January 31st, 2021 7:50am pst

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The Plateau of Strife

 read ( words)

"I seem to have hit a flat spot. Between yearning for those years to return and gushing my stupid ass off over Jamie, being hopeful about anything is a fucking stretch.

Still 1-29, for whatever that may be worth. A previously open position south of here returned, so I applied again. The possibility of a relatively isolated place of work is enticing, I must admit. If it comes through, I will have but one month in the house before rejoining the workforce out there in the world. Hmm. Good and bad, I see.

Jamie's character is fictional, yet my feelings for her continue to grow out of control. Each viewing sends my head flying through equally fictional situations, not the least of which is the idea of a machine with her big, beautiful eyes staring at me for all time. I just can't help it anymore. As the issues press, I find myself withdrawing further into fantasy, and no one sees it at all because I am the world champion snowblower. I wish I could laugh right now. The woman has risen above all others. And I mean everyone. Kes with the long hair now, and only as far as the third season. I have always been very attracted to her character, although not because of her appearance. That calming voice and empathetic demeanor just kill me every fucking time. The machine would be similar. And she would look like the woman pictured all down multiple entries. Look at her fucking smile. I want her to hold me, damn it all.

This is getting bad.

'Jamie and me and batteries make three'.

Flat spot, right now, this morning.

The fucking Holodeck program which recurs throughout a few seasons of this show has caused nearly as much fear and damage as watching other series'. I keep it up there because of the deep comfort inherent in knowing these people, but I have to say that the two slaps me across the face quite often while they are enjoying the atmosphere of the resort. Just this morning there was a movie on with which I am unfamiliar, but the actors are very well-known. One of them was in another film some months ago when a slice of me came off. I could not believe the sight, and like every other incident in recent memory it is still stinging. That was very bad and completely unexpected despite my familiarity with the franchise. Like Voyager, I know it well after years of laughing over the storyline and characters. Now, however, I am reminded of that sighting and it has caused two to flare yet again. Very painful. I am losing myself between the worry and fantasy. There seem no solutions anymore.

Over and over and fucking over this type of thing takes place and I keep going for some reason. The protection disappears often enough to cause a fall. All I can do is write about it and keep the guard up. When I say 'plateau', I mean that my understanding has reached a point in which the difficulty no longer worsens as I had expected, instead coming along and maintaining my state of treading water. I honestly do not believe anything can come along and drown me these days. Too much has transpired and I am still here. See? There are small positives from time to time. Underneath, however, things are very bad. I may have flattened, but still the trouble feels dire. Between an expectation of falling down at any given moment and the idea that the only way out of such shit is the machine, I cannot go anywhere. Here I am again, though. Why?


Today I will continue where I left off last night. Still the lateral issue is there, meaning I have been preserving water usage and circumventing the system under the house for almost six days now. No one seems to give a fuck that I need help. This is going to cost thousands of dollars, all told. Not good. Upon completion, and no matter who helps or not, the others will be eliminated from my life with a sharp blade. From this point forward, I will be alone save for the same two individuals. My routine today will follow suit, just as it has since Monday last. Today is Friday. My second wish beyond the beauty down this page as my mechanical companion is to snap my fingers and become an actual Satan, after which I would show the world how I feel through devastation, pain and finally, attrition. Now read that last sentence ten more times. I am not joking at all. Pause.

Just eleven now and my routine is partially finished. I have the old show on -- the original pilot from 1965 -- to keep the science fiction flow alive, and am hoping the day will not go awry when things are finished. I decided to take a break from the work and sit here for whatever it may be worth. Lots in my head but not much clarity here, as usual. Half a cocktail deep, too. I figure I can do whatever is necessary to get my sorry ass through the fucking day.

The old show holds its share of difficulties, but like Voyager earlier, the damage is minimized somehow, as if the imagery is easier to deal with because of the genre. I just noticed a touch of tipsy. Maybe I was heavy with the vodka pour in my Russian. Anyway, part of the problem with the old show reared its head some months ago with my favorite character. I had not watched in some years and did not feel the same back then. Now? Every shot and line of dialog is dissected and analyzed until I am exhausted. I can't fucking help it because trouble with issue two is overpowering and diminishes my ability to stand upright and deal with the world like an adult. One interesting aspect is the fact that this issue did not exist during the glow. At least, I did not think in similar terms so the very basis did not appear to me no matter who was on my arm. Wow, sunshine coming through the south windows. I have not seen it in some days.

I am quite certain that eventually every fucking show or film will be a problem because I am weakening daily. Soon I will be at odds with exposure to nearly anything in life. The issue continues to expand and forces me to dream of the solution more often than mere days ago. That, in turn, pushes my head into the glow over and over due to the calm nature of that period and those around me being vastly different than those in the present. Jeffrey Hunter was fantastic as Pike, and Susan Oliver stirred emotions with every single line. What a great fucking pilot this was. Damn. Two years prior to my birth. Unbelievable. And look what that little hour-long show spawned... An entire universe of every conceivable product for more than fifty years. I love it.

