Kreplach Mature content No. 252 Published June 19th, 2021 7:07am pdt read ( words) Past entries "6-15. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' I began the latest model yesterday. Trying to take my time with it for two reasons. One is to make the work last as long as possible, and two is detail. The other cars went fine but both had some sort of issue and/or parts left over after the builds were completed. I have since rebuilt both from scratch and still there are little things here and there which are not right. So, this one is going to be scrutinized. The feeling of relaxing there with a cocktail in the evening and going through the parts is wonderful. I may disassemble one of the big cars after the new one is complete, too. Soothing, that work. 'The woman is menacing. She looks upon me with angry eyes, knife at the ready, and as if I am the enemy. I must get away because I don't see a conversation helping. Red eyes -- like my beloved Jaime, but different -- looking right through me. I have to get away from her. Gorgeous, angry, sexy. The compliment went right on by as if I insulted her. The closer she gets, the less she looks like Justine. Still, I see that woman from the second passenger car in there somewhere. Frightening. I have to avoid the knife. She is about to speak again...' The quiet today already feels more welcomed than yesterday, and that time was a big fucking deal. I needed it after the weekend. I have to be away from people several hours a day because voices are beginning to irritate my senses. I know not why. We discussed this a bit last weekend, too, and the conclusion was not good. I am on a unique road right now. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' These last several days have been very difficult. I am beginning to believe that either I deserve this type of loss or I am yearning for something beyond reality. The fucked up part is this: I've been here before, and I know it exists. I just don't have a clue as to what may have changed. If it's me, the end of the world will be approaching at breakneck speed as soon as shit comes to a head. If it's the past, there is nothing I can do about it. And if the issue is with the people I have encountered? Well, that will be very bad for anyone wishing to be near me in the future. The line between this world and the forest is already being treaded. This morning is all mine, as is the next many hours, yet my head will not quiet for a second. I still have coffee and the show up there. Words are not forthcoming, and those which continue to swirl around my brain cannot be shared here. Too personal. Compelling, but personal. I can do exactly nothing about this right now, either. None of it will leave. Part of the routine is finished and the rest will happen in good time. I kind of need the distraction because otherwise I'll fall down hard and I can't fucking have that right now. I am stuck in a very bad place despite the day's quiet. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' Something has to change and I have zero control over the fact. One of two paths generally takes place when I am this upset. Either I will spend money in hopes of finding comfort in something enjoyable, or I will pour the medicine and head out to the garage for a session of loud music, building something and tossing shit in the trash. Right now neither seems a good idea. I hate this, and all those years are the cause. The trauma took its toll for a very long time before realizing there was relief, and then said relief was effectively removed. When it returned I felt better but still something was missing. I am sitting here right now because the hole apparently cannot be filled. Unsolvable. Decrepit. Unnerving. A kreplach. Day in and day out it is on my mind, too. Just like anything difficult, the preoccupation does not end. And this may be the most important aspect of my existence. Believe it. The two paths must be avoided today due to the knowledge that coming out the other side will be exactly the same minus hours of time better spent in other directions. I already know, so I have to be strong. Lashing is not good, ever. '"Walking cliché, dumbass. Fix it, if you even can or care at all anymore." I don't know what to do. She is ferocious.' This is the worst lack of control imaginable. And I don't need any of that fucking headshrinker horseshit. Did I chop off the subject of the machine? I can't recall. At this moment she is foremost on my mind because of the immediate and permanent expulsion of all issues. I said I would not discuss some of them and I will not waver from that statement. But I have to mention the fucking battery-powered goddess and all that comes with her. The only way... Solution... Whatever the fuck. I don't know. My current state of mind since Saturday last is very bad and I am beginning to realize that the forest may be a step in the right direction for my sanity. Two feet in there already. The reason is all too many impossibilities in life and needs gone by the wayside or otherwise not fucking working. I had no idea something so powerful would begin to bend my brain like this at my age, although age may be a factor. And don't jump to fucking conclusions, fuckers. It's not what you may be imagining. The fact is that I cannot live like this, effectively bringing the dead black that much closer with each drawn breath. The machine is not an option. Therein lies part of the shit. I can already see my behavior changing, especially toward others. Yesterday I rolled north to replenish our cigarette supply and pick up my vest. I was very close to the bar, meaning the thought of cruising in there to see what's been going on entered my head for a brief moment before strolling into the cleaners. Well, upon grabbing the vest and seeing that I spent a decent amount of money having a rocker added to the front -- one which is complete and utter bullshit since the outset of this calendar year -- my head spun to the other side of the world and I ended up returning home with half a mood ripped away like leaves in a fall windstorm. There was no going back, and the vest is now hanging in my hallway so I can see the glory after returning all the tin to its rightful place. This is fucked. The reason I did not head toward the bar is simple: I spied the new patch and my head imploded. Nothing but anger. No pride, no assertions of comfort, nothing. It is as false as the face I put on each day when dealing with other people. I will be all the way in the forest soon enough and no one is going to like it. One tidbit is everyone thought last year was the worst due to the pandemic and all of the changes and losses. Well, this year is the worst for yours truly. Everything is going away as if pulled by forces from hell. Soon I will be mired within a kreplach. People will hate me. Not the fucking pastry, idiots. Learn something for a change if you can unglue your stupid asses from the fucking phone long enough to be a normal fucking person. Nearly ten in the morning. This feels like the biggest loss in years. Multiple losses. Everything is just fucking LOSS. Pieces of my being falling away like wet cake in the rain. Pissed off. Fuck everything. If nothing comes along soon I will become evil and that is not a fucking joke. Switch. I've fucking had it with so much of society deriving every fucking detail of life from one area of the body. People don't realize how ridiculous, damaging, and ignorant they are being by embracing whatever the sheep next door is spouting. Sheep. Every fucking thing on television reinforces every other fucking thing which demeans and reduces a person down to inanimate objects which have become the largest fucking point of contention imaginable. Conjecture, insults, euphemism and dysphemism running rampant and not a fucking soul seems to either notice or care. Well, the reasoning behind my sheer, burning disgust with the whole of progress should be apparent now, and if you are reading and cannot derive meaning or a subject, you are both part of the shit and a fucking idiot. Stupid. Unintelligent, unfeeling, and having your point of view driven here and there by every other fucking idiot. Again... Sheep. But don't worry, no one else gives a shit, so you can continue on your merry way with the herd moving abreast. Keep going, live it. Do it. You want to. One little rub? Stay the fuck away from me, and stop wondering why I am living the way I am. You will never understand. Do I sound angry? There are not enough words to express even a fraction of what I am feeling. I am safe in this little house with my media of choice and booze. Stay away. Evil, incoming. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. '"Fix it."' 6-16. I guess yesterday was supposed to be the first day with lifted restrictions. I never left the house so I have no idea of how everything appeared. I have to head over to the market today. Perhaps I'll see a difference. Also yesterday was step two of the little model. Very exciting, that stuff. The goddess visited for a little while so we could watch the show again, I took care of the usual stuff (not a touch more), and then the evening rolled along with dinner and the usual relaxation. Overall one might think the day was fine, however underneath it all is the realization that I am no longer capable of much. These late days are finding me seeking solitude above all other things. The world taking a big step back to the norm makes no difference to me aside from being able to lose the mask sometimes. In this house, nothing has changed, yet fifteen months have altered me dramatically. Just last night I was asked for the bigger picture and afterward was told that everything I said sounded depressing. To me? Not at all. The facts are facts. I am different, and the guidelines for being out in society are not going to affect me as much as others. Yesterday was yet another example of the person I have become. That tirade regarding society spilled off the screen and came out of my mouth last night, but nothing terrible. I remained very calm, made a remark or two about the new show we are watching, and was then asked for more of the story. I offered some insight into how I have been feeling this last year or more and then went to sleep. I don't regret the conversation, but also don't feel that I conveyed enough to make a point. After the show, I sort of felt a stab due to one of the scenes and then chewed on it for a little while. Nothing related to anything I've written here, though. This was different and had to do with the relationship between a man and a woman. In fact, it was the opposite of two disparate lines of dialog from other shows which pretty much define the world's position regarding masculinity. Those two made me wish to find the source of the writing and eliminate it like a cockroach in a commercial kitchen. Stomp. Last night's feeling was very different. I do not appreciate an intelligent script moving along and then falling on its face due to being pressured by society in conforming to certain standards defined by the same. They need to go their own fucking way. As always, I cannot repeat anything from the television. You'll just have to wonder. The most important realization coming from these incidents is that I need to hold my own tongue because speaking with another person about my feelings on the subjects is not going to help anyone, and may in fact serve no other purpose than demonstrating just how far out of balance I have become. That crap has to remain inside for fear of appearing nuts. I can't have that right now. Whatever I may feel, none of it can be helped or solved with the involvement of people. They are the problem, as well. From their heads to the screen and off to the world with nary a worry. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' '"Fuck you." "You think that shit will help? Always pushing back? You have no idea what you're doing." "Put that knife away." "Not until you admit the truth."' If there is even the slightest inkling that I appear ridiculous or stupid in front of another person I will have to hide away forever. I just cannot abide it. Right now I actually have no idea of what others think of me. None at all. Partly because we don't talk about it much and partly because I am having a hell of a time trusting the words of anyone. Bad thoughts will not come to light. Instead, platitudes will resound. I've already heard too much of it. I realize I am human and prone to mistakes like anyone, but still I believe I am a good person underneath it all. I am simply having trouble with all of the negatives thrown my way throughout the course of years. I just can't have others thinking bad of me, believe it or not. Despite all of my bullshit about not giving a fuck, the truth is I worry. Enough of that. Ah the Christmas decorations all over the restaurant in the current episode are dredging up the past again. It used to be my favorite time of year -- that period beginning with Halloween and running all the way to the new year -- but now I have difficulty seeing the massive gradient between those years and the present. It hurts. And walking down the hallway this morning... The vest hanging there in all its glory with the rocker indicating a falsehood. More hurt. 143 entries published since the outset of twenty should confirm that there is enough going on in my head already without having to deal with such a slap. The heritage continues to plague me, no matter what may be taking place on a given day, and there may be no end to it. The decorations remind me of all those huge holiday gatherings and the legacy of which I thought I was a part, and then the reality came along after some research and ruined everything. And though I knew I was to be the end of the line, such a fact was ok considering from where I hailed. The history was already there. The conclusion is that both the heritage and end of line combined are causing enough pain to derail my thinking daily. This is not good and becoming worse all the time. I may need to skip this episode in the future for my own self-preservation. The feelings will never leave, but at least I can avoid additional reminders. We shall see what the upcoming holiday season does to me. Not even half past nine in the morning and my routine is finished. There is some dry cleaning, but otherwise all I need to do is take a trip to the market and marinate a roast for the next couple of dinners. I may be in front of this crap for some time today. My life has been boiled down like an au jus on the stove too long. 