March 10th, 2021 10:36am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning The Throne of Enervation Mature content No. 230 Published March 10th, 10:36am pst read ( words) Past entries "Still 3-9, 11:13am. Soon we will change from pst to pdt. Shit. I can't get all that shit out of my fucking head. None of it. Nothing. Yesterday was a prime example of how weak and frail I have become. Just fifteen minutes and I experienced flashes of the past and a striking comparison to the present. This is not going to go away. One of my auctions just ended a short time ago, was paid instantly, and it's already labeled and on the mailbox to head out today. Very nice. The other auction has grown in price dramatically in just one day. I also have the usual crap finished. Now I don't know what to do other than a continuation of the wallowing. Those two idiots from the second season are on the screen. I remember when we first watched this episode months ago and I was overly concerned about the visuals. We never spoke about it, though, because the story took precedence, I guess. Knowing what goes on inside is not possible and I will not ask. That only leads to disaster. Still, I am sitting here completely alone and the imagery works on my head. Oy, clouds outside are moving here and there and causing the room to continually darken and brighten. All the shades are closed so my television is filled with contrast. The picture washing out will only irritate me. Why do the smallest, simplest little fucking tidbits cause so much worry? I cannot know, so perhaps my psyche automatically generates the worst possibilities. That has taken place so many times that there may be no way around it anymore. When I said 'wallowing', the thinking is what causes such pain. I like to watch my favorite shows, though. Maybe I should go back to the science fiction. Will that be easier? Or will I ruin it? This is fucked. 12:27pm. I wish the sun would either stay visible or go away completely. This dim/bright bullshit is for the birds. I suppose the only thing I can do anymore is continue to slim down my things. The auctions are going very well which means more can go out the door. The little enjoyments -- shrinking as they are -- will have to hold me up. Thinking cannot be stopped, so any other option which brings comfort is going to have to be embraced, be it work or whatever. And I mean work here, not out in the world. I can't go anywhere at this point. Home is too secure. Even with the walls around me and all my usual solace-inducing choices, the issues remain. Whatever I can do to keep my head up is important and shall be observed. As for working within myself to understand why everything cuts me so, only time will tell. I am not hopeful any longer, though. There will be a visit later. Hopefully longer than yesterday. I'll have to keep my fucking trap shut. Wagons... East? Wagons 'ho'? Wagons are destroyed. Stop. 3-10, 3:48am. Something awakened me besides the bathroom. I believe it was a combination of the furnace firing (which it should not in the wee hours of the morning), a strange glow from the other side of the bed and water dripping inside one of the downspouts. My smart thermostat displayed some sort of message and the incorrect time, pressing me to try and focus upon the application on my phone. I killed the heat and tried to lay there but to no avail. Sleep was just not in my future. Here I am. As for the glow, she was asleep with her phone in hand and lighting up one of the sheets. Splendid. Holy crap is it ever raining right now. A movie up there from eighty-seven. I recall knowing it well just a few years later when the glow began. This is one of my very favorite films of all time. And the glow. Everything was there, in place. We watched this together many times. Who cares? I didn't even mention the title. We watched another couple of episodes yesterday afternoon. The visit was nice and seemed to propel me up and out of my typical din and into the story. I had the room darkened a bit to accentuate the screen, and coupled with the clouds, the lack of light provided a feeling of being somewhere else for a while. No difficulty to speak of, either. My head was relaxed, mostly. Mostly. My only wish today is the ability to maintain some kind of schedule, yet nothing strict. I just have to pick a few things and then accomplish them before falling on my face. That typically happens after the normal daily tasks are complete and I realize the free time to do as I please. Well, the shit enters my head often enough for me to already know I will drop at some point each weekday. I don't believe there will ever be any solution to so much concern over daily life. If the clock does not scream at me too early, I may be able to branch out some and keep my brain from descending. Some of the crap was spinning circles inside shortly after I awakened this morning. Too damned early, but sometimes there is nothing I can do about it. Nearly out of energy these days, and feeling as if I am sitting atop a mountain of problems all by myself. And yes, I realize I am alone here by choice. Shut up. Lots of crap was in my head, really. Not just the difficulties which have been expanding since last year. I was thinking of a project idea from yesterday, the rain falling outside, why her phone was glowing so early in the morning, and things I wished to do today. All that was swirling over and over, and likely had a hand in my being restless enough to preclude sleep. Now I feel like crap. Today will likely be pretty mellow as a result. I do not enjoy this early business. Maybe I'll cut the evening short later and rest more. Right now I don't have the capacity to calculate my way out of a wet paper bag. Tired, in more ways than one. I don't know what to do anymore. Keep selling stuff, I guess. There is a point each day -- yesterday was a fine example -- when I actually feel pretty damned good about being here to care for the house and such. Right around ten or so, my brain kicks up a notch, I (sometimes) pour the dish cocktail, and then grab the remote to expand my entertainment from the living room to the kitchen. Once everything is in place, I feel right at home. It's a little boost that may not have existed at all had it not been for the situation since last spring. The only downside is it does not last very long. I begin to feel the effects of the vodka and then calm a bit before moving on to other projects. The short period after moving into the kitchen for work is really nice. Maybe I'll try to attach the feeling to other aspects of my day. I have to do something, though. That is certain. Otherwise I'll just fall down every day and remain there for the duration. This episode of the second show originally aired just a week after my twenty-third birthday. The glow. The shining years. I was not watching this at the time, however. I did not faithfully view the series until a year or more later. Likely the fourth season was when we watched as a couple. The problem from two days ago is still in mind. In fact, that was one item helping the prevention of my falling back asleep a little while ago. I could not get the incident out of my head. I suppose the only upside is it does not feel so harsh now, just over an hour later. What took place at the time