November 19th, 2021 8:03am pst

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

The Rampart

 read ( words)

"Saturday morning. The scouts should be here in a few hours for the food donation. This is good. Anything I can shove out the door leaves empty space behind. If only I could empty my head as easily.

Dominic has one last chance to shine before everything comes to an end. The documentary I watched yesterday was along the same lines because it had been shot during the final year of the show in production. I may have been better off avoiding the movie, though. Some tears, lots of daydreaming about being involved with documentary crews during my career, and that one chance to make a change. It came and went. I still remember the man's name who gave me a list of contacts around the Bay Area. The paper is likely gone now, though. I lost track of it after moving to the valley years ago. All the way back to zero four now. The essay within an essay in which I bitched about the manner in which films were already being considered 'on shelves' even during writing and pre-production. I was not happy about all that stuff, and all the while I sat there passing up an opportunity to be involved. I had been convinced that the industry was changing too much, too fast, yet I was wrong. Of course the processes will advance. That was not very insightful or smart of me. Yesterday could have gone differently, but now I see it was one of my worst days just like the one before. Partly my fault, too. I accept that.

There are always things which can be done. Yesterday I felt paralyzed by both fear and where I am in life, which is basically nowhere. I am a needle at the left end and standing still. I could have pushed and worked on things but did not have any motivation. The evening went fine, I guess, despite the day leading into it. This morning I have to consider those feelings twenty four hours back and ensure they do not dictate my actions today. I cannot have a repeat for more than one reason. 0720. I should probably get the donations to the curb.

0739 and done. They suggest having everything out there by nine but I need to be certain we will not be missed. Lots of canned and dry goods are going away. Excellent. Perhaps I can list the other donations and drop them off Monday. That would be nice, although my ambition is minimal these days, the last two being the worst. So far today I am doing better, though. This morning everything feels open and possible. I know not why.

The last entry beat me up pretty bad. And this episode -- like the second in the previous season -- holds yet another reinforcement which no one understands. I can steer clear of them. There will always be something, too. If I am going to venture into the R-rated television programs, eventually the difficult scenes will come along. Recently I did some reading about one of the tertiary characters and ran across lots of discussion related to what ails me. Nothing good, of course, because for whatever reason at this point in the development of society, those stories people find amusing are many and usually either degrading or insulting to some of us. The more I try to look into things and understand, the further down I see where progress has taken us as a whole. The doctor said 'we live in a time of technological and spiritual crisis...', and I cannot disagree, yet there is absolutely nothing I can do about it aside from separating myself from 'them'. Not easy, yet I do have a leg up on much of society thanks to remaining at home most of the time. That is a big positive, believe it or not. Control over the atmosphere and media. Yesterday I became unable to see that positive, however. I know not why or specifically what took place, but keeping the crap in mind today may help me to come out the other side of these hours feeling better.

Again with the previous entry. That was very negative because I feel as such most of the time. All my strength is required for avoiding spreading my mood through speech. I felt it last night while making dinner. The rampart was all the way up but almost lessened long enough for me to express my opinion. I did exposit one thought, too. Not good. I'll have to use it as a lesson and something to be avoided in the future. I also need to keep my trap shut about the film industry. Lots of knowledge in my head is wasted because I've become so fucking bitter about my choices that no one is going to want to hear it.

No one knows me because I am afraid of what they may think. Better to risk nothing and lose nothing. I am already suffering from MDD all the way back to zero three, so keeping everything inside has become second nature. No risk, no reward? Bullshit. No risk, no loss. Fuck your clichés.

Sunday morning. 0649, coffee, gangsters (nearly the end of the series now), and the same mood as last night... Defeated, broken, and wondering how I could have paralleled John's character so closely for years. Today I have to care for some things like always, first and foremost my own need to further expand on the idea of the rampart which is separating myself from the rest of the world. Solid now. Immovable and impossible to understand. I need to remain completely closed off and move against all of the advice for fifteen years. I just don't fucking care anymore. Good or bad, I have to do this if only to ensure nothing else comes out of my mouth for people's consumption and subsequent consideration. I can't have that shit anymore. Right now I feel as if I have already let go of too much information, too. Years of it. Now I feel like I should have built this fucking rampart a long time ago -- perhaps as early as that shit period in eleven when I had a carrot in front of my face -- and shoved everyone into the dumpster. The carrot is gone along with all the other manipulative and dual-reasoned crap that went along with it, however the slicing and dicing has already been inflicted. It's too late for that one, yet the future is still out there, meaning if I continue to build I may be able to avoid a repeat. The truth is that draw is more powerful now than in the past, very likely due to the barren nature of things and the idea that my value has been derived through certain details of the same. One baby step indicative of me hoping to initiate something vastly different was hanging the flag yesterday and doing some reading. With so much on the line here this morning, I'll have to continue in the same direction -- be it baby steps or otherwise -- today while I am alone. The process I have let go of so long ago must be reversed.

