November 8th, 2021 8:45am pst

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

The Recognizer

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"Monday morning, just shy of eight. Lots of time for reflection. Good thing, too, because I need it. Between Saturday and last night, things went aslant something fierce... Even more than I had thought possible. The worst part of the weekend was none other than my own brain. Despite my ongoing dissatisfaction with society and those within, this time I carry a good portion of the blame. At least I know. Monday is usually welcomed with open arms, yet this morning I do not feel well on two fronts. Not good. Realizing I've hurt myself never feels nice.

There was a dream this morning partially related to the troublesome weekend (mostly yesterday), but I cannot go into it. Too much there. I know the two people in the dream, I know what the situation meant, and I still will not spell it out here. Personal. Shitty, too. My days drove things into my head which will not leave. Very uncomfortable, this crap. The dream may have left me with questions and discomfort, but at least I have the day ahead to myself.

I should know better than to embrace the typical evening shit after so many opportunities to change something. Nope. Well, I may know it but have not exercised anything different as of yet. I think falling into the same routine is just easier. The truth is I must alter the way I deal with people before losing it completely and doing something irreversible. I can't have that right now. In simple terms, the apple cart is upright and rolling along just fine. For now, or until such time as I can actually shift the weight away from my shoulders, everything must be left the fuck alone. Pause.

This day has gone nowhere aside from a tiny version of the routine. I've been trying to relax my back. It's keeping me down and has effectively removed other options for the day. The hours have turned to shit.

Tuesday, and we have a title. We also have breasts. Ignore them. Trying to explain what her chest represents is impossible for two reasons. First, I am a male and no one is going to believe what I say, and second, my feelings toward many facets of life have been symbolized through provocative imagery. No one gets it, nor will they ever, so just skip to the next section if you don't like the boobs. You may 'recognize' the actor and the show. If not, I don't give a shit. That is that.

Today is already head and shoulders above yesterday. I feel physically capable and brighter thanks to caring for my back. I'll still take it easy, though. Avoiding anything strenuous is important. There are plenty of small items for which I can care today without exerting much. There is also a shit ton of thinking to be accomplished. I've been quiet and no one has a clue as to the reason because I'm lying through my teeth. Well, fuck it all anyway. I don't care. Have to look out for number one before I can turn on the consideration for others. If I am falling apart, I can't help them anyway. Today I can plan out the remainder of the weekdays and then work on the Friday trip. We are going up toward the high country for her work and I need to flesh out some details. To me, this will be quite the adventure. Some time to relax out of my typical atmosphere and the space to explore both this site and my feelings toward the world. Out of my element is a challenge, yet the idea of looking around and conducting business while out of town is fairly exciting.

'Recognizer'. Not that menacing machine from the movies. 'Recognition' of my place in the world.

Too much bullshit has driven the site direction lately. From the terms of the last three entries to the ongoing issues inside, this may become doctrine very soon. I do not see an out. I mentioned two problems with other people and have zero control over how they affect me short of cutting my words short in person. That is an option, always, yet not easy to implement. The dreams continue but I can't reconcile everything in the past even after all this time and analysis. Clear? Of course not. This morning is yet another representation of just how screwed up my head has become. No one can see in person because the facade has grown out of control and become permanent. Yes, the spell from the old game. Verbal, material, semantic. Look it up. The terms from a few years ago still apply, too. The only upside is my ability to organize and categorize most of them in order to function daily. So far, I am still afloat. I have to admit there are forces helping to hold me up and I embrace them at times, although the result of some can be as damaging as the terms I try to understand in the first place. In other words, not everything is bad. The comforts and quiet still help. When I look back at the entries since the outset of Jaime last spring, I honestly cannot believe how much has been railroaded over and over. I suppose the direction here is such that I am constantly trying to 'recognize' the issues keeping me down and continue to roll over the subjects in an attempt to see something different as time passes. I need them to become clearer. There have been small breakthroughs but nothing concrete. Still not enough for solace. The site direction will not change anytime soon, unless it is deemed unnecessary.

