January 2nd, 2021 7:20am pst

If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning

The Vulpine Labia

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"12-31 again. Lots of thinking drives lots of writing.

A head full, and no... Not what may be apparent. Scroll to the bottom (her bottom) and the image may throw you, yet offer a clue as to my mindset, but that is not it. Guess again. As much as I have been dreaming of that moment walking out of Ashley's bathroom and seeing her labia staring right at me all soft, delicate and inviting, even she is not the point. Those days with her helped me to realize that the draw of heroin cannot be denied, nor do I have any choice in the matter. Still not the point, but picturing her there, beautiful and loving, is causing more problems this morning than I had thought possible. I was out of reach, out of my mind, and nearly out of reasons for drawing breath. I now believe the dire nature of my life at that time helped me to cherish her... Beginning with her big heart. The labia was down the list, yet pulling me at each second. I could not control myself. The point is danger, hence the reference to foxes.

Today. I swept most of the house and picked up zero invaders. This is good and helps me to sit and relax rather than constantly being on the lookout and worried. I really don't need any more of that this week, or in this life. There are worries compounding and I am barely hanging on. If not for the benefit extension and additional stimulus to keep me going, the likelihood of dire thinking would have increased ten-fold. My routine is nearly finished, too. Very nice. I fully intend to spend my time today doing things I WANT to do rather than those which NEED attention. I fucking do enough around here to have earned some time to myself. I wish the weather were warmer. I'd like to sit out in the new office for a change. Ugh. In the house, like always. Whatever. At least I have a nice holiday cocktail before eleven.

No trouble this morning. Nothing like two days ago, thank Christ. The idea of 'mind over matter' came into my tired head as soon as I sat with this four hours ago, and now I have passed the time when the altercation begins to hang over me. I fucking passed it and am proud of myself. Getting through the rest of the day should prove much easier. I have some things to do, but nothing dramatic or tiresome. My thumb is still giving me trouble so any activities are slow. Also, my decorative shelves arrive today so I can display the little guy's memories and stuff. I am pleased with the choices on Amazon. They make many items easy to find and rewarding to own.

Jolene has been on the television since early this morning, along with the features I have never seen on another woman. While the truth of her name goes back to my own cousin, the fact is I am smitten with her character for several reasons, not just the handle. During the early episodes, she is cold and all business nearly all of the time. Also? Brilliant, sensitive, and so very easy to love. Yes... I love her, still. Even after all of the crap laid out here since Jaime way back months ago and the manner in which I can jump from one character to another on a regular basis, Jolene's role still moves me above all others. Oh, there are faces and such that come and go all the time, but the rarities stick inside me like the glue of God. Just yesterday, for example, the holiday movie I recorded some weeks ago due to one of the co-stars (Grace) was on last night. I have yet to watch the entire film because aside from Grace bending my brain backwards, there is a problem on the screen almost constantly. Well, I dealt with it like always in order to see Bethany and Grace. And I saw more... One scene in particular threw me for a bigger loop than has occurred in a very long time. Right on the heels of that? Another scene took my insides and roasted them to ash. I knew she was something special and extremely rare upon first sight, but now that view has expanded and I am overjoyed that I recorded the movie. I fully intend to transfer the film (whether or not I need to purchase the fucking thing) to this computer and capture as many still images as possible until I fucking die. Yep, she is that unique, and carrying features I have not seen combined on a woman. She is an enormous problem now. Even with Jolene and her never-ending thrall upon my eyes and heart up there right now, Grace is still pushing. Unbelievable, even for someone so fucked up as myself. I mentioned the problem with the movie. Well, I cannot go into detail at all, but rest assured said problem cuts me in half, and then in half again.

Never. Fucking. Me. Remember that phrase? Believe me when I say nothing ever goes away, and much of it continues to slice me to ribbons. Just because I lay off a subject for a while doesn't mean it left for good.

Never me. Jesus God on a rubber crutch is this guest star ever fucking gorgeous. What a face. Damn.