Now, I am going to lose out on a few things but am hoping the difference will make missing parts of life worthwhile. Today's business shall be interspersed with small changes here and there designed to simplify my life and daily work. I suppose part of the drive to do such things was the food donation yesterday. They took everything and thanked me profusely for helping. Little did they know, the help was likely benefiting me more than them. Well, not really, but it's funny. Anyway, that was a lot of shit out of the garage. Once I saw the difference I decided that today should be the beginning of the push I have avoided for so long. Weakness. Need. Desperation. All those feelings have contributed to this most dissatisfied state of mind with regard to myself. Being led around is not good. Often enjoyable in the end, but overall very bad. The situation likely caused me to be even more weak than I would have felt otherwise. One undeniable fact is that I will remain as far down as I have been lately. No further loss, hopefully, but no distinct reasons for improvement, either. The state will be unchanged in many ways, not the least of which is this shit mood and attitude.

Everything irritates me anyway. I no longer see any reason to place myself in the middle of situations I already know have a strong possibility of going bad, even a little bit. I should know better by this point. I've done it too many times in the last several years. Today is a good starting point because there is no pull to watch football at the bar, although last weekend sitting there was rather nice for a while (alone in a room of people). When she heads off to the city, I will have some time to think, too. The game is tomorrow night and currently I have no plan other than watching it here alone. I suggested a little something but have since reversed my position. This is the first week of pro football since my mood dropped through the floor, so the home game being delayed past Sunday is a break of sorts. I have no intention of being around people today other than a slim chance of going to the small market. Considering my track record there and the way things have gone lately, the little bare midriff will probably be at the register just to derail my thinking and send the idea of lost power straight back into my brain. She could literally ask me to sweep the parking lot with a toothbrush while flashing a smile and that would be that. Weakness. Used up. Pissed off. Anyway, I might go over there for a few things and then return to the bubble. Other than shopping, I'll be here all day in hopes of gaining insight through the quiet. Something happened to my right ear yesterday and most of the high frequencies are lost, so headphones will not be a good idea unless I am listening to a television program. Most likely I'll just keep one of the shows in the background. This is very uncomfortable and disheartening. I already had enough fucking negatives before the hearing loss. Now my mood has become worse. Hopefully no one takes issue with me. That would be very bad. Everything irritates me and people are at the top of the list. I don't even want to hear voices. The rampart will help. I am still fortifying. Today may be good for construction.


Garbage and organization will be the lion's share of the work. Yesterday after the food was picked up I was able to reconfigure the garage cabinet and create lots of space. I can continue in such a vein later this morning with my friends keeping me company. They don't speak to me and I can control what I see and hear, unlike the real world. Control. Yep. The other side of the rampart is beyond it. I'd like to jump into the fucking television and hug Jamie. Her again? Yes. I can't help it. Fictional, controlled, beautiful. Sound familiar? I am so weak and defeated right now that any dreams have become overwhelming. Reality pushes me down and media sometimes lifts me up. The scene of scenes. Whatever. Garbage and organization. Maybe music on the big garage system. Right now I don't know how I will feel in a few hours so all I have are ideas. Most days I see all sorts of possibilities during the morning and then by close of business I end up feeling like a failure. Time will tell, I suppose. The sun is shining with its increasingly threatening angle. It's lovely.