Sometimes I think of the past and do not become angry, while there are other moments pushing me into a place where I become incapable of moving at all. Crippled. Debilitated. Shrunken down to a mere fraction of what I was years ago. Why now? Why did I not fall on my face twenty years ago when considering the same conditions? Perhaps I did not 'recognize' the significance until growing older and seeking reason. There have been situations beyond my control which forced me to explain, the last being problems in Vegas a decade ago. I do not like explaining myself because the words coming out actually make me feel small regardless of the recipient. Sensitivity and caring are often nowhere near enough. The bottom line is if there are truly pieces missing, another person cannot replace them. Period. But the main question is this: Can I? The past cannot be changed and I cannot forget. The last eighteen months have been the worst of my existence, likely due in part to exploring and leaving nothing out, no matter how bad. If I could go back and alter what took place, the whole world would be different now. Not good. You know... The 'butterfly' shit. Can't have that.

I fucking hate everything more than I can say, and I've said quite a bit.


Back to this day. I feel much better physically than yesterday at the same time. The chores should prove easier and more fulfilling. I have a small part of my routine finished already and will probably sit here while the crap is fresh before moving in another direction. Crap, indeed. There is so much that I don't even know how to follow either a theme or title. The 'recognizer' is something inside. Deep inside, for sure. The very idea that I am still dealing with the same shit -- worse after all of the exposition and analysis -- and at my age is completely fucking ridiculous. My disdain for every single thread of the tapestry society has crafted over eons of time is at an all-time high. I cannot say enough, nor can I fucking bitch enough. I've been told by many a person (also many a therapist) to try letting go of those things I cannot change or repair. That is easier said than done. Move forward. Focus upon the future. Work on those parts of life that can be changed or improved. Yeah, okay. Is that what they did? Do they go home after a day out and believe everything is fine? I can't do that because the damage has ruined the dreams. And they are not that much to ask, either. So, don't give me that 'let go of the past' horseshit unless you have found your own utopian position in life. Bullshit. Others did this and they are mostly gone. Those who remain are exacerbating everything. Why don't you fucking tell me what to do? Fuck the day. Problems are flaring.

Some work finished. Other work awaits. The inside of my head is a bigger construction zone than those in downtown San Francisco. Not funny.



The 'recognizer' again. 'Recognition' of issue-laden sources, and believe it or not I am aware of some causes. Remember 'causality'? Well, those are the sources. The people with the silent guns. I have the 'recognizer' pointed right back at their guns. Not the forest guns. They are different and pointed for dissimilar reasons. But the bullshit never changes. I know too much. Do you know? Do you have a 'recognizer'? Probably not because my feelings are laid bare right here within these pages. I know way too fucking much these days and no one is exempt. I 'recognize' everything upon hearing the first utterance of a syllable. I already know, so leave yourself out of the fucking storm. All bullshit, all the time.

Wednesday after the morning business. Finally the house is quiet for me to explore and expand. Or, whatever this has become. Yesterday did not work very well on this front so I am hoping to make a bit of headway before going out the door in a few hours. I'll be helping at the bar again. Probably around noon, I suppose, so the stuff here will have to be finished prior to lunch.

Ah here we go again with the feelings, dreams, thoughts... All leading to a very painful dead end. The typical pattern is in process this morning with me sitting here with coffee and crap. The 'recognizer' knows all... The dreams are dead and decaying. Nothing can come along. Time has passed. This morning is a wonderfully dark example of a very negative trend which seems to have cemented itself on the rails of life. Nowhere. There is no way of sharing any details about this shit, either. Friends? Therapists? Nope. They are all the same and cannot help, so I have left everyone out of this and will continue to do so indefinitely. No choice. I have 'recognized' the earmarks of this condition and the roads just behind me which have converged and solidified the destination. It was probably inevitable.

I really do not want to work over there today but will feel better about it upon returning home this afternoon. There is plenty of time for taking care of business here before leaving. And I need to think. There can never be too much of that. The 'recognizer' is taking its toll on my brain. Overload. This is not good. This is a bad time. I see everything, consider the ramifications of what I say and what I am being told, and then sit here and sum the words in order to find the deeper meaning and from where it originated. So far, I see a small percentage inside me and the rest beyond my control. Not good. The show has illuminated the idea of broken parts being used as a punchline and I can't fucking stand it, yet still I can 'recognize' the reasoning. People seek it. They embrace it all and run down the road waving flags while the few sit and stew over every fucking second. This is a bad time. Further inside, less outside, and 'them'. Those fucking people everywhere, all the time. Something must be done, but what?

'We know what is in there; what is taking place. We see it all and must don a smiling face.'