was minuscule, only later did it congeal into something much worse. Memories of how I strolled around my place of work years ago, the feeling that I belonged to something important, and my motivation to both push circumstances around to my advantage and sit relaxed more than I am capable lately. The difference just since this time last year is unreal and hard to swallow. I don't even believe it half the time. That short period of time two days back is working on my head and keeping the desire to learn at bay right now. I almost feel as if I do not deserve to improve due to sliding backward for nearly twelve months. Allowing it to happen, really. I did not lift a fucking finger to change anything and moved right into a position to be comfortable. What took place Monday keeps slapping me. Over and over, but I still doubt any good will come of it. There were two different facets to that afternoon. One is above, and the other must remain hidden from view. I really can't go into it, but suffice to say it was a glaring problem and had the two written all over. That was partly the reasoning behind me having so much trouble later on Monday and part of yesterday. I cannot pass anything along or let it go. I just keep seeing and feeling more and more each week. Everything presses. It all lifts me up to this chair, too. Honestly, and as much as I wished to rid myself of the drill press, if I had it to do over again I never would have listed the fucking thing. The trouble has not been worth the benefit. Eh... Something else would have come along and floored me anyway. Doesn't matter. Doomed to feel this way for the duration. Losing energy, steadily. 5:31am. Sometimes everything is just shit. That short event Monday should not be doing this to me, although I understand how I've changed since last year. Weaker and much more worried all the time. Still, I reacted badly -- albeit delayed -- by becoming overly concerned just as I did with everything after that fucking visit to the valley a while back. I just can't get past that. It permeates everything and often leaves me unable to think at all, and then the tiniest reference will propel my head into the exosphere like a fucking rocket. Once there, I am incapable of any clear thinking or accomplishing the simplest of tasks until such time as I can calm down. There was something else yesterday that I seemed to have forgotten, too. Something small. I can't remember shit anymore. Whatever. The fact is I retain too much for a normal person's mind and cling to passing thoughts as if they are gospel. I am so fucking tired that I cannot even get the point across. Drained. I can't talk to anyone, bring anything specific here, nothing. I am stuck, all by myself and worn out beyond belief. Monday did not do this exclusively. Many days have contributed, along with words and phrases which likely would not affect another person on this earth. Only me. The theatre again. Yep... Always there cutting me to ribbons and providing just enough of a push to ensure that I fail to relax and enjoy anything without a preemptive guard. And then the clues and subsequent bullshit I have had to endure. That is the fault of others, not me. I am many things, but not full of shit... Ever. The more I think about Monday, the more all the events of the past come back and stab me. Switch, please. Damn it. Still dark outside. Today. The routine and perhaps one more auction listing. The last two went nuts, so I'm motivated to get some more stuff out the door. A bit of prep work in the garage, too. Yesterday I had the idea for a clothing rack that can swing up and out of the way when not in use. Parts and material will be coming to the porch this week and I need to do some woodwork in support of the plan. The end result will be more floor space. Very good. I really need positives right now. At least something to remove me from this throne for a time. Tired. I have to keep focusing upon what has been heading out of the garage. There was so much crap stored that I did not know where to begin last month. Now? Much better but still a ways to go before I am satisfied. If I see something that needs to go away, it goes quickly. Even the donations, although I'd rather see them go to someone with a need. We just don't have anywhere to drop things off now. But I can get out there again and work toward freeing up space even further than I already have. Maybe if the weather calms I can connect the drain and run some wash, too. I won't know until later. The light is coming up. 6:22am. All those words and situations have summed inside now. I know what goes on, too. I fucking know it after years of observing people and their reactions to stimuli. Nothing anyone can say or do will change my feelings, in part due to fear and also because of the way in which I think. As much as I keep hidden both here and in daily conversation, there is no remaining doubt that the average person does the same to some extent. Natural? Of course, but it drives me out of my head too often. I cannot let anything go and just relax. Always on guard, always looking and listening, and eventually I find reason to recoil. I am not properly equipped to rationalize those little things from the past, and even less so of the present. The motivation for continuing to bring up difficulties should be apparent by now. Yesterday all the shit in my head led to the thought of really trying to keep busy. Sometimes it helps, but other times I cannot find the drive to begin. I did not go very far beyond the norm for a weekday. Oy, there is Allie with her big eyes again. Whatever. As far as keeping myself occupied when I have otherwise fallen down over any number of troubles, I just have to take it one step at a time. Little goals, perhaps. I don't want to have to resort to the beer and woodwork like last year. Much was accomplished, but I still felt so fearful that extraction of worry never happened. And then that phrase in the garage. Fell. It made me angry and the work continued. I don't know if any of it was good or not. Piled on top is the thought that the current daily routine is all I may have for the rest of my life and the conclusion is very bad. I don't even think I can continue the fiction. Or end it, really. The story developed early last year as I dreamed of the past and wished to craft something similar, yet fantasy-like. A journey of self that involved some real experiences. The way I feel now is different. I worry about the two all the time now. Every fucking day and many hours of each. The story suffered delays and then fell flat during the summer. The two took over in all haste. Getting back a measure of inspiration no longer seems possible because I cannot concentrate enough to form one fucking fictional sentence. Ugh. The layout, title and images are there on a fresh page. No words beyond. I don't have them anymore. That means the biggest point of reference in the last several years -- Jaime -- has become equally stagnant. Not good. I keep going on and on about other shit. Asking others to alter themselves or their behavior for my benefit and comfort is not fair, however I do know it is natural to 'adapt' to another person when caring for them. Natural. I believe such a fact is the mindset of many people. The good in the idea does not apply to me, though. I cannot ask for much because the other side is very different and quite demanding. Everyone makes their own choice, and as far as relating said choice to me... Well, nothing can ever be enough. With or without such alterations, thoughts remain. And I cannot know. That's where the trust comes in. Remember? I've gone over all this crap before but felt compelled to repeat it today since my head is already blown to pieces. So tired. Sitting here, still. And I am not referring to the fucking sofa, either. Tired. I think another watch is on the block today. I have no reason to hang on to so many things these days, anyway. It will go, along with another knife and possibly some of my titanium items. Paring down happens in more than one department. Sleepy. Almost time for me to get up and prepare a few things for her to bring to work. Afterward I will probably take it easy with the physical stuff due to not feeling rested this morning. Pause. 