Many mornings have found me stating that this day had better show me something good, satisfying or otherwise positive because I feel so shitty that I reach. Anything. The limits imposed in the past and outlined in that essay four years ago are stirring me into a froth again. I can't fucking stand this shit. Maybe I am still paying the tab for all I caused years ago, but I cannot be certain. This is the worst situation I've been in for a very long time. Uncomfortable, no clear answers, yet I just keep going for whatever reason. ‘Depression is rage turned inwards.' I don't know about that one, doctor. I don't feel rage. There is anger, though. I've been told that to be angry about one's life means one is not trying to make changes for the better. Well, how exactly is change accomplished? Doesn't there need to be motivation? When things get really bad and a person does not wish them to continue, is that the motivation? What about when the symptoms cannot be clearly defined? What then? Therapy? Grasping at straws for great expense? I didn't think so. One destination after such reaching is finding oneself right back in the same situation with less money. If the day is going to show me something positive or different from all the other days, I do understand that I am the one to make it happen. Still, nothing like that is simple. Even those days when I accomplish much around the house I still end up here in the late afternoon completely fucking empty. Am I missing something? The little enjoyments? One of them has disappeared, people. A big one.

The only path I see at present is to go on doing those chores and finding empty space here and there. I can't just sit here.

One method I've been trying to employ is the rampart. While near others, the act of appearing just fine is fucking exhausting and can take its toll over many days after mere hours in the fold. I can't fucking have that because there is already too much to consider. My facade is completely broken, hence the rampart. It is a wide division -- both internal and external -- which has to keep me away from those parts of the world which cause trouble. Last year I made the decision to shut everything off save for the site and I believe that was a good one. I am actually proud of the action. I did it after becoming so sick and tired of people that I just couldn't stand it anymore. Over a year later? I am better off. I was alone and mired in their shit, whereas now I am alone and detached from them. The rampart may have been starting to build last year when I made that fantastic decision. I don't have to be false as often. I suppose that is a positive of sorts. One less situation with which to deal.

Not everything is so simple, however. I still have the shit from the eighties and years of fallout and dissatisfaction. There may be nothing I can do, though. I've been trying for a very long time and am sitting here right now worse off despite the effort (I will try to avoid bringing the machine into this crap for obvious reasons). The social media decision originally felt as if I shoved a large part of society into the middle of the ocean, but now see myself as one person in a small boat far from shore. At least the water is fairly calm. The difficulty is partially knowing that no matter what has been done to me, I still must claim responsibility. Unless, of course, all I've done is react and grow into this shit because of other people. Without someone better educated in these matters, I will probably never know for sure. As I said, little of this is simple.

During the period of 2002-2014, this site encompassed 7253 lines of code. Since the outset of 2021, I have written 42876 lines as of this very sentence. Just a thought. Actually, the lines here in the IDE may be different. Let us see... 144323 in the IDE versus 136089 tallied via a spreadsheet. Whatever.

Miserable. Lines of code don't help.

Monday morning, 0641. I have to get up shortly for the morning crap before sinking into some peace and quiet for a little while. Yesterday was up, down, and then up again after damned-near falling off the edge of the world. I realized that all the effort and those days of trying new directions have been for naught. There was a line yesterday that I could not cross, and one which will help me move through the remainder of life while keeping myself to myself. People cannot know me. Not at all. There are the little things, yet they do not matter in the grand scheme, some of them already out there anyway. I can't really do anything about those parts of me which are well-known, only the private stuff. The line was there and I am glad the strength of mind took over and left me on one side. 0745 and I have the house to myself for the duration.

The line was reinforced, possibly an effect of the rampart. Either way, the fact is I held it. After taking such a big step, I am empowered. This means all of the shit built up in my head throughout the past year-plus may actually have pushed me enough to enforce the rampart and keep others at a distance. I must continue on the same path in order to solidify the rules and regulations of other people wishing to associate with me. Today appears to be the first step into a larger world for myself, yet a much smaller aspect to anyone else. Excellent.

Today. Now 0854 and I took a walk to the neighbor’s house for a toilet issue. I’ll have to secure a part and head back over there tomorrow afternoon for replacement and testing. I do not mind helping as they are good people in the community. There is Jamie in the finale sitting across from James with her big, beautiful eyes and amazing cheekbones. Yep, I am still all goo ga over her after all this time. I can’t help it. She becomes more beautiful with each viewing. I have never been so deeply loving toward a character in the media. I don’t get it, but whatever. Feelings are as they are, often without reason. This will not be the last time her face moves me to mush. Where was I? Ah... Today. The usual. I may venture to the hardware for the toilet part and a few other items necessary for the garage progress. Perhaps the market, but not the one with the forms constantly floating about the aisles. I can’t go over there unless I have reason to be at the bar because they will enter my vision and fuck me up for hours. I can’t have that right now. There is already enough going on. I can stick to the store right across from the hardware instead.