I believe the short overnight trip in a couple of days will allow me a bit more space to consider all this crap and put some into perspective. Being out of the house may resemble those trips to the high country in which I am able to sit in the fold and watch the world turn. Some of it will be available as I kill time in unfamiliar places and file away information for later use here. I've been doing the same for years in the high country and this little excursion will be no different. There will be time spent alone and out there among the mass. Find a little corner and watch. Think. Perhaps fall down, but such problems are going to happen regardless of where I am. The fall is happening right now as I sit here and type these words, believe it or not. The only saving throw versus losing my head completely is the fact that I 'recognize' the leads and symptoms of such a condition. Up the road a couple of hours will make little difference aside from scenery. The way I see it, I may as well go up there and spend some time outside my little world because everything will turn to ash anyway. Like the last entry... The dreams. One is being burned at this very moment.

'Recognizer'. The machinery behind the scenes devouring life and placing images just beyond reach. This will continue to happen regardless of the effort in any direction. The problems have already been 'recognized' and solutions elude. This will probably go nowhere, much like the entire site.

My world keeps shrinking despite going out to perform bits of work at times. The work is merely there to assist me in feeling better upon returning to this bubble. So far it has proven effective, even when I end up in the fold of 'them'. I still have to maintain some semblance of normalcy -- for lack of a better term -- in order to be where I need... Surrounded by my devices. The world is tiny now, room for only me. This is the way things must be. Closed off. Isolated as much as possible. Hiding. Alone. I can barely identify with others anyway. I 'recognize' the differences and cannot deal with their way of thinking. I mentioned the show from last night. Well, it's important for me to watch and remain mindful of the effect such media has upon some people. As long as I can focus myself and narrow the lines to keep 'them' within view, the media will help illuminate the genesis of their respective mindsets. Understand? I hope not. This isn't for you. The edges of the world around me can almost be touched if I reach far enough. Surrounded by those trees, watching the outside from the inside, and awaiting the time when I can fully embrace the only fucking power I have left.

I 'recognize' your shit. I used to be like you, a little. Look in the mirror.

Less people, fewer voices. What goes on inside matters little if their mouths never utter a word. Still, just go away, please.

Back to the show. I 'recognize' the motivation to keep people happy or interested. The media is worthless without viewership, so whatever devices or ploys need to be used for maintaining the audience have to be as such. My three main series' have this in spades. Why do I keep returning to the same programs? Familiarity, for the most part. I like the characters in and around everything which seems wrong to me. Or... With me. Whichever. Pick one. Anyway, the media would not be the same and much less realistic without the shit. The world can't have that right now because in these late days so much has been treaded that the creators must go beyond in order to gain and keep an audience. I 'recognize' that, honestly. The problem with such media has already been laid out here, yet last night actually hit me over the head due to a scene I did not recall seeing the first time around just a few years ago. I doubt anyone gives a shit, though. I look at other people and see a coldness I need to display in response, yet I cannot. No matter what comes along, I have to be kind and fair. Inside my head is the same. Inside their heads? Something else. I don't know all of it, of course. I cannot. Just as the media creates a reaction in me, it also does the same for them. Sitting here generalizing is not a good thing. The fact is I only know what I know because of 'recognizing' clues and recording words for later analysis. Most of that causes anger. And then the anger comes out here and nothing is solved. I believe the word is 'conundrum'... Beyond a dilemma.

This day has moved along. The routine is finished and I've gone into other directions in my mind, however not in reality. I cannot remove one of the problems which was exacerbated last night after being illuminated in the worst way two days ago. There is no solution. Within the next two hours I will head to the bar for some work, meaning a distraction. Temporary, though. Nothing is permanent aside from issues. I'm getting pretty fucking sick of feeling this way seven days a week. In response to the usual morning situation, I poured a nice glass of depressant. Backwards? You betcha.

On to the usefulness of the 'recognizer'...

And 'I' turns to 'we'.