'She is not here to be nice to me. Not a bit, nor will she lose the knife. Scared. "What do you want to see? The end, or the rest of me?" "Get away from me, please." Advancing. I know she wants me to be nice to others, leave the bullshit aside and turn on the pleasant, and then pull myself out of the din, and soon. But I cannot. Though I am frightened of the sight, I have not the will to do as she wishes. Too weak and defeated. I just don't fucking care anymore. If she kills me, so be it. I have damned little left, anyway. And conversation feels alien right now. Cold, snowy, dark. Julia tried to help and I know this woman is as well, yet I simply have nothing inside. No drive at all. The worst part is I may not have any say in the matter. "You know what you have to do." Damn it. I knew she would say that. I begin to back away to see if her menacing stance will push. Red eyes, shining in the din.' Soon I will head over there and take care of a little business. At least leaving the house for a while will break up the clock a tad. Monday I took off to grab the vest, but yesterday I went nowhere. I have to remain hidden away in this little house for my own peace of mind. One problem being here all the time, though, is my mind wandering and causing distress. There was much of it yesterday, although so far today I've been better after experiencing so much need. I began to think that not only did I get through the hours and rise above, but I also felt that the guilt and shame took over and disallowed anything to take place. I suppose it is a good thing coming out of bad thoughts. Better than nothing at this point. Remaining inside for such a long period has affected me in both good and bad ways. I will be out twice today, in fact. To the store in a few minutes and then to the home of the goddess later. Both are very close, too. I am withdrawn for many reasons at this point, yet still when I go out the door it helps me feel more secure upon arriving here afterward. I guess that is not bad. 6-17. I never went over there. The market was necessary, however. Upon returning home I took care of my marinade and cleaned up some but never felt like going out the door again. I ended up working on the bathroom for a while and then the model. This morning I am out of sorts somewhat. Dinner was quite late, meaning I had just a touch more booze than usual. These days I am very sensitive to changes in the routine. Now I am feeling the difference. I'll have to take it easy for part of the morning and work on stuff later. While the coffee lasts? Right here. There is much in my head but only bits and pieces can show up in this space. Oy. Sometimes I wish I could say more. Spinning again, like last weekend and Monday. I can do nothing about it, and such a fact is really pressing on my head. I can't do a fucking thing because there is nothing available. I can't fucking do anything. I just have to sit here and stew. This is not good and likely the most difficult situation I could have imagined years ago. There were no clues then. Now? I know everything. Mark my fucking words... This will be the straw. Given enough time and frustration combined with whatever the fuck took place last weekend, this is the shit which will ruin me. The evil, incoming. This morning it feels closer than yesterday and I know precisely why. Only one aspect of life has the power to do this. I am midstream. Spinning and falling down. I don't know what to do this morning. The usual crap will not take long, and I don't want to touch the model until the evening. There is work to do in the kitchen, so perhaps that will turn the day's direction around before things become dire. The sparring schools of thought continue inside, unimpeded. This is becoming another fucking kreplach. Often there are life situations with which we must deal knowing full well we cannot change them. Nothing can be done, so option A comes along as advice and we do our best to move forward and hopefully just let them go. Well, this is larger and more compelling than anything in recent memory -- even that shit at the beginning of eleven when I had few options and less patience. The straw situation. My Achilles' heel. I can't stand feeling this way day in and day out. Soon other people will notice because nothing can push my sorry ass all the way into the forest as quickly. Evil. Kreplach. Decaying hope. This year is nearly half gone and all these months have provided me the space to think like never before. Maybe not all is good, though. Too much time? Too much thinking? Just as the paragraph began... I don't know what to do. Angry. Switch. Adriana was like a sister. Despite all those curves and her amazing and nearly unmatched midsection, I have not felt anything aside from appreciation for a very long time. This is more important. She was something else, I tell you. Sweet, brainless, yet so endearing that the feeling has lasted since the series' end seventeen years ago. Like a sister. And I still fucking care. And switch back. I don't see a way out of this crap in life. The same feeling has come and gone for such a long time that I have become accustomed to the difficulty, and such a fact is a very sad commentary. It means I have accepted the idea of being unhappy. Not good. I cannot go back and change the past, of course, and that nagging thought of moving on and 'coming to terms' with such a loss is much worse now than even a year ago. Just months back in another entry I equated one thing to another (no detail) and realized I have been compensating for a very long fucking time by gushing in the opposite direction out of a dire need to provide the very care and comfort that has been such a dream. None of this is blowing my skirt up. Unfortunately, there is no choice in the matter, nor has there ever been. Again... Not good. I don't want to explode with the forest feeling and spread my dissatisfaction all over the place. No way out. Never me. In addition, the recent trouble has become two-fold due to circumstances seemingly beyond my control. Yep, there is that fucking word again. Years of dreaming while asleep have had me waking to deep depression and then reacting to the words of others (platitudes) in a very harsh manner. I honestly do not wish to deal with or even THINK about this shit anymore. I'm sick of it, hurt, and worried about what the future may hold after my moving forward from this standpoint, especially considering the realization within the previous paragraph. I do not see an out at all, anywhere. This is worse than even ten minutes ago. 'I have to run away. "Who are you?" Nothing, like always.' I have to get away from the previous topic for a while. Nothing feels good now, and on top of already being somewhat physically down today, thinking about anything so tough is not helping. My routine is finished but I probably will not get into anything else today before close of business hours. Too much pressing me down. I have reduced one of my favorite statements -- 'everything TURNS to shit' -- down to 'everything HAS TURNED to shit' many times, however now the observation has finally rung true beyond a shadow of a doubt. As of this day, believe it. The good has boiled off. Reduced again, just like Satan's au jus. I've said that before, but now the liquid is turning solid. Everything from those subjects I chopped off a short time ago to the daily routine, and on to what I have become throughout the course of the last fourteen months, is simply shit. There can no longer be any denying the facts. The crap above is a large part, too. In fact, the crap above is the biggest fucking hurdle imaginable, and something I never thought would have the power to literally rule my entire fucking existence. Everything has turned to shit. Time to get the fuck away from this for a while. Nothing good is going to come off my fucking fingers right now. 6-18. Okay then. A few situations arose yesterday which will not repeat. Not if I have a say. I have no doubt that this day will be a fucking kreplach by close of business because they all are, but I just cannot have another time like yesterday. There were some good moments, though. There are always (still) some good moments. But today is another story and coming out the other side means I had better make some type of change... Or else. The pitfalls must be sidestepped quickly and the pace maintained. There is only one situation from last night that will continue throughout my day and on into the future, and that is the issue of media. Aside from the show, I have to let everything else fly away and move forward. My time today will be critical. And I may pull apart the Lamborghini again in and around my other work. Yes, I said that. There are pieces which were leftover from the kit and my head can't relax knowing something is wrong in there. Plus, there is a piece somewhere on the car with a logo which is supposed to be on the hood but is apparently elsewhere and I cannot see it. There are over 3700 individual pieces involved, meaning the search for just one could prove impossible without disassembly. So, back to the shit, maybe. The media spawned a brief observation, statements from me in a forceful manner, and then continued. Well, I cannot have that. I am now completely alone in my feelings and beliefs, and the subject to which I am referring is now only mine. Discussion is worthless. Words are futile. The space has now shrunk to an unbelievably small cube within which only I can fit. Thanks, everyone, for pushing me away with your apathy and need to believe what has been sold to you by the greatest power in the universe: society. Good job thinking on your own, people. I am so very proud that I could set you all on fire and spin on my heel with nary a further thought. I have stated many times that one of the worst parts of life is unfeeling behavior. Well, guess what? I'll show you unfeeling. 'The woman is looking more and more impatient as I try to figure some way of getting out of this. She appears pretty damned serious, as if to say that I have no choice in doing as she directs. I still do not understand her statements. Maybe I can head in another direction. Attack? I don't know. Remember the tirade in the Dracorum lounge when I threw shit all over the place and caused damage? That solved nothing but sure felt good. Perhaps a repeat. Or maybe I'll just be an asshole and force her to stab me. I hate this. "You are heading in the right direction and already said what is most important for your survival." "Stop being so fucking cryptic, please." "Keep going." She lowers the knife. This place is cold (like all places I have visited) but I am not worried about that. I believe it is just an atmosphere designed for me to think. The woman told me I already said something critical. Which? What did I say? I don't understand. My mood in here is beginning to match the one out in the real world, too. Not good. Out there are targets, enemies, sheep. In here? One woman and myself. She speaks again... "You will always be alone. The only way. Hear me." What's with the knife and threatening manner if she is trying to teach me a lesson?' Almost time to rise and take care of the morning business to earn my quiet time. Holy shit do the quiet hours sound wonderful right now. Just me and my friends up there. I need it even more than yesterday. The liquid is turning solid. Pause. And the house is mine, for whatever it may be worth. I'll have to remain mindful of avoiding the pitfalls of yesterday and keep my head out of those places, lest this day be the same. I can't have that. So far I have part of the routine finished and the rest will commence upon closing this for the morning. The quiet is just what the doctor ordered today. I need this. Gangsters up there again. I need them, too. Yes, I said that. Need. This is my world and it bows to my wishes. Others be damned. Considering the sheer number of tumblers which have recently aligned within my lock of life so far this year, I am surprised to have avoided alienating and/or slamming those near me. Sometimes I feel enough anger to really drive the points home, while most days I can't be unkind. No one deserves it, although after last night's fucking debacle and realization that something of dire