Thracian Girl? Mature content No. 255 Published July 6th, 2021 3:20pm pdt read ( words) Past entries "The wages of sin is death, according to Christianity. Who am I to argue? The fantasy may be complete soon. Inspiration comes from many sources and experiences, and lately the feeling of that elusive woman wandering the corridors of large homes has taken shape after combinations had been drawn throughout those dark-haired periods -- combinations ill-advised yet rampant. They took over, and considering the condition of my brain since the outset of this calendar year, the conclusion is anything but surprising. She carries my head on a shield. Sound familiar? 186. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? All alone for hours. Just what I need. Maybe I'll disassemble the Bugatti just to have something to build again. I miss it. After the last two days? I definitely need some things to keep me occupied. Well, I still have the house to care for and those little unfinished projects. One step at a time lest I lose it completely. Today is the first day after realizing that my personality is not aligning with anyone else, meaning I must isolate more than ever. The chores and other activities must be fully embraced now. I don't feel very good about myself. At least the house is a never-ending project. My friends are on the television, too. I need them up there for the familiarity which carries me forward these days. I am caring less each day. 185. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Last night turned very bad during the first half of the show we've been following. Very bad. The usual type of manipulative scripting was employed to garner audience response and sent me on a short but very harsh tirade, after which I announced being finished with any television or films that have not already been viewed. My little world took another blow and shrunk further. I have not been angry to such an extent for a very long time. I recall, but tried for years to shove it back. I tried to fit in with people. The issue arose when I realized that the effort in holding myself up during those times when others were out of control was becoming far too much. On many an occasion I nearly fell of the wagon and fired word-missiles, yet in the end what kept my temper at bay was the knowledge that no one would give a blue fuck in the wind. No matter how strongly I may have felt toward any subject, I knew deep down that my words would go nowhere. I would end up labeled even more than in the past. Those terms fly anyway, yet to be the specific target is not good. The problem last night brought all of that back to the forefront and I lashed. I simply cannot do that anymore. Alone. Thank Christ. The truth is I have attempted so many methods and tried speaking to too many individuals to avoid knowing the outcome before any further words are uttered. And what is that situation called? A lack of hope. Some would say the idea of possibility should not be denied because there still may be an option or some help. Well, again... No fucking hope. I have wasted years trying to find solace. No more of that, either. Shut the fuck down. My mood is another factor which will not allow me to be civil with other people regarding such a subject. I feel like I'm floating in space between what I was and whatever I am to be, neither of which is clear. For many years I dreamed of 'being' someone but never took steps in any direction, and now I feel I am too far along to make a change. On top of that, the avenues which seemed too arduous fifteen years ago likely could have been explored more easily than now. Splendid. All that time felt short and now appears much longer. Too bad. I'll admit I was quite negative with regard to making some sort of change because the comfort of home and work took priority over anything risky. At least the bulk of the next several hours is mine. I need it like I need to breathe. 184. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Last night the show of choice went from something modern and pushy to an older 'sitcom' sort of program we have seen in the past. The fact that I flipped out so badly means there will be no more entertainment of that type in the future. I have the gangsters on much of the time for very different reasons, and the harsh situations which cut me like a scalpel are not only for realism, but they are written and played out differently enough to preclude any doubt as to the intention. Nothing is manipulative, nor had the storyline or tertiary plots been driven simply to shock. Slow progress and development need not be followed by one twist after another. The time yesterday worked almost as well as can be expected lately. I did a few things while wondering where I may be headed into the future. The visit three days ago confirmed that at least a few believe I have been doing the right thing, so continuing in this vein for the foreseeable future seems my only choice. I'll admit that nearly all of the time I yearn to be alone. Lots to do between now and Saturday, most of which will be completed by me. I do not work well with voices nearby and that is the reason for yesterday's production. Nothing in the garage lately, either. That will be Sunday morning. The fantasy continues to return whether or not I wish to recall. She is there, but not real. I don't know what to think anymore. Daily, this crap. I keep traveling back to some years ago when Andrea and I took off for Florida after a few nights in the goblet. The feeling of being completely hidden and out of reach was compelling and drove us to remain as such for many days. The most elaborate escape imaginable at the time. ['Boy' or 'man'. For Christ's sake... Make up your fucking mind, doctor. Idiot.] By now I am quite certain those two people with whom I deal on a daily basis in person are looking at me differently these days. Too many incidents lately and far too much shit mood coming out of my mouth and off the fingertips. They will not say anything of the sort, and may in fact be completely full of it when near me, but something has to be in there because I am not the easiest person with which to interact. These days there is just too much cutting me to pieces. The fact that no one will speak in such a direction is both good and bad, believe it or not. On the one hand I don't give a crap because I will not conform to anyone's definition of what I should be, and on the other I worry that I am being snowed nearly as much as I am being snowed. Not good at all, but I may be wrong. Just an inkling as of now. As I said... Not easy. All of the bullshit I've caused and agonized over cannot be a cake walk for anyone. At least I know. Better than nothing. There have been occasions when I was told about appearing as if I am above others. That is not true, nor has it ever entered my mind. I am difficult. Period. 183. Halfway there. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Production yesterday. Very good. The guest will be here on Sunday at three, meaning I must have everything in good order by that morning. So far I am doing fine with the chores. Too bad no one will ever read this. The fantasy entered on and off during the daylight hours. I could not help but daydream about her. The show is rolling along at quite a clip, too. She'll be up there in sixth-season glory by the end of the week, soon culminating with the one episode which changed the world. I will have to maintain pace today in order to avoid falling down and losing track of everything. The work is not very difficult, either. Just the idea of keeping my head up during those moments when the whole world seems to be ending... The tough periods. I avoided them for the most part yesterday, hence the work being advanced. This is not a good time, for sure. I am still here. She was there for a little while, straight off the painting. The feeling that I was already dead and she still cared for me became overwhelming. A fantasy, but one unlike anything before. She follows. As I said at the top, the inspiration comes along right out of the foggy sky and strikes me upside the head often. The entire picture shall be complete soon. I'll have to keep it in mind during the work, both for the inspiration and the possibility that I can become badly derailed very easily these days. Focus. Gangsters up there. We switched the evening show after my conniption the other night and are following something nearly wholesome. That is to be expected and aligns with my recent need to be completely insulated from any media horseshit. I really cannot stand people anymore. 'Covet...' mentioned enemies. There you go. The fantasy carries zero. Just two people. We not only have the current show cruising through many seasons, but two other titles to follow in the future. The remainder of this year has already been scheduled insofar as entertainment during dinner. Daytime is all me. And since I mentioned the remainder of the year, the subject spawns another worry. What is going to happen? The football and holiday seasons had better prove pretty fucking nice. The change in programming during the evening is a step in the right direction, although I need to keep mindful of all the other knives protruding from my being. One day at a time, as the twelve-steppers used to say. I do not know what the second of January will hold. I located one of the receivers for which I've been searching. It will be arriving on the porch soon and then I'll swap out the new for the old. The control present will increase, as will the flexibility in connecting other stuff. The elusive preamplifier is something I may never possess, however. The receiver I purchased is sort of like an all-in-one substitute. I may just have to live with the fact that those rare units may not ever see this shore without massive money. Whatever. I'll be fine with the substitute. Switching the control section of my entire garage audio system will be quite the undertaking. It will also give me the opportunity to clean up some wiring. My head on a shield. Switchtrack. The morning and routine are out of the way. I'll sit here for a while with my whiskey and then hop to the continuation of getting the house ready for a guest. My head is descending. The problems partially outlined in 'Keywords' are returning and stiffening. Everything related to those terms and the two have become combined in the worst way. Tightened. I am having a difficult time working around the house and engaging in any activity without soon becoming preoccupied with feelings regarding all that crap. I just can't fucking help it. And though I chopped the subject some weeks ago, there is little else to do here these days, so again I will address the problem. 182. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? The way cannot be paved. Everything remains shielded. This is going to be the end of me, sure as hell. I don't understand the world, the people within, nor the idea of understanding. I no longer believe speaking of anything is going to help. Writing? I don't know... Maybe. I have to go into things in a manner consistent with speaking directly to another person. Somehow. At least, that's what I am supposed to do, right? Nothing is going to change (possibly no matter what I attempt) if I do not take some sort of step. But then again, several times I've mentioned the one enormous downside to changing inside and I cannot have that. The likelihood is pretty stark. Shielded, I shall be. Covered. Hidden away like so many thoughts which can never see the light of day. They enter, I file them, and then I continue with my days as if nothing took place. A little while later shit comes to a head and I become angry. That is not good, but still better than the manner in which I will affect other people by speaking my mind. The anger subsides, always. A notch at a time, however... The straws continue to pile. Covered. Hidden. Not me. What you see is not me. Some of the concerns from the last year or so have faded while others arose and caused me to worry. After last week, I am beginning to see another option with regard to the worries that come along and stab me. I would really love to head in such a direction because the freedom of though would be radically different than how I now live, and could actually be another little push into the fucking forest. I am speaking of an end to the caring I gush toward other people. If I stop that behavior and turn inward the remainder of the way? No one will like me, yet I will be more comfortable for two reasons. One? Less noise from voices. Two? The worry could cease. I will feel the same about myself, however. There is no changing it. The difference is in the way I behave toward them. Not harsh, just all business. I still have certain needs and the desire to be comfortable here, so compromising may be the only way. 'Uncaring' is tough to implement. Yesterday's continuation of work toward the holiday went fine. In and around the work I did further the model for the simple reason of getting everything off our dining table. I need the space. My idea the other day to modify it and be creative with the design didn't really pan out due to so many specialty pieces and a lack of universals. I pulled it most of the way apart and went back to the manual for assembling correctly. That was a chore after changing some of the structure. I should have it finished before our guest arrives in more than two days. The house is looking better, as well. I'll get to a point and stop, after which whatever doesn't make me happy will have to remain as is. I can only do so much. Today will be nice, too. Just like yesterday, once I am alone there is the feeling of freedom and quiet which is unmatched during any other times. I need it, badly. Just like I need to hear these keys. Back to the other subject. I know things grow within my head for several reasons, not the least of which is being very insecure. That is a snowball, really, and affects almost every single action in my daily life. I honestly have not sat here ever and complained about other people as they relate to this. I have not. All I've stated is I cannot know what they may be thinking at a given time and as such the fact has become a problem in me. This is ridiculous. Going nowhere, keeping it hidden away, and again repeating myself. What's the point? No more of this. 181. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? 180. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? I put the flag out because of the holiday. Pretty sure tonight will be insane due to last year being so fucked up with the pandemic and no gatherings. Last night people were already blowing up the streets. I spent some time in the garage waiting for dinner to arrive and heard much hoopla. Right now I am t-minus eight hours until the two guests arrive. That means plenty of time to reconcile myself with the sort of mood I need to embrace this evening. And then the battle simulation in the skies around our house. Funny, the more they stiffen the fine for illegal fireworks, the more of the explosions seem to take place. The last several years the fine has been a thousand dollars but recently they added jail time just for the deterrent factor. Well, I don't believe anyone will be altering their behavior at all. Tonight will be a big show like every year, and we will be out there with my colored lighting, music, and our own brand of legal fireworks. Yesterday was a long one. All that time to myself. I successfully completed the most difficult part of having this house ready for an overnight guest which was moving the bed from the garage back into the spare bedroom (old office). Now my garage is back the way it should have been all this time. Much more space out there, plus the back wall is more visible... Just the way I like it. Today I just need to do some touch-up on the rooms and then prepare the driveway for our usual barbecue. Last year? None of that took place. We went outside to enjoy some of the big displays around the neighborhood but did not light off anything here. So? Everything is happening today. I had so much time yesterday that I honestly could not think of what to do part of the day. But like always, I did what needed to be done. More crap on the television this morning. Since today is Sunday, I don't get the usual choices during the early hours. I have to rely on the premiums. This film is one of my favorites from the eighties, too. So funny, and Michael is fantastic as always. I recall months ago sitting here typing something about a problem and reminder from this film which I had forgotten for years. The movie did not come along for some time and I simply did not recall. Also, the period in which all these movies were rented by us and enjoyed during the evenings was radically different. I did not feel any such crap back then. The reminder today served nothing more than to reinforce my current position in life. I do like the look of the house in the film, though. Always have. Eventually none of that difficulty will matter. The last several days have had me more isolated and angry than I can remember. Even last year when I withdrew myself from social media I was not this upset. That was more like an annoyance than a problem, and it served to stem my interest in working elsewhere. Well, that pissy mood drove much of what began in the garage. Just this morning I tossed the last account which could connect me with other people and that is that. Forever. The main cut was last spring and I have not considered for a fucking second the idea of returning. I've created my own world in this house and fully intend to stay disconnected for the duration. I have bigger fish to fry right now than what was on the fucking television this morning. Much bigger. Others are already seeing a difference. Moreover, today is the perfect day to flex a little and get away with it. The whole town will be letting loose for hours and I can do the same (minus anything illegal, of course). For myself, just the booze and garage will be fine. Funny, this movie was the first for Leaf. Shortly thereafter he switched to Joaquin. More of the fantasy. My head on her shield. Ah... One of the prettiest names ever. I still have a small space in my heart for that one. Eh... Gone like the rest. Not even nine in the morning yet. Problems are beginning to take a back seat to the work I need to finish before afternoon. Lots to do, but lots of time. Once the inside is ready I can head out to my space and work on whatever. Driveway, tables and chairs, and the holy appearance of the garage itself. Very important. I have to make a splash with the colored lighting this evening, meaning all the stuff out there has to be in good order. That area is a large portion of the world I've created out of the sheer need to survive. Everything began with one light fixture from a job years ago and then went out of control last year after my mood changed. Now it's crazy, but the comfort cannot be denied. I hear the hot rods from the court. Trying not to speak of issues but they do not leave me. The angry tirade the other night leading to me cutting off future television now seems lessened somehow. Perhaps the simplicity of the passage of time. Of all the problems I've experienced regarding issues from the past being trivialized in media coupled with the fucking two, I am surprised at the ability to continue relating to some people. I just don't know what to do about it and cannot seem to let go of anything. Maybe the whole idea is related to control. At least I can exercise some this evening. Heh. 179. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? 178. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? The first morning with this much of me in the forest. There was an advance last night after dinner which had me very upset, so here we go toward the trees. I am realizing that no matter what I say or do, the person on the receiving end of my words -- whatever the subject may be -- will not believe any of them. Oh, there are times when I make a point and it is heard, but overall? Not working. Basically, that is it. Whatever the fuck is being discussed, I may as well remain mute. No one likes that behavior either, but I'm out of options these days. My speaking is causing problems, or something else. All those years of being told so many things about my personality, and this is what has developed. Birthed from those times. I can no longer speak. At least this type of situation has been expected by me. No speaking. I am either lying or some other kind of deception, selfishness, controlling action, or whatever. How does that sound? Pretty good? Call me all those names, label me however you wish. I don't care. Just as I said way the fuck back in zero three, one person can survive alone, but eventually another person will come along and the two will result in disdain. No other possibility. And now apparently I am the one in the wrong. Again. That is fine. I will sit here and be wrong. Leave me alone or I'll be more wrong. At least now I have less reason to open my mouth. Go ahead and laugh. Just like saving the power and water these days, I can save my breath. Wrong... Hmm. I thought I knew some things but I guess they only reside in the purview of others. Darn. Hours ahead. Nonplussed, though. Nothing is going to keep the shit at bay today. Nothing. I'll do whatever it is I do anymore. I already had enough going on yesterday while straightening, and now the shit from the evening is pushing. All this time today may help, I don't know. The fact is there will be no voices in the house today and such a fact is good right out of the fucking gate. But underneath, I know. Everything remains there for my inspection and consideration. What took place in my head yesterday was from the past and had nothing to do with this current situation, and the combination must be put on a shelf. One at a time. While I am fairly confident about the lack of solutions now and in the future, trying cannot cease. Without at least attempting to steady myself, I would basically be giving up completely. Not now. The little things...Remember? I don't know how to solve that first bullshit feeling nor how it affects me. Remaining indoors and out of the gaze of other people is partly helpful, yet underneath is still trouble... Even while alone. Today may be one of those in which I accomplish very little. I care, though. I do. Time is required right now. The combination of two women has become the Thracian Girl. No matter anymore, really, because nothing can be real now. Everything confusing, spinning inside, and difficult. Everything is just difficult. I must be alone as much as possible. My head on her shield. Her shield. My head. There it is, on her shield, forest or otherwise. I don't know what to do. And there she was again. It'll be a while before the chief representation of the meaning of life, but the images will have to suffice until then. And then it will come around again. I can't help it. My head on her fucking shield, and she is in control... Not me. Not by a damned sight. 