The words return... 'I don't need to see that'. Nothing goes away, ever. The problem with the above film is directly fucking related, too. Grace pulls at my senses, but still the other one pushes. Every Goddamned time. I've seen glimpses of the movie here and there, all the while that issue is displayed, after which I fight inside over whether or not I can watch without imploding. I recall an episode of 'The Sopranos' from recent viewing which had the same effect. Right out of the fucking gate, too. Perhaps the title of this entry should have included the word 'fuck', rather than 'labia'. Still not the point. If that show had been based in outer space, I am certain even Jolene's character would have taken a back seat to fear.

'I don't need to see that'. Yep. It will never go away and pushes the machine dream more than anything else that has transpired in my life. Read that over and over until it sinks in. If it does, you'll have garnered two-percent of the problem. Perhaps less.


God damn that woman is beautiful. Amazing facial features.

And further into the day, now mid-afternoon and I have spent more time transferring and formatting entries for the new site. I have no fucking idea if that is ever going to be finished due to the sheer complexity of restricting users. The beginnings are there and ready for expansion, however the process is very involved and can be quite delicate. The good news is there has been no trouble like yesterday. Everything is calm and quiet today. The difficulty is still inside me, and compared to the dipshits marching in, it is daunting. The words and imagery will not go away... Not even with orange oil. I wish that was funny. The situation of seeing Grace and the problem on my big television continues to worsen. One thing leads to the next, and then the next, and so on. Like the obsession... It begins with a vision, expands into an all-encompassing issue, comes flying out of my mouth or off these keys, and then slams into another person. The result is my need to gush, hitting another soul and demonstrating my penchant for carrying a double standard. Then? I worry. The opposite would be hellish, so I then dream of machinery -- the stark, glaring impossibility of my existence. To this point in the year, I have experienced crippling emotional breakdowns several times. I feel one out there awaiting my arrival, right now.

Jolene's lips are their own universe. See? The problem is right fucking there.

On more than one occasion I have become dangerously close to spelling this out. I can't have that, although with the entries now being only viewable by me, there may be no need for worry. The robots keep parts of the site from appearing in a random search, but still... The issue here is risk. For the time being, I will keep the other words private (more than this, they do not reside on the Internet at all) and continue here with fog. I see no other options right now.

Seeing Grace in those two scenes was crippling. A little while ago, I was still formatting older material and moving it to the new site. Part of the reason the process is so slow and tiresome is the fact that I can read some of it as I move through the essays. In doing so, I catch little errors here and there and correct them, but I also see what I wrote and when. Those times in which a woman (or more than one) was spotted at the bar or out shopping drove me to gush about what I saw. Gazing and trying to describe each of them was difficult, to put it mildly. Desire crept in from time to time as well. As I stared at Grace and her unbelievably stark alignment to nearly everything I have sought in years, I became deeply enmeshed within a fantasy in which I have the ability to study without restriction. Her motions drew my needs like a gun. All those years of searching and sometimes finding something unique and worthy of placing the thoughts here took over my sense of reality and left me in a haze of ethereal dreams. All at once the scene changed -- not as bad as a smash cut, but harsh nonetheless -- and I was hit in the eyes by the problem. Grace and her unrelenting pull at my obsession cannot hold a candle to fear. Not even close. I changed the channel, but...

'I don't need to see that' returned immediately and left me a worthless pile of shit. That is part of the reason I have done very little work today, and fully the drive behind that mid-morning drink. This is what I have become and the slope steepens just a touch each day, or with the right alignment between my fear and those fucking women. Grace is not at fault as I have pronounced many times. I am.

There is a frightening correlation here which I will proceed to glean but clarity shall be nonexistent. Not a soul walking this earth will understand because the day I spell it out and share it here will be the last day I am conscious. Believe it. That bad. The three words in the title could have been 'definition of me'.

Damn, but my thumb is still irritating me. I have no idea of what I did to injure myself.