importance to me is not shared -- and believe me when I say it is personal and 'they' have no right to disagree -- I am just about in position to thrash. The problem is I have worsened since just last year and my stance has equally changed to a very strong degree. I keep thinking about what has taken place and what I must endure, and then try to convey some of it. Well, that is no longer a good idea. Trap shut. Too many different cuts have taken place recently for me to completely avoid being in a shit mood, although other people are only partly at fault. I just have to keep everything inside, as I should have the entire time. The lock is my life. When it finally and fully releases? A kreplach of a very different type. Wait for it. I am not only on a road with no turns, but my entire life has been boiled down enough to force the realization that I am completely unable to relate to people anymore. Thanks, Phil. What took place on the television last night was ridiculous writing, but the fact that I was exposed to it is entirely my doing by agreeing to watch the show in the first place. Every single fucking program is going to hold one problem or another, and then those about which I feel strongest will force my hand. I simply cannot stop voicing things at times. Too important. I may chop off the show and watch something else from this day forward. There will only be more examples of my unhappiness. The quick disagreement is still stuck inside, though. I thought the feeling was different, but alas everything turns to shit. Another notch against another person. They are racking. Had I already known what was going on inside about that subject, the current situation would be quite different. Now I am forced to believe my appearance is weaker than prior to last night, a stance I have lived with for many years, just not so close. Frankly, I am surprised I have not leveraged myself out of the fucking state by now. What keeps my ass here is beyond me. Maybe the little comforts. The point is that I will be altering my eyes to follow suit. No one will like it. Remember the evil I mentioned? It can be very subtle. Slow and spreading. I am now more angry than ever. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' Never me. I can't have this. I can't have people looking at me while inside things may be going on which are either ambiguous with regard to me as a person, or disagreeable. I can't fucking have it, and right now just shy of nine in the morning and nearly twelve hours after that brief discussion, I feel worse. Whatever I may be, I am not stupid. Don't test me. I already know of the guide, the journey and the destination, as stated on many a page here and all over most places I've lived for more than two decades. I already know. Another stab at my fucking character after years of doing nothing more than caring for others is going to cause a rip you really do not want pointed in your direction. I am already reckless enough. Think of it this way: If I don't give a fuck about what happens to me, how do you think I feel about those hurting me? Do the math you bunch of fucking walking, talking kreplachs. I have to get away from that before my entire day turns to shit just as life. Evil. '"Who the hell are you?" "I am your subconscious. You already know what to do, just begin." "I don't understand." "You'll get there or I will have to advance. You already know what that means, as well." The knife...' Funny, for the longest time I was worried about one massive issue, but now it's been shoved back due to larger concerns. The anger is not going anywhere soon. Neither is this fucking content. I am so fucking tired of worrying about the keywords. That is part of the reason for my recent behavior toward other people, and likely the catalyst for the forest feeling. Some apply to me while others never will. They are too difficult and the rise is impossible in these late days. I have endured too many examples of opposites and those figures which continue to be referenced, and then piled on top is my fucking appearance as a result of the troubling feelings. Way the fuck down right now, and it is anything but attractive. I am beyond rising or changing, so whatever I have become is here to stay. Worse, actually. That is one certainty. I think about those words every few minutes and seven days a week. Can't help it. Every bit of work completed, each program on the television, and nearly every damned conversation holds a measure of the same. There is no getting around it any longer, meaning I need to suppress the shit when addressed by others lest they are shoved so far down there can be no digging out. I don't want to have to do that. Not now. But every day the words return and slap me hard enough to prevent both production and relaxation. The only plus is being alone, so here I am, perhaps forever. Hmm... The machine used to be the only way, however as my stance has altered in so many ways recently, I am seeing another out. Get it? Since the machine is impossible, my brain likely created an option. It is one no one will enjoy, but I have to look out for myself above all other things in this life. I am not going anywhere unless some miraculous turn of events appears on the horizon. Unlikely. Thus? Option. You'll see. Just a kreplach, like everything else these days. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' Too many difficulties I cannot avoid. I know not what to do most days. Today may show me much. Alternatively, today may be the same as all the rest. They have bled together for so long that the large changes for which I have been wishing feel as insurmountable peaks. I look up and see solutions to a few problems, but then the journey is beyond my ability. Every fucking day. Too many difficulties. I am really going to need to push hard today in order to avoid coming out the other side exactly as I am at this moment. Crap. Crap-lach. Kreplach. Nothingness, literally. Never me. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' 196. Nearly noon. I ordered a pizza for my little world. The routine is finished, dry cleaning done and put away, and the estimate for the tree trimming has been submitted. So far, so good. My brain is unchanged, however. There is far too much taking place on a daily basis for me to tackle everything simultaneously. I have to work on one thing at a time and push away those which are unchangeable. Not housework. That is simple. I am referring to all of the shit mentioned above. The anger is not good right now because I have extremely limited options in life. Something else has to be done, like clamming up for the fucking duration. And speaking of clamming up, the latest discomfort of people's voices has been worsening. Add that to the pile. I believe the last two nights pretty well confirmed that avoiding the sound of someone talking is helping to keep me sane. Just another example of how deeply I am embedded in this little cocoon. Everything else which comes along these days must be brought to the forefront and handled despite the noise. Not easy. Too much. 'The knife...' Yesterday was a very bad day, and I'm not referring to the model being finished. Conversation and conformity, allowance and ice. Just cold. Unfeeling. Blued and numbed. This is the beginning of the end of all things. I may never fully cross into the forest. I cannot codify why my life went in one direction and then reversed in the worst possible manner. Pull the top fuel dragster and dump a scooter in its place. No need for a 'chute, either. Slowed, crawling, scratching for something to move me up and out of this pit. A scooter where there was once the quickest vehicle on earth. Slow. Blued. I cannot have this. 6-19. 195. And now the kicker... When I was Italian, the feeling and strength of family was powerful. I knew I could not have children, meaning my heart was broken years later when I began to feel the pull of the bloodline. Well, no line, no nothing... Because there could not be blood. I was raised to believe that the most important thing in life is the blood. It was everything. It was life and the reason for going on in life. Now that I have lost the heritage, I have lost everything. Children or not, I knew who I was. Well, no longer. This is becoming worse from one day to the next because so much of my life had been steered toward the legacy and the current media continues to show me examples of the same. It is pervasive and unavoidable. The fact is there can be nothing done and I will continue this decline for the duration. More anger, no solution. It is in stone. That rhymes with 'alone'. Add it to the other 'alone' mentioned yesterday, and what do you think? Eh... Keep it to yourself, sheep. I had the blood. Now I have 'nothing'. Well, I do have 2449 occurrences of that word as of this line, which equates to 9.796 per published entry. Nice, huh? Nothing has been accomplished. People are ice. They need to be crushed. This entry comprises 666 lines of code on the editor. Next sound you hear." 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
Kreplach Mature content No. 252 Published June 19th, 2021 7:07am pdt read ( words) Past entries "6-15. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' I began the latest model yesterday. Trying to take my time with it for two reasons. One is to make the work last as long as possible, and two is detail. The other cars went fine but both had some sort of issue and/or parts left over after the builds were completed. I have since rebuilt both from scratch and still there are little things here and there which are not right. So, this one is going to be scrutinized. The feeling of relaxing there with a cocktail in the evening and going through the parts is wonderful. I may disassemble one of the big cars after the new one is complete, too. Soothing, that work. 'The woman is menacing. She looks upon me with angry eyes, knife at the ready, and as if I am the enemy. I must get away because I don't see a conversation helping. Red eyes -- like my beloved Jaime, but different -- looking right through me. I have to get away from her. Gorgeous, angry, sexy. The compliment went right on by as if I insulted her. The closer she gets, the less she looks like Justine. Still, I see that woman from the second passenger car in there somewhere. Frightening. I have to avoid the knife. She is about to speak again...' The quiet today already feels more welcomed than yesterday, and that time was a big fucking deal. I needed it after the weekend. I have to be away from people several hours a day because voices are beginning to irritate my senses. I know not why. We discussed this a bit last weekend, too, and the conclusion was not good. I am on a unique road right now. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' These last several days have been very difficult. I am beginning to believe that either I deserve this type of loss or I am yearning for something beyond reality. The fucked up part is this: I've been here before, and I know it exists. I just don't have a clue as to what may have changed. If it's me, the end of the world will be approaching at breakneck speed as soon as shit comes to a head. If it's the past, there is nothing I can do about it. And if the issue is with the people I have encountered? Well, that will be very bad for anyone wishing to be near me in the future. The line between this world and the forest is already being treaded. This morning is all mine, as is the next many hours, yet my head will not quiet for a second. I still have coffee and the show up there. Words are not forthcoming, and those which continue to swirl around my brain cannot be shared here. Too personal. Compelling, but personal. I can do exactly nothing about this right now, either. None of it will leave. Part of the routine is finished and the rest will happen in good time. I kind of need the distraction because otherwise I'll fall down hard and I can't fucking have that right now. I am stuck in a very bad place despite the day's quiet. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' Something has to change and I have zero control over the fact. One of two paths generally takes place when I am this upset. Either I will spend money in hopes of finding comfort in something enjoyable, or I will pour the medicine and head out to the garage for a session of loud music, building something and tossing shit in the trash. Right now neither seems a good idea. I hate this, and all those years are the cause. The trauma took its toll for a very long time before realizing there was relief, and then said relief was effectively removed. When it returned I felt better but still something was missing. I am sitting here right now because the hole apparently cannot be filled. Unsolvable. Decrepit. Unnerving. A kreplach. Day in and day out it is on my mind, too. Just like anything difficult, the preoccupation does not end. And this may be the most important aspect of my existence. Believe it. The two paths must be avoided today due to the knowledge that coming out the other side will be exactly the same minus hours of time better spent in other directions. I already know, so I have to be strong. Lashing is not good, ever. '"Walking cliché, dumbass. Fix it, if you even can or care at all anymore." I don't know what to do. She is ferocious.' This is the worst lack of control imaginable. And I don't need any of that fucking headshrinker horseshit. Did I chop off the subject of the machine? I can't recall. At this moment she is foremost on my mind because of the immediate and permanent expulsion of all issues. I said I would not discuss some of them and I will not waver from that statement. But I have to mention the fucking battery-powered goddess and all that comes with her. The only way... Solution... Whatever the fuck. I don't know. My current state of mind since Saturday last is very bad and I am beginning to realize that the forest may be a step in the right direction for my sanity. Two feet in there already. The reason is all too many impossibilities in life and needs gone by the wayside or otherwise not fucking working. I had no idea something so powerful would begin to bend my brain like this at my age, although age may be a factor. And don't jump to fucking conclusions, fuckers. It's not what you may be imagining. The fact is that I cannot live like this, effectively bringing the dead black that much closer with each drawn breath. The machine is not an option. Therein lies part of the shit. I can already see my behavior changing, especially toward others. Yesterday I rolled north to replenish our cigarette supply and pick up my vest. I was very close to the bar, meaning the thought of cruising in there to see what's been going on entered my head for a brief moment before strolling into the cleaners. Well, upon grabbing the vest and seeing that I spent a decent amount of money having a rocker added to the front -- one which is complete and utter bullshit since the outset of this calendar year -- my head spun to the other side of the world and I ended up returning home with half a mood ripped away like leaves in a fall windstorm. There was no going back, and the vest is now hanging in my hallway so I can see the glory after returning all the tin to its rightful place. This is fucked. The reason I did not head toward the bar is simple: I spied the new patch and my head imploded. Nothing but anger. No pride, no assertions of comfort, nothing. It is as false as the face I put on each day when dealing with other people. I will be all the way in the forest soon enough and no one is going to like it. One tidbit is everyone thought last year was the worst due to the pandemic and all of the changes and losses. Well, this year is the worst for yours truly. Everything is going away as if pulled by forces from hell. Soon I will be mired within a kreplach. People will hate me. Not the fucking pastry, idiots. Learn something for a change if you can unglue your stupid asses from the fucking phone long enough to be a normal fucking person. Nearly ten in the morning. This feels like the biggest loss in years. Multiple losses. Everything is just fucking LOSS. Pieces of my being falling away like wet cake in the rain. Pissed off. Fuck everything. If nothing comes along soon I will become evil and that is not a fucking joke. Switch. I've fucking had it with so much of society deriving every fucking detail of life from one area of the body. People don't realize how ridiculous, damaging, and ignorant they are being by embracing whatever the sheep next door is spouting. Sheep. Every fucking thing on television reinforces every other fucking thing which demeans and reduces a person down to inanimate objects which have become the largest fucking point of contention imaginable. Conjecture, insults, euphemism and dysphemism running rampant and not a fucking soul seems to either notice or care. Well, the reasoning behind my sheer, burning disgust with the whole of progress should be apparent now, and if you are reading and cannot derive meaning or a subject, you are both part of the shit and a fucking idiot. Stupid. Unintelligent, unfeeling, and having your point of view driven here and there by every other fucking idiot. Again... Sheep. But don't worry, no one else gives a shit, so you can continue on your merry way with the herd moving abreast. Keep going, live it. Do it. You want to. One little rub? Stay the fuck away from me, and stop wondering why I am living the way I am. You will never understand. Do I sound angry? There are not enough words to express even a fraction of what I am feeling. I am safe in this little house with my media of choice and booze. Stay away. Evil, incoming. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. '"Fix it."' 6-16. I guess yesterday was supposed to be the first day with lifted restrictions. I never left the house so I have no idea of how everything appeared. I have to head over to the market today. Perhaps I'll see a difference. Also yesterday was step two of the little model. Very exciting, that stuff. The goddess visited for a little while so we could watch the show again, I took care of the usual stuff (not a touch more), and then the evening rolled along with dinner and the usual relaxation. Overall one might think the day was fine, however underneath it all is the realization that I am no longer capable of much. These late days are finding me seeking solitude above all other things. The world taking a big step back to the norm makes no difference to me aside from being able to lose the mask sometimes. In this house, nothing has changed, yet fifteen months have altered me dramatically. Just last night I was asked for the bigger picture and afterward was told that everything I said sounded depressing. To me? Not at all. The facts are facts. I am different, and the guidelines for being out in society are not going to affect me as much as others. Yesterday was yet another example of the person I have become. That tirade regarding society spilled off the screen and came out of my mouth last night, but nothing terrible. I remained very calm, made a remark or two about the new show we are watching, and was then asked for more of the story. I offered some insight into how I have been feeling this last year or more and then went to sleep. I don't regret the conversation, but also don't feel that I conveyed enough to make a point. After the show, I sort of felt a stab due to one of the scenes and then chewed on it for a little while. Nothing related to anything I've written here, though. This was different and had to do with the relationship between a man and a woman. In fact, it was the opposite of two disparate lines of dialog from other shows which pretty much define the world's position regarding masculinity. Those two made me wish to find the source of the writing and eliminate it like a cockroach in a commercial kitchen. Stomp. Last night's feeling was very different. I do not appreciate an intelligent script moving along and then falling on its face due to being pressured by society in conforming to certain standards defined by the same. They need to go their own fucking way. As always, I cannot repeat anything from the television. You'll just have to wonder. The most important realization coming from these incidents is that I need to hold my own tongue because speaking with another person about my feelings on the subjects is not going to help anyone, and may in fact serve no other purpose than demonstrating just how far out of balance I have become. That crap has to remain inside for fear of appearing nuts. I can't have that right now. Whatever I may feel, none of it can be helped or solved with the involvement of people. They are the problem, as well. From their heads to the screen and off to the world with nary a worry. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' '"Fuck you." "You think that shit will help? Always pushing back? You have no idea what you're doing." "Put that knife away." "Not until you admit the truth."' If there is even the slightest inkling that I appear ridiculous or stupid in front of another person I will have to hide away forever. I just cannot abide it. Right now I actually have no idea of what others think of me. None at all. Partly because we don't talk about it much and partly because I am having a hell of a time trusting the words of anyone. Bad thoughts will not come to light. Instead, platitudes will resound. I've already heard too much of it. I realize I am human and prone to mistakes like anyone, but still I believe I am a good person underneath it all. I am simply having trouble with all of the negatives thrown my way throughout the course of years. I just can't have others thinking bad of me, believe it or not. Despite all of my bullshit about not giving a fuck, the truth is I worry. Enough of that. Ah the Christmas decorations all over the restaurant in the current episode are dredging up the past again. It used to be my favorite time of year -- that period beginning with Halloween and running all the way to the new year -- but now I have difficulty seeing the massive gradient between those years and the present. It hurts. And walking down the hallway this morning... The vest hanging there in all its glory with the rocker indicating a falsehood. More hurt. 143 entries published since the outset of twenty should confirm that there is enough going on in my head already without having to deal with such a slap. The heritage continues to plague me, no matter what may be taking place on a given day, and there may be no end to it. The decorations remind me of all those huge holiday gatherings and the legacy of which I thought I was a part, and then the reality came along after some research and ruined everything. And though I knew I was to be the end of the line, such a fact was ok considering from where I hailed. The history was already there. The conclusion is that both the heritage and end of line combined are causing enough pain to derail my thinking daily. This is not good and becoming worse all the time. I may need to skip this episode in the future for my own self-preservation. The feelings will never leave, but at least I can avoid additional reminders. We shall see what the upcoming holiday season does to me. Not even half past nine in the morning and my routine is finished. There is some dry cleaning, but otherwise all I need to do is take a trip to the market and marinate a roast for the next couple of dinners. I may be in front of this crap for some time today. My life has been boiled down like an au jus on the stove too long. 'She is not here to be nice to me. Not a bit, nor will she lose the knife. Scared. "What do you want to see? The end, or the rest of me?" "Get away from me, please." Advancing. I know she wants me to be nice to others, leave the bullshit aside and turn on the pleasant, and then pull myself out of the din, and soon. But I cannot. Though I am frightened of the sight, I have not the will to do as she wishes. Too weak and defeated. I just don't fucking care anymore. If she kills me, so be it. I have damned little left, anyway. And conversation feels alien right now. Cold, snowy, dark. Julia tried to help and I know this woman is as well, yet I simply have nothing inside. No drive at all. The worst part is I may not have any say in the matter. "You know what you have to do." Damn it. I knew she would say that. I begin to back away to see if her menacing stance will push. Red eyes, shining in the din.' Soon I will head over there and take care of a little business. At least leaving the house for a while will break up the clock a tad. Monday I took off to grab the vest, but yesterday I went nowhere. I have to remain hidden away in this little house for my own peace of mind. One problem being here all the time, though, is my mind wandering and causing distress. There was much of it yesterday, although so far today I've been better after experiencing so much need. I began to think that not only did I get through the hours and rise above, but I also felt that the guilt and shame took over and disallowed anything to take place. I suppose it is a good thing coming out of bad thoughts. Better than nothing at this point. Remaining inside for such a long period has affected me in both good and bad ways. I will be out twice today, in fact. To the store in a few minutes and then to the home of the goddess later. Both are very close, too. I am withdrawn for many reasons at this point, yet still when I go out the door it helps me feel more secure upon arriving here afterward. I guess that is not bad. 6-17. I never went over there. The market was necessary, however. Upon returning home I took care of my marinade and cleaned up some but never felt like going out the door again. I ended up working on the bathroom for a while and then the model. This morning I am out of sorts somewhat. Dinner was quite late, meaning I had just a touch more booze than usual. These days I am very sensitive to changes in the routine. Now I am feeling the difference. I'll have to take it easy for part of the morning and work on stuff later. While the coffee lasts? Right here. There is much in my head but only bits and pieces can show up in this space. Oy. Sometimes I wish I could say more. Spinning again, like last weekend and Monday. I can do nothing about it, and such a fact is really pressing on my head. I can't do a fucking thing because there is nothing available. I can't fucking do anything. I just have to sit here and stew. This is not good and likely the most difficult situation I could have imagined years ago. There were no clues then. Now? I know everything. Mark my fucking words... This will be the straw. Given enough time and frustration combined with whatever the fuck took