'Eats my candy, drinks my brandy'. Heh. If only such things really occurred in this sordid, shit life. Nope. All I can do is dream and hold tight to the ill-conceived and downtrodden fantasy. Mansions? Sometimes. Mysteries? Always. The Thracian Girl? Right there behind my eyes every moment of every day. She shows up in real vision once in a while. I'll wait and then fall all over myself at the center of the universe, afterward simply waiting again. All I do. All I have. Fourteen years have passed since it was shot and each one of them has held its own share of troubles. All different, all me. The others? I just don't know if I can point to them anymore. Nothing can be done. Nothing. That means I must focus upon myself. I guess so, anyway. No more images of her, though. I have to stop doing that to myself. You? The reader? I don't give a fuck what you think. Only me. Fuck yourself and leave me to my devices. There are a few items in my inventory which have become dire to my survival, and if anyone else has a problem with any of them I don't care. Routine finished. Maybe laundry in a little while. The weather is cool, so remaining inside for much of the morning is important. Projects? Nope. Not now. The one avenue I never embraced -- even after gaining insight and information from a person in the industry -- is going to further my downed state. There are constant reminders within the media. No matter what is up there on the big television, I see myself now and then. I never took that first step. Combined with the three other jabs in life, I do not see a way to happiness or fulfillment in the future. The little enjoyments must continue, or else I have no more reasons. They are little, to be sure, but still there. Damn it, there she is. The physical representation of my universe. Everything rolled into one and captured for all time. I will roll this series over and over until my demise. The other series' will cruise into each evening. The tail end of this program always has me at sixes and sevens, too. Always. I believe the episodes have rolled for seven weeks now without interruption during my alone hours. I can't help it. The familiarity is more important than those fucking stabs. The saving grace is the fact that I know them well. I know them better than some parts of life, believe it or not, yet still I cannot take issue with the production. 'The wages of sin is death'. Death is always just off-camera. 'Becoming a better person requires risk. It requires opening yourself up to the idea that you might not be as good as you think you are, that you actually have something worth improving. That's a scary idea for a lot of people. It requires a loss of arrogance, a kind of humility that often requires a seismic event shaking one's life. An alcoholic may only reform once he's severely hurt someone he cares about, just as a liar might only start to tell the truth once his lies destroy someone's ability to trust in him. The greatest leveler of them all, the thing that most easily provokes the idea that, yes, we might need to change our lives, is death. It's the ultimate removal of arrogance, the ultimate restorer of humility. Every single person on this Earth will die, no matter how powerful or rich or good they are. Life can be extended, but death can't be prevented. It's always there, just off-camera.' The clock moves along no matter what takes place inside. I can't have this, yet I can do nothing about it. Hmm... 'off-camera'. A term I may have been intimately involved with had I taken a step. I did not. Too scared. I may be paying for the hesitation or I may be better off. No one can ever know. That time has passed, like so many others. Cindy is displayed here again because my sense of beauty has become skewed to the point of driving me mad. I saw her image some months ago, realized her appearance had been altered for one reason or another, and still could not reconcile myself with the idea that seldom have I gazed upon her equal, if at all. And the Thracian Girl is not in such a category despite her nose. The procedure was a personal and professional decision upon which I cannot comment because I am just a male sitting in the house whereas she is an actor with demands, guidances, and more career pressure than I have felt. Cindy has been altered. Does it matter? Do you care? I honestly do not because the end result is more stunning than I can either describe or understand. She is that fucking beautiful. Another essay without a point. The industry is crossing over into the show. No surprise there, however, because I am familiar enough to know where the story leads. The connection did not strike me until just this morning. Not a good connection, either. I let it go. No step and very little discussion, although the dream never left. It's just too late now. Back then I thought it was too late. I really did. Now I see the gradient of time and the possibility that perhaps I could have gone somewhere within that world. After all this time I will never know. I had thought the dream would require more of me and more time than was left, and now -- eighteen years later -- I know there was the space to explore. Had been. Did nothing. Too scared of the change. Too fucking scared. But maybe something was there. I will never know. My whole existence would be different now. The industry may have been good. I am so fucking sad over never taking any step that the entire thought brings me further down. Again with the beginning of wisdom... 'I do not know'. This is not something I need right now. I honestly wish I had opened the door. Another notch. I never tried. Scared. Now I am here. The triumvirate? I guess so. I never fucking tried. Why not? I was advised that the risk was important to my life because of such dreams. It was dire, really. Dire. I wish I had done something. Dave, the sound engineer with tons of contacts and information was right there in the gun room with advice and support. He was next to me for the better part of a week. I took everything down on paper and thanked him between shots and my heart leaped at the possibilities. But all the fear soon struck me upside the head and upended any chance of breaking free and discovering the industry. I did fucking nothing. Here I sit watching that very same way of life play out on the screen, day in and day out until the end of me. Quad? Tri? I don't know anymore. What I do realize is the door was right there staring me in the face and I turned on my heel and fled to comfort. Everything I've done or not done... All the same. Those eyes. Right though me. Sixth season again. I don't know what to do anymore and today is a prime example of my becoming too undecided for any sense of normalcy. Laundry. The new receiver, which has a couple of problems. Everything else is finished and I have time to myself. Doesn't matter. None of it matters now. Thracian? Where does she fit into the mess? Mass? Muss? The girl has my head on her shield. The eyes through me. And let me say the eyes are the reason for everything. Her eyes." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Thracian Girl? Mature content No. 255 Published July 6th, 2021 3:20pm pdt read ( words) Past entries "The wages of sin is death, according to Christianity. Who am I to argue? The fantasy may be complete soon. Inspiration comes from many sources and experiences, and lately the feeling of that elusive woman wandering the corridors of large homes has taken shape after combinations had been drawn throughout those dark-haired periods -- combinations ill-advised yet rampant. They took over, and considering the condition of my brain since the outset of this calendar year, the conclusion is anything but surprising. She carries my head on a shield. Sound familiar? 186. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? All alone for hours. Just what I need. Maybe I'll disassemble the Bugatti just to have something to build again. I miss it. After the last two days? I definitely need some things to keep me occupied. Well, I still have the house to care for and those little unfinished projects. One step at a time lest I lose it completely. Today is the first day after realizing that my personality is not aligning with anyone else, meaning I must isolate more than ever. The chores and other activities must be fully embraced now. I don't feel very good about myself. At least the house is a never-ending project. My friends are on the television, too. I need them up there for the familiarity which carries me forward these days. I am caring less each day. 185. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Last night turned very bad during the first half of the show we've been following. Very bad. The usual type of manipulative scripting was employed to garner audience response and sent me on a short but very harsh tirade, after which I announced being finished with any television or films that have not already been viewed. My little world took another blow and shrunk further. I have not been angry to such an extent for a very long time. I recall, but tried for years to shove it back. I tried to fit in with people. The issue arose when I realized that the effort in holding myself up during those times when others were out of control was becoming far too much. On many an occasion I nearly fell of the wagon and fired word-missiles, yet in the end what kept my temper at bay was the knowledge that no one would give a blue fuck in the wind. No matter how strongly I may have felt toward any subject, I knew deep down that my words would go nowhere. I would end up labeled even more than in the past. Those terms fly anyway, yet to be the specific target is not good. The problem last night brought all of that back to the forefront and I lashed. I simply cannot do that anymore. Alone. Thank Christ. The truth is I have attempted so many methods and tried speaking to too many individuals to avoid knowing the outcome before any further words are uttered. And what is that situation called? A lack of hope. Some would say the idea of possibility should not be denied because there still may be an option or some help. Well, again... No fucking hope. I have wasted years trying to find solace. No more of that, either. Shut the fuck down. My mood is another factor which will not allow me to be civil with other people regarding such a subject. I feel like I'm floating in space between what I was and whatever I am to be, neither of which is clear. For many years I dreamed of 'being' someone but never took steps in any direction, and now I feel I am too far along to make a change. On top of that, the avenues which seemed too arduous fifteen years ago likely could have been explored more easily than now. Splendid. All that time felt short and now appears much longer. Too bad. I'll admit I was quite negative with regard to making some sort of change because the comfort of home and work took priority over anything risky. At least the bulk of the next several hours is mine. I need it like I need to breathe. 184. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Last night the show of choice went from something modern and pushy to an older 'sitcom' sort of program we have seen in the past. The fact that I flipped out so badly means there will be no more entertainment of that type in the future. I have the gangsters on much of the time for very different reasons, and the harsh situations which cut me like a scalpel are not only for realism, but they are written and played out differently enough to preclude any doubt as to the intention. Nothing is manipulative, nor had the storyline or tertiary plots been driven simply to shock. Slow progress and development need not be followed by one twist after another. The time yesterday worked almost as well as can be expected lately. I did a few things while wondering where I may be headed into the future. The visit three days ago confirmed that at least a few believe I have been doing the right thing, so continuing in this vein for the foreseeable future seems my only choice. I'll admit that nearly all of the time I yearn to be alone. Lots to do between now and Saturday, most of which will be completed by me. I do not work well with voices nearby and that is the reason for yesterday's production. Nothing in the garage lately, either. That will be Sunday morning. The fantasy continues to return whether or not I wish to recall. She is there, but not real. I don't know what to think anymore. Daily, this crap. I keep traveling back to some years ago when Andrea and I took off for Florida after a few nights in the goblet. The feeling of being completely hidden and out of reach was compelling and drove us to remain as such for many days. The most elaborate escape imaginable at the time. ['Boy' or 'man'. For Christ's sake... Make up your fucking mind, doctor. Idiot.] By now I am quite certain those two people with whom I deal on a daily basis in person are looking at me differently these days. Too many incidents lately and far too much shit mood coming out of my mouth and off the fingertips. They will not say anything of the sort, and may in fact be completely full of it when near me, but something has to be in there because I am not the easiest person with which to interact. These days there is just too much cutting me to pieces. The fact that no one will speak in such a direction is both good and bad, believe it or not. On the one hand I don't give a crap because I will not conform to anyone's definition of what I should be, and on the other I worry that I am being snowed nearly as much as I am being snowed. Not good at all, but I may be wrong. Just an inkling as of now. As I said... Not easy. All of the bullshit I've caused and agonized over cannot be a cake walk for anyone. At least I know. Better than nothing. There have been occasions when I was told about appearing as if I am above others. That is not true, nor has it ever entered my mind. I am difficult. Period. 183. Halfway there. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Production yesterday. Very good. The guest will be here on Sunday at three, meaning I must have everything in good order by that morning. So far I am doing fine with the chores. Too bad no one will ever read this. The fantasy entered on and off during the daylight hours. I could not help but daydream about her. The show is rolling along at quite a clip, too. She'll be up there in sixth-season glory by the end of the week, soon culminating with the one episode which changed the world. I will have to maintain pace today in order to avoid falling down and losing track of everything. The work is not very difficult, either. Just the idea of keeping my head up during those moments when the whole world seems to be ending... The tough periods. I avoided them for the most part yesterday, hence the work being advanced. This is not a good time, for sure. I am still here. She was there for a little while, straight off the painting. The feeling that I was already dead and she still cared for me became overwhelming. A fantasy, but one unlike anything before. She follows. As I said at the top, the inspiration comes along right out of the foggy sky and strikes me upside the head often. The entire picture shall be complete soon. I'll have to keep it in mind during the work, both for the inspiration and the possibility that I can become badly derailed very easily these days. Focus. Gangsters up there. We switched the evening show after my conniption the other night and are following something nearly wholesome. That is to be expected and aligns with my recent need to be completely insulated from any media horseshit. I really cannot stand people anymore. 'Covet...' mentioned enemies. There you go. The fantasy carries zero. Just two people. We not only have the current show cruising through many seasons, but two other titles to follow in the future. The remainder of this year has already been scheduled insofar as entertainment during dinner. Daytime is all me. And since I mentioned the remainder of the year, the subject spawns another worry. What is going to happen? The football and holiday seasons had better prove pretty fucking nice. The change in programming during the evening is a step in the right direction, although I need to keep mindful of all the other knives protruding from my being. One day at a time, as the twelve-steppers used to say. I do not know what the second of January will hold. I located one of the receivers for which I've been searching. It will be arriving on the porch soon and then I'll swap out the new for the old. The control present will increase, as will the flexibility in connecting other stuff. The elusive preamplifier is something I may never possess, however. The receiver I purchased is sort of like an all-in-one substitute. I may just have to live with the fact that those rare units may not ever see this shore without massive money. Whatever. I'll be fine with the substitute. Switching the control section of my entire garage audio system will be quite the undertaking. It will also give me the opportunity to clean up some wiring. My head on a shield. Switchtrack. The morning and routine are out of the way. I'll sit here for a while with my whiskey and then hop to the continuation of getting the house ready for a guest. My head is descending. The problems partially outlined in 'Keywords' are returning and stiffening. Everything related to those terms and the two have become combined in the worst way. Tightened. I am having a difficult time working around the house and engaging in any activity without soon becoming preoccupied with feelings regarding all that crap. I just can't fucking help it. And though I chopped the subject some weeks ago, there is little else to do here these days, so again I will address the problem. 182. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? The way cannot be paved. Everything remains shielded. This is going to be the end of me, sure as hell. I don't understand the world, the people within, nor the idea of understanding. I no longer believe speaking of anything is going to help. Writing? I don't know... Maybe. I have to go into things in a manner consistent with speaking directly to another person. Somehow. At least, that's what I am supposed to do, right? Nothing is going to change (possibly no matter what I attempt) if I do not take some sort of step. But then again, several times I've mentioned the one enormous downside to changing inside and I cannot have that. The likelihood is pretty stark. Shielded, I shall be. Covered. Hidden away like so many thoughts which can never see the light of day. They enter, I file them, and then I continue with my days as if nothing took place. A little while later shit comes to a head and I become angry. That is not good, but still better than the manner in which I will affect other people by speaking my mind. The anger subsides, always. A notch at a time, however... The straws continue to pile. Covered. Hidden. Not me. What you see is not me. Some of the concerns from the last year or so have faded while others arose and caused me to worry. After last week, I am beginning to see another option with regard to the worries that come along and stab me. I would really love to head in such a direction because the freedom of though would be radically different than how I now live, and could actually be another little push into the fucking forest. I am speaking of an end to the caring I gush toward other people. If I stop that behavior and turn inward the remainder of the way? No one will like me, yet I will be more comfortable for two reasons. One? Less noise from voices. Two? The worry could cease. I will feel the same about myself, however. There is no changing it. The difference is in the way I behave toward them. Not harsh, just all business. I still have certain needs and the desire to be comfortable here, so compromising may be the only way. 'Uncaring' is tough to implement. Yesterday's continuation of work toward the holiday went fine. In and around the work I did further the model for the simple reason of getting everything off our dining table. I need the space. My idea the other day to modify it and be creative with the design didn't really pan out due to so many specialty pieces and a lack of universals. I pulled it most of the way apart and went back to the manual for assembling correctly. That was a chore after changing some of the structure. I should have it finished before our guest arrives in more than two days. The house is looking better, as well. I'll get to a point and stop, after which whatever doesn't make me happy will have to remain as is. I can only do so much. Today will be nice, too. Just like yesterday, once I am alone there is the feeling of freedom and quiet which is unmatched during any other times. I need it, badly. Just like I need to hear these keys. Back to the other subject. I know things grow within my head for several reasons, not the least of which is being very insecure. That is a snowball, really, and affects almost every single action in my daily life. I honestly have not sat here ever and complained about other people as they relate to this. I have not. All I've stated is I cannot know what they may be thinking at a given time and as such the fact has become a problem in me. This is ridiculous. Going nowhere, keeping it hidden away, and again repeating myself. What's the point? No more of this. 181. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? 180. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? I put the flag out because of the holiday. Pretty sure tonight will be insane due to last year being so fucked up with the pandemic and no gatherings. Last night people were already blowing up the streets. I spent some time in the garage waiting for dinner to arrive and heard much hoopla. Right now I am t-minus eight hours until the two guests arrive. That means plenty of time to reconcile myself with the sort of mood I need to embrace this evening. And then the battle simulation in the skies around our house. Funny, the more they stiffen the fine for illegal fireworks, the more of the explosions seem to take place. The last several years the fine has been a thousand dollars but recently they added jail time just for the deterrent factor. Well, I don't believe anyone will be altering their behavior at all. Tonight will be a big show like every year, and we will be out there with my colored lighting, music, and our own brand of legal fireworks. Yesterday was a long one. All that time to myself. I successfully completed the most difficult part of having this house ready for an overnight guest which was moving the bed from the garage back into the spare bedroom (old office). Now my garage is back the way it should have been all this time. Much more space out there, plus the back wall is more visible... Just the way I like it. Today I just need to do some touch-up on the rooms and then prepare the driveway for our usual barbecue. Last year? None of that took place. We went outside to enjoy some of the big displays around the neighborhood but did not light off anything here. So? Everything is happening today. I had so much time yesterday that I honestly could not think of what to do part of the day. But like always, I did what needed to be done. More crap on the television this morning. Since today is Sunday, I don't get the usual choices during the early hours. I have to rely on the premiums. This film is one of my favorites from the eighties, too. So funny, and Michael is fantastic as always. I recall months ago sitting here typing something about a problem and reminder from this film which I had forgotten for years. The movie did not come along for some time and I simply did not recall. Also, the period in which all these movies were rented by us and enjoyed during the evenings was radically different. I did not feel any such crap back then. The reminder today served nothing more than to reinforce my current position in life. I do like the look of the house in the film, though. Always have. Eventually none of that difficulty will matter. The last several days have had me more isolated and angry than I can remember. Even last year when I withdrew myself from social media I was not this upset. That was more like an annoyance than a problem, and it served to stem my interest in working elsewhere. Well, that pissy mood drove much of what began in the garage. Just this morning I tossed the last account which could connect me with other people and that is that. Forever. The main cut was last spring and I have not considered for a fucking second the idea of returning. I've created my own world in this house and fully intend to stay disconnected for the duration. I have bigger fish to fry right now than what was on the fucking television this morning. Much bigger. Others are already seeing a difference. Moreover, today is the perfect day to flex a little and get away with it. The whole town will be letting loose for hours and I can do the same (minus anything illegal, of course). For myself, just the booze and garage will be fine. Funny, this movie was the first for Leaf. Shortly thereafter he switched to Joaquin. More of the fantasy. My head on her shield. Ah... One of the prettiest names ever. I still have a small space in my heart for that one. Eh... Gone like the rest. Not even nine in the morning yet. Problems are beginning to take a back seat to the work I need to finish before afternoon. Lots to do, but lots of time. Once the inside is ready I can head out to my space and work on whatever. Driveway, tables and chairs, and the holy appearance of the garage itself. Very important. I have to make a splash with the colored lighting this evening, meaning all the stuff out there has to be in good order. That area is a large portion of the world I've created out of the sheer need to survive. Everything began with one light fixture from a job years ago and then went out of control last year after my mood changed. Now it's crazy, but the comfort cannot be denied. I hear the hot rods from the court. Trying not to speak of issues but they do not leave me. The angry tirade the other night leading to me cutting off future television now seems lessened somehow. Perhaps the simplicity of the passage of time. Of all the problems I've experienced regarding issues from the past being trivialized in media coupled with the fucking two, I am surprised at the ability to continue relating to some people. I just don't know what to do about it and cannot seem to let go of anything. Maybe the whole idea is related to control. At least I can exercise some this evening. Heh. 179. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? 178. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? The first morning with this much of me in the forest. There was an advance last night after dinner which had me very upset, so here we go toward the trees. I am realizing that no matter what I say or do, the person on the receiving end of my words -- whatever the subject may be -- will not believe any of them. Oh, there are times when I make a point and it is heard, but overall? Not working. Basically, that is it. Whatever the fuck is being discussed, I may as well remain mute. No one likes that behavior either, but I'm out of options these days. My speaking is causing problems, or something else. All those years of being told so many things about my personality, and this is what has developed. Birthed from those times. I can no longer speak. At least this type of situation has been expected by me. No speaking. I am either lying or some other kind of deception, selfishness, controlling action, or whatever. How does that sound? Pretty good? Call me all those names, label me however you wish. I don't care. Just as I said way the fuck back in zero three, one person can survive alone, but eventually another person will come along and the two will result in disdain. No other possibility. And now apparently I am the one in the wrong. Again. That is fine. I will sit here and be wrong. Leave me alone or I'll be more wrong. At least now I have less reason to open my mouth. Go ahead and laugh. Just like saving the power and water these days, I can save my breath. Wrong... Hmm. I thought I knew some things but I guess they only reside in the purview of others. Darn. Hours ahead. Nonplussed, though. Nothing is going to keep the shit at bay today. Nothing. I'll do whatever it is I do anymore. I already had enough going on yesterday while straightening, and now the shit from the evening is pushing. All this time today may help, I don't know. The fact is there will be no voices in the house today and such a fact is good right out of the fucking gate. But underneath, I know. Everything remains there for my inspection and consideration. What took place in my head yesterday was from the past and had nothing to do with this current situation, and the combination must be put on a shelf. One at a time. While I am fairly confident about the lack of solutions now and in the future, trying cannot cease. Without at least attempting to steady myself, I would basically be giving up completely. Not now. The little things...Remember? I don't know how to solve that first bullshit feeling nor how it affects me. Remaining indoors and out of the gaze of other people is partly helpful, yet underneath is still trouble... Even while alone. Today may be one of those in which I accomplish very little. I care, though. I do. Time is required right now. The combination of two women has become the Thracian Girl. No matter anymore, really, because nothing can be real now. Everything confusing, spinning inside, and difficult. Everything is just difficult. I must be alone as much as possible. My head on her shield. Her shield. My head. There it is, on her shield, forest or otherwise. I don't know what to do. And there she was again. It'll be a while before the chief representation of the meaning of life, but the images will have to suffice until then. And then it will come around again. I can't help it. My head on her fucking shield, and she is in control... Not me. Not by a damned sight. 'Eats my candy, drinks my brandy'. Heh. If only such things really occurred in this sordid, shit life. Nope. All I can do is dream and hold tight to the ill-conceived and downtrodden fantasy. Mansions? Sometimes. Mysteries? Always. The Thracian Girl? Right there behind my eyes every moment of every day. She shows up in real vision once in a while. I'll wait and then fall all over myself at the center of the universe, afterward simply waiting again. All I do. All I have. Fourteen years have passed since it was shot and each one of them has held its own share of troubles. All different, all me. The others? I just don't know if I can point to them anymore. Nothing can be done. Nothing. That means I must focus upon myself. I guess so, anyway. No more images of her, though. I have to stop doing that to myself. You? The reader? I don't give a fuck what you think. Only me. Fuck yourself and leave me to my devices. There are a few items in my inventory which have become dire to my survival, and if anyone else has a problem with any of them I don't care. Routine finished. Maybe laundry in a little while. The weather is cool, so remaining inside for much of the morning is important. Projects? Nope. Not now. The one avenue I never embraced -- even after gaining insight and information from a person in the industry -- is going to further my downed state. There are constant reminders within the media. No matter what is up there on the big television, I see myself now and then. I never took that first step. Combined with the three other jabs in life, I do not see a way to happiness or fulfillment in the future. The little enjoyments must continue, or else I have no more reasons. They are little, to be sure, but still there. Damn it, there she is. The physical representation of my universe. Everything rolled into one and captured for all time. I will roll this series over and over until my demise. The other series' will cruise into each evening. The tail end of this program always has me at sixes and sevens, too. Always. I believe the episodes have rolled for seven weeks now without interruption during my alone hours. I can't help it. The familiarity is more important than those fucking stabs. The saving grace is the fact that I know them well. I know them better than some parts of life, believe it or not, yet still I cannot take issue with the production. 'The wages of sin is death'. Death is always just off-camera. 'Becoming a better person requires risk. It requires opening yourself up to the idea that you might not be as good as you think you are, that you actually have something worth improving. That's a scary idea for a lot of people. It requires a loss of arrogance, a kind of humility that often requires a seismic event shaking one's life. An alcoholic may only reform once he's severely hurt someone he cares about, just as a liar might only start to tell the truth once his lies destroy someone's ability to trust in him. The greatest leveler of them all, the thing that most easily provokes the idea that, yes, we might need to change our lives, is death. It's the ultimate removal of arrogance, the ultimate restorer of humility. Every single person on this Earth will die, no matter how powerful or rich or good they are. Life can be extended, but death can't be prevented. It's always there, just off-camera.' The clock moves along no matter what takes place inside. I can't have this, yet I can do nothing about it. Hmm... 