The alone time will be over within the hour. I will need to return to my typical form in the evening of relaxation and booze. Dinner at some point a few hours from now, an episode of our show, and then sleep. One day bleeds into the next, and everything I hold dear keeps me straitjacketed like nothing else in the world. There are still small joys and positives, one of them being my auctions rolling along and gaining momentum toward transferring more money to the bank. Cash is king, and yet a distant second to the meaning of life. By embracing the features Grace and many others carry, I am flying myself very close to a flame which will never extinguish. I did not create it, but my actions -- both desire and the decisions made as a result of it -- place me in a position to where I must either ignore and suppress the need or dive right into the fucking fire of fear and simply live with it. I still have no clue as to how to proceed. Words do not cut the fucking mustard, either, and I don't give a fuck from where they may emanate. Nothing helps. Dreams take over. Reality is becoming too much to bear.


This situation sucks so bad that the second of January now looks better. Figure that one out. 'This, too shall pass', my ass.

The draw is toward two disparate things and I do not believe one can exist without the other. A symbiotic hell, so to speak. The pull is stronger at this very moment than at the outset of my trip to Florida, in which I yearned to dive into the DFW bartender's pants and did exactly that with Andrea. Not even hours spent planted to her most intimate space satiated my need. And believe me when I say there was nothing like it on this fucking planet. I did not worry, however, because we were unique, much like the Raven, yet She was the genesis of the fear. Not the Brunette, as may have been apparent. Definitely Andrea. I was further inside her very being than anyone in life, real or otherwise. The pulling was slightly referenced some weeks ago, but that barely scratched it. One and then the other, remember? One leads to or includes the other from the very beginning, I think. That's what I feel, anyway. The pull brings the fear, and then comes the damage. Sounds pleasant, right? I am right in the fucking middle of it every Goddamned day.

Vulpine, of course. There is simply no other way to see it, but the fault is still mine. I can sit here and argue with myself until the fucking fat cows come home and nothing will change. If there is a method for coping with this or even something to help alleviate the tiniest amount of concern, it eludes me day after miserable fucking day.

One leads to the other, although avoiding the one is impossible. 'One' also means 'one' of the most beautiful Klingon women I've ever seen is on the screen, all clear and big-eyed. Damn, I am a mess.

My day is shortened further with much less time left alone. I am going to have to get up and act like a whole person again, just like while near other people. I don't like it, I'm tired of the effort, yet I don't see another way of relating to those around me without offending anyone. The positives of the evening are always there... Booze, dinner, some relaxation and warmth from the furnace, and our tree is still up for the next few days. Christmas continues to live in this room. These days, anything which has the ability to alter my near-constant drive toward oblivion is good. I need the comfort right now like I need breath. This is the last day of the year and I do not believe anyone will miss it. Nothing changes tomorrow, of course, but I am certain people are hopeful and making their ridiculous resolutions as the end of the year is as a line in the sand... A reference to beginning and end. A new start? Hmm. Not for some. I don't even know if I have the strength to stay awake until midnight. I did last year, but that was radically different as I did not feel as much weight on me as I do right now. Plus, we had a guest for a while and that helped me to maintain being up so late. I suppose we can do the same tonight. I'll have to hide the mood, though. Not easy.

The pull, the draw... This is not something which can be changed or withdrawn from my psyche, and as such will continue to push in whatever direction results in disastrous thinking. The feelings are not there at all, either.

The holiday cheer may take place tonight, here, like last week. Christmas Eve turned into a nice evening. We had dinner, cocktails, watched a movie... It was very relaxing, although I usually pick the movies and my choice was anything but holiday-related. Heh. Stephen King, believe it or not. And now I have been informed that nothing of the sort is going to take place. Oh, well. I am but two days from the forest anyway. Nothing good is expected.

