Toto Mature content No. 244 Published May 11th, 2021 6:57am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Into the evening with my mood already shit and my sense of taste is fading. Voodoo? No one knows. The one certainty is me sliding downward at an increasing rate. Removing one of my damned-few enjoyments at this point in life is going to cause bad things to happen. No one will wish to be within earshot of me any longer. Believe it. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. I cut and mounted the pantry doors today, the only rub being that I did not anticipate the cabinet being a fucking parallelogram. The measurements were correct and my drawing sound, yet the fitting was not good. I had to rework several variables before they operated as they should. Now I just need to add closures and handles. I also began work on a silly box to enclose the miter saw in order to keep the dust to a minimum. In the grand scheme it is unnecessary, but projects are an end unto themselves. Keeping busy is remaining alive. 5-5. I suppose keeping my mouth shut most of the time can spare others the difficulty of listening to me. Less and less reasons for doing anything by the book seem to be in my daily path. This is going to force me to reevaluate many parts of life. Last night was the same as the previous several. I may have to focus my intake of food on lunch from now on. If I cannot enjoy the food, I will not eat. Ugh. Hours ahead for whatever. 'Man is driven in toto by his insecurities.' I will continue doing whatever it is I am doing and see what comes down the pike. There is plenty of media available for me to drown within, lots of projects and little jobs, and the daily maintenance of this house to keep me occupied for the time being. I still don't know about the job possibility which should come along in the next month or more, though. And regardless of the opportunity, I do not feel that I can rise to the occasion at all. Turning it down might be the only choice considering my present condition. Damn, but I don't know of what I am capable anymore. I mentioned some time ago that I fear reentering the daily workforce. That was not some offhand observation, either. It is serious, and could possibly curtail the future. I will have to be careful. Right now each day must be detailed, scrutinized and cherished for the time available. Maximized to a point, I suppose. These times are going to fall by the wayside at some point in the future and I have to keep it in mind, just like a year ago at the outset of the first shelter order which I already miss. The period was unique and unlike anything ever in my life. I can still feel a bit of it, alas with the passage of too much time I will lose it all. Work or otherwise, bright or dim future, I simply must think of each hour right now. Every day. I just realized there is little point in typing words anymore. I guess I'll finish this and then leave the keyboard alone for a while. Switch, for Chrissakes. Lock the door. Drop the shade. Raise the volume. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Work in the garage will probably continue today, doors closed. The weather is cool and overcast so I won't be able to have everything open. I like shutting the world out anyway, so perhaps the garage will be fine. Lots I can do out there. Busy is important when I feel this way. The crap can be shoved aside for a while. Plus, I still have part of the routine left. I have parts ordered to fix up the cabinet doors, the new model arrived yesterday, and the little nagging projects are awaiting attention. Something will materialize here soon so I can get moving. One of the episodes the other day is still ringing my bell. It relates to a subject and condition from some years ago which stung even though I had been alone. I just cannot help but worry about what may be going on, yet knowing could be worse. Back and forth with that one, honestly. The episode brought the subject back to the forefront and now I cannot get past it. At least, not yet. I guess I had forgotten the situation which played out on the screen. It's been years since I watched this series. And though I knew there would be difficulty, the good far outweighs the bad, for sure. My head will be fucked up anyway... May as well watch and try to deal with everything. I feel weakened again. Not good. At least nothing was clearly present. Cryptic? Live with it. I still had some steam early this year. I really did. That fucking slam a short time later really stuck with me and I can't seem to avoid tons of reminders every damned day. When I think of that situation turning to shit, I recall the million other tiny details which play out over and over and push me down. The information and lifestyle had been ingrained for decades. The scene in the episode from a couple of days back is completely unrelated, yet piled on top. The steam valve is failing and leaking all over the place. Sometimes I have no clue as to how I get anything done these days. Maybe the booze is helping. 'Opposite thinking, lieutenant.' Fuck, I don't know. The examples have been too many for listing here. A couple of years ago (I think) was a major problem while out and about. I didn't put very much thought into it at the time, however. Those two words all that time later (last year) cemented the idea of a particular type of fear and dredged the initial situation right up out of the din of memory. Now it is nearly a daily thought. Even yesterday while watching the fucking food network of all things, my head wrapped itself tightly and I had to glue my fucking lips together to avoid a very harsh development. I cannot be unfair, no matter how much I hurt inside. All of that began to congeal earlier this year, and then some force washed away my past and replaced it with shit. Possibly the worst fucking turn on top of everything else. That card flipped over and killed me inside. Very little steam now. I am beginning to understand those people who claim the whole world is against them. That is unrealistic, of course, however sometimes I suppose everything feels that way because finding improvement can be pushed by more bad taking place. A little too much of that and there is the conclusion. Suspicion, anyway. I know the world is not against me because I am but a speck. Nothing is against me. Influenced, yes, but to believe the 'world' has screwed with a person's life is ridiculous. No one is so important. Part of this shit is the fact that I never retreat from being on edge. It is constant. Rather than relaxing and watching the world go by, I sit and scrutinize every last detail just in case something comes along to hurt me. All the shit from four decades ago right up to early this year has formed me into a ball of perpetual analysis and worry. I am fucking exhausted, but know of no other way to live anymore. We just passed 20000 lines since the outset of this fucked up year, in case anyone gives a crap. I don't, but it's a line. 