8:07am and alone. The rest of this day had better prove interesting, at least. I am in no mood for more shit. I am going to fully disassemble the drums and store them for whatever duration brings an idea. I tried listing them twice to no avail. Not one inquiry. So, they stay, but out of the way. I can then work more on the old office and clean the floor. Dinner tonight will include artichokes, meaning one more project today. I will trim and boil them for later broiling. I may not feel like making the satay, though. Wow this just sucks out loud. Rising from the bed so early is never good for me, and today is no different. It feels worse, really. All this time to myself and very little drive inside. I can't stand this shit. The two never lets up and has risen to the peak of importance and preoccupation within life. No getting around it any longer, meaning I have to choose between becoming a complete wreck and totally withdrawn or lashing out and shoving everyone away with my harsh, forceful nature. Neither is good, yet one will doubtless happen very soon. Such a shitty day so far, and all of it in my head. The lack of sleep is probably not the fault of mine or others, just a circumstance I have to fucking deal with. I am going to try focusing upon what ideas I have for this day, and then take time to relax a little. I have never been a nap person, though. It will mess up my night, likely even more than the previous. I'll have to stay busy, I guess. Not easy. Considering the power of what is in my brain, anything beyond wallowing and becoming liquored up could be a tall order. Today will be a test. Everything is bothering me. Maybe I'll get a pizza for lunch. All this exhaustion is not surprising anymore. I've tried and tried to understand what goes on inside me during difficult situations, along with the reasoning behind how they develop in the first place, and to this very day I still don't believe anyone else is at fault. Even the words and observations which have sent me flying in terrible directions -- altered, candy-coated or otherwise -- do not carry such weight unless I give it to them. Yes, I know the behaviors are often changed for the good of another. I know it well because I've done it. That is a door. On one side is the truth, and on the other? A fabrication created for good reason. Yes, I said that. Good reason. It means there is caring involved. Unfortunately, I cannot move past the idea in the first place... The one which was eased by the caring. It is too much. The idea took place no matter the consequences to another. I've seen it all too often. The clues and the words. All I can do is avoid the eyes. They will display the caring and throw me to the wind like so much paper. The foxes are not the problem. I am the problem. The caring may as well not exist at all. There are differences, things I cannot be. Fact of life. I am me, that is it for all time. No matter what I do, say, hear or believe, still me. I can't do a fucking thing about it. Inside are broken parts which amplify everything and line it all up in such a way so as to cause distress, worry, and introversion. My being is more turned inward than ever in life. Fifty fucking years. Little situations have arisen and gone away, but now everything has been positioned and poised to destroy me. Only one decision remains... Gush and die, or keep it away from others and die anyway. Candy-coated. Softened like ice cream in warm weather. Hidden. Locked away, I am sure, from those of us who will run and then become dust due to what is now a lifetime bereft of the ability to smooth it all and rise above. Too much now. Just too fucking much. I can't handle it. The two is killing me, but the source is mine. People are going to feel whatever and from wherever. I just can't fucking handle it. And now I see a proximity to revealing too much. Done. I have to stop this shit for now. Becoming angry. Turning to animosity like never before. Maybe one day I will embrace the idea that the words are real. Until then, I am a basket case and will remain as such until something proves otherwise. Wrecked and running out of reasons. If they are indeed real? Dead. 296. She is inside." 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
March 10th, 2021 10:36am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning The Throne of Enervation Mature content No. 230 Published March 10th, 10:36am pst read ( words) Past entries "Still 3-9, 11:13am. Soon we will change from pst to pdt. Shit. I can't get all that shit out of my fucking head. None of it. Nothing. Yesterday was a prime example of how weak and frail I have become. Just fifteen minutes and I experienced flashes of the past and a striking comparison to the present. This is not going to go away. One of my auctions just ended a short time ago, was paid instantly, and it's already labeled and on the mailbox to head out today. Very nice. The other auction has grown in price dramatically in just one day. I also have the usual crap finished. Now I don't know what to do other than a continuation of the wallowing. Those two idiots from the second season are on the screen. I remember when we first watched this episode months ago and I was overly concerned about the visuals. We never spoke about it, though, because the story took precedence, I guess. Knowing what goes on inside is not possible and I will not ask. That only leads to disaster. Still, I am sitting here completely alone and the imagery works on my head. Oy, clouds outside are moving here and there and causing the room to continually darken and brighten. All the shades are closed so my television is filled with contrast. The picture washing out will only irritate me. Why do the smallest, simplest little fucking tidbits cause so much worry? I cannot know, so perhaps my psyche automatically generates the worst possibilities. That has taken place so many times that there may be no way around it anymore. When I said 'wallowing', the thinking is what causes such pain. I like to watch my favorite shows, though. Maybe I should go back to the science fiction. Will that be easier? Or will I ruin it? This is fucked. 