'off-camera'. A term I may have been intimately involved with had I taken a step. I did not. Too scared. I may be paying for the hesitation or I may be better off. No one can ever know. That time has passed, like so many others. Cindy is displayed here again because my sense of beauty has become skewed to the point of driving me mad. I saw her image some months ago, realized her appearance had been altered for one reason or another, and still could not reconcile myself with the idea that seldom have I gazed upon her equal, if at all. And the Thracian Girl is not in such a category despite her nose. The procedure was a personal and professional decision upon which I cannot comment because I am just a male sitting in the house whereas she is an actor with demands, guidances, and more career pressure than I have felt. Cindy has been altered. Does it matter? Do you care? I honestly do not because the end result is more stunning than I can either describe or understand. She is that fucking beautiful. Another essay without a point. The industry is crossing over into the show. No surprise there, however, because I am familiar enough to know where the story leads. The connection did not strike me until just this morning. Not a good connection, either. I let it go. No step and very little discussion, although the dream never left. It's just too late now. Back then I thought it was too late. I really did. Now I see the gradient of time and the possibility that perhaps I could have gone somewhere within that world. After all this time I will never know. I had thought the dream would require more of me and more time than was left, and now -- eighteen years later -- I know there was the space to explore. Had been. Did nothing. Too scared of the change. Too fucking scared. But maybe something was there. I will never know. My whole existence would be different now. The industry may have been good. I am so fucking sad over never taking any step that the entire thought brings me further down. Again with the beginning of wisdom... 'I do not know'. This is not something I need right now. I honestly wish I had opened the door. Another notch. I never tried. Scared. Now I am here. The triumvirate? I guess so. I never fucking tried. Why not? I was advised that the risk was important to my life because of such dreams. It was dire, really. Dire. I wish I had done something. Dave, the sound engineer with tons of contacts and information was right there in the gun room with advice and support. He was next to me for the better part of a week. I took everything down on paper and thanked him between shots and my heart leaped at the possibilities. But all the fear soon struck me upside the head and upended any chance of breaking free and discovering the industry. I did fucking nothing. Here I sit watching that very same way of life play out on the screen, day in and day out until the end of me. Quad? Tri? I don't know anymore. What I do realize is the door was right there staring me in the face and I turned on my heel and fled to comfort. Everything I've done or not done... All the same. Those eyes. Right though me. Sixth season again. I don't know what to do anymore and today is a prime example of my becoming too undecided for any sense of normalcy. Laundry. The new receiver, which has a couple of problems. Everything else is finished and I have time to myself. Doesn't matter. None of it matters now. Thracian? Where does she fit into the mess? Mass? Muss? The girl has my head on her shield. The eyes through me. And let me say the eyes are the reason for everything. Her eyes."
Thracian Girl?
Mature content No. 255 Published July 6th, 2021 3:20pm pdt read ( words) Past entries
"The wages of sin is death, according to Christianity. Who am I to argue? The fantasy may be complete soon. Inspiration comes from many sources and experiences, and lately the feeling of that elusive woman wandering the corridors of large homes has taken shape after combinations had been drawn throughout those dark-haired periods -- combinations ill-advised yet rampant. They took over, and considering the condition of my brain since the outset of this calendar year, the conclusion is anything but surprising. She carries my head on a shield. Sound familiar? 186. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? All alone for hours. Just what I need. Maybe I'll disassemble the Bugatti just to have something to build again. I miss it. After the last two days? I definitely need some things to keep me occupied. Well, I still have the house to care for and those little unfinished projects. One step at a time lest I lose it completely. Today is the first day after realizing that my personality is not aligning with anyone else, meaning I must isolate more than ever. The chores and other activities must be fully embraced now. I don't feel very good about myself. At least the house is a never-ending project. My friends are on the television, too. I need them up there for the familiarity which carries me forward these days. I am caring less each day. 185. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Last night turned very bad during the first half of the show we've been following. Very bad. The usual type of manipulative scripting was employed to garner audience response and sent me on a short but very harsh tirade, after which I announced being finished with any television or films that have not already been viewed. My little world took another blow and shrunk further. I have not been angry to such an extent for a very long time. I recall, but tried for years to shove it back. I tried to fit in with people. The issue arose when I realized that the effort in holding myself up during those times when others were out of control was becoming far too much. On many an occasion I nearly fell of the wagon and fired word-missiles, yet in the end what kept my temper at bay was the knowledge that no one would give a blue fuck in the wind. No matter how strongly I may have felt toward any subject, I knew deep down that my words would go nowhere. I would end up labeled even more than in the past. Those terms fly anyway, yet to be the specific target is not good. The problem last night brought all of that back to the forefront and I lashed. I simply cannot do that anymore. Alone. Thank Christ. The truth is I have attempted so many methods and tried speaking to too many individuals to avoid knowing the outcome before any further words are uttered. And what is that situation called? A lack of hope. Some would say the idea of possibility should not be denied because there still may be an option or some help. Well, again... No fucking hope. I have wasted years trying to find solace. No more of that, either. Shut the fuck down. My mood is another factor which will not allow me to be civil with other people regarding such a subject. I feel like I'm floating in space between what I was and whatever I am to be, neither of which is clear. For many years I dreamed of 'being' someone but never took steps in any direction, and now I feel I am too far along to make a change. On top of that, the avenues which seemed too arduous fifteen years ago likely could have been explored more easily than now. Splendid. All that time felt short and now appears much longer. Too bad. I'll admit I was quite negative with regard to making some sort of change because the comfort of home and work took priority over anything risky. At least the bulk of the next several hours is mine. I need it like I need to breathe. 184. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Last night the show of choice went from something modern and pushy to an older 'sitcom' sort of program we have seen in the past. The fact that I flipped out so badly means there will be no more entertainment of that type in the future. I have the gangsters on much of the time for very different reasons, and the harsh situations which cut me like a scalpel are not only for realism, but they are written and played out differently enough to preclude any doubt as to the intention. Nothing is manipulative, nor had the storyline or tertiary plots been driven simply to shock. Slow progress and development need not be followed by one twist after another. The time yesterday worked almost as well as can be expected lately. I did a few things while wondering where I may be headed into the future. The visit three days ago confirmed that at least a few believe I have been doing the right thing, so continuing in this vein for the foreseeable future seems my only choice. I'll admit that nearly all of the time I yearn to be alone. Lots to do between now and Saturday, most of which will be completed by me. I do not work well with voices nearby and that is the reason for yesterday's production. Nothing in the garage lately, either. That will be Sunday morning. The fantasy continues to return whether or not I wish to recall. She is there, but not real. I don't know what to think anymore. Daily, this crap. I keep traveling back to some years ago when Andrea and I took off for Florida after a few nights in the goblet. The feeling of being completely hidden and out of reach was compelling and drove us to remain as such for many days. The most elaborate escape imaginable at the time. ['Boy' or 'man'. For Christ's sake... Make up your fucking mind, doctor. Idiot.] By now I am quite certain those two people with whom I deal on a daily basis in person are looking at me differently these days. Too many incidents lately and far too much shit mood coming out of my mouth and off the fingertips. They will not say anything of the sort, and may in fact be completely full of it when near me, but something has to be in there because I am not the easiest person with which to interact. These days there is just too much cutting me to pieces. The fact that no one will speak in such a direction is both good and bad, believe it or not. On the one hand I don't give a crap because I will not conform to anyone's definition of what I should be, and on the other I worry that I am being snowed nearly as much as I am being snowed. Not good at all, but I may be wrong. Just an inkling as of now. As I said... Not easy. All of the bullshit I've caused and agonized over cannot be a cake walk for anyone. At least I know. Better than nothing. There have been occasions when I was told about appearing as if I am above others. That is not true, nor has it ever entered my mind. I am difficult. Period. 183. Halfway there. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? Production yesterday. Very good. The guest will be here on Sunday at three, meaning I must have everything in good order by that morning. So far I am doing fine with the chores. Too bad no one will ever read this. The fantasy entered on and off during the daylight hours. I could not help but daydream about her. The show is rolling along at quite a clip, too. She'll be up there in sixth-season glory by the end of the week, soon culminating with the one episode which changed the world. I will have to maintain pace today in order to avoid falling down and losing track of everything. The work is not very difficult, either. Just the idea of keeping my head up during those moments when the whole world seems to be ending... The tough periods. I avoided them for the most part yesterday, hence the work being advanced. This is not a good time, for sure. I am still here. She was there for a little while, straight off the painting. The feeling that I was already dead and she still cared for me became overwhelming. A fantasy, but one unlike anything before. She follows. As I said at the top, the inspiration comes along right out of the foggy sky and strikes me upside the head often. The entire picture shall be complete soon. I'll have to keep it in mind during the work, both for the inspiration and the possibility that I can become badly derailed very easily these days. Focus.