Sorry. Went on a little heart-infested rant there.

I sit and ponder in fear;
'The next sound you hear'.

And we go... One more time for posterity...

'Drizzle, drazzle, druzzle, drome. Time for this one to come home'.

Two steps back and there I stand;
Fear in eyes and drink in hand.

A precipice of self, all hatred and chiding;
Look at me now, survival through hiding.

I have a load of dry cleaning going in the garage to be followed by one more. The kitchen sits dark due to the difficulty in my emptying the heavy bucket to continue, and everything else is complete. Perhaps a visit by the other one later so we can watch an episode, but if not... I will be the same. I may head out to the garage and continue where I left off yesterday, and if not... I will be the same. Nothing is certain except the result after the next 339 days. Pause.

Dry cleaning is finished. The goddess will be visiting in the next half hour or so for lunch, although I have already eaten. That's ok. Our schedules do not always jive.

'A moral test of oneself'. Wow, John, way to go with that observation. He was right, though, as his next actions would have repercussions resounding and dictating life or death. I am not at that point, thank the maker, and still have the mental and emotional fortitude enough to remain upright through almost anything. If one considers all that took place between zero three, eleven and fifteen, the surprise is my sitting here typing at all. Things could have gone very differently, to be sure. In eleven I was pretty much free to do as I pleased, zero three coming in at second, and that dire time in fifteen being the closest to an actual living fucking scrape. No tests here anymore. I can deal with such an aspect of life in the modern age. And this entire line of thinking came out of nowhere, and it can return with equal haste. Perhaps that cocktail was not such a good idea after all.



This flat spot had better not solidify. Switch.

A dream this morning. Two women (that I know of, could have been another there somewhere) near me and wanting to be close. And I mean physically close... Everything. One was very petite and dropped her clothing at my request. Upon doing so, I saw the tiniest thong and matching bra -- red and white with lace along the edging -- and her gorgeous, tiny shape right there next to my eyes as I laid on a sofa (I think). The other was nearby and doing what she pleased. When I saw the pants peeled off the smaller woman next to me, my head went through all permutations at very high speed, after which I requested some attention from her. She immediately complied and remained standing next to me, my eyes at hip-level. I did not look upon her long, black hair for more than a few seconds before turning my gaze to the thong and the manner in which it divided her dark skin. I could not believe my eyes while staring... The distinct gap; her tapered thighs; the way her lower back was slightly arched inward so as to drive my senses insane. I watched her subtle movements and marveled as I have so many times before in countless dreams of similar situations. Further up and due to her being bent at the waist, her breasts pointed downward inside the little bra. Her hair was haphazard and all over the place, partially flowing over my left arm. The entire image of her form right there next to me was overwhelming. Awake.



If only I could have experienced that last dream again. So nice to see that image right there next to me, all sexy and petite. I missed it all day yesterday and into the night. She was machinelike, honestly. I looked to my heart's content as she stood next to me. The moments were so nice that I wish I could go back in there and see her body again. Instead, early this morning showed me a very long dream which I can describe as one of the worst ever. Not a nightmare, it was actually calm and only actual people were involved. Unfortunately, the content and mood were very bad. And I mean fucked up. Unexpected, like the little beauty doing as I pleased in the other, wondrous world. None of that this morning. Arguing, positioning, posturing, and lots of threats. The entire scene was too close to home while being completely alien. I cannot go into detail because it involved real people in my world. I was happy to be awake, though, unlike the other night when I felt I could have stayed in such a situation forever. A dream within a dream, sort of. The woman was just what I wished.


Every now and then -- like yesterday -- I feel as if everything is getting a little out of hand, or like things are slipping away with regard to daily life. Some of this is likely my own doing. Combined with the condition of my poor back yesterday, the little ups were not as far as I had hoped. This morning my back is slightly worse so I will have to be careful in my activities. An episode of the show (the finale) this morning and then we are supposed to go to her house and continue her vanity project. Well, lifting the top in my present state is less than likely, so we may just wait. I really need to be careful. As for my routine? I don't know what I can accomplish and what may be too much. The house will have to be in as good order as possible without going overboard. The lateral issue is still hanging there, yet a little progress yesterday has helped to ease the mood and the wait. We have dealt with it fine. I actually feel very good about myself right now after all that crap combined has been worked out well. Little things here and there... All I can do.

I guess these aren't going to be one per day, but it doesn't matter, really. Oh there is Allie with better lighting and her big, wondrous eyes. She is the co-anchor this morning so I get to see those lovely windows quite a bit. She reminds me of Jamie sometimes.


