Thanksgiving 2021 9:09am pst

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

The Requiem

 read ( words)

"'We're tryin to have a meetin here.'

John's face and demeanor are so intimidating. Unreal. I love the way he played the role. None of that shit ever applied to me and now the resulting situation is desperate and damaged. I tried to fit something similar and project whatever seemed to provide protection, yet in the end nothing made any fucking difference at all. Each time I see that scene (or a few others), the feeling comes and goes again.

1118 and the last entry was just completed. I cut it short because none of this shit matters anymore. I have to keep everything so hidden that even I can't understand the meaning if I go back a mere week. This entire endeavor has become both fruitless and ridiculous. Just words going nowhere. Years of it. I don't know what to do during this bad time. At least the sun is warming the house.

0808 on Tuesday. Two days until Thanksgiving. The holiday popped into my head a little while ago as I took care of a part of the routine. I was recalling way back in the eighties when my dad and I went to the big liquor store early in the holiday week to stock up on booze for the season. That was back when Dom made the split bottle and they were available almost everywhere. Now they are scarce. Anyway, that trip to the store represented the first step in the holiday preparation. Today would be the day. Splendid. Another fucking item in the requiem. Gone forever, just like everything else. This is very bad right now. Very fucking bad. At the very least, I have the time and space today for analysis. Better than nothing, I guess.

The index of the site is still bereft of links and holds shuffled wording drawn from my head the other day. There is also a huge image of Cindy because she looks infinitely better than anything I can write. I don't know if I am going to change everything back or not. Lately I don't want any eyes on my work, so everything had to go away. The scramble will rotate, as will the image. The footer is now an image, too. Whatever. None of this really matters anymore. I included four images of Roxanne here for whatever reason. She struck me upside the head some days back while watching the show. Something about her dark eyes, I guess. Anyway, I thought she might dress up this entry a bit better than if I had resorted to nude models.

I don't know if I'm going to do a lot or a little today. I have an item of clothing to sew, laundry awaiting attention, and the kitchen leftover from last night, but other than that I do not feel motivated enough to move around more. Still trouble with the walking. It's better, though. I'll have to focus, I suppose. Nothing is easy these days. There are too many problems recurring in my brain for daily work to be free of distractions. This is a bad situation. As of yet I have no solutions. Still zero ideas. Keeping busy used to be the direction of choice, yet lately it does nothing and I end up losing concentration during any activity and returning to whatever problem feels worst. Sometimes I believe keeping busy is the only way -- or at least better than just sitting still -- but then afterward nothing is different, only delayed a while. I suppose the best idea is to work anyway since the feeling of accomplishment seems to help. I must begin something soon or I'll lose my shit again. Flip out. Not good.

Roxanne may not remain here. She may go away in favor of someone else. Or maybe scenery of the north rather than a person. I don't know. This entry is also a requiem for clarity of thought. Gone away, like everything else. Annabella has one feature which stands out above the rest. Unreal.

Back to some days ago and that slam. I keep thinking about the wording and subsequent research I performed on the show in question. I couldn't help it, either. I had to know what the general consensus was on the subject and learn a little before considering the effect. Well, it worsened, although I don't hold anyone else responsible for my dramatic fall and overanalyzing of the problem. The wording may have been a fluke, as well. I cannot be certain without going back into it. The biggest problem is I will not, meaning the issue at hand will never be alleviated or fully understood. While cleaning the kitchen a little while ago, my head went around the world in eighty seconds regarding the overarching matter and still no conclusion, yet inside I have become even smaller in the grand scheme of society. Railing against the norm and pushing against the tide have accomplished exactly nothing in many years. This latest conjecture and wording has shoved me into the ground with more force than almost anything in history. Think of the subject being yet another segment of this worst of requiems. 1226.


I recall a movie title. 'Requiem for a Dream'. This is a requiem for 'dreams'. All gone.

The relational analysis of the subject in the previous paragraph has only reinforced certain fears and aspects of my personality which are not only unchangeable, but also very difficult to live with on a daily basis. Everything seems to come back to a handful of simple phrases which over time have served to solidify certain people's views and expectations. Taken as a whole, they can kill self-esteem very quickly and effectively, leaving one soul floating out there among the mass with no chance of recovery. That is me. I cannot comment upon others because no one discusses these matters. Ever. This is a very bad time. I have not the first clue as to how I survived this long. Maybe those closest did actually help. Maybe.

1315. Lots of work finished. Lunch out of the way, too. I don't know where to go from here. All of the damage continues to rail against any ideas for dealing with the house or garage. So far, they are winning. Those parts of my routine which have been completed were done out of desperation, honestly. I am having a hell of a time directing my attention toward anything productive right now. That is why I am again sitting with this shit. The slam from days ago does not apply to the show I've been following today, only the one I have been running in the evening. We both enjoy the writing and characters. It rarely leaves my head for a minute no matter what I may be busy doing. I don't fucking like it. The damage has been done and I cannot go back in time and try to fix or better understand it. Too much fear, as always, so I end up alone with my thoughts. Some time ago there was a snippet here about validation. Remember? It was very unclear for good reason, too. I can't spell things out. The problem now is not the fact that I tried to understand the method, but the recent bullshit above has now redefined the validation and I may be way off base. I thought there was a way to make it clear and more comfortable. Now I am realizing those words may have been all wrong. Ugh. I've already gone around the bend with trust. No more of that. I can't. The wrecking ball of society has me in pieces. There is nothing wrong with cultural research. Learning is not a bad thing, ever. The problem is what takes place inside my mind during said investigation, and then I look around and do not see what I had before. Everything changes for the worse. It has changed. No return.