12:27pm. I wish the sun would either stay visible or go away completely. This dim/bright bullshit is for the birds. I suppose the only thing I can do anymore is continue to slim down my things. The auctions are going very well which means more can go out the door. The little enjoyments -- shrinking as they are -- will have to hold me up. Thinking cannot be stopped, so any other option which brings comfort is going to have to be embraced, be it work or whatever. And I mean work here, not out in the world. I can't go anywhere at this point. Home is too secure. Even with the walls around me and all my usual solace-inducing choices, the issues remain. Whatever I can do to keep my head up is important and shall be observed. As for working within myself to understand why everything cuts me so, only time will tell. I am not hopeful any longer, though. There will be a visit later. Hopefully longer than yesterday. I'll have to keep my fucking trap shut. Wagons... East? Wagons 'ho'? Wagons are destroyed. Stop. 3-10, 3:48am. Something awakened me besides the bathroom. I believe it was a combination of the furnace firing (which it should not in the wee hours of the morning), a strange glow from the other side of the bed and water dripping inside one of the downspouts. My smart thermostat displayed some sort of message and the incorrect time, pressing me to try and focus upon the application on my phone. I killed the heat and tried to lay there but to no avail. Sleep was just not in my future. Here I am. As for the glow, she was asleep with her phone in hand and lighting up one of the sheets. Splendid. Holy crap is it ever raining right now. A movie up there from eighty-seven. I recall knowing it well just a few years later when the glow began. This is one of my very favorite films of all time. And the glow. Everything was there, in place. We watched this together many times. Who cares? I didn't even mention the title. We watched another couple of episodes yesterday afternoon. The visit was nice and seemed to propel me up and out of my typical din and into the story. I had the room darkened a bit to accentuate the screen, and coupled with the clouds, the lack of light provided a feeling of being somewhere else for a while. No difficulty to speak of, either. My head was relaxed, mostly. Mostly. My only wish today is the ability to maintain some kind of schedule, yet nothing strict. I just have to pick a few things and then accomplish them before falling on my face. That typically happens after the normal daily tasks are complete and I realize the free time to do as I please. Well, the shit enters my head often enough for me to already know I will drop at some point each weekday. I don't believe there will ever be any solution to so much concern over daily life. If the clock does not scream at me too early, I may be able to branch out some and keep my brain from descending. Some of the crap was spinning circles inside shortly after I awakened this morning. Too damned early, but sometimes there is nothing I can do about it. Nearly out of energy these days, and feeling as if I am sitting atop a mountain of problems all by myself. And yes, I realize I am alone here by choice. Shut up. Lots of crap was in my head, really. Not just the difficulties which have been expanding since last year. I was thinking of a project idea from yesterday, the rain falling outside, why her phone was glowing so early in the morning, and things I wished to do today. All that was swirling over and over, and likely had a hand in my being restless enough to preclude sleep. Now I feel like crap. Today will likely be pretty mellow as a result. I do not enjoy this early business. Maybe I'll cut the evening short later and rest more. Right now I don't have the capacity to calculate my way out of a wet paper bag. Tired, in more ways than one. I don't know what to do anymore. Keep selling stuff, I guess. There is a point each day -- yesterday was a fine example -- when I actually feel pretty damned good about being here to care for the house and such. Right around ten or so, my brain kicks up a notch, I (sometimes) pour the dish cocktail, and then grab the remote to expand my entertainment from the living room to the kitchen. Once everything is in place, I feel right at home. It's a little boost that may not have existed at all had it not been for the situation since last spring. The only downside is it does not last very long. I begin to feel the effects of the vodka and then calm a bit before moving on to other projects. The short period after moving into the kitchen for work is really nice. Maybe I'll try to attach the feeling to other aspects of my day. I have to do something, though. That is certain. Otherwise I'll just fall down every day and remain there for the duration. This episode of the second show originally aired just a week after my twenty-third birthday. The glow. The shining years. I was not watching this at the time, however. I did not faithfully view the series until a year or more later. Likely the fourth season was when we watched as a couple. The problem from two days ago is still in mind. In fact, that was one item helping the prevention of my falling back asleep a little while ago. I could not get the incident out of my head. I suppose the only upside is it does not feel so harsh now, just over an hour later. What took place at the time was minuscule, only later did it congeal into something much worse. Memories of how I strolled around my place of work years ago, the feeling that I belonged to something important, and my motivation to both push circumstances around to my advantage and sit relaxed more than I am capable lately. The difference just since this time last year is unreal and hard to swallow. I don't even believe it half the time. That short period of time two days back is working on my head and keeping the desire to learn at bay right now. I almost feel as if I do not deserve to improve due to sliding backward for nearly twelve months. Allowing it to happen, really. I did not lift a fucking finger to change anything and moved right into a position to be comfortable. What took place Monday keeps slapping me. Over and over, but I still doubt any good will come of it. There were two different facets to that afternoon. One is above, and the other must remain hidden from view. I really can't go into it, but suffice to say it was a glaring problem and had the two written all over. That was partly the reasoning behind me having so much trouble later on Monday and part of yesterday. I cannot pass anything along or let it go. I just keep seeing and feeling more and more each week. Everything presses. It all lifts me up to this chair, too. Honestly, and as much as I wished to rid myself of the drill press, if I had it to do over again I never would have listed the fucking thing. The trouble has not been worth the benefit. Eh... Something else would have come along and floored me anyway. Doesn't matter. Doomed to feel this way for the duration. Losing energy, steadily. 