The documentary I watched last Friday fucked me up. I played the show again Saturday because it’s amazing and stirring, but the problems remained no matter how much I tried to separate myself from the industry and content. I was in tears the first time. They were held back during the subsequent viewing in order to continue construction of the rampart. Right now there is nothing more important than isolation, preparation and planning. The shit will hit the fan at some point and I must be ready. Watching the show pushed all that film stuff back into my head and forced me to realize the industry was still there even years after I gave up and cowered when an opportunity to shift was exposed to me. I still feel it. I recall the madam during the first season of this great show commenting about a character who had ended his own life. He was not happy with himself... How he 'turned out'. She went into a bit more, but the previous thoughts are the point. I am in the same boat and every fucking time something comes along as a reminder of roads not traveled, I fall down hard. This will stick with me for a very long time, if I am here long enough to experience the feelings. I watched the documentary regardless of the fear and knowing full well it would cause problems. Too amazing. Too intriguing. I couldn’t fucking help it. The damage cannot be ignored no matter my efforts in other directions. I am fucking weak.


Add to that all the shit last night regarding children and I am frankly surprised that my mood is neutral this morning. I honestly believe that one of these days I am either going to shut down completely or blow up all over everyone and everything. There can be no other way. I’ll tell you one thing, though. The occasion will be very bad. Not even the rampart -- as enormous and imposing as it can be -- will have the strength to withstand my tirade. I really don’t need any more fucking crap about the children. Legacy is a term to be completely erased from the vocabulary of this Goddamned site. All that word causes is sadness and damage, soon to be reduced to only the latter. Anger fucks everything up, for sure, but it also cuts through and clarifies the world.

There is Jamie’s goofy first season nose. Heh. Two years later it’s different. I know not why.

0923 and I am beginning to feel antsy.

2045 and this day is over but it should have been cut short before lunch. Nothing good has taken place since then. I feel more alone now, though. Not all is lost... Yet.

Oh boy. The television never stops when I do not have control. A key act seems to be one of the main items able to be held over a person’s head for whatever reason and without end. Splendid. So many different programs throughout ten years have written the idea in granite. I fucking hate everyone and everything in the world. This may never pass, unlike older circumstances about which I wrote many years ago. No matter how positive a day may begin or how much I try to see the bright side and hold that line of thinking, eventually nothing matters. Too many mistakes. That is the problem with being associated with other people. Things will fuck up at some point. It is inevitable. One person? Fine. Two people? Dissent will develop. No way around it. More people? War.

I was talking about the fucking television. Might as well talk about the possibility of running for president. Same result.

2144. Does the time matter?

2152. Nope.

Whiskey next to me. The insane British show she likes is on and I am trying to avoid it for two reasons. One, offensive terms flying out of a woman's mouth in the first episode, and two, I do not like suspenseful stories at this point in my life. The whiskey helps. I can ignore anything with enough booze. Even the human race.


Just like in early fifteen, the entire site direction has been derailed. This is becoming unacceptable but I am merely a small person in a tiny corner with no voice anyway. What does the content here matter anyway? Along the same lines, why would anyone wish to here what I have to say? I don't really know how to proceed after the last several entries, to be honest. Treaded too much. Circle after circle after circle. Nowhere. Even this morning appears flailing, unlike most. 0751. I slept a little too long. Maybe that's a part of it. Derailment is not the end of the world, though. I just need to remain mindful of what is important.

Today will be like those two days last week. I will not be here alone, yet I am looking forward to being a little bit out of my element due to the company. I found a way to cruise around the house with portable media and headphones -- which now sport a new pair of ear pads -- and combining that with the necessity of keeping the house quiet, I can work outside my typical sphere. Organization and fortification, and believe me when I say the latter is critical to my survival right now. No one else will look out for me. No one. Today I can work in such a direction while also focusing upon more shit flying out the door. Perhaps I can go to the donation place and rid the garage of all those bags of clothing and such. This all depends upon my mood by the time the business day begins, combined with whatever level of ambition is apparent. Right now I don't know because the whole fucking planet looks different while writing. This morning is different enough that the main parts of the site have been removed again. This time it will be for quite a while, mainly between this day and the middle of next month as I try to decide whether or not to let the hosting expire. The subject of the site business can be another project for later this morning. I'll have to consider using the editor on the phone for a little while. The remainder will be the usual, along with trying to alleviate much anger and considering future paths.