All the fucking way back to eighty-nine and what could be the worst conversation imaginable. One exchange which led to some of what I have been trying to understand. Now I am beginning to think that without a good explanation, the only course is to simply shut every person the fuck out forever and create my little universe alone. Sad as it may sound, dealing with others brings up that shit and then it becomes all rolled up into the worst conceivable fucking burrito in existence. I can't believe I ever let that shit go and chalked it up to the mood. Bullshit. I always thought I could count on certain people, but in the end... They fuck you too. Given the proper circumstances, everyone will. Yes, this shit makes me angry.

0702 on the day before Thanksgiving. I have to go to the little market later and see what I can procure for dinner tomorrow. No, not the market with the midriff, the other one with its endless slew of you-know-whats. I don't have any choice, though. That's the only place with what I wish to cook tomorrow. As for today, I will not have the house to myself again, meaning I'll have the portable media and stuff to work on. I can also use the document application for some writing on the phone later when the routine is finished. This will be one of those days requiring me to keep my head on straight. Not easy, especially after the shit up there. I watched the show last night and everything was chewed from beginning to end. Not good.

Today is going to be interesting. I am actually pleased about not needing to drive her to the training center, also meaning my afternoon will be free. The house will be nice and quiet and the situation forces me to be more creative with my time and chores. It almost feels as if I am in a different type of bubble for several hours. Not bad, and much better than the first few times I needed to keep myself busy without the typical devices. I have a little time with this before turning it over for the bulk of the day. So far, this day is not all bad. The outlook is decent. Ah... It's been a long time, but there is Allie with her big doe eyes just like in the beginning of the pandemic when I watched the news each morning for updates. So cute. I really hope there is nothing of note in the market. I'll be leaving in about an hour. The last visit was fine, but the one before was very damaging. My brain was wrapped around several pairs of legs and then headed into bad territory related to the analysis above. This is a bad time, and I really don't need another pair of pants in my brain today. I realize how ridiculous this shit has become, too. I know all about it. The hours by myself and in my little media world can help keep me up if anything slams me upside the head.


The holiday is going to bring up all sorts of memories from different periods and the glow. Tomorrow I will probably have a bird in the oven for hours while the football plays in the background. Last year we spent a good portion of the day putting up the tree and decorating. We will do the same thing tomorrow as I recall those past holidays with a ton more people involved. The subject is all over the television, as well. They always bring up safety because of the idiots who have started fires by trying to fry their birds without knowing the proper procedure. I don't need to worry about that shit, or the 'crowd' in the kitchen issue which can cause problems. No more family gatherings. None of that for years. This may work into yet another type of requiem: that of the past holiday celebrations. Why not? Know what I mean? Everything dies.

I have to get away from this and head to the store pretty soon. I just hope I don't fucking see anything because my mood is already very dangerous. The day will be nice once that trip is out of the way. I just have to get there and back.

Thanksgiving, early. Not the best day. This is a requiem for Thanksgivings of the past, the last of which was all the way back in zero eight, I believe. I used to be so excited about this day. During the glow? Wonderful. And then the following month or two, as well. Today is a Thursday. I'm having problems with not just the holiday, either. All manner of shit right now.

There was a new face over there yesterday as I sat and discussed business with a few people. She works there sometimes and I met her more than a week ago during some event. I don't recall. The others were very excited to see her, but I just sat there wondering what happened to so many years. All gone, and the holidays are toward the top of the list. The girl across the room was not one of those familiar problems over which I gush here sometimes, just a different face. Her age may have been what pressed me to go back in time. She is very cute and bright-eyed. She reminded me of a few of the cocktail servers at the resort up in the mountains. We normally would be there right now and on our way home soon, but not this year. The last visit was not real great, either. The girl sitting there with her young features and hopeful gaze slammed me with the idea that this requiem applies to every fucking facet of life. I knew there would be a problem. I just didn't know the problem would be unrelated to some aspect of her physical appearance. Not used to that type of thing. Very sad. The bright expressions reminded me of the midriff in the market a while back. Hopeful, open, positive. Three words being buried immediately after this requiem. 0721.

Another little shift in my feelings for the present was a news article yesterday morning regarding a mission to shift the path of an asteroid. Years ago I was involved in the research behind any mission related to comets or asteroids, having been nearly pivotal in my position behind the scenes. I always received a mission pin due to being involved, too. Now I just sit here and wonder what was being done in support of that news story. Even back sixteen years ago when the agency returned to flight following a disaster, I was there doing research and testing for months. We even designed and built an entire test section for the program. Anyway, everything moved along after I was left on the side of the road. Maybe I need to avoid watching the news sometimes. I cannot believe where I am right now.