place last weekend, this is the shit which will ruin me. The evil, incoming. This morning it feels closer than yesterday and I know precisely why. Only one aspect of life has the power to do this. I am midstream. Spinning and falling down. I don't know what to do this morning. The usual crap will not take long, and I don't want to touch the model until the evening. There is work to do in the kitchen, so perhaps that will turn the day's direction around before things become dire. The sparring schools of thought continue inside, unimpeded. This is becoming another fucking kreplach. Often there are life situations with which we must deal knowing full well we cannot change them. Nothing can be done, so option A comes along as advice and we do our best to move forward and hopefully just let them go. Well, this is larger and more compelling than anything in recent memory -- even that shit at the beginning of eleven when I had few options and less patience. The straw situation. My Achilles' heel. I can't stand feeling this way day in and day out. Soon other people will notice because nothing can push my sorry ass all the way into the forest as quickly. Evil. Kreplach. Decaying hope. This year is nearly half gone and all these months have provided me the space to think like never before. Maybe not all is good, though. Too much time? Too much thinking? Just as the paragraph began... I don't know what to do. Angry. Switch. Adriana was like a sister. Despite all those curves and her amazing and nearly unmatched midsection, I have not felt anything aside from appreciation for a very long time. This is more important. She was something else, I tell you. Sweet, brainless, yet so endearing that the feeling has lasted since the series' end seventeen years ago. Like a sister. And I still fucking care. And switch back. I don't see a way out of this crap in life. The same feeling has come and gone for such a long time that I have become accustomed to the difficulty, and such a fact is a very sad commentary. It means I have accepted the idea of being unhappy. Not good. I cannot go back and change the past, of course, and that nagging thought of moving on and 'coming to terms' with such a loss is much worse now than even a year ago. Just months back in another entry I equated one thing to another (no detail) and realized I have been compensating for a very long fucking time by gushing in the opposite direction out of a dire need to provide the very care and comfort that has been such a dream. None of this is blowing my skirt up. Unfortunately, there is no choice in the matter, nor has there ever been. Again... Not good. I don't want to explode with the forest feeling and spread my dissatisfaction all over the place. No way out. Never me. In addition, the recent trouble has become two-fold due to circumstances seemingly beyond my control. Yep, there is that fucking word again. Years of dreaming while asleep have had me waking to deep depression and then reacting to the words of others (platitudes) in a very harsh manner. I honestly do not wish to deal with or even THINK about this shit anymore. I'm sick of it, hurt, and worried about what the future may hold after my moving forward from this standpoint, especially considering the realization within the previous paragraph. I do not see an out at all, anywhere. This is worse than even ten minutes ago. 'I have to run away. "Who are you?" Nothing, like always.' I have to get away from the previous topic for a while. Nothing feels good now, and on top of already being somewhat physically down today, thinking about anything so tough is not helping. My routine is finished but I probably will not get into anything else today before close of business hours. Too much pressing me down. I have reduced one of my favorite statements -- 'everything TURNS to shit' -- down to 'everything HAS TURNED to shit' many times, however now the observation has finally rung true beyond a shadow of a doubt. As of this day, believe it. The good has boiled off. Reduced again, just like Satan's au jus. I've said that before, but now the liquid is turning solid. Everything from those subjects I chopped off a short time ago to the daily routine, and on to what I have become throughout the course of the last fourteen months, is simply shit. There can no longer be any denying the facts. The crap above is a large part, too. In fact, the crap above is the biggest fucking hurdle imaginable, and something I never thought would have the power to literally rule my entire fucking existence. Everything has turned to shit. Time to get the fuck away from this for a while. Nothing good is going to come off my fucking fingers right now. 6-18. Okay then. A few situations arose yesterday which will not repeat. Not if I have a say. I have no doubt that this day will be a fucking kreplach by close of business because they all are, but I just cannot have another time like yesterday. There were some good moments, though. There are always (still) some good moments. But today is another story and coming out the other side means I had better make some type of change... Or else. The pitfalls must be sidestepped quickly and the pace maintained. There is only one situation from last night that will continue throughout my day and on into the future, and that is the issue of media. Aside from the show, I have to let everything else fly away and move forward. My time today will be critical. And I may pull apart the Lamborghini again in and around my other work. Yes, I said that. There are pieces which were leftover from the kit and my head can't relax knowing something is wrong in there. Plus, there is a piece somewhere on the car with a logo which is supposed to be on the hood but is apparently elsewhere and I cannot see it. There are over 3700 individual pieces involved, meaning the search for just one could prove impossible without disassembly. So, back to the shit, maybe. The media spawned a brief observation, statements from me in a forceful manner, and then continued. Well, I cannot have that. I am now completely alone in my feelings and beliefs, and the subject to which I am referring is now only mine. Discussion is worthless. Words are futile. The space has now shrunk to an unbelievably small cube within which only I can fit. Thanks, everyone, for pushing me away with your apathy and need to believe what has been sold to you by the greatest power in the universe: society. Good job thinking on your own, people. I am so very proud that I could set you all on fire and spin on my heel with nary a further thought. I have stated many times that one of the worst parts of life is unfeeling behavior. Well, guess what? I'll show you unfeeling. 'The woman is looking more and more impatient as I try to figure some way of getting out of this. She appears pretty damned serious, as if to say that I have no choice in doing as she directs. I still do not understand her statements. Maybe I can head in another direction. Attack? I don't know. Remember the tirade in the Dracorum lounge when I threw shit all over the place and caused damage? That solved nothing but sure felt good. Perhaps a repeat. Or maybe I'll just be an asshole and force her to stab me. I hate this. "You are heading in the right direction and already said what is most important for your survival." "Stop being so fucking cryptic, please." "Keep going." She lowers the knife. This place is cold (like all places I have visited) but I am not worried about that. I believe it is just an atmosphere designed for me to think. The woman told me I already said something critical. Which? What did I say? I don't understand. My mood in here is beginning to match the one out in the real world, too. Not good. Out there are targets, enemies, sheep. In here? One woman and myself. She speaks again... "You will always be alone. The only way. Hear me." What's with the knife and threatening manner if she is trying to teach me a lesson?' Almost time to rise and take care of the morning business to earn my quiet time. Holy shit do the quiet hours sound wonderful right now. Just me and my friends up there. I need it even more than yesterday. The liquid is turning solid. Pause. And the house is mine, for whatever it may be worth. I'll have to remain mindful of avoiding the pitfalls of yesterday and keep my head out of those places, lest this day be the same. I can't have that. So far I have part of the routine finished and the rest will commence upon closing this for the morning. The quiet is just what the doctor ordered today. I need this. Gangsters up there again. I need them, too. Yes, I said that. Need. This is my world and it bows to my wishes. Others be damned. Considering the sheer number of tumblers which have recently aligned within my lock of life so far this year, I am surprised to have avoided alienating and/or slamming those near me. Sometimes I feel enough anger to really drive the points home, while most days I can't be unkind. No one deserves it, although after last night's fucking debacle and realization that something of dire importance to me is not shared -- and believe me when I say it is personal and 'they' have no right to disagree -- I am just about in position to thrash. The problem is I have worsened since just last year and my stance has equally changed to a very strong degree. I keep thinking about what has taken place and what I must endure, and then try to convey some of it. Well, that is no longer a good idea. Trap shut. Too many different cuts have taken place recently for me to completely avoid being in a shit mood, although other people are only partly at fault. I just have to keep everything inside, as I should have the entire time. The lock is my life. When it finally and fully releases? A kreplach of a very different type. Wait for it. I am not only on a road with no turns, but my entire life has been boiled down enough to force the realization that I am completely unable to relate to people anymore. Thanks, Phil. What took place on the television last night was ridiculous writing, but the fact that I was exposed to it is entirely my doing by agreeing to watch the show in the first place. Every single fucking program is going to hold one problem or another, and then those about which I feel strongest will force my hand. I simply cannot stop voicing things at times. Too important. I may chop off the show and watch something else from this day forward. There will only be more examples of my unhappiness. The quick disagreement is still stuck inside, though. I thought the feeling was different, but alas everything turns to shit. Another notch against another person. They are racking. Had I already known what was going on inside about that subject, the current situation would be quite different. Now I am forced to believe my appearance is weaker than prior to last night, a stance I have lived with for many years, just not so close. Frankly, I am surprised I have not leveraged myself out of the fucking state by now. What keeps my ass here is beyond me. Maybe the little comforts. The point is that I will be altering my eyes to follow suit. No one will like it. Remember the evil I mentioned? It can be very subtle. Slow and spreading. I am now more angry than ever. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' Never me. I can't have this. I can't have people looking at me while inside things may be going on which are either ambiguous with regard to me as a person, or disagreeable. I can't fucking have it, and right now just shy of nine in the morning and nearly twelve hours after that brief discussion, I feel worse. Whatever I may be, I am not stupid. Don't test me. I already know of the guide, the journey and the destination, as stated on many a page here and all over most places I've lived for more than two decades. I already know. Another stab at my fucking character after years of doing nothing more than caring for others is going to cause a rip you really do not want pointed in your direction. I am already reckless enough. Think of it this way: If I don't give a fuck about what happens to me, how do you think I feel about those hurting me? Do the math you bunch of fucking walking, talking kreplachs. I have to get away from that before my entire day turns to shit just as life. Evil. '"Who the hell are you?" "I am your subconscious. You already know what to do, just begin." "I don't understand." "You'll get there or I will have to advance. You already know what that means, as well." The knife...' Funny, for the longest time I was worried about one massive issue, but now it's been shoved back due to larger concerns. The anger is not going anywhere soon. Neither is this fucking content. I am so fucking tired of worrying about the keywords. That is part of the reason for my recent behavior toward other people, and likely the catalyst for the forest feeling. Some apply to me while others never will. They are too difficult and the rise is impossible in these late days. I have endured too many examples of opposites and those figures which continue to be referenced, and then piled on top is my fucking appearance as a result of the troubling feelings. Way the fuck down right now, and it is anything but attractive. I am beyond rising or changing, so whatever I have become is here to stay. Worse, actually. That is one certainty. I think about those words every few minutes and seven days a week. Can't help it. Every bit of work completed, each program on the television, and nearly every damned conversation holds a measure of the same. There is no getting around it any longer, meaning I need to suppress the shit when addressed by others lest they are shoved so far down there can be no digging out. I don't want to have to do that. Not now. But every day the words return and slap me hard enough to prevent both production and relaxation. The only plus is being alone, so here I am, perhaps forever. Hmm... The machine used to be the only way, however as my stance has altered in so many ways recently, I am seeing another out. Get it? Since the machine is impossible, my brain likely created an option. It is one no one will enjoy, but I have to look out for myself above all other things in this life. I am not going anywhere unless some miraculous turn of events appears on the horizon. Unlikely. Thus? Option. You'll see. Just a kreplach, like everything else these days. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' Too many difficulties I cannot avoid. I know not what to do most days. Today may show me much. Alternatively, today may be the same as all the rest. They have bled together for so long that the large changes for which I have been wishing feel as insurmountable peaks. I look up and see solutions to a few problems, but then the journey is beyond my ability. Every fucking day. Too many difficulties. I am really going to need to push hard today in order to avoid coming out the other side exactly as I am at this moment. Crap. Crap-lach. Kreplach. Nothingness, literally. Never me. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' 196. Nearly noon. I ordered a pizza for my little world. The routine is finished, dry cleaning done and put away, and the estimate for the tree trimming has been submitted. So far, so good. My brain is unchanged, however. There is far too much taking place on a daily basis for me to tackle everything simultaneously. I have to work on one thing at a time and push away those which are unchangeable. Not housework. That is simple. I am referring to all of the shit mentioned above. The anger is not good right now because I have extremely limited options in life. Something else has to be done, like clamming up for the fucking duration. And speaking of clamming up, the latest discomfort of people's voices has been worsening. Add that to the pile. I believe the last two nights pretty well confirmed that avoiding the sound of someone talking is helping to keep me sane. Just another example of how deeply I am embedded in this little cocoon. Everything else which comes along these days must be brought to the forefront and handled despite the noise. Not easy. Too much. 'The knife...' Yesterday was a very bad day, and I'm not referring to the model being finished. Conversation and conformity, allowance and ice. Just cold. Unfeeling. Blued and numbed. This is the beginning of the end of all things. I may never fully cross into the forest. I cannot codify why my life went in one direction and then reversed in the worst possible manner. Pull the top fuel dragster and dump a scooter in its place. No need for a 'chute, either. Slowed, crawling, scratching for something to move me up and out of this pit. A scooter where there was once the quickest vehicle on earth. Slow. Blued. I cannot have this. 6-19. 195. And now the kicker... When I was Italian, the feeling and strength of family was powerful. I knew I could not have children, meaning my heart was broken years later when I began to feel the pull of the bloodline. Well, no line, no nothing... Because there could not be blood. I was raised to believe that the most important thing in life is the blood. It was everything. It was life and the reason for going on in life. Now that I have lost the heritage, I have lost everything. Children or not, I knew who I was. Well, no longer. This is becoming worse from one day to the next because so much of my life had been steered toward the legacy and the current media continues to show me examples of the same. It is pervasive and unavoidable. The fact is there can be nothing done and I will continue this decline for the duration. More anger, no solution. It is in stone. That rhymes with 'alone'. Add it to the other 'alone' mentioned yesterday, and what do you think? Eh... Keep it to yourself, sheep. I had the blood. Now I have 'nothing'. Well, I do have 2449 occurrences of that word as of this line, which equates to 9.796 per published entry. Nice, huh? Nothing has been accomplished. People are ice. They need to be crushed. This entry comprises 666 lines of code on the editor. Next sound you hear."
Kreplach
Mature content No. 252 Published June 19th, 2021 7:07am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"6-15. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' I began the latest model yesterday. Trying to take my time with it for two reasons. One is to make the work last as long as possible, and two is detail. The other cars went fine but both had some sort of issue and/or parts left over after the builds were completed. I have since rebuilt both from scratch and still there are little things here and there which are not right. So, this one is going to be scrutinized. The feeling of relaxing there with a cocktail in the evening and going through the parts is wonderful. I may disassemble one of the big cars after the new one is complete, too. Soothing, that work.
'The woman is menacing. She looks upon me with angry eyes, knife at the ready, and as if I am the enemy. I must get away because I don't see a conversation helping. Red eyes -- like my beloved Jaime, but different -- looking right through me. I have to get away from her. Gorgeous, angry, sexy. The compliment went right on by as if I insulted her. The closer she gets, the less she looks like Justine. Still, I see that woman from the second passenger car in there somewhere. Frightening. I have to avoid the knife. She is about to speak again...'
The quiet today already feels more welcomed than yesterday, and that time was a big fucking deal. I needed it after the weekend. I have to be away from people several hours a day because voices are beginning to irritate my senses. I know not why. We discussed this a bit last weekend, too, and the conclusion was not good. I am on a unique road right now. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' These last several days have been very difficult. I am beginning to believe that either I deserve this type of loss or I am yearning for something beyond reality. The fucked up part is this: I've been here before, and I know it exists. I just don't have a clue as to what may have changed. If it's me, the end of the world will be approaching at breakneck speed as soon as shit comes to a head. If it's the past, there is nothing I can do about it. And if the issue is with the people I have encountered? Well, that will be very bad for anyone wishing to be near me in the future. The line between this world and the forest is already being treaded. This morning is all mine, as is the next many hours, yet my head will not quiet for a second. I still have coffee and the show up there. Words are not forthcoming, and those which continue to swirl around my brain cannot be shared here. Too personal. Compelling, but personal. I can do exactly nothing about this right now, either. None of it will leave. Part of the routine is finished and the rest will happen in good time. I kind of need the distraction because otherwise I'll fall down hard and I can't fucking have that right now. I am stuck in a very bad place despite the day's quiet. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' Something has to change and I have zero control over the fact. One of two paths generally takes place when I am this upset. Either I will spend money in hopes of finding comfort in something enjoyable, or I will pour the medicine and head out to the garage for a session of loud music, building something and tossing shit in the trash. Right now neither seems a good idea. I hate this, and all those years are the cause. The trauma took its toll for a very long time before realizing there was relief, and then said relief was effectively removed. When it returned I felt better but still something was missing. I am sitting here right now because the hole apparently cannot be filled. Unsolvable. Decrepit. Unnerving. A kreplach. Day in and day out it is on my mind, too. Just like anything difficult, the preoccupation does not end. And this may be the most important aspect of my existence. Believe it. The two paths must be avoided today due to the knowledge that coming out the other side will be exactly the same minus hours of time better spent in other directions. I already know, so I have to be strong. Lashing is not good, ever.
'"Walking cliché, dumbass. Fix it, if you even can or care at all anymore." I don't know what to do. She is ferocious.'
This is the worst lack of control imaginable. And I don't need any of that fucking headshrinker horseshit. Did I chop off the subject of the machine? I can't recall. At this moment she is foremost on my mind because of the immediate and permanent expulsion of all issues. I said I would not discuss some of them and I will not waver from that statement. But I have to mention the fucking battery-powered goddess and all that comes with her. The only way... Solution... Whatever the fuck. I don't know. My current state of mind since Saturday last is very bad and I am beginning to realize that the forest may be a step in the right direction for my sanity. Two feet in there already. The reason is all too many impossibilities in life and needs gone by the wayside or otherwise not fucking working. I had no idea something so powerful would begin to bend my brain like this at my age, although age may be a factor. And don't jump to fucking conclusions, fuckers. It's not what you may be imagining. The fact is that I cannot live like this, effectively bringing the dead black that much closer with each drawn breath. The machine is not an option. Therein lies part of the shit. I can already see my behavior changing, especially toward others. Yesterday I rolled north to replenish our cigarette supply and pick up my vest. I was very close to the bar, meaning the thought of cruising in there to see what's been going on entered my head for a brief moment before strolling into the cleaners. Well, upon grabbing the vest and seeing that I spent a decent amount of money having a rocker added to the front -- one which is complete and utter bullshit since the outset of this calendar year -- my head spun to the other side of the world and I ended up returning home with half a mood ripped away like leaves in a fall windstorm. There was no going back, and the vest is now hanging in my hallway so I can see the glory after returning all the tin to its rightful place. This is fucked. The reason I did not head toward the bar is simple: I spied the new patch and my head imploded. Nothing but anger. No pride, no assertions of comfort, nothing. It is as false as the face I put on each day when dealing with other people. I will be all the way in the forest soon enough and no one is going to like it. One tidbit is everyone thought last year was the worst due to the pandemic and all of the changes and losses. Well, this year is the worst for yours truly. Everything is going away as if pulled by forces from hell. Soon I will be mired within a kreplach. People will hate me. Not the fucking pastry, idiots. Learn something for a change if you can unglue your stupid asses from the fucking phone long enough to be a normal fucking person.
Nearly ten in the morning. This feels like the biggest loss in years. Multiple losses. Everything is just fucking LOSS. Pieces of my being falling away like wet cake in the rain. Pissed off. Fuck everything. If nothing comes along soon I will become evil and that is not a fucking joke. Switch. I've fucking had it with so much of society deriving every fucking detail of life from one area of the body. People don't realize how ridiculous, damaging, and ignorant they are being by embracing whatever the sheep next door is spouting. Sheep. Every fucking thing on television reinforces every other fucking thing which demeans and reduces a person down to inanimate objects which have become the largest fucking point of contention imaginable. Conjecture, insults, euphemism and dysphemism running rampant and not a fucking soul seems to either notice or care. Well, the reasoning behind my sheer, burning disgust with the whole of progress should be apparent now, and if you are reading and cannot derive meaning or a subject, you are both part of the shit and a fucking idiot. Stupid. Unintelligent, unfeeling, and having your point of view driven here and there by every other fucking idiot. Again... Sheep. But don't worry, no one else gives a shit, so you can continue on your merry way with the herd moving abreast. Keep going, live it. Do it. You want to. One little rub? Stay the fuck away from me, and stop wondering why I am living the way I am. You will never understand. Do I sound angry? There are not enough words to express even a fraction of what I am feeling. I am safe in this little house with my media of choice and booze. Stay away. Evil, incoming. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground.
'"Fix it."'