5:31am. Sometimes everything is just shit. That short event Monday should not be doing this to me, although I understand how I've changed since last year. Weaker and much more worried all the time. Still, I reacted badly -- albeit delayed -- by becoming overly concerned just as I did with everything after that fucking visit to the valley a while back. I just can't get past that. It permeates everything and often leaves me unable to think at all, and then the tiniest reference will propel my head into the exosphere like a fucking rocket. Once there, I am incapable of any clear thinking or accomplishing the simplest of tasks until such time as I can calm down. There was something else yesterday that I seemed to have forgotten, too. Something small. I can't remember shit anymore. Whatever. The fact is I retain too much for a normal person's mind and cling to passing thoughts as if they are gospel. I am so fucking tired that I cannot even get the point across. Drained. I can't talk to anyone, bring anything specific here, nothing. I am stuck, all by myself and worn out beyond belief. Monday did not do this exclusively. Many days have contributed, along with words and phrases which likely would not affect another person on this earth. Only me. The theatre again. Yep... Always there cutting me to ribbons and providing just enough of a push to ensure that I fail to relax and enjoy anything without a preemptive guard. And then the clues and subsequent bullshit I have had to endure. That is the fault of others, not me. I am many things, but not full of shit... Ever. The more I think about Monday, the more all the events of the past come back and stab me. Switch, please. Damn it. Still dark outside. Today. The routine and perhaps one more auction listing. The last two went nuts, so I'm motivated to get some more stuff out the door. A bit of prep work in the garage, too. Yesterday I had the idea for a clothing rack that can swing up and out of the way when not in use. Parts and material will be coming to the porch this week and I need to do some woodwork in support of the plan. The end result will be more floor space. Very good. I really need positives right now. At least something to remove me from this throne for a time. Tired. I have to keep focusing upon what has been heading out of the garage. There was so much crap stored that I did not know where to begin last month. Now? Much better but still a ways to go before I am satisfied. If I see something that needs to go away, it goes quickly. Even the donations, although I'd rather see them go to someone with a need. We just don't have anywhere to drop things off now. But I can get out there again and work toward freeing up space even further than I already have. Maybe if the weather calms I can connect the drain and run some wash, too. I won't know until later. The light is coming up. 6:22am. All those words and situations have summed inside now. I know what goes on, too. I fucking know it after years of observing people and their reactions to stimuli. Nothing anyone can say or do will change my feelings, in part due to fear and also because of the way in which I think. As much as I keep hidden both here and in daily conversation, there is no remaining doubt that the average person does the same to some extent. Natural? Of course, but it drives me out of my head too often. I cannot let anything go and just relax. Always on guard, always looking and listening, and eventually I find reason to recoil. I am not properly equipped to rationalize those little things from the past, and even less so of the present. The motivation for continuing to bring up difficulties should be apparent by now. Yesterday all the shit in my head led to the thought of really trying to keep busy. Sometimes it helps, but other times I cannot find the drive to begin. I did not go very far beyond the norm for a weekday. Oy, there is Allie with her big eyes again. Whatever. As far as keeping myself occupied when I have otherwise fallen down over any number of troubles, I just have to take it one step at a time. Little goals, perhaps. I don't want to have to resort to the beer and woodwork like last year. Much was accomplished, but I still felt so fearful that extraction of worry never happened. And then that phrase in the garage. Fell. It made me angry and the work continued. I don't know if any of it was good or not. Piled on top is the thought that the current daily routine is all I may have for the rest of my life and the conclusion is very bad. I don't even think I can continue the fiction. Or end it, really. The story developed early last year as I dreamed of the past and wished to craft something similar, yet fantasy-like. A journey of self that involved some real experiences. The way I feel now is different. I worry about the two all the time now. Every fucking day and many hours of each. The story suffered delays and then fell flat during the summer. The two took over in all haste. Getting back a measure of inspiration no longer seems possible because I cannot concentrate enough to form one fucking fictional sentence. Ugh. The layout, title and images are there on a fresh page. No words beyond. I don't have them anymore. That means the biggest point of reference in the last several years -- Jaime -- has become equally stagnant. Not good. I keep going on and on about other shit. Asking others to alter themselves or their behavior for my benefit and comfort is not fair, however I do know it is natural to 'adapt' to another person when caring for them. Natural. I believe such a fact is the mindset of many people. The good in the idea does not apply to me, though. I cannot ask for much because the other side is very different and quite demanding. Everyone makes their own choice, and as far as relating said choice to me... Well, nothing can ever be enough. With or without such alterations, thoughts remain. And I cannot know. That's where the trust comes in. Remember? I've gone over all this crap before but felt compelled to repeat it today since my head is already blown to pieces. So tired. Sitting here, still. And I am not referring to the fucking sofa, either. Tired. I think another watch is on the block today. I have no reason to hang on to so many things these days, anyway. It will go, along with another knife and possibly some of my titanium items. Paring down happens in more than one department. Sleepy. Almost time for me to get up and prepare a few things for her to bring to work. Afterward I will probably take it easy with the physical stuff due to not feeling rested this morning. Pause. 8:07am and alone. The rest of this day had better prove interesting, at least. I am in no mood for more shit. I am going to fully disassemble the drums and store them for whatever duration brings an idea. I tried listing them twice to no avail. Not one inquiry. So, they stay, but out of the way. I can then work more on the old office and clean the floor. Dinner tonight will include artichokes, meaning one more project today. I will trim and boil them for later broiling. I may not feel like making the satay, though. Wow this just sucks out loud. Rising from the bed so early is never good for me, and today is no different. It feels worse, really. All this time to myself and very little drive inside. I can't stand this shit. The two never lets up and has risen to the peak of importance and preoccupation within life. No getting around it any longer, meaning I have to choose between becoming a complete wreck and totally withdrawn or lashing out and shoving everyone away with my harsh, forceful nature. Neither is good, yet one will doubtless happen very soon. Such a shitty day so far, and all of it in my