Anger is the primary result of everything we have 'recognized' throughout the last nineteen months. Less, perhaps. We do not know of an exact date because everything grew slowly and brought us to this fucked up point over a long period. This morning is just another fucking slam to ensure we forget nothing. The anger can be very useful, but also it has the power to ruin. The past is in ruins due to the endless spinning of clocks. The present is being burned due to the progression of time becoming brighter and more 'recognizable' thanks to the wonder and hope of the past. We considered the glow this morning while having a discussion with the cats regarding the subject matter of the episode playing out as we worked. The relational subject is a holiday we never really considered due to being caught up in whatever was shiny at the time. Now? And after last year? It has become a point of contention and we have endeavored to remain neutral throughout. The holiday in question celebrated five hundred years of history during year three of the glow, hence us recalling that time yet again. We were not angry then. We were trying to fit within a society with which we no longer agreed. We planned and sought an outlet. A trip, although we've gone into this before. The anger was radically different due to the understanding present and the inherent 'recognition' of source material. Now? Not the same. Many of the positives which warmed us then are no longer in existence. We 'recognize' the massive, hideous gradient between who we were and who we are. Every fucking day. The only possible route from such a realization is anger. This train is still riding the circle. Skies darkening, dioramas lit like never before, and us right there in the cab... Pissed off forever. Anger is powerful. Thank Christ it is not pointed toward any one person. That could effectively and definitively end our reign on this site.

The 'recognizer' can be a tool of sorts, there at the ready just in case we are slighted again. And we shall be. Just a matter of time. The upside is we already know it will happen. On guard, always. Anger builds the guard and the wall, we stand behind at the ready, and then when the shit comes a-flyin', we can face forward and allow the forest to absorb and destroy the source material. That feels good. A cause for celebration, really. A small one, but a celebration nonetheless. All we have anymore. Little things. The depressant is working well. Another tool, perhaps. We 'recognize' our weakness and need, unlike those fucks out there who rarely see anything. And as we have stated here on more occasions than we can count, this entry is going nowhere. There may be a tool, though. Cut through... Clarify... Slam. Not sure yet.

Most days we fucking hate everyone, although such feeling rarely lasts long. We have become unbelievably compassionate and understanding because of the sensitivity which grew after the glow. The days were reversed. We hated ourselves, not others. We 'recognized' what we had done and what we had become. Unfortunately, the pendulum swung in the opposite direction recently and became welded to the facing wall, forever stopped in such a position. We went too far. We grew into something TOO sensitive. TOO aware. TOO kind as a result. Thus? Walked upon like never before. The 'recognizer' can be a tool, however we have become the tool. Nothing more than an implement. The product which came out the other end of the machine of society is a vat of boiling anger, used up and tossed aside. Sum? Most days we hate everyone. Too often they have been the point of focus. Now the point is different. We 'recognize' the point as the end of a weapon. The weapon is anger. This entry will not be the last. 271 published essays are only the beginning.

'Recognition' of anger. 'Recognize' this.

There are no beer cans on the back lawn because we have been trivialized enough to avoid the typical behavior which others seem to laugh off. Another line is coming, one fashioned by anger and built upon the ridicule. The next line (did anyone see the previous line?) is thick. A sprawling division between what we believe and see, and that standpoint of self-involvement which has run roughshot over those of us who are sensitive. Well, they are not entirely at fault here. We know we've performed calculations and exercised decisions which have labeled us as such. We know. Don't fucking say it. We already know much of what has brought us down was our own doing, although the others' involvement cannot be denied. If only THEY fucking knew. If only they could know what they are and the level of damage they have caused. The beer cans came about six years ago when we were very upset and as an indication of our level of dissatisfaction in life. Unfortunately, they do not accomplish similar goals now. Laughed off, as it were. The resulting anger over such bullshit is enormous.

Thursday, early. Too much of this lately. Over a year, really. We have been saying the same three things eight different ways throughout four hundred days. There is no difference. We saw it yesterday at the bar, in the market, on the road, and all over the television. We saw everything pointing straight at us. Everyone sees. No one knows. We cannot continue like this. Something must be altered, somehow. This morning can be like all the rest, or we can point everything in some other direction. Four hundred days of this 'recognition' and a lack of clarity. This is a bad time.

We have to leave in two hours to conduct some business at the bar, hopefully returning shortly after twelve so the brain can relax. So much is being churned that we are frankly surprised to be doing any business at all. The French girl is about to appear again. When did we mention her and those shoulders? Ah... Found it. Not long ago within 'Sentient...' we gushed a bit because of her physical attributes. The shoulders and her arms. Rather like the other girl we saw on the dragon program, yet taller. There is more but we do not need to get all worked up into a dither right now. Enough fucking problems already. One thing is that we are amazed enough to get past the accent, and that is saying a mouthful. Hmm... Mouthful. Fuck. Whatever. We do not need that, this, or anything right now. In fact, the feelings are such that we'd prefer to remain here all day rather than going out. Ah, fuck it. We will make it back at some point and carry forward with the wallowing. There she is again. Fucking tall. Crappy posture, though. The mind is beginning to fabricate a machine again. We may have to avoid this episode. So many phrases go here. This is a bad time. 'We' back to 'I'.