The losses are going to pile up. I know it. Already I had to perform a slice and dice of things I wish to do during the coming weeks and leading up to the end of the year, but now I have to truncate everything due to AGAIN dealing with other people. Not work, though. That is my decision and as of yet there has been very little of it which seems acceptable. No, this is something else entirely and driving all those negative thought patters which originated after the weaponry. I'll have to make certain to keep myself completely separated from those who would harm me. Often, the mere chance of harm is enough, but as I said above, allowances and compromises are keeping me busy. I can't stand them, yet must do at least the minimum allowable work for keeping my head above water. Fuck their heads. I don't have the energy to deal with them. All that I have already done plus everything which is to come adds up to a huge loss of focus from myself. Rather than racking or a shift, some has disappeared. Loss. I have to deal with it.

I put a fantastic image of Roxanne on the default index as a placeholder for the time being. She is gorgeous, and the facial expression makes me smile. The rest of the world does the opposite.

Bullets and bullshit was not enough. Rails. Weaponry. Tons of words. None of it has been effective at all. Not even a smidgen. There used to be parts of life or days in which I was all over everything. Strong, forthright, assertive. Where did that go? All I have are words.


Yesterday was better. Not great, but an improvement over Monday. Everything will be an improvement over Monday from here on in. Today I'll have to go to the bar and replace a light switch. Possibly look around for some way of rewiring a speaker, too, but that's it. Yesterday I had the portable media for a while and then worked in the garage. The current monitor is in it's temporary enclosure and works well. After a few experiments I plan to permanently mount the thing somewhere. All that quiet time yesterday morning allowed me to complete the setup and test. I'll have the same amount of peace and quiet today. All alone, really. My own little world to do whatever seems best. There was a bit of it last night, too.


The ideas pile up but rarely do any of them move forward. Whatever.


The shit went flying and nothing could be done. There have been several occasions of the same for years, yet lately the mood has been stable. Back during the pre-cave period, the mood was either completely serene or all the way out of control. There seemed no in-between. Now? The shit does not fly as often. Still, it is a problem. I cannot go back to those older situations. Something must be done about this. The possibility has to be squashed and destroyed. I failed to recognize the rampart's role in life for a little while and fucked everything up. Now I have yet another memory which will haunt me until the end of days. This is not good.

The time and space today may do me good, in that there are options while the house is occupied. The portable media really helps. The MDRs paid for themselves long ago, and just the other day I replaced the ear pads (probably already mentioned that) and they are more comfortable. The day would be much more difficult without the opportunity to withdraw into my little world. Likely I'll need to make myself scarce in the next hour or so. Toward noon I can head to the bar -- rampart fully lit -- and replace the switch. A bit of investigation will help with the speaker solution. Upon returning home, the real world will once again take a back seat to my comfort. To the 'we'.

This entire situation of trying to define things may be a complete waste of our time. Too many different facets and subjects -- some related and others separate issues -- for us to follow and organize. The easier path right now is likely to remain quiet and alone. Others can wonder. That type of decision always sounds good on the surface but soon proves very difficult to implement. We need something, though. Perhaps we have been influenced by all of the alone time in the past. Thinking of the cave period right now brings memories of isolation -- one of the best feelings in the world. We cannot be there now, however, so embracing whatever small space we can reach is going to be the best option barring any unforeseen circumstances. Defining all of the difficulties feels eased while alone, especially when we can remain hidden away with the time to think. This morning seems to be the beginning of a clear day with lots of hours for reflection. Maybe the shit mood will take a back seat to progress later on. Right now we cannot tell. There is so much...

The rampart fell the fuck down. We did not have control over the position or strength, thus we lost grip for a while. We cannot have that anymore. Not good. We must remain behind -- secure in the knowledge that no one on the other side has a clue as to our thinking -- and hold the line like never before. This is dire. Our survival depends upon the rampart. That fucking weak facade did not do shit. Hidden away, isolated, and in total control of that construct around our being. That is the only way. The mark which was knocked down must be considered a lesson, meaning we can keep it in mind, always, and work in whatever direction is necessary for maintaining our stance. The rampart is back up and has to stay as such or we will lose everything. Again... Not good. Today will be the first step in reinforcement, fortification and a push, unlike what has transpired since first formulating the rampart plan. Impassable. Impossible. Immovable. We need it. Today simply MUST show improvement, or else.