'All the conversation I get around here, I might as well be a fuckin' dildo.' Oh, Tony. Broken inside, no shadow of a doubt. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. From one loss... I am in the image above. Might have been zero-four when they shot that from a helicopter. I felt important, relevant, and confident. All three? Gone. All those little jabs that date back to the phrase in the theatre still swirl on a daily basis. 'Keywords' barely scratched the surface. I keep thinking of the scene the other day and so much turmoil, and then relate it to something over which I have zero control. Society is partially at fault, as is the whole of the male population. Everyone heads in the same direction on such a subject. They run with it, always, because every incident is made to be either funny or threatening, and then the confidence flares. Euphemism leads them along like puppies on a series leash. I can do absolutely nothing about the big picture, which should indicate the idea of being comfortable within myself, right? Nope. It all keeps pushing, adds to those moments I cannot forget, eventually burying me. I am sitting here at this moment a product of everything. Knowing could be worse, too. Not knowing is frightening, although there is no worry over reaction of any kind. This is turning into an impossible conundrum. That is part of the reason for my need to stop typing. Nothing is being solved, I continue to repeat myself, and the site grows out of control. The jabs and words are driving this. In toto... No shit. Thanks, Herman. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. I can't even use the rest of the keywords. Too specific. Nice. 5-6. Every day is the same. Yesterday morning I thought it was a certain day, and then later I figured it was a different day. Afterward I learned it was neither. I am going nowhere and making those around me uncomfortable. On the one hand I don't care, but on the other -- more often than I would care to admit -- I must. Whatever has been shaping me for the last thirteen months is not their fault. Blame cannot be localized anymore. These days have all bled together into one long, sordid period in which I have been slowly going downhill. This may never end. There is a switch off this route, too. I just don't have the strength to choose it right now. I've said all that before. Remember? Another reason to cease typing. The same crap over and over. I just don't know what else to do. 5-7. Toto. The whole town is in this film. Geez. Kate, too. But also Charles Dance and Tobias Menzies. Good stuff, I think. Never saw past the first one. Too much trouble sometimes. Like watching the vampires, I suppose. That one is a guarantee. Speaking of shows? We haven't been able to continue our series since Tuesday and today is Friday. Maybe later. I both fear and look forward to the time. And no one knows why. Yesterday I hit a wall and had a hell of a time deciding between drinking and wallowing or being productive. Well, the booze remained corked and I went out to work on stuff in the garage. More signs on the table and a box I built the other day, the switches which now move the clothing rack up and down, and the latch for the new cabinet doors. That one could not be finished because the wood glue must dry. I might mess around with it later if the mood strikes. The whole garage is coming along nicely, too. Lots of improvements mean I can spend time out there working with pretty much anything and the space is comfortable. The television and sound out there have all but squashed the idea of music these days. A year ago when I cut the social media and became pissed off, the music was every day and quite loud. Now? My surrogate friends and family keeping me company from a place I desperately need to be. The point is I pushed the feelings of dread aside and went out there to remain positive and enjoy my projects. It worked. Something which does not often take place is that same choice going in the right direction. Many days have found me lost in a haze just after lunch. Working on that stuff yesterday helped me to stay on track all the way into the early evening. Afterward, of course, my sense of taste went away and we had dinner. That is the one time each day when the fears calm. I don't know why, but they do. If I could just taste the fucking food, my mood would improve. Overall, not bad. Fear is worse than an inability to enjoy food. There is still lunch, right? I intend to move along and pick up where I left off yesterday once the morning crap is out of the way. In about an hour I'll have the day ahead for whatever seems best. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. 