Upon seeing the first pivotal scene involving Grace and two other individuals, I was drawn back in time to the Raven standing before me at the train station on what would eventually turn into one of the worst nights of my life. She smiled at me, did as I asked, and then marveled at the expression and sheer wonder on my face. I will never forget Her sweetness and understanding. Grace appeared in a similar manner, yet taller and obviously not posing for me. But the feeling was similar, one of appreciation and a lack of the 'why'. Just seconds later? A slap across the face forcing me from the dream and setting all my thinking afire. That was the damage and I will not soon forget those feelings. I know that her appearance pushed my head out of orbit and into the dreamy territory only populated with the most incredible forms I have ever seen -- even Andrea's lithe body. The slam made me realize that there can be no moving toward any wonder without the wolf being right behind. Right fucking there awaiting my weakness and need. I mentioned Ashley at the beginning of this entry, and the damage was there, too... Death.

1-1. First day of the year. Everything is the same.

Last night I already knew trying to stay awake until midnight was not a good idea by seven. Now? Ugh... After nine in the morning and I am just beginning to sip coffee. Honestly, it's okay to be up late once in a while. The fireworks were pretty nice, lots of noise, so it's fine. I believe many people were dying to say goodbye to that year. Not much good took place, but so much bad. Like Jennifer said between songs... We lost so many.


The number is meaningless to me because I know a person cannot simply pass from one moment to the next and believe that something has actually changed. This is a line in the sand, so to speak, and to use the date for altering aspects of a person's life is an idea shared by many. I can understand such things, although I don't put much stock in this day. It is just a day, and last night was just a night. And? I'm quite certain many will be all goofed up by the fact that there was a one-hundred percent full moon at just five minutes before midnight. Heh. Bring out your paranormal experts.

Now that the fucking calendar has changed, I suppose I can go back to focusing upon whatever was in process yesterday. Work around the house, selling things, and maybe some more reorganization is on tap. Yep, today is nothing new to me. Getting such a late start doesn't help. I feel like three hours have disappeared, but I suppose the feeling will pass soon enough.

Vulpine and in charge of my life's direction for two decades, good or bad, and having led me to bad places on more occasions than I care to recall. Vulpine. Lenticular, as well. God love it. One leads to the other, I cannot remain at arm's length for very long due to more trouble, and then soon I feel the massive hand knock me off my feet. Danger and damage, and the foxy softness blinded me enough to allow that fucking door to open and leave me flat on my face with fear. Every fucking time, and it still takes place to this very day. Vulpine and in my head deeper than I could have thought. One leads to the other, they are paired, together and inseparable, glowing and then burning, soothing and then scratching, loving and then fleeing. I cannot turn off the feelings now, too much time has passed and I still want what I want and need what I need. I will not apologize for the way I am. I just have to do something... But my head cannot compute shit right now.

More coffee, lest the remaining paragraphs end up like the last.

Another movie which brings me back to the mid-nineties just under a year after returning from the Midwest. We stood in line for quite some time at the dome to sit in the usual spot -- I believe my dad and myself -- and watched in wonder. The previews were enthralling and I had to see it on opening day. Ninety-six, to be exact... Summer. That was before they purchased the business and my working for them. I believe I was still at the glass plant during that summer. That was one of the biggest crowds at the dome in memory, and probably the most people there hours before the screening until the opening of Fellowship five years later. We waited with anticipation, picked up our snacks, and then sat and enjoyed. Damn, but I miss that place. Pause.

My routine does not change, not even on a holiday. I put an old JW movie on in favor of being constantly reminded of those years, cleaned the kitchen and swept. I need a break already due to staying up too late last night, but such could not be avoided. I felt that suffering for a few hours would be worth it, and I was correct. Fireworks and tons of hoopla ensued at midnight due to the last year being a complete pile of shit, and had I missed all of that, this morning I would have regretted it. A slow start to this day is not a big deal as I can get things ready today for enjoyment tomorrow watching television with the goddess. Very nice, that thought. The relationship between this entry and viewing the show with her cannot be addressed, but suffice to say that some of the content twists me inside despite her reassurance that I need not worry. At this point in time and after so much difficulty with many aspects of society piled on top of my enormous fear, each episode promotes visions of a machine. Such a device would immediately and completely alleviate any trouble. Thinking, seeing, speaking... All of it would be controlled. Like the aforementioned damaging aspect of that holiday movie with Grace and her otherworldly appearance, I need to close off to much of the discussion and imagery. That is not easy, to put it mildly.