head. The lack of sleep is probably not the fault of mine or others, just a circumstance I have to fucking deal with. I am going to try focusing upon what ideas I have for this day, and then take time to relax a little. I have never been a nap person, though. It will mess up my night, likely even more than the previous. I'll have to stay busy, I guess. Not easy. Considering the power of what is in my brain, anything beyond wallowing and becoming liquored up could be a tall order. Today will be a test. Everything is bothering me. Maybe I'll get a pizza for lunch. All this exhaustion is not surprising anymore. I've tried and tried to understand what goes on inside me during difficult situations, along with the reasoning behind how they develop in the first place, and to this very day I still don't believe anyone else is at fault. Even the words and observations which have sent me flying in terrible directions -- altered, candy-coated or otherwise -- do not carry such weight unless I give it to them. Yes, I know the behaviors are often changed for the good of another. I know it well because I've done it. That is a door. On one side is the truth, and on the other? A fabrication created for good reason. Yes, I said that. Good reason. It means there is caring involved. Unfortunately, I cannot move past the idea in the first place... The one which was eased by the caring. It is too much. The idea took place no matter the consequences to another. I've seen it all too often. The clues and the words. All I can do is avoid the eyes. They will display the caring and throw me to the wind like so much paper. The foxes are not the problem. I am the problem. The caring may as well not exist at all. There are differences, things I cannot be. Fact of life. I am me, that is it for all time. No matter what I do, say, hear or believe, still me. I can't do a fucking thing about it. Inside are broken parts which amplify everything and line it all up in such a way so as to cause distress, worry, and introversion. My being is more turned inward than ever in life. Fifty fucking years. Little situations have arisen and gone away, but now everything has been positioned and poised to destroy me. Only one decision remains... Gush and die, or keep it away from others and die anyway. Candy-coated. Softened like ice cream in warm weather. Hidden. Locked away, I am sure, from those of us who will run and then become dust due to what is now a lifetime bereft of the ability to smooth it all and rise above. Too much now. Just too fucking much. I can't handle it. The two is killing me, but the source is mine. People are going to feel whatever and from wherever. I just can't fucking handle it. And now I see a proximity to revealing too much. Done. I have to stop this shit for now. Becoming angry. Turning to animosity like never before. Maybe one day I will embrace the idea that the words are real. Until then, I am a basket case and will remain as such until something proves otherwise. Wrecked and running out of reasons. If they are indeed real? Dead. 296. She is inside."
March 10th, 2021 10:36am pst
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning
The Throne of Enervation
Mature content No. 230 Published March 10th, 10:36am pst read ( words) Past entries
"Still 3-9, 11:13am. Soon we will change from pst to pdt. Shit. I can't get all that shit out of my fucking head. None of it. Nothing. Yesterday was a prime example of how weak and frail I have become. Just fifteen minutes and I experienced flashes of the past and a striking comparison to the present. This is not going to go away. One of my auctions just ended a short time ago, was paid instantly, and it's already labeled and on the mailbox to head out today. Very nice. The other auction has grown in price dramatically in just one day. I also have the usual crap finished. Now I don't know what to do other than a continuation of the wallowing. Those two idiots from the second season are on the screen. I remember when we first watched this episode months ago and I was overly concerned about the visuals. We never spoke about it, though, because the story took precedence, I guess. Knowing what goes on inside is not possible and I will not ask. That only leads to disaster. Still, I am sitting here completely alone and the imagery works on my head. Oy, clouds outside are moving here and there and causing the room to continually darken and brighten. All the shades are closed so my television is filled with contrast. The picture washing out will only irritate me. Why do the smallest, simplest little fucking tidbits cause so much worry? I cannot know, so perhaps my psyche automatically generates the worst possibilities. That has taken place so many times that there may be no way around it anymore. When I said 'wallowing', the thinking is what causes such pain. I like to watch my favorite shows, though. Maybe I should go back to the science fiction. Will that be easier? Or will I ruin it? This is fucked. 12:27pm. I wish the sun would either stay visible or go away completely. This dim/bright bullshit is for the birds. I suppose the only thing I can do anymore is continue to slim down my things. The auctions are going very well which means more can go out the door. The little enjoyments -- shrinking as they are -- will have to hold me up. Thinking cannot be stopped, so any other option which brings comfort is going to have to be embraced, be it work or whatever. And I mean work here, not out in the world. I can't go anywhere at this point. Home is too secure. Even with the walls around me and all my usual solace-inducing choices, the issues remain. Whatever I can do to keep my head up is important and shall be observed. As for working within myself to understand why everything cuts me so, only time will tell. I am not hopeful any longer, though. There will be a visit later. Hopefully longer than yesterday. I'll have to keep my fucking trap shut. Wagons... East? Wagons 'ho'? Wagons are destroyed. Stop. 3-10, 3:48am. Something awakened me besides the bathroom. I believe it was a combination of the furnace firing (which it should not in the wee hours of the morning), a strange glow from the other side of the bed and water dripping inside one of the downspouts. My smart thermostat displayed some sort of message and the incorrect time, pressing me to try and focus upon the application on my phone. I killed the heat and tried to lay there but to no avail. Sleep was just not in my future. Here I am. As for the glow, she was asleep with her phone in hand and lighting up one of the sheets. Splendid. Holy crap is it ever raining right now. A movie up there from eighty-seven. I recall knowing it well just a few years later when the glow began. This is one of my very favorite films of all time. And the glow. Everything was there, in place. We watched this together many times. Who cares? I didn't even mention the title. We watched another couple of episodes yesterday afternoon. The visit was nice and seemed to propel me up and out of my typical din and into the story. I had the room darkened a bit to accentuate the screen, and coupled with the clouds, the lack of light provided a feeling of being somewhere else for a while. No difficulty to speak of, either. My head was relaxed, mostly. Mostly.