6-16. I guess yesterday was supposed to be the first day with lifted restrictions. I never left the house so I have no idea of how everything appeared. I have to head over to the market today. Perhaps I'll see a difference. Also yesterday was step two of the little model. Very exciting, that stuff. The goddess visited for a little while so we could watch the show again, I took care of the usual stuff (not a touch more), and then the evening rolled along with dinner and the usual relaxation. Overall one might think the day was fine, however underneath it all is the realization that I am no longer capable of much. These late days are finding me seeking solitude above all other things. The world taking a big step back to the norm makes no difference to me aside from being able to lose the mask sometimes. In this house, nothing has changed, yet fifteen months have altered me dramatically. Just last night I was asked for the bigger picture and afterward was told that everything I said sounded depressing. To me? Not at all. The facts are facts. I am different, and the guidelines for being out in society are not going to affect me as much as others. Yesterday was yet another example of the person I have become. That tirade regarding society spilled off the screen and came out of my mouth last night, but nothing terrible. I remained very calm, made a remark or two about the new show we are watching, and was then asked for more of the story. I offered some insight into how I have been feeling this last year or more and then went to sleep. I don't regret the conversation, but also don't feel that I conveyed enough to make a point. After the show, I sort of felt a stab due to one of the scenes and then chewed on it for a little while. Nothing related to anything I've written here, though. This was different and had to do with the relationship between a man and a woman. In fact, it was the opposite of two disparate lines of dialog from other shows which pretty much define the world's position regarding masculinity. Those two made me wish to find the source of the writing and eliminate it like a cockroach in a commercial kitchen. Stomp. Last night's feeling was very different. I do not appreciate an intelligent script moving along and then falling on its face due to being pressured by society in conforming to certain standards defined by the same. They need to go their own fucking way. As always, I cannot repeat anything from the television. You'll just have to wonder. The most important realization coming from these incidents is that I need to hold my own tongue because speaking with another person about my feelings on the subjects is not going to help anyone, and may in fact serve no other purpose than demonstrating just how far out of balance I have become. That crap has to remain inside for fear of appearing nuts. I can't have that right now. Whatever I may feel, none of it can be helped or solved with the involvement of people. They are the problem, as well. From their heads to the screen and off to the world with nary a worry. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!'
'"Fuck you." "You think that shit will help? Always pushing back? You have no idea what you're doing." "Put that knife away." "Not until you admit the truth."'
If there is even the slightest inkling that I appear ridiculous or stupid in front of another person I will have to hide away forever. I just cannot abide it. Right now I actually have no idea of what others think of me. None at all. Partly because we don't talk about it much and partly because I am having a hell of a time trusting the words of anyone. Bad thoughts will not come to light. Instead, platitudes will resound. I've already heard too much of it. I realize I am human and prone to mistakes like anyone, but still I believe I am a good person underneath it all. I am simply having trouble with all of the negatives thrown my way throughout the course of years. I just can't have others thinking bad of me, believe it or not. Despite all of my bullshit about not giving a fuck, the truth is I worry. Enough of that. Ah the Christmas decorations all over the restaurant in the current episode are dredging up the past again. It used to be my favorite time of year -- that period beginning with Halloween and running all the way to the new year -- but now I have difficulty seeing the massive gradient between those years and the present. It hurts. And walking down the hallway this morning... The vest hanging there in all its glory with the rocker indicating a falsehood. More hurt. 143 entries published since the outset of twenty should confirm that there is enough going on in my head already without having to deal with such a slap. The heritage continues to plague me, no matter what may be taking place on a given day, and there may be no end to it. The decorations remind me of all those huge holiday gatherings and the legacy of which I thought I was a part, and then the reality came along after some research and ruined everything. And though I knew I was to be the end of the line, such a fact was ok considering from where I hailed. The history was already there. The conclusion is that both the heritage and end of line combined are causing enough pain to derail my thinking daily. This is not good and becoming worse all the time. I may need to skip this episode in the future for my own self-preservation. The feelings will never leave, but at least I can avoid additional reminders. We shall see what the upcoming holiday season does to me.
Not even half past nine in the morning and my routine is finished. There is some dry cleaning, but otherwise all I need to do is take a trip to the market and marinate a roast for the next couple of dinners. I may be in front of this crap for some time today. My life has been boiled down like an au jus on the stove too long.
'She is not here to be nice to me. Not a bit, nor will she lose the knife. Scared. "What do you want to see? The end, or the rest of me?" "Get away from me, please." Advancing. I know she wants me to be nice to others, leave the bullshit aside and turn on the pleasant, and then pull myself out of the din, and soon. But I cannot. Though I am frightened of the sight, I have not the will to do as she wishes. Too weak and defeated. I just don't fucking care anymore. If she kills me, so be it. I have damned little left, anyway. And conversation feels alien right now. Cold, snowy, dark. Julia tried to help and I know this woman is as well, yet I simply have nothing inside. No drive at all. The worst part is I may not have any say in the matter. "You know what you have to do." Damn it. I knew she would say that. I begin to back away to see if her menacing stance will push. Red eyes, shining in the din.'
Soon I will head over there and take care of a little business. At least leaving the house for a while will break up the clock a tad. Monday I took off to grab the vest, but yesterday I went nowhere. I have to remain hidden away in this little house for my own peace of mind. One problem being here all the time, though, is my mind wandering and causing distress. There was much of it yesterday, although so far today I've been better after experiencing so much need. I began to think that not only did I get through the hours and rise above, but I also felt that the guilt and shame took over and disallowed anything to take place. I suppose it is a good thing coming out of bad thoughts. Better than nothing at this point. Remaining inside for such a long period has affected me in both good and bad ways. I will be out twice today, in fact. To the store in a few minutes and then to the home of the goddess later. Both are very close, too. I am withdrawn for many reasons at this point, yet still when I go out the door it helps me feel more secure upon arriving here afterward. I guess that is not bad. 6-17. I never went over there. The market was necessary, however. Upon returning home I took care of my marinade and cleaned up some but never felt like going out the door again. I ended up working on the bathroom for a while and then the model. This morning I am out of sorts somewhat. Dinner was quite late, meaning I had just a touch more booze than usual. These days I am very sensitive to changes in the routine. Now I am feeling the difference. I'll have to take it easy for part of the morning and work on stuff later. While the coffee lasts? Right here. There is much in my head but only bits and pieces can show up in this space. Oy. Sometimes I wish I could say more. Spinning again, like last weekend and Monday. I can do nothing about it, and such a fact is really pressing on my head. I can't do a fucking thing because there is nothing available. I can't fucking do anything. I just have to sit here and stew. This is not good and likely the most difficult situation I could have imagined years ago. There were no clues then. Now? I know everything. Mark my fucking words... This will be the straw. Given enough time and frustration combined with whatever the fuck took place last weekend, this is the shit which will ruin me. The evil, incoming. This morning it feels closer than yesterday and I know precisely why. Only one aspect of life has the power to do this. I am midstream. Spinning and falling down. I don't know what to do this morning. The usual crap will not take long, and I don't want to touch the model until the evening. There is work to do in the kitchen, so perhaps that will turn the day's direction around before things become dire. The sparring schools of thought continue inside, unimpeded. This is becoming another fucking kreplach. Often there are life situations with which we must deal knowing full well we cannot change them. Nothing can be done, so option A comes along as advice and we do our best to move forward and hopefully just let them go. Well, this is larger and more compelling than anything in recent memory -- even that shit at the beginning of eleven when I had few options and less patience. The straw situation. My Achilles' heel. I can't stand feeling this way day in and day out. Soon other people will notice because nothing can push my sorry ass all the way into the forest as quickly. Evil. Kreplach. Decaying hope. This year is nearly half gone and all these months have provided me the space to think like never before. Maybe not all is good, though. Too much time? Too much thinking? Just as the paragraph began... I don't know what to do. Angry. Switch. Adriana was like a sister. Despite all those curves and her amazing and nearly unmatched midsection, I have not felt anything aside from appreciation for a very long time. This is more important. She was something else, I tell you. Sweet, brainless, yet so endearing that the feeling has lasted since the series' end seventeen years ago. Like a sister. And I still fucking care. And switch back. I don't see a way out of this crap in life. The same feeling has come and gone for such a long time that I have become accustomed to the difficulty, and such a fact is a very sad commentary. It means I have accepted the idea of being unhappy. Not good. I cannot go back and change the past, of course, and that nagging thought of moving on and 'coming to terms' with such a loss is much worse now than even a year ago. Just months back in another entry I equated one thing to another (no detail) and realized I have been compensating for a very long fucking time by gushing in the opposite direction out of a dire need to provide the very care and comfort that has been such a dream. None of this is blowing my skirt up. Unfortunately, there is no choice in the matter, nor has there ever been. Again... Not good. I don't want to explode with the forest feeling and spread my dissatisfaction all over the place. No way out. Never me. In addition, the recent trouble has become two-fold due to circumstances seemingly beyond my control. Yep, there is that fucking word again. Years of dreaming while asleep have had me waking to deep depression and then reacting to the words of others (platitudes) in a very harsh manner. I honestly do not wish to deal with or even THINK about this shit anymore. I'm sick of it, hurt, and worried about what the future may hold after my moving forward from this standpoint, especially considering the realization within the previous paragraph. I do not see an out at all, anywhere. This is worse than even ten minutes ago.
'I have to run away. "Who are you?" Nothing, like always.'