Gangsters up there. We switched the evening show after my conniption the other night and are following something nearly wholesome. That is to be expected and aligns with my recent need to be completely insulated from any media horseshit. I really cannot stand people anymore. 'Covet...' mentioned enemies. There you go. The fantasy carries zero. Just two people. We not only have the current show cruising through many seasons, but two other titles to follow in the future. The remainder of this year has already been scheduled insofar as entertainment during dinner. Daytime is all me. And since I mentioned the remainder of the year, the subject spawns another worry. What is going to happen? The football and holiday seasons had better prove pretty fucking nice. The change in programming during the evening is a step in the right direction, although I need to keep mindful of all the other knives protruding from my being. One day at a time, as the twelve-steppers used to say. I do not know what the second of January will hold. I located one of the receivers for which I've been searching. It will be arriving on the porch soon and then I'll swap out the new for the old. The control present will increase, as will the flexibility in connecting other stuff. The elusive preamplifier is something I may never possess, however. The receiver I purchased is sort of like an all-in-one substitute. I may just have to live with the fact that those rare units may not ever see this shore without massive money. Whatever. I'll be fine with the substitute. Switching the control section of my entire garage audio system will be quite the undertaking. It will also give me the opportunity to clean up some wiring. My head on a shield. Switchtrack. The morning and routine are out of the way. I'll sit here for a while with my whiskey and then hop to the continuation of getting the house ready for a guest. My head is descending. The problems partially outlined in 'Keywords' are returning and stiffening. Everything related to those terms and the two have become combined in the worst way. Tightened. I am having a difficult time working around the house and engaging in any activity without soon becoming preoccupied with feelings regarding all that crap. I just can't fucking help it. And though I chopped the subject some weeks ago, there is little else to do here these days, so again I will address the problem. 182. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? The way cannot be paved. Everything remains shielded. This is going to be the end of me, sure as hell. I don't understand the world, the people within, nor the idea of understanding. I no longer believe speaking of anything is going to help. Writing? I don't know... Maybe. I have to go into things in a manner consistent with speaking directly to another person. Somehow. At least, that's what I am supposed to do, right? Nothing is going to change (possibly no matter what I attempt) if I do not take some sort of step. But then again, several times I've mentioned the one enormous downside to changing inside and I cannot have that. The likelihood is pretty stark. Shielded, I shall be. Covered. Hidden away like so many thoughts which can never see the light of day. They enter, I file them, and then I continue with my days as if nothing took place. A little while later shit comes to a head and I become angry. That is not good, but still better than the manner in which I will affect other people by speaking my mind. The anger subsides, always. A notch at a time, however... The straws continue to pile. Covered. Hidden. Not me. What you see is not me. Some of the concerns from the last year or so have faded while others arose and caused me to worry. After last week, I am beginning to see another option with regard to the worries that come along and stab me. I would really love to head in such a direction because the freedom of though would be radically different than how I now live, and could actually be another little push into the fucking forest. I am speaking of an end to the caring I gush toward other people. If I stop that behavior and turn inward the remainder of the way? No one will like me, yet I will be more comfortable for two reasons. One? Less noise from voices. Two? The worry could cease. I will feel the same about myself, however. There is no changing it. The difference is in the way I behave toward them. Not harsh, just all business. I still have certain needs and the desire to be comfortable here, so compromising may be the only way. 'Uncaring' is tough to implement. Yesterday's continuation of work toward the holiday went fine. In and around the work I did further the model for the simple reason of getting everything off our dining table. I need the space. My idea the other day to modify it and be creative with the design didn't really pan out due to so many specialty pieces and a lack of universals. I pulled it most of the way apart and went back to the manual for assembling correctly. That was a chore after changing some of the structure. I should have it finished before our guest arrives in more than two days. The house is looking better, as well. I'll get to a point and stop, after which whatever doesn't make me happy will have to remain as is. I can only do so much. Today will be nice, too. Just like yesterday, once I am alone there is the feeling of freedom and quiet which is unmatched during any other times. I need it, badly. Just like I need to hear these keys. Back to the other subject. I know things grow within my head for several reasons, not the least of which is being very insecure. That is a snowball, really, and affects almost every single action in my daily life. I honestly have not sat here ever and complained about other people as they relate to this. I have not. All I've stated is I cannot know what they may be thinking at a given time and as such the fact has become a problem in me. This is ridiculous. Going nowhere, keeping it hidden away, and again repeating myself. What's the point? No more of this. 181. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? 180. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? I put the flag out because of the holiday. Pretty sure tonight will be insane due to last year being so fucked up with the pandemic and no gatherings. Last night people were already blowing up the streets. I spent some time in the garage waiting for dinner to arrive and heard much hoopla. Right now I am t-minus eight hours until the two guests arrive. That means plenty of time to reconcile myself with the sort of mood I need to embrace this evening. And then the battle simulation in the skies around our house. Funny, the more they stiffen the fine for illegal fireworks, the more of the explosions seem to take place. The last several years the fine has been a thousand dollars but recently they added jail time just for the deterrent factor. Well, I don't believe anyone will be altering their behavior at all. Tonight will be a big show like every year, and we will be out there with my colored lighting, music, and our own brand of legal fireworks. Yesterday was a long one. All that time to myself. I successfully completed the most difficult part of having this house ready for an overnight guest which was moving the bed from the garage back into the spare bedroom (old office). Now my garage is back the way it should have been all this time. Much more space out there, plus the back wall is more visible... Just the way I like it. Today I just need to do some touch-up on the rooms and then prepare the driveway for our usual barbecue. Last year? None of that took place. We went outside to enjoy some of the big displays around the neighborhood but did not light off anything here. So? Everything is happening today. I had so much time yesterday that I honestly could not think of what to do part of the day. But like always, I did what needed to be done.