Morning crap out of the way. I have to leave in less than thirty but not feeling it at all right now. I'd rather remain right here for the duration. Yesterday I did not have to go out until lunch time, with the afternoon working out just fine. Today is different due to what is going on inside me. The only positive right now is either pushing aside the work or doing it and then returning. The latter would be best, although either is fine. I also need to consider the trip tomorrow and any necessary preparations. I like the idea of having only so much while away. Organization and time management are two of my strong suits, especially when part of the planning is my free time. Speaking of time, I must get ready.

Afternoon now. The 'recognizer' was in full swing this morning when I left the bar to get coffee in the nice market next door. Problems came and went, all wearing THOSE pants and looking like floating, dreamy models clogging my vision. I poured a cup, paid, and rolled back to the bar with a pair of legs and flowing hair causing palpitations. Starting the work was even more of a trial than I had originally thought. That fucking market always holds a representation of something I will 'recognize', and nothing good. With a head full of numbers, I went back and dove into some moving and organization. Sitting here right now I cannot believe I performed hours of work at the bar without diving into the alcohol. Well, it is next to me right now and thank the maker for the opportunity to dissolve the visions into a haze of booze. God fucking damn it, that woman was amazing to see and caused a fall unlike anything of late. Figures.

With some accomplishments out of the way, I proceeded to head home and specifically avoided picking up lunch at that very same market. More time in there would have doubtless caused all manner of trouble. Seeing some examples of mathematical beauty is beginning to cripple me like years ago. I believe the weakness and desperation are peaking again. One more time... Figures. Damn, she was beautiful and likely had no clue as to the sheer level of the same. If only...


There are some situations in my world which have become unacceptable. One is something -- naturally -- which cannot be described here or I will be crucified for the position. No, not that, something else entirely. The fact is this is related to the scripting I have discussed here recently, yet still not 'recognized' as a situation which can actually harm me. I just need to avoid certain people or I'll break. Just another pile of shit to deal with almost daily, and one which cuts me to the core because no one seems to give half a shit. Ever since 'Sentient...', I have wrestled with words as they are placed on the screen. I really have. I cannot stand people anymore. The worst part is I have no way of knowing what they may actually be thinking during certain conversations. The duality plays a part (worry) as does the causality (fear). Maybe I should just shut the fuck down and force them to wonder. Last year I tossed all of the social media to the curb and have not looked back. Perhaps that was not enough.

Nearly two now. I'll be heading out in roughly an hour to bring some items to the bar and interface about what I will work on next.

Friday morning and just a few hours from the drive. Coffee. Gangsters. Shit in my head. Past, present... All of it.

There are those problems which never cease or allow me to relax piled on top of the little jabs. Today would be primarily spent here if not for the trip in a while. I suppose after we return tomorrow I'll have some time to work on this shit. Up there I may have some space, as well. I usually gravitate toward some comfort in a bar for a little while so I can absorb the atmosphere and relax. Hopefully no strikes, too. I don't need that in my present weakened condition. This is a bad time and it does not seem to be easing. Day after day the feelings take me from sense and leave something unrecognizable in its place. My brain is full now. I don't know what to do aside from focusing upon the short trip and seeking those positives and comforts. After the market yesterday morning, I realize this is not going to change. I have stated more than once of the need to avoid situations and places I already know are going to cause problems, and yet yesterday took place and then forced two different issues to combine. Now I'm wrecked. The only upside is getting some work finished.

I wish I could 'recognize' the actual truths. Or conversely, at least understand what the actual draw represents. I sit here and feel the anger build up due to zero options and feeling chained down, and then later I 'recognize' there are other avenues to travel in order to maintain my sanity. Everything returns, though. The simplicity of a woman in black and heels strolling along the market aisles should not cause this much turmoil and torment, and certainly should not send me flying during a time when I am already yearning for those moments of the past which cannot return in this life. Weakened and desperate, depressed and angry. Tell me this is a good period. Maybe the trip is the best thing right now. Getting out of here for a while will breed distractions whether or not they are wrapped in tight, black pants. I'm sure there will be something, but at least I'll be within an unfamiliar area and forced to keep myself organized. Perhaps the situation with the race girl and how hard I fell on my face immediately thereafter will not repeat. The core truths are the problem, though. I need to understand how everything becomes so dire -- so quickly -- and then fades and repeats soon after. Yesterday was a good example of me experiencing exactly that. This morning she is still there causing me to feel held down. Maybe all those years are taking their toll and forcing me to pay for so many bad decisions and hurt feelings. Again with the tab? Yeah, again with the tab. The truths are so elusive that I circle along the same fucking holding pattern without hope.