I have to get away from the previous topic for a while. Nothing feels good now, and on top of already being somewhat physically down today, thinking about anything so tough is not helping. My routine is finished but I probably will not get into anything else today before close of business hours. Too much pressing me down. I have reduced one of my favorite statements -- 'everything TURNS to shit' -- down to 'everything HAS TURNED to shit' many times, however now the observation has finally rung true beyond a shadow of a doubt. As of this day, believe it. The good has boiled off. Reduced again, just like Satan's au jus. I've said that before, but now the liquid is turning solid. Everything from those subjects I chopped off a short time ago to the daily routine, and on to what I have become throughout the course of the last fourteen months, is simply shit. There can no longer be any denying the facts. The crap above is a large part, too. In fact, the crap above is the biggest fucking hurdle imaginable, and something I never thought would have the power to literally rule my entire fucking existence. Everything has turned to shit. Time to get the fuck away from this for a while. Nothing good is going to come off my fucking fingers right now. 6-18. Okay then. A few situations arose yesterday which will not repeat. Not if I have a say. I have no doubt that this day will be a fucking kreplach by close of business because they all are, but I just cannot have another time like yesterday. There were some good moments, though. There are always (still) some good moments. But today is another story and coming out the other side means I had better make some type of change... Or else. The pitfalls must be sidestepped quickly and the pace maintained. There is only one situation from last night that will continue throughout my day and on into the future, and that is the issue of media. Aside from the show, I have to let everything else fly away and move forward. My time today will be critical. And I may pull apart the Lamborghini again in and around my other work. Yes, I said that. There are pieces which were leftover from the kit and my head can't relax knowing something is wrong in there. Plus, there is a piece somewhere on the car with a logo which is supposed to be on the hood but is apparently elsewhere and I cannot see it. There are over 3700 individual pieces involved, meaning the search for just one could prove impossible without disassembly. So, back to the shit, maybe. The media spawned a brief observation, statements from me in a forceful manner, and then continued. Well, I cannot have that. I am now completely alone in my feelings and beliefs, and the subject to which I am referring is now only mine. Discussion is worthless. Words are futile. The space has now shrunk to an unbelievably small cube within which only I can fit. Thanks, everyone, for pushing me away with your apathy and need to believe what has been sold to you by the greatest power in the universe: society. Good job thinking on your own, people. I am so very proud that I could set you all on fire and spin on my heel with nary a further thought. I have stated many times that one of the worst parts of life is unfeeling behavior. Well, guess what? I'll show you unfeeling.
'The woman is looking more and more impatient as I try to figure some way of getting out of this. She appears pretty damned serious, as if to say that I have no choice in doing as she directs. I still do not understand her statements. Maybe I can head in another direction. Attack? I don't know. Remember the tirade in the Dracorum lounge when I threw shit all over the place and caused damage? That solved nothing but sure felt good. Perhaps a repeat. Or maybe I'll just be an asshole and force her to stab me. I hate this. "You are heading in the right direction and already said what is most important for your survival." "Stop being so fucking cryptic, please." "Keep going." She lowers the knife. This place is cold (like all places I have visited) but I am not worried about that. I believe it is just an atmosphere designed for me to think. The woman told me I already said something critical. Which? What did I say? I don't understand. My mood in here is beginning to match the one out in the real world, too. Not good. Out there are targets, enemies, sheep. In here? One woman and myself. She speaks again... "You will always be alone. The only way. Hear me." What's with the knife and threatening manner if she is trying to teach me a lesson?'
Almost time to rise and take care of the morning business to earn my quiet time. Holy shit do the quiet hours sound wonderful right now. Just me and my friends up there. I need it even more than yesterday. The liquid is turning solid. Pause. And the house is mine, for whatever it may be worth. I'll have to remain mindful of avoiding the pitfalls of yesterday and keep my head out of those places, lest this day be the same. I can't have that. So far I have part of the routine finished and the rest will commence upon closing this for the morning. The quiet is just what the doctor ordered today. I need this. Gangsters up there again. I need them, too. Yes, I said that. Need. This is my world and it bows to my wishes. Others be damned. Considering the sheer number of tumblers which have recently aligned within my lock of life so far this year, I am surprised to have avoided alienating and/or slamming those near me. Sometimes I feel enough anger to really drive the points home, while most days I can't be unkind. No one deserves it, although after last night's fucking debacle and realization that something of dire importance to me is not shared -- and believe me when I say it is personal and 'they' have no right to disagree -- I am just about in position to thrash. The problem is I have worsened since just last year and my stance has equally changed to a very strong degree. I keep thinking about what has taken place and what I must endure, and then try to convey some of it. Well, that is no longer a good idea. Trap shut. Too many different cuts have taken place recently for me to completely avoid being in a shit mood, although other people are only partly at fault. I just have to keep everything inside, as I should have the entire time. The lock is my life. When it finally and fully releases? A kreplach of a very different type. Wait for it. I am not only on a road with no turns, but my entire life has been boiled down enough to force the realization that I am completely unable to relate to people anymore. Thanks, Phil. What took place on the television last night was ridiculous writing, but the fact that I was exposed to it is entirely my doing by agreeing to watch the show in the first place. Every single fucking program is going to hold one problem or another, and then those about which I feel strongest will force my hand. I simply cannot stop voicing things at times. Too important. I may chop off the show and watch something else from this day forward. There will only be more examples of my unhappiness. The quick disagreement is still stuck inside, though. I thought the feeling was different, but alas everything turns to shit. Another notch against another person. They are racking. Had I already known what was going on inside about that subject, the current situation would be quite different. Now I am forced to believe my appearance is weaker than prior to last night, a stance I have lived with for many years, just not so close. Frankly, I am surprised I have not leveraged myself out of the fucking state by now. What keeps my ass here is beyond me. Maybe the little comforts. The point is that I will be altering my eyes to follow suit. No one will like it. Remember the evil I mentioned? It can be very subtle. Slow and spreading. I am now more angry than ever. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' Never me. I can't have this. I can't have people looking at me while inside things may be going on which are either ambiguous with regard to me as a person, or disagreeable. I can't fucking have it, and right now just shy of nine in the morning and nearly twelve hours after that brief discussion, I feel worse. Whatever I may be, I am not stupid. Don't test me. I already know of the guide, the journey and the destination, as stated on many a page here and all over most places I've lived for more than two decades. I already know. Another stab at my fucking character after years of doing nothing more than caring for others is going to cause a rip you really do not want pointed in your direction. I am already reckless enough. Think of it this way: If I don't give a fuck about what happens to me, how do you think I feel about those hurting me? Do the math you bunch of fucking walking, talking kreplachs. I have to get away from that before my entire day turns to shit just as life. Evil.
'"Who the hell are you?" "I am your subconscious. You already know what to do, just begin." "I don't understand." "You'll get there or I will have to advance. You already know what that means, as well." The knife...'
Funny, for the longest time I was worried about one massive issue, but now it's been shoved back due to larger concerns. The anger is not going anywhere soon. Neither is this fucking content. I am so fucking tired of worrying about the keywords. That is part of the reason for my recent behavior toward other people, and likely the catalyst for the forest feeling. Some apply to me while others never will. They are too difficult and the rise is impossible in these late days. I have endured too many examples of opposites and those figures which continue to be referenced, and then piled on top is my fucking appearance as a result of the troubling feelings. Way the fuck down right now, and it is anything but attractive. I am beyond rising or changing, so whatever I have become is here to stay. Worse, actually. That is one certainty. I think about those words every few minutes and seven days a week. Can't help it. Every bit of work completed, each program on the television, and nearly every damned conversation holds a measure of the same. There is no getting around it any longer, meaning I need to suppress the shit when addressed by others lest they are shoved so far down there can be no digging out. I don't want to have to do that. Not now. But every day the words return and slap me hard enough to prevent both production and relaxation. The only plus is being alone, so here I am, perhaps forever. Hmm... The machine used to be the only way, however as my stance has altered in so many ways recently, I am seeing another out. Get it? Since the machine is impossible, my brain likely created an option. It is one no one will enjoy, but I have to look out for myself above all other things in this life. I am not going anywhere unless some miraculous turn of events appears on the horizon. Unlikely. Thus? Option. You'll see. Just a kreplach, like everything else these days. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' Too many difficulties I cannot avoid. I know not what to do most days. Today may show me much. Alternatively, today may be the same as all the rest. They have bled together for so long that the large changes for which I have been wishing feel as insurmountable peaks. I look up and see solutions to a few problems, but then the journey is beyond my ability. Every fucking day. Too many difficulties. I am really going to need to push hard today in order to avoid coming out the other side exactly as I am at this moment. Crap. Crap-lach. Kreplach. Nothingness, literally. Never me. 'ANTHONY!! WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?!!' 196. Nearly noon. I ordered a pizza for my little world. The routine is finished, dry cleaning done and put away, and the estimate for the tree trimming has been submitted. So far, so good. My brain is unchanged, however. There is far too much taking place on a daily basis for me to tackle everything simultaneously. I have to work on one thing at a time and push away those which are unchangeable. Not housework. That is simple. I am referring to all of the shit mentioned above. The anger is not good right now because I have extremely limited options in life. Something else has to be done, like clamming up for the fucking duration. And speaking of clamming up, the latest discomfort of people's voices has been worsening. Add that to the pile. I believe the last two nights pretty well confirmed that avoiding the sound of someone talking is helping to keep me sane. Just another example of how deeply I am embedded in this little cocoon. Everything else which comes along these days must be brought to the forefront and handled despite the noise. Not easy. Too much.
'The knife...'
Yesterday was a very bad day, and I'm not referring to the model being finished. Conversation and conformity, allowance and ice. Just cold. Unfeeling. Blued and numbed. This is the beginning of the end of all things. I may never fully cross into the forest. I cannot codify why my life went in one direction and then reversed in the worst possible manner. Pull the top fuel dragster and dump a scooter in its place. No need for a 'chute, either. Slowed, crawling, scratching for something to move me up and out of this pit. A scooter where there was once the quickest vehicle on earth. Slow. Blued. I cannot have this. 6-19. 195. And now the kicker... When I was Italian, the feeling and strength of family was powerful. I knew I could not have children, meaning my heart was broken years later when I began to feel the pull of the bloodline. Well, no line, no nothing... Because there could not be blood. I was raised to believe that the most important thing in life is the blood. It was everything. It was life and the reason for going on in life. Now that I have lost the heritage, I have lost everything. Children or not, I knew who I was. Well, no longer. This is becoming worse from one day to the next because so much of my life had been steered toward the legacy and the current media continues to show me examples of the same. It is pervasive and unavoidable. The fact is there can be nothing done and I will continue this decline for the duration. More anger, no solution. It is in stone. That rhymes with 'alone'. Add it to the other 'alone' mentioned yesterday, and what do you think? Eh... Keep it to yourself, sheep. I had the blood. Now I have 'nothing'. Well, I do have 2449 occurrences of that word as of this line, which equates to 9.796 per published entry. Nice, huh? Nothing has been accomplished. People are ice. They need to be crushed. This entry comprises 666 lines of code on the editor. Next sound you hear."
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