Kelly's face up there is lovely. She reminds us of a time when some aspects of beauty were still wondrous in a way unavailable in the present. Wondrous. Endearing. Just like that pair of boots we saw a few years later which began a dire search for a glimpse of the hidden face above. That was a better time, somewhat. Not like the actual glow, but not bad. There were still possibilities and Kelly is a representation of the loss of years. Now there are few. Everything in the world is fucking stupid anymore. We must hold on to her gorgeous facial expression and recognize where we were then as opposed to where we are right now. Look at her. Pretty, don't you think?

0826 and we are beginning to feel antsy. The switch replacement at the bar feels like a line in the day, our quiet time before and the productive time after. We shall be alone for both.

We cannot deny the feelings, yet when they begin to emerge, problems result. The real understanding can never develop due to the sensitive nature of what is taking place inside. We can't speak of it without being looked at sideways and with disdain, which means we can't speak of it at all. No one is there. There have been a few occasions when the proper circumstances were in place, but those times are gone for good. We will not bring up names anymore. They help nothing. There is Jeannie, all tall and dark. Nearly black eyes. Whatever. She doesn't know, either. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. No one is there. They were there. No more. None of that. We are in this position forever. Everything must remain right where it is for the duration or we will fall down at the hands and eyes of others. 'Them'. No one is there anymore. The feelings are, however. Always. Nothing we can do. No control, no solutions, no possibilities. We must fortify and turn inward like never before.

The blue dress was a chance. The cavern showed us only pain. The names remain out. We remain at a distance, no matter the draw. We must. The dress is gone, the knives are useless, and the silent guns are winning. We can't fucking have this... Or can we? Did we just roll over too often? Maybe. If so, the rampart will have to be the line. In the sand? Nope. That never did anything, either. None of those titles worked. The weaponry now stands as the most important, followed closely by the resemblance. The blue dress should have done more. It failed. Everything took over as we payed attention elsewhere. The importance became hidden behind years of grooming and compulsion, much of which was ingrown from the beginning. We lost the way because of other people and their needy bullshit. We know, though. We really do. The cobwebs come and go, but fortunately for our current predicament they have been removed again. We see it all. The blue dress felt more necessary than even the fucking dream, yet now both have been squashed by a higher power. We need a transfer. We also need them to see the rampart and the fact that there will soon be no way around it.

Knives, indeed. What a fucking joke. We need the power displayed in the third image of the previous entry, although that was fantasy. Figures. No power. We gave it away. Now we must play the worst game of catch-up imaginable. Something has to be done, as the gangsters might say.

Idiots on the golf course up there. Fools.

This is all shit without ideas or solutions, meaning this is basically shit. We have been better at times, worst at times, and right now we are at the worst thus far. Trying and trying. Do you see? Hmm... Maybe just be a shallow asshole and look at the pictures before moving away from this. Kelly again. She's lovely. Look at her and then go do something else. We don't give a fuck. The site will go away soon enough. It is costly.

No solutions whatsoever. Not even the work or routine. Nothing. We come back to the same fucking place no matter what a day may hold. This is ridiculous and has been as such for a very long time. No wonder there is so much fucking code now. The same shit over and over. Different pictures, same words. Who gives a fuck? Shitty mood.

To the 'I'...


0642 on Thursday after having to fuel up her car first thing this morning. I made it, though. Considering the wait for quiet time since Monday evening and the crappy Wednesday, this day is well-deserved. In less than an hour I will be completely alone again. Thank the maker.

So, the switch replacement went fine. Afterward I stopped by the cleaners a few doors down and wound up slapped in the face by a gorgeous, alluring strike all wrapped in black and gold. Little thing, too. Her pants were of a material I could not identify. They were clinging like my eyesight. Flowing two-tone hair. Into the car, the hell out, and down the highway to the big market where there was an even more shapely and lovely woman roaming the frozen aisle with her cart and lavender pants with seams in just the right places. I truncated my list, headed for the items and then made a beeline toward the checkout lane. Just after passing the deli, there she was a second time in profile. Very bad things happened as I scanned the items and left the area. I never know what is going to be out there. Sometimes there is a problem while other times nothing at all. Two pairs of legs are a huge problem because they linger on into the night and often the next day, just like right now. Lavender. Ponytail. The numbers again, all over her. I had to get the fuck out of there quick. So I did. She followed in my head for a few hours before fading in favor of something more pressing. Damage, though. I swore I would not bring this shit to the site anymore because the exposition is pointless, yet the compulsion began as soon as I spied those lines. No choice. I wish I could have turned invisible and stared.