My only wish today is the ability to maintain some kind of schedule, yet nothing strict. I just have to pick a few things and then accomplish them before falling on my face. That typically happens after the normal daily tasks are complete and I realize the free time to do as I please. Well, the shit enters my head often enough for me to already know I will drop at some point each weekday. I don't believe there will ever be any solution to so much concern over daily life. If the clock does not scream at me too early, I may be able to branch out some and keep my brain from descending. Some of the crap was spinning circles inside shortly after I awakened this morning. Too damned early, but sometimes there is nothing I can do about it. Nearly out of energy these days, and feeling as if I am sitting atop a mountain of problems all by myself. And yes, I realize I am alone here by choice. Shut up. Lots of crap was in my head, really. Not just the difficulties which have been expanding since last year. I was thinking of a project idea from yesterday, the rain falling outside, why her phone was glowing so early in the morning, and things I wished to do today. All that was swirling over and over, and likely had a hand in my being restless enough to preclude sleep. Now I feel like crap. Today will likely be pretty mellow as a result. I do not enjoy this early business. Maybe I'll cut the evening short later and rest more. Right now I don't have the capacity to calculate my way out of a wet paper bag. Tired, in more ways than one. I don't know what to do anymore. Keep selling stuff, I guess. There is a point each day -- yesterday was a fine example -- when I actually feel pretty damned good about being here to care for the house and such. Right around ten or so, my brain kicks up a notch, I (sometimes) pour the dish cocktail, and then grab the remote to expand my entertainment from the living room to the kitchen. Once everything is in place, I feel right at home. It's a little boost that may not have existed at all had it not been for the situation since last spring. The only downside is it does not last very long. I begin to feel the effects of the vodka and then calm a bit before moving on to other projects. The short period after moving into the kitchen for work is really nice. Maybe I'll try to attach the feeling to other aspects of my day. I have to do something, though. That is certain. Otherwise I'll just fall down every day and remain there for the duration. This episode of the second show originally aired just a week after my twenty-third birthday. The glow. The shining years. I was not watching this at the time, however. I did not faithfully view the series until a year or more later. Likely the fourth season was when we watched as a couple. The problem from two days ago is still in mind. In fact, that was one item helping the prevention of my falling back asleep a little while ago. I could not get the incident out of my head. I suppose the only upside is it does not feel so harsh now, just over an hour later. What took place at the time was minuscule, only later did it congeal into something much worse. Memories of how I strolled around my place of work years ago, the feeling that I belonged to something important, and my motivation to both push circumstances around to my advantage and sit relaxed more than I am capable lately. The difference just since this time last year is unreal and hard to swallow. I don't even believe it half the time. That short period of time two days back is working on my head and keeping the desire to learn at bay right now. I almost feel as if I do not deserve to improve due to sliding backward for nearly twelve months. Allowing it to happen, really. I did not lift a fucking finger to change anything and moved right into a position to be comfortable. What took place Monday keeps slapping me. Over and over, but I still doubt any good will come of it. There were two different facets to that afternoon. One is above, and the other must remain hidden from view. I really can't go into it, but suffice to say it was a glaring problem and had the two written all over. That was partly the reasoning behind me having so much trouble later on Monday and part of yesterday. I cannot pass anything along or let it go. I just keep seeing and feeling more and more each week. Everything presses. It all lifts me up to this chair, too. Honestly, and as much as I wished to rid myself of the drill press, if I had it to do over again I never would have listed the fucking thing. The trouble has not been worth the benefit. Eh... Something else would have come along and floored me anyway. Doesn't matter. Doomed to feel this way for the duration. Losing energy, steadily.
5:31am. Sometimes everything is just shit. That short event Monday should not be doing this to me, although I understand how I've changed since last year. Weaker and much more worried all the time. Still, I reacted badly -- albeit delayed -- by becoming overly concerned just as I did with everything after that fucking visit to the valley a while back. I just can't get past that. It permeates everything and often leaves me unable to think at all, and then the tiniest reference will propel my head into the exosphere like a fucking rocket. Once there, I am incapable of any clear thinking or accomplishing the simplest of tasks until such time as I can calm down. There was something else yesterday that I seemed to have forgotten, too. Something small. I can't remember shit anymore. Whatever. The fact is I retain too much for a normal person's mind and cling to passing thoughts as if they are gospel. I am so fucking tired that I cannot even get the point across. Drained. I can't talk to anyone, bring anything specific here, nothing. I am stuck, all by myself and worn out beyond belief. Monday did not do this exclusively. Many days have contributed, along with words and phrases which likely would not affect another person on this earth. Only me. The theatre again. Yep... Always there cutting me to ribbons and providing just enough of a push to ensure that I fail to relax and enjoy anything without a preemptive guard. And then the clues and subsequent bullshit I have had to endure. That is the fault of others, not me. I am many things, but not full of shit... Ever. The more I think about Monday, the more all the events of the past come back and stab me. Switch, please. Damn it. Still dark outside. Today. The routine and perhaps one more auction listing. The last two went nuts, so I'm motivated to get some more stuff out the door. A bit of prep work in the garage, too. Yesterday I had the idea for a clothing rack that can swing up and out of the way when not in use. Parts and material will be coming to the porch this week and I need to do some woodwork in support of the plan. The end result will be more floor space. Very good. I really need positives right now. At least something to remove me from this throne for a time. Tired. I have to keep focusing upon what has been heading out of the garage. There was so much crap stored that I did not know where to begin last month. Now? Much better but still a ways to go before I am satisfied. If I see something that needs to go away, it goes quickly. Even the donations, although I'd rather see them go to someone with a need. We just don't have anywhere to drop things off now. But I can get out there again and work toward freeing up space even further than I already have. Maybe if the weather calms I can connect the drain and run some wash, too. I won't know until later. The light is coming up. 6:22am. All those words and situations have summed inside now. I know what goes on, too. I fucking know it after years of observing people and their reactions to stimuli. Nothing anyone can say or do will change my feelings, in part due to fear and also because of the way in which I think. As much as I keep hidden both here and in daily conversation, there is no remaining doubt that the average person does the same to some extent. Natural? Of course, but it drives me out of my head too often. I cannot let anything go and just relax. Always on guard, always looking and listening, and eventually I find reason to recoil. I am not properly equipped to rationalize those little things from the past, and even less so of the present. The motivation for continuing to bring up difficulties should be apparent by now.