Everything remains inside. No one knows. I can't have anyone 'recognizing' what I am. That would be very bad, even for those who believe they know me.

Sunday morning. Half the weekend is gone. I returned to what had been jotted into the phone while killing time during the trip. Lots of thinking, three bars, three restaurants, and one slap in the face the size of the world. The notes are below and I am a little further down than before leaving town Friday morning. Splendid.

'Growing up in an adult atmosphere influenced me toward the same and booze. I had a tendency to keep family stuff at a distance. By the time the glow began, I didn't understand children or the drive to raise them anymore. Less and less could I identify or relate to young people. Maybe I never had the ability. Lots of time in Nevada influenced me more than I had ever realized until my adventures there alone. Possibly too much time there, honestly, because of the permanent feeling of belonging. Walking into one of the lobbies instantly transformed me into a product of the environment. Every time. Between the early eighties and the last trip there a year ago, the only change was my age. The mindset was exactly the same. Tahoe, Reno or Vegas... The city name did not matter. Always the same. Sitting here right now at the bar within a restaurant feels as close as anything to the Nevada mindset. It's Friday and close to one in the afternoon, but still I have a cocktail and all the jewelry as if in the gaming culture. What is that? The adult nature of the atmosphere? Could the whole thing date back to the leopard girl? Possibly, but there grew so much more during the early zeros and after becoming fascinated by the VS runway. I am certain the gaming culture being so driven and governed through sexual imagery is a good portion of the way my mind works. The models on the runway only added the height facet.

After conducting a bit of business, I am now sitting at a different bar inside a restaurant. I am not yet a basket case, though. That would require a third destination. Heh. This place is much quieter and warmer than the last. I still don't know how much time I have, but I think the earliest would be roughly fifty minutes from now. I can sit tight with a scotch for the time being. And a very cool server. She's funny. Apparently, the bartender was sent home due to business being rather slow, so my server is doubling up. The manager should be on his way soon. Not bad. The funny aspect is this establishment is well-known for employing a slew of young females. It is a historical truth, really. I did not recall until entering. I am alone here, though. The entire bar to myself. Probably should have come here in the first place, damn it. Upon first strolling through the door, the little beauty behind the podium addressed me nicely...

'What can I do for you?'
'There are a few answers to that question.'

The gaming culture caused it all. I am no different now than years ago cruising through the Mandalay Bay with my head up and eyes wide. No different at all. That fateful walk across the bridge when I met Jana while seeking an acceptable shirt to wear to the steakhouse made its mark and remained inside me for the duration. Honestly? I would probably behave exactly the same given proper circumstances. No bullshit. I am still so reckless. Sad state of affairs to be sure, but at least I fucking KNOW what I am. Sitting here now reminds me of that level of desperation and need. It was bad.

Later. Dinner at a nice spot. Great food, relaxing atmosphere, friendly staff... Oh, but something else.'

That was all I wrote before the need to schedule time and consider the trip home. I could not pull out the phone and write about the massive strike during dinner, though, but I remember her...


She was a cross between Oona and the Raven, longer hair, and the darkest eyes I've seen in some time. As soon as we took a seat at the bar, she approached to greet us and the remainder of my evening in that restaurant was rife with dreaming. What a fucking stunning beauty, smile of a lifetime, and such a face as I had not imagined since the damned rollercoaster girl. Dinner came and went, drinks came and went, and then we went. My head remained full of her for the duration, though. I can always see Oona, too. I did not expect to come in contact with her twin out there in the world. And then fourth-season Jamie in the one scene above most others with her crooked little smile. I am a basket case. At least I 'recognize' the fact that something will always happen and leave me in a vat of depression and yearning. Always. The 'recognizer' sent me into the past many times throughout a period of mere seconds. I saw several, including the most recent stir which was at the race. I 'recognized' the earmarks and feelings and knew the evening would be one for the ages. And now I am losing track of what is going into this essay and why I began it in the first place. Derailed by beauty right there before me which I could not begin to understand. Weak. Worthless. Small. I did not need to see her, although the issue is not her, beauty, resemblance, none of it. The issue is something else entirely. I can almost 'recognize' what has been going wrong. Almost.