What about Jaime, you ask? Well, she is always there as a representation of everything which is impossible. There is no way in holy hell I could ever find the real woman, so gazing at the images and gushing about how her importance (the IDEA of what she represents) has grown exponentially in the last three-quarters of a year are just about all I have anymore. I am thinking that very soon there is going to be an issue which will slap me upside the head. That issue is likely some sort of combination, like when I dreamed of Andrea as a machine, and then discovered the android on the old show bearing her name. That was crazy and I fell all over myself for a while before calming. The Andreoid is still a dream, though. No denying that one. Anyway, this latest crap is going to be something along the lines of combining Jaime, Jamie, and my feelings for surviving through isolation. Maybe good, possibly bad, but either way I see it on the horizon. Perhaps that will be the key that brings me up or down from this current plateau. The last week or so has had me overly gushing about Jamie, and I am expecting it to calm before long. Yes, I have feelings for her character, but considering the unhealthy nature of yearning for a fictional woman I am going to have to tone it down a bit. Sometimes I run myself up into a dither about her before realizing I am causing more harm than good. This is exactly the same as Jaime, who may as well be fictional too. What a fucking problem.

Allie's eyes are crooked. Did I mention that before? So cute.

Leveled off now. Autopilot?



My back is not allowing me to do some of the things I need. Damn. Just have to wait it out and protect myself now. This will pass. In the meantime I don't like just sitting still all the time so I need to at least try getting around and accomplishing stuff.

So, none of the issues came to light during the past day, although I did gush a little about Jamie which is not a good idea anymore. Whatever she may mean to me these days does not need to be advertised other than on these pages. This is the place for everything. Out in the real world is the place for keeping my trap shut, for lack of a better description. Gushing is not going to accomplish anything and may in fact cause others to gush in a similar manner which will end badly for yours truly. I can't have that now. As often as I sit here and describe my sense and need for control, the truth is I cannot be unfair in some ways. That type of behavior will keep the two at bay, as well, and that can lend to my comfort. If the two rises in conversation or out in the world (depending upon who I am with, of course), I will be driven into the ground at terminal speed. I can't have that, either. So, I need to thicken the line between the real world and this space so as to ensure the comfort of others and avoid causing a situation which may destroy me.

I am quited pleased to see sensitivity running rampant now, although it feels unnatural at times. I am the cause of the boost, too. I know it. Anytime I express difficulty to someone caring, their wish is to avoid hurting me, so they alter what would normally have been said. That means I am influencing that person. Not good. And while it is true that to do so toward a loved one is natural and a part of the caring process, I don't like it, real or otherwise. That word comes to mind again. The 't' word. Nearly an impossibility these days, especially considering all those occasions of stinging words and uncaring actions. Leave it. Just fucking leave it alone anymore.

As I said... Leveled off. Flat spot on the road after so many years of going uphill with this shit and the knowledge that what goes on inside me may be better left unsaid. I don't know anymore.

Today is a Sunday without football, unless you count the Pro Bowl, but that is boring. I am scheduled to head over to her house again and work a bit. Little things, too, and nothing that should cause back trouble. Protection is key right now. A light switch and maybe painting a cabinet, but nothing further. This morning I am feeling the strain of my place in the world, and as such I may end up precluded from enjoyment. Too bad.

The light is mostly up. I usually say that when I can kill the keyboard illumination.

Yesterday keeps pushing at me to try and understand what took place after a second dream. I am concerned that the imagery may stick with me for a while. The entire scene was very uncomfortable and had me overjoyed to awaken. That bad. I cannot go into what took place, however. It is too personal, but I will say that the two individuals running around that huge apartment are the same two who live in this house. Beyond that, there is little I can reveal. The underlying worry still pulls me an entire day later. Unlike the previous dream -- that of the gorgeous and shapely little thing standing next to me and appearing as a machine -- the awakening was very welcomed. I had to get out of there, both within the dream as well as the dream itself, if that makes any sense. Eh... Fuck it anyway. Without going into detail, anything further is better left out of this crap. The woman in the other dream was a universe I could have inhabited for the rest of my life, though. Way the fuck up versus all the way down. The apartment in the dream was not full of beauty. It was full of fear.

Today I can move along the previous line of thinking which had been interrupted by my back and the waste line issue. I have worked to keep the house operating as normally as is feasible given the circumstances now, and just last night was another step in that direction yielding our kitchen functional. I'm pretty proud of all the effort and clear thinking in a situation which has driven others to panic. Carrying a full understanding of the systems involved certainly helps. Today I will work a bit further, or until such time as my back keeps me down. Some of the crap came in the mail yesterday so I have pictures to hang, too. Little things. And now? Back to our regularly scheduled programming:

Down, down, down we go... Into that place with space for but one. Realization...

After careful consideration and calculation; 944 images throughout more than 200 entries; thinking of all I have endeavored to analyze, qualify and quantify; the conclusion is the following, whether or not anyone else in existence wishes to believe it... Jamie is now the single most beautiful, stirring woman upon whom I have ever laid eyes. I love her. I really do.

'She' is not Jamie. 'She' is a machine. My head is coming apart. I just may give up completely. 337.

She is out there."