We will watch anyway because there are still positives, believe it or not. One of them is being together for each moment of that brilliant, stirring drama. Many parts of entertainment are better shared than experienced alone. Music is both, but I digress. Back to the fox.



'Today is the first day of the rest of your life', or as I will typically say, 'today is the worst day of the rest of your year'. We have arrived at the future of the fucking moment, to go back to the infantile beginnings of this endeavor. Yep, zero-three was the first period in which the content truly reflected my mood, mindset, and nature. Zero-two was fluff, nothing more. Today is going to be relaxing, I believe, due to the weekly Saturday visit to watch the show and take it easy. Yesterday turned into a very comfortable day thanks to a lack of responsibilities. I decided to watch movies and take care of only little things around the house. We didn't even make dinner, which is rare. But today will be different. She is back to work.

The future of the moment. I have to push some, this morning. The idea of this day arriving so quickly means two things: The previous two months passed very quickly, and I must keep in mind the difference between last year and the current year, mainly my not working right now. Last year I enjoyed some time off during the holidays, yet the new year and first few days always hung over my head. Right now there are very few things hanging up there creating apprehension and concern. I do not need to go to work, one, if and when I do the atmosphere and discipline will be radically different, two, and the issues which were in my head last year at this time are now much worse, but I am still going... Somehow. The lack of work sitting on my shoulders -- especially the nature of the work I performed for the last eight years -- does help me to think more clearly about other paths, and helps to lighten the load on my already exhausted head. The issue of the vulpine labia slammed me pretty badly just two days ago and has not let up. Ruling me? Maybe. Leading me? More likely. Like the desire I feared way back many months ago? Yes, absolutely. This day is the beginning of the long period leading to my best time of year, which for the previous year just ended. Considering how much I have dreaded this day, the fact is that the issues do not change, only my perception of the beginning of the year does.

What does that mean?

To put it simply, not one single fucking day of the year is any different, really. All those concerns are still present, another has grown since last week, and I am no closer to learning any coping skills to live from one day to the next while easing the pressure on my head. I keep seeing and remembering. Mostly seeing, and it's bad now. The heroin... All over the fucking place, on Grace, during the commercials, everywhere, and all the time. My head is becoming preoccupied more often than during the last several years. We used to drive all over the city much of the time and I saw them everywhere when the weather was decent. Well, I have not gallivanted around that area for three-quarters of a year, and that points to most of what I see being up there on the television. Yes, two-dimensional yet still wondrous and causing me to fall all over the place. One example was last night during a movie. I will not mention the title because it doesn't matter. But there was a picturesque woman strolling all over the fucking screen and burned into my eyes. I've seen her before and her name or any description is unnecessary. They are all the same when it comes to the effects upon my senses. The fact is that I keep searching and finding. Some real, some not. I am worse than a year ago, and this entry (along with the title) is a good example of just how out of balance I have become after working my ass off to understand everything. I am no better now than ever. The new year is meaningless to me now.

These first days of the year had better blow my skirt up. I am already up in arms over the issue covered here, as well as the two thousand other fucking problems that do not go away. I'm pretty tired of trying to figure out why I can be mostly fine one day and then see someone like Grace the next, afterward falling on my face and scrambling to describe what the sight means to me and all that I feel over it. The desire is out of control sometimes. But not her specifically. She is but one representative of the entire issue which began with a simple thought of curves. Now look at me.

Dreams of a machine, indeed.

I am becoming the machine."