Maybe I should have opted for the secret name instead of all this shit about everything being gone or going away. Floating away? I don't know. Feeling that the secret name is something necessary for people to understand even some of what is going on inside me comes and goes. Right now I don't know if slamming the point home is a good idea or not. The disdain and disgust is at an all-time high, though, and that alone may push my words to the less private area I have been fearing for years. I just might sit here and spew the unexpected. I suppose the secret name will have to wait, just like the true feelings for some of what I have seen on the television and out in the world. I can't have this apple cart upset right now.


And there she is again, all lean and lanky. The only problem is her accent. She is a woman, though. That makes the accent a bit easier to take. But the features... Damn.

I was supposed to go watch the morning football game at the bar but I don't know. Sitting here may last quite a while due to my feeling completely defeated and full of everything which has proven impossible. The forest feeling is going to intervene at some point, meaning if I am indeed around others (even people I do not know personally), the words emanating from my angry maw are going to alienate them. With my luck? That mountainous pair of globes will be bouncing around the room just to derail my thinking and send it toward the worst spur imaginable. I don't need that right now, damn it. Heading over there has two outcomes: One is the place being empty and quiet because of the holiday, and two is several people there to make me uncomfortable, breasts notwithstanding. I can deal with them. I did it yesterday. The time would be an hour and a half from now. I'll have to see if this isolation state remains or lifts. Damn this feeling. Damn this current period.

So many different problems at the same time and I keep hearing about others. I can only do so much to help, and as much as I care, the truth is I am already overwhelmed trying to keep my head up from one day to the next. The holiday season is not helping, either. The glow pops up because it began just before the holidays in eighty-nine and rolled right on through to my birthday the following Winter. I can't leave it in the past. The comparison never stops, especially here. There is but one part of life with the power to distract me from all that has been buried in the past, yet I cannot discuss it here or with another person. In fact, I have NEVER brought the subject up to another human being. The fact that it can derail the glow and all those family holidays does not mean it's a good thing or even remotely positive. It is complete crap all the time. Right at this moment -- 0825 on Thanksgiving -- the shit subject is nearly foremost on my mind. Sum the entire shitaree and you can see how holding up or even assisting another person is a fucking stretch these days. I used to be much stronger. Weak and desperate. Reaching. Grasping.

Empty hands, like always. Bad time.

I don't think I'm going anywhere today. Maybe to the market for something to help with the gravy. Right now I just don't fucking know. The subjects in my head do not let up, and I believe they are the main reason for the recent distraction of watching games at the bar. Sometimes my brain will relax and let up about everything for a little while. All of it comes back, of course, but I already know there are no solutions, so the ability to steer myself out of a bad state -- even for mere hours -- can be a blessing when compared to the average day at home. Remaining here all day means I can care for the routine and begin the tree trimming for the season. Good or bad, I want the holiday stuff up. I'm going to be unhappy anyway. May as well make the room look nice.

Ah this is where the ex comes down the hall and displays the inner radii of her five-nine legs beautifully. The shot drives me insane sometimes. Often I will avoid it by focusing upon this or that when she appears in the hallway. Seconds later, she's gone. Very good. My head already has enough fucking holes in it. Shoot me again, legs.

I guess I must resign myself to the fact that there are parts of life I will never understand.


I can't go into the secret name because this is a bad time. On one of my two favorite holidays, no less. This just fucking sucks out loud. I may travel from sad to hating everything in a very short span of time.

The requiem was a bad idea for this entry.

Nearly 0900 now and zero direction. If I was going to watch the game, I would be leaving in about fifteen. I just can't fucking do it. And the reason is not what I may see, either. As weak and impressionable as I have become, the truth is my mood will affect whomever is nearby and I can't have that. I don't like them, but still I have trouble being unfair out of the clear blue sky. Not yet angry enough, I suppose. Whatever. Other fish.

I guess the routine or whatever, and then the tree or whatever. I don't know. This exposition has become the norm to such a degree that more than half of what I write is meaningless and the rest is impossible to understand. What's the point? Oh, I've asked that before and kept typing. I threatened the whole endeavor and kept typing. I've also said 'this is all I have', and perhaps that is key. The machine never pushes back or argues, needs zero attention and gives zero feedback, and in the end just sits here and bows to my wishes. Too bad this machine is not shaped like a woman. Wait... What? Did I say that? You bet your ass I did, and that is not all, either. This will continue until I tire of the work involved or run completely out of money to support the site. Despite feeling as if I have not clue one as to the day's work, the end will arrive soon enough no matter what. There is no stopping the progression of time. I believe that fact is what pushes me to do things around the house. I need the evening to feel deserved (or at least acceptable).

Not much to say. My head is full of tons I cannot put here. Tons. Problems. Years of remaining in the background and listening/watching have left me with a vast library of conclusions, most of which press me down unlike anything else. I see, I hear, and then I put everything together. I may not be able to deal with this shit much longer. Right next to the file cabinet full of conclusions is another library of memories. All gone."