Yesterday all the shit in my head led to the thought of really trying to keep busy. Sometimes it helps, but other times I cannot find the drive to begin. I did not go very far beyond the norm for a weekday. Oy, there is Allie with her big eyes again. Whatever. As far as keeping myself occupied when I have otherwise fallen down over any number of troubles, I just have to take it one step at a time. Little goals, perhaps. I don't want to have to resort to the beer and woodwork like last year. Much was accomplished, but I still felt so fearful that extraction of worry never happened. And then that phrase in the garage. Fell. It made me angry and the work continued. I don't know if any of it was good or not. Piled on top is the thought that the current daily routine is all I may have for the rest of my life and the conclusion is very bad. I don't even think I can continue the fiction. Or end it, really. The story developed early last year as I dreamed of the past and wished to craft something similar, yet fantasy-like. A journey of self that involved some real experiences. The way I feel now is different. I worry about the two all the time now. Every fucking day and many hours of each. The story suffered delays and then fell flat during the summer. The two took over in all haste. Getting back a measure of inspiration no longer seems possible because I cannot concentrate enough to form one fucking fictional sentence. Ugh. The layout, title and images are there on a fresh page. No words beyond. I don't have them anymore. That means the biggest point of reference in the last several years -- Jaime -- has become equally stagnant. Not good. I keep going on and on about other shit. Asking others to alter themselves or their behavior for my benefit and comfort is not fair, however I do know it is natural to 'adapt' to another person when caring for them. Natural. I believe such a fact is the mindset of many people. The good in the idea does not apply to me, though. I cannot ask for much because the other side is very different and quite demanding. Everyone makes their own choice, and as far as relating said choice to me... Well, nothing can ever be enough. With or without such alterations, thoughts remain. And I cannot know. That's where the trust comes in. Remember? I've gone over all this crap before but felt compelled to repeat it today since my head is already blown to pieces. So tired. Sitting here, still. And I am not referring to the fucking sofa, either. Tired. I think another watch is on the block today. I have no reason to hang on to so many things these days, anyway. It will go, along with another knife and possibly some of my titanium items. Paring down happens in more than one department. Sleepy. Almost time for me to get up and prepare a few things for her to bring to work. Afterward I will probably take it easy with the physical stuff due to not feeling rested this morning. Pause. 8:07am and alone. The rest of this day had better prove interesting, at least. I am in no mood for more shit. I am going to fully disassemble the drums and store them for whatever duration brings an idea. I tried listing them twice to no avail. Not one inquiry. So, they stay, but out of the way. I can then work more on the old office and clean the floor. Dinner tonight will include artichokes, meaning one more project today. I will trim and boil them for later broiling. I may not feel like making the satay, though. Wow this just sucks out loud. Rising from the bed so early is never good for me, and today is no different. It feels worse, really. All this time to myself and very little drive inside. I can't stand this shit. The two never lets up and has risen to the peak of importance and preoccupation within life. No getting around it any longer, meaning I have to choose between becoming a complete wreck and totally withdrawn or lashing out and shoving everyone away with my harsh, forceful nature. Neither is good, yet one will doubtless happen very soon. Such a shitty day so far, and all of it in my head. The lack of sleep is probably not the fault of mine or others, just a circumstance I have to fucking deal with.
I am going to try focusing upon what ideas I have for this day, and then take time to relax a little. I have never been a nap person, though. It will mess up my night, likely even more than the previous. I'll have to stay busy, I guess. Not easy. Considering the power of what is in my brain, anything beyond wallowing and becoming liquored up could be a tall order. Today will be a test. Everything is bothering me. Maybe I'll get a pizza for lunch. All this exhaustion is not surprising anymore. I've tried and tried to understand what goes on inside me during difficult situations, along with the reasoning behind how they develop in the first place, and to this very day I still don't believe anyone else is at fault. Even the words and observations which have sent me flying in terrible directions -- altered, candy-coated or otherwise -- do not carry such weight unless I give it to them. Yes, I know the behaviors are often changed for the good of another. I know it well because I've done it. That is a door. On one side is the truth, and on the other? A fabrication created for good reason. Yes, I said that. Good reason. It means there is caring involved. Unfortunately, I cannot move past the idea in the first place... The one which was eased by the caring. It is too much. The idea took place no matter the consequences to another. I've seen it all too often. The clues and the words. All I can do is avoid the eyes. They will display the caring and throw me to the wind like so much paper. The foxes are not the problem. I am the problem. The caring may as well not exist at all. There are differences, things I cannot be. Fact of life. I am me, that is it for all time. No matter what I do, say, hear or believe, still me. I can't do a fucking thing about it. Inside are broken parts which amplify everything and line it all up in such a way so as to cause distress, worry, and introversion. My being is more turned inward than ever in life. Fifty fucking years. Little situations have arisen and gone away, but now everything has been positioned and poised to destroy me. Only one decision remains... Gush and die, or keep it away from others and die anyway. Candy-coated. Softened like ice cream in warm weather. Hidden. Locked away, I am sure, from those of us who will run and then become dust due to what is now a lifetime bereft of the ability to smooth it all and rise above. Too much now. Just too fucking much. I can't handle it. The two is killing me, but the source is mine. People are going to feel whatever and from wherever. I just can't fucking handle it. And now I see a proximity to revealing too much. Done. I have to stop this shit for now. Becoming angry. Turning to animosity like never before. Maybe one day I will embrace the idea that the words are real. Until then, I am a basket case and will remain as such until something proves otherwise. Wrecked and running out of reasons. If they are indeed real? Dead. 296. She is inside."
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