Maybe I should not have sought different places to eat. Maybe I should have stayed in the hotel instead of visiting those bars. Maybe... I don't fucking know. All this crap is beginning to seem fucking stupid. I am exactly the same. Thank God no one really knows me, especially that woman behind the bar appearing as a construct from my mind. This will stick with me a long while.

The more I saw her eyes, the further into a dream I went. Could not avoid it at all, but at least I did not say anything. I saw that she was not the type with which to speak outside the scope of responsibilities. On the other hand, had that girl been at one of the bars earlier in the day, likely I would have either put my foot in my mouth in a bad way, or felt much more strongly by the afternoon. Each one of those is bad and has an equal chance of playing out. Weakness, remember? I mentioned the machine up the page a bit. Well, at this point in time and after being so mired in dreams, I have 'recognized' the fact that reversing course may be the only way to survive the next couple of months leading to the end of the year. I can't be certain, yet the drive to create my own world again is becoming overwhelming. There will always be reminders out there. The last just happened to be a woman at which I was able to stare for a couple of hours rather than a fleeting glimpse out there somewhere. This is indicative of the fact that I have not risen one iota, nor have I been able to come to terms with the root cause of having become so weak and desperate. I sat there, barely paying attention to anything, and daydreaming of her face over and over.

Monday now. Football yesterday was a trial because I did not take care of myself properly. Arriving home afterward was very nice because I drowned myself in the routine and had complete control over the environment. Nothing took place over there, not even when I visited the market for a few items early in the day. I am thankful to have been buried in the sports, too. I did not feel any worry for a while, although the comfort for which I had hoped never materialized. I just sat there and watched.

This entire entry is rather haphazard and stupid, I believe. The 'recognizer'. Indeed. The fact is I've been sitting here saying everything over and over -- often the words change but the bitching does not -- and accomplishing nothing more than taking up space on the screen. Every now and then a woman slams me in the face (I do it, really, or allow it to happen when I know better) and I gush about her appearance or some other aspect which feels special or stirring. The simple truth is I am still too weak to avoid anything which can hurt me. I have not changed a bit since the outset of fifteen when the obsession became pretty fucking dire, and I do not see anything changing in the future because the dreams follow each problem and feel wondrous for a while before beginning to destroy me. I do recognize' what I am, though. I really do. Just like when Tony was asked if he was at all interested in changing, the answer is 'no'. I can only try to understand, however I will not cease my behavior.

There is no way I would have said anything to her, no matter my state of living. No fucking way. There can be no good coming out of a situation such as in the past. The compulsion to stare and understand is the main reason for so much difficulty sitting there. When combined with the desire to absolutely flood the woman with information, my resolve in remaining quiet and calm on the outside is part of what creates exhaustion out of midair. I am still feeling the effects right now, more than two days later. Still weak. That is why I cannot simply push it away and move on to something else. Maybe we should have gone to a different restaurant because I can't seem to get her face and hair out of my brain. Somewhere up there I said that I 'recognize' what I am, but the truth is I don't have the first damned clue. Something between a person and a machine bent upon either my own destruction over time and through the strikes of beauty, or forever sitting here tormented by the past and what it has done. I have no idea which, or perhaps I am something else. Another possibility is that I type out phrases here which others think but do not say. Hmm. The duality? I'll tell you this... If such a thing is true I will have to gaze upon the beauty as if it is the enemy rather than the obsession. Not good. yes/NO.

This is a bad time. You can see that the trip and associated bullshit from my weak-minded sense of desire have derailed this entry even more than some of the other recent work. I can't help it. The only upside is my 'recognition' of a few aspects of myself which became solidified during the trip. I don't know what I am but I also know what I am. This is all very stupid. On to the day, I suppose.

Routine, other chores, and some preparations for donating food this coming Saturday. I may also have some work outside the house later this week. For this morning, I need to shut this crap down and complete some chores in order to feel the evening will be deserved. The truths remain, however...

More bullshit, more posturing, more of the analysis, yet in the end nothing changes. Nothing CAN change because I have 'recognized' the source material and locked the recording. All I have left is the power to maintain a permanent wall just in front, secure in the knowledge that no one has a clue as to what lies on the other side.

Hmm... 'Lies'."