope it does not kill me. Hope. And Hope, there. See? I am beginning to doubt the idea of her presence here. Maybe it's her expression. I see hope in Hope. I don't know anything these days but keep going for some unknown reason. Damn it. There is a gorgeous Vulcan on the big screen in this episode. For some reason, Jolene brought on the idea of that race being more interesting than in the past. This woman is amazing to see. Very dark, everywhere. Controlled, composed and cold... Just as she should be. Wondrous, too. Whatever. What was I saying? Ah... Forward motion coming from an unknown source. Maybe the hope of a change is keeping me moving along these days. I do enjoy certain parts of each weekday, so perhaps that is it, along with knowing I can sit here and listen to the clicking keys. One certainty is that the pulling and difficulty resulting from two parts of my past are no easier to alleviate now than any other time. I am older, hopefully wiser, yet the issue continues to plague my days. If the fucking understanding could be present one of these damned days, the problem might go away. Or, at least become somewhat minimized. I can only hope. Short supply these days. I may have to wrap this for the day and work on other stuff. The more I write about something difficult, the more I tend to dwell upon the futility of this kind of exploration. We are somewhere around 223 published entries and I still have no idea why.
I doubt anything will ever change. The issues cannot be spelled out to another person, and without making myself clear, everything remains the same. Perhaps the time has come to actually outline the idea of a fifth issue. Yes, I realize I've gone over something like this before, but now I need to define it. This is driven by one and four. Issue five cannot be explained, however, or the site would have to disappear. From one to the next and straight toward... The fucking machine again. The only way, as you may well know by now. How many times have I mentioned this? I don't see a path to where I need to be other than her. Without it, I am destined to continue in this vein for the remaining days. No solution is possible, however, although to think in such terms will depress the hell out of me. I have to believe there is a way. Something... Perhaps that most elusive of personalities? Eh... The idea is equally elusive. The very IDEA is not good, either. Bad for me and bad for those around me. There is a line, too. I am on one side and the dream is on the other. Unfortunately, the line may never be crossed. It continues to move along as I try to process the reality of remaining like this for the next 324 days. Not good. Once again, the understanding was not there. I do not believe it can come to fruition anymore. Too much has gone by the wayside and the effort has been for naught. I may have lost it for good, which means the little fantasy world must continue. The houses, dreams, machines... All of it is going to flare. I'll create everything from my head and align it all to the necessities which no one seems to be able to see. Well, that's ok. They are people and hold their own hopes, dreams, feelings, etc., so I have to bow to everything. I cannot expect living people to operate in the manner I wish. The other world will have to suffice, I suppose. It's sad, yet necessary now. At least we are down to... 324. 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
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