More crap on the television this morning. Since today is Sunday, I don't get the usual choices during the early hours. I have to rely on the premiums. This film is one of my favorites from the eighties, too. So funny, and Michael is fantastic as always. I recall months ago sitting here typing something about a problem and reminder from this film which I had forgotten for years. The movie did not come along for some time and I simply did not recall. Also, the period in which all these movies were rented by us and enjoyed during the evenings was radically different. I did not feel any such crap back then. The reminder today served nothing more than to reinforce my current position in life. I do like the look of the house in the film, though. Always have. Eventually none of that difficulty will matter. The last several days have had me more isolated and angry than I can remember. Even last year when I withdrew myself from social media I was not this upset. That was more like an annoyance than a problem, and it served to stem my interest in working elsewhere. Well, that pissy mood drove much of what began in the garage. Just this morning I tossed the last account which could connect me with other people and that is that. Forever. The main cut was last spring and I have not considered for a fucking second the idea of returning. I've created my own world in this house and fully intend to stay disconnected for the duration. I have bigger fish to fry right now than what was on the fucking television this morning. Much bigger. Others are already seeing a difference. Moreover, today is the perfect day to flex a little and get away with it. The whole town will be letting loose for hours and I can do the same (minus anything illegal, of course). For myself, just the booze and garage will be fine. Funny, this movie was the first for Leaf. Shortly thereafter he switched to Joaquin. More of the fantasy. My head on her shield. Ah... One of the prettiest names ever. I still have a small space in my heart for that one. Eh... Gone like the rest. Not even nine in the morning yet. Problems are beginning to take a back seat to the work I need to finish before afternoon. Lots to do, but lots of time. Once the inside is ready I can head out to my space and work on whatever. Driveway, tables and chairs, and the holy appearance of the garage itself. Very important. I have to make a splash with the colored lighting this evening, meaning all the stuff out there has to be in good order. That area is a large portion of the world I've created out of the sheer need to survive. Everything began with one light fixture from a job years ago and then went out of control last year after my mood changed. Now it's crazy, but the comfort cannot be denied. I hear the hot rods from the court. Trying not to speak of issues but they do not leave me. The angry tirade the other night leading to me cutting off future television now seems lessened somehow. Perhaps the simplicity of the passage of time. Of all the problems I've experienced regarding issues from the past being trivialized in media coupled with the fucking two, I am surprised at the ability to continue relating to some people. I just don't know what to do about it and cannot seem to let go of anything. Maybe the whole idea is related to control. At least I can exercise some this evening. Heh. 179. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? 178. Will today be exactly the same as yesterday? The first morning with this much of me in the forest. There was an advance last night after dinner which had me very upset, so here we go toward the trees. I am realizing that no matter what I say or do, the person on the receiving end of my words -- whatever the subject may be -- will not believe any of them. Oh, there are times when I make a point and it is heard, but overall? Not working. Basically, that is it. Whatever the fuck is being discussed, I may as well remain mute. No one likes that behavior either, but I'm out of options these days. My speaking is causing problems, or something else. All those years of being told so many things about my personality, and this is what has developed. Birthed from those times. I can no longer speak. At least this type of situation has been expected by me. No speaking. I am either lying or some other kind of deception, selfishness, controlling action, or whatever. How does that sound? Pretty good? Call me all those names, label me however you wish. I don't care. Just as I said way the fuck back in zero three, one person can survive alone, but eventually another person will come along and the two will result in disdain. No other possibility. And now apparently I am the one in the wrong. Again. That is fine. I will sit here and be wrong. Leave me alone or I'll be more wrong. At least now I have less reason to open my mouth. Go ahead and laugh. Just like saving the power and water these days, I can save my breath. Wrong... Hmm. I thought I knew some things but I guess they only reside in the purview of others. Darn. Hours ahead. Nonplussed, though. Nothing is going to keep the shit at bay today. Nothing. I'll do whatever it is I do anymore. I already had enough going on yesterday while straightening, and now the shit from the evening is pushing. All this time today may help, I don't know. The fact is there will be no voices in the house today and such a fact is good right out of the fucking gate. But underneath, I know. Everything remains there for my inspection and consideration. What took place in my head yesterday was from the past and had nothing to do with this current situation, and the combination must be put on a shelf. One at a time. While I am fairly confident about the lack of solutions now and in the future, trying cannot cease. Without at least attempting to steady myself, I would basically be giving up completely. Not now. The little things...Remember? I don't know how to solve that first bullshit feeling nor how it affects me. Remaining indoors and out of the gaze of other people is partly helpful, yet underneath is still trouble... Even while alone. Today may be one of those in which I accomplish very little. I care, though. I do. Time is required right now. The combination of two women has become the Thracian Girl. No matter anymore, really, because nothing can be real now. Everything confusing, spinning inside, and difficult. Everything is just difficult. I must be alone as much as possible. My head on her shield. Her shield. My head. There it is, on her shield, forest or otherwise. I don't know what to do.
And there she was again. It'll be a while before the chief representation of the meaning of life, but the images will have to suffice until then. And then it will come around again. I can't help it. My head on her fucking shield, and she is in control... Not me. Not by a damned sight. 'Eats my candy, drinks my brandy'. Heh. If only such things really occurred in this sordid, shit life. Nope. All I can do is dream and hold tight to the ill-conceived and downtrodden fantasy. Mansions? Sometimes. Mysteries? Always. The Thracian Girl? Right there behind my eyes every moment of every day. She shows up in real vision once in a while. I'll wait and then fall all over myself at the center of the universe, afterward simply waiting again. All I do. All I have. Fourteen years have passed since it was shot and each one of them has held its own share of troubles. All different, all me. The others? I just don't know if I can point to them anymore. Nothing can be done. Nothing. That means I must focus upon myself. I guess so, anyway. No more images of her, though. I have to stop doing that to myself. You? The reader? I don't give a fuck what you think. Only me. Fuck yourself and leave me to my devices. There are a few items in my inventory which have become dire to my survival, and if anyone else has a problem with any of them I don't care. Routine finished. Maybe laundry in a little while. The weather is cool, so remaining inside for much of the morning is important. Projects? Nope. Not now. The one avenue I never embraced -- even after gaining insight and information from a person in the industry -- is going to further my downed state. There are constant reminders within the media. No matter what is up there on the big television, I see myself now and then. I never took that first step. Combined with the three other jabs in life, I do not see a way to happiness or fulfillment in the future. The little enjoyments must continue, or else I have no more reasons. They are little, to be sure, but still there. Damn it, there she is. The physical representation of my universe. Everything rolled into one and captured for all time. I will roll this series over and over until my demise. The other series' will cruise into each evening. The tail end of this program always has me at sixes and sevens, too. Always. I believe the episodes have rolled for seven weeks now without interruption during my alone hours. I can't help it. The familiarity is more important than those fucking stabs. The saving grace is the fact that I know them well. I know them better than some parts of life, believe it or not, yet still I cannot take issue with the production. 'The wages of sin is death'. Death is always just off-camera.
'Becoming a better person requires risk. It requires opening yourself up to the idea that you might not be as good as you think you are, that you actually have something worth improving. That's a scary idea for a lot of people. It requires a loss of arrogance, a kind of humility that often requires a seismic event shaking one's life. An alcoholic may only reform once he's severely hurt someone he cares about, just as a liar might only start to tell the truth once his lies destroy someone's ability to trust in him. The greatest leveler of them all, the thing that most easily provokes the idea that, yes, we might need to change our lives, is death. It's the ultimate removal of arrogance, the ultimate restorer of humility. Every single person on this Earth will die, no matter how powerful or rich or good they are. Life can be extended, but death can't be prevented. It's always there, just off-camera.'
The clock moves along no matter what takes place inside. I can't have this, yet I can do nothing about it. Hmm... 'off-camera'. A term I may have been intimately involved with had I taken a step. I did not. Too scared. I may be paying for the hesitation or I may be better off. No one can ever know. That time has passed, like so many others. Cindy is displayed here again because my sense of beauty has become skewed to the point of driving me mad. I saw her image some months ago, realized her appearance had been altered for one reason or another, and still could not reconcile myself with the idea that seldom have I gazed upon her equal, if at all. And the Thracian Girl is not in such a category despite her nose. The procedure was a personal and professional decision upon which I cannot comment because I am just a male sitting in the house whereas she is an actor with demands, guidances, and more career pressure than I have felt. Cindy has been altered. Does it matter? Do you care? I honestly do not because the end result is more stunning than I can either describe or understand. She is that fucking beautiful. Another essay without a point. The industry is crossing over into the show. No surprise there, however, because I am familiar enough to know where the story leads. The connection did not strike me until just this morning. Not a good connection, either. I let it go. No step and very little discussion, although the dream never left. It's just too late now. Back then I thought it was too late. I really did. Now I see the gradient of time and the possibility that perhaps I could have gone somewhere within that world. After all this time I will never know. I had thought the dream would require more of me and more time than was left, and now -- eighteen years later -- I know there was the space to explore. Had been. Did nothing. Too scared of the change. Too fucking scared. But maybe something was there. I will never know. My whole existence would be different now. The industry may have been good. I am so fucking sad over never taking any step that the entire thought brings me further down. Again with the beginning of wisdom... 'I do not know'. This is not something I need right now. I honestly wish I had opened the door. Another notch. I never tried. Scared. Now I am here. The triumvirate? I guess so. I never fucking tried. Why not? I was advised that the risk was important to my life because of such dreams. It was dire, really. Dire. I wish I had done something. Dave, the sound engineer with tons of contacts and information was right there in the gun room with advice and support. He was next to me for the better part of a week. I took everything down on paper and thanked him between shots and my heart leaped at the possibilities. But all the fear soon struck me upside the head and upended any chance of breaking free and discovering the industry. I did fucking nothing. Here I sit watching that very same way of life play out on the screen, day in and day out until the end of me. Quad? Tri? I don't know anymore. What I do realize is the door was right there staring me in the face and I turned on my heel and fled to comfort. Everything I've done or not done... All the same. Those eyes. Right though me. Sixth season again. I don't know what to do anymore and today is a prime example of my becoming too undecided for any sense of normalcy. Laundry. The new receiver, which has a couple of problems. Everything else is finished and I have time to myself. Doesn't matter. None of it matters now. Thracian? Where does she fit into the mess? Mass? Muss? The girl has my head on her shield. The eyes through me. And let me say the eyes are the reason for everything. Her eyes."
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