0814 and quiet time has begun. All of the problems and cuts are still spinning circles, yet the peaceful nature of the house once she is gone does help quite a bit. Coffee and gangsters. Big surprise. Lavender legs walking all over the surface of my weakened brain.

Today. I have lots of time. Maybe a trip to the hardware later for a few items. A bit more work inside and then some in the garage. Anything to get my mind of these issues. I never have to worry about legs in the hardware store. Heh. Not funny. I can still see her walking the shopping cart next to the olive bar and that compound curve screaming at me from another universe. Damn it. Some of my thinking will have to remain off this page. Anyway, I have the usual stuff to do -- which, after the past few days shall be very enjoyable -- and then whatever seems necessary for maintaining the house. No pressing responsibilities other than my own schedule. The switch replacement yesterday was a trial, albeit one I made it through with nearly zero complications. Still, the mental aspect was tough until I left. Nothing like that today. My own needs, first and foremost, one of them unfortunately being a virtual impossibility. Scrapeage.

Jamie was shy of eighteen in this episode. Oy.

0857. Where is the rampart now?

0941. Nothing. This is a very bad time. Something has to... I don't fucking know.

The work still awaits while there is coffee left. Once I begin, the depressant will flow over ice. I really have no other enjoyments aside from that morning cocktail and perhaps lunch. The past few days have left me reaching in random directions for anything calm or satisfying. The mail is here. Nice and early. Maybe there is a huge check in there somewhere which can pave the way to real comfort. Nah. By close of business I need my head to be rearranged somehow. I know not how to proceed this morning. Hazy sunshine out there.

The woman at the market yesterday served to prove that I am still weak. Considering the events of the weekend and last night, the truth is I fear for the future and must change something within myself in order to live through the coming months in relative peace. I just cannot have the days continue as they did. This is not good, but there is a light ahead, and that is the idea that I do have the power to improve my situation no matter how many strikes or tough days come along. I really do. The problem is the motivation comes and goes on a whim and seemingly beyond my control. Such facts can't hold true much longer. I need to find a way out of this shit situation, and soon, lest I give up completely. Some parts of life have already been as such, too. I can't help that because the event last year which drove me away from every social aspect of the Internet still rings in my head. It had nothing to do with the realization that sighting beauty causes me to fall down, and everything to do with strength of mind. I saw her and reacted as I always have -- full of yearning and misunderstanding -- and then went about the business of the day with her legs wrapped around my brain. She was but one tiny example of the multitude of problems with which I am currently wrestling. Nothing goes away. Her form will fade soon enough, yet I already know that upon rising and feeling better about myself something else will come along and roll right over me like a locomotive. Change? I wish I knew. I also wish I had not seen those fucking pants.

Construction of the rampart must continue unimpeded and without delay. I need it. As of sitting here on this sofa this morning, not a soul fully knows what is going on inside me, and as bad as that may sound, it needs to be this way. I have to maintain something over which I hold control and everything else (except the fucking media and climate inside this place) is decidedly beyond my grasp. Especially people. The rampart is the only answer whether or not I decide to employ the entire affair. I am too sensitive for any other path. As I said, the massive upside is that everything with which I am wrestling is unknown to 'them'. Those fucking people. Enemies, all. I can't stand this crap.

1259. Routine and lunch out of the way. I have to meet up with a brother at the bar later. This day is still up in the air with respect to my recent shit mood and all that caused it. The evening will be nice, maybe.

0739, coffee, gangsters, and lots of quiet. This is the morning I need. I ended up going over to meet the guy yesterday and he never showed up. No call, no nothing. I visited for a while and then left for home. Today will be another story... My original plan to meet up this afternoon is going to be scrapped in favor of doing my own thing here. I can't have wasted time these days. One chance was it. Now if he wants the shirt he can come here and pick it up. The rampart has to remain between me and everyone else.

The lavender legs have mostly faded, thank Christ. I can see the prominent seams, though. They were unique to me because that style is something I've not seen before. But the radii... Another story. She was beautiful. Ugh. There is nothing I can do about this.

The day ahead looks better than yesterday. I have to think about the rampart and whatever improvements can be accomplished while taking care of other business during the next several hours. Construction cannot stop, ever, or I will end up at the mercy of the world and those people who made it. There is more, but I can't go into it right now.

Vis a vis."