5-9. Oy fuck, yesterday. Another Goddamned realization in the morning led me to the conclusion that the influences upon the way I think have become so different than those of other people that there is no longer a point in trying to either align or relate. Such an aspect of life is done for all time. The fact is I will remain in this place forever, bouncing between the flashes of desire and the knowledge that everything inside will only worsen. In. Toto. Get it? I need the omnipresence but it does not exist. Yesterday could have been much better with only two small alterations. Unfortunately, nothing which formulates in my brain can come to pass on a given day. Nada. Sitting here this morning with my second cup of coffee and thinking of the situations played out for years are all I have left. Memories. The place within which I am now permanently mired is completely different, and as I age one more day, everything sticks further. This is not a good situation by any stretch of the word. No one can be there to listen, I am falling a little further each day, and the issues carry right on down the road sans consideration for my well-being. The number of small moments which I enjoyed just a few months ago has decreased by one. I don't fucking need that right now. One down. Four to go. We watched an older film yesterday afternoon... One of my all-time favorites. Completely safe I suppose, yet other troubling thoughts were there from the past. The film is one of a few which were part of the catalyst for my industry dream. Regardless of happy or otherwise, those movies will always generate emotion. So, aside from the story and characters being nearly off-the-scale safe, there was still difficulty. I watched and dreamed of sitting at the dining table in Michigan working on my drawings and the drive back here a short time later. That is always going to happen, meaning I find it preferable to whatever else may come along to trip up my secure feeling. Despite the worry over whatever, I will be watching that film again in roughly a year. Alone, too, just in case I fall apart. Nothing is going to change or improve. I don't know of complete certainties, but the fact is I have seen too many clues and examples throughout the years for me to believe otherwise. Evidence, both directed at me and that which takes place because of me, is the reason. I can't believe anything different is remotely possible, unless one considers the continuing slide. Inevitable and unavoidable. So, I am beginning to see that there is nothing to lose if I let everything go and just throw it all out there. What possible damage could result? Am I not already falling off the edge of the world? And the big fucking question of the universe: Will I or anyone else actually give half a shit about anything I say? ...To another Doubtful. I brought it to mind this morning after dreaming that Jolene kissed me while I had a mouthful of celery. Yep, a complex series of dreams, one of which was over the top. Lately I have been dreaming of my old coworker quite often and am beginning to believe that I really do miss some aspects of that work. Physically I have slid down a lot since leaving the job last year, which means had I continued to work that one aspect of my decline would not have taken place. Interesting. Oh, I'd still be a wreck, just a healthier wreck. The dreams are indicative of the ill-fated fact that I am constantly questioning myself, and in such a respect point directly to the idea that I have prophesied at least one segment of this decline. I cannot spell it out, but at least I know what I've done. Normally, seeing myself as I was and in dreams causes me to feel disdain or disappointment in myself, but lately I do not head in those directions. This is more like depression flaring after visions of wonder and joy are ripped away. And no, Jolene kissing me was not the high point. Sorry. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Today is going to be tough on two levels. Nothing will be the same as this day a week ago, and my head is even more filled with the difficulties inherent in that fateful episode the other day. The imagery is still pushing against my will at each step. There is another face on the television which never caused trouble in the past, yet due to some recent conversation I see it differently. Nothing terrible, but a smidgen nonetheless. I am certain this will continue to happen whenever I go outside the scope of comfortable media. I will get through this day no matter the trials, as well. I always make it to the evening and then the next morning no matter what transpires. Just more information inside, nothing else. The understanding, too. Absent and ridiculous. I cannot explain. Yesterday it became a trial and with two other people here I could not do a fucking thing about it. Nothing. I suffered, just as I am this morning. Like all the issues, there is no solution in reality. Today? The disappointment and depression will be more visible than in the past. I can't do anything about anything these days. Why am I still here? Almost time for me to rise and care for the Sunday business. My usual stuff, plus whatever is necessary to keep my head out of the soil. Little things, nothing major. I may be inspired to clear out some shit if there is room in the garbage. Still no auctions for a while, though. I have to look at the idea more closely. 5-10. Intrinsic. This may be where I drop off a ways. Klingons all over the station. Yikes. All along I had been worried and then the worry went away. Well, it came back a short time later and still in my head. I thought something was missing... There is something missing. Oy, God damn am I overjoyed to have the house to myself in a little while. I need this time to sort out some shit, not the least of which is a series of flashes from the past. I knew of the wonder. It was sparse and still mostly a mystery. Now? I know everything and there is way too much information in my brain for me to relax about it. The worry continues. Ashley flashes, but nothing crazy. Her influence upon my lifestyle is all but gone now. The fact is I am dealing with much on a daily basis and the escape really helps, although one of the two big dreams cannot come to pass so I have to sit on that information I mentioned above. Goofy Leeta again. And Dax is drooling over some big Polynesian guy at her party. Splendid. Anyway, this day is going to be important to me. In roughly an hour I will have the space to hopefully put some of this crap into perspective. The alternative is I stop talking. I have to cease returning myself to that doll so many years ago. The memories are not helping. They may actually prove counterproductive to the joy I am seeking. Unfortunately for me and everyone else, yesterday as the clock moved from afternoon into evening, I realized whatever I may be seeking is probably unreal. I may need to stop everything I am doing. My head moves back in time, returns to the present, and then changes direction again to bring me into the glow or something similar. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. What am I doing, and why? Trying to regain those feelings? Impossible. Trying to recapture some kind of magic? Impossible. Pushing the present into some shape to bring satisfaction? Impossible. What the fuck am I doing? Losing my mind, that's what. Get the fucking bald guy out, already. I guess I have too much information inside to simply let go and relax about possibilities in the future. I can't forget anything. And it keeps coming back to the forefront over and over whenever I am reminded of the past. The reality is I have not been able to squash the two words, that fucking phrase in the theatre, or the fucked up situation which played out in the restaurant of my choice. Oh wait... I choose everything. Almost forgot. The worry started shortly thereafter and combined with way too much bullshit during football season. 'Man is driven in toto by his insecurities.' Man, indeed. That may not be the best example of categorization, but still the guy had a point. I can almost wholly agree, although I do know things come along and trip up such wisdom, both from the inside and outside. External influence cannot be avoided most of the time. I may have been swayed over and over due to being directionless for so long. All the way back to those mint-green three-quarter cut bottoms I spied as I peered down her back and saw a few things I had not considered before that evening. From that point forward I was thinking too much. Not long after the night and underwear in question? A line of dialog. It was tiny back then and I did not consider the scene difficult or uncomfortable in any way because I always watched new movies alone. Year after year went by, I learned much more, and now I see all those words and situations as representative of some twisted competition and causing me endless trouble due to the inability to stop fucking thinking. And I had thought David Fisher was uptight. He can't compare to the extent I am wound up inside. Too much of this for too long has left me as an unrecoverable error. I really need to shove Ashley out the nearest airlock. She was more than seventeen years ago and the entire era is gone for good. Maybe I should not have listened to her in the first place. Remember the blue dress? Ashley wore it. Now it's empty, remember? Do you? The cavern? I'm still in there with all this crap like paperwork spread out all over the floor. Heads nor tails. Told you I was going to drop off. Get used to it. Intrinsic. Precision. And the day is all mine. Until afternoon, anyway. I have a few ideas for the time ahead. Right now? This just in... The problem will never go away because of the passage of time to this point. Everything back whenever. Wherever. Whomever. Right? Get it? All finished and now I have to come up with something else. And that last paragraph is lengthy because I cannot spell it out or I will be ridiculed. No more of that. People must remain in the fucking dark. I've known and seen far too much to simply relax and enjoy life anymore. I will be the same for the duration. Fuck me, anyway. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. So, the days follow a pattern and I can no longer count on a rewarding dinner each evening. Last night was fine because my sense of taste was working. But I can't rely on it anymore. Hit or miss, and mostly miss. The daytime meals will have to take priority and leave me with nothing more than booze in the evenings. Maybe a little booze during the day, too. There are very few enjoyments left these days, so anything with the ability to remove some sharpness will be embraced in spades. I will probably not go above and beyond much, either. Not feeling that shit right now. The comfort comes first. And believe me when I say I was thinking about that statement yesterday and the situation nearly went out the window. I got my arms around it, so no worries, but still... It will return soon enough. That feeling becomes very dire so quickly that I lose track of everything in the world. Overwhelmed, really. And I have no fucking control over it because I am not at fault. What the hell am I saying? Losing it... Whatever. Who cares? The blue dress gone again. My brain is dripping wet and losing mass like a fucking cheesecake on a Death Valley sidewalk. I'm gonna have to do something, yet like every other time I've brought up such a thought the idea never materializes. I spew words, express threats, pull the same shit here, and then eventually backpedal because I don't want to cause others discomfort. Really? What about me? The pattern of my days and routine are going to be all I have, and very soon. Nothing else can enter my little universe anymore. Not a person, an idea... Not even the voodoo. All the while that I am taking care of business here and trying to keep my head up, every fucking reference will come to mind. They never leave. The phrase in the theatre, the two words last year, and that Goddamned fucking series of events and words in the restaurant. There was also the horrid correlation just weeks ago which dredged the worst fucking argument in human history and nearly cost me my very life. I can still see the magazine and hear the yelling. Deep end, here we come. Fuck it. Why not? Is anyone going to take issue with my content or style here? I fucking doubt it. Ownership, people. There is nothing anyone can do about what appears in this domain. Threats and posturing aside, the pattern will continue until I am dust. I cannot deal with all that crap so I'll drown myself in whatever holds the ability to cause either a smile or some comfort. That is all. And I have to stop making mistakes. Can I? Is that realistic? Volume up. 5-11. Cement was poured into one of the gaps in my insides yesterday. The event basically confirmed a combination I have long feared. Above I mentioned the series of words in a restaurant which took place some time ago, and the shit yesterday fused them to the other difficult reference and now I am certain. Confirmation of the worst kind imaginable. Not all is lost, however. Believe it or not, there is still the possibility that some of what I fear is fairly meaningless and trivial. I don't know and will probably never know for sure, but I can't deny that it could be nothing serious. On the other hand, and if my suspicions are correct, this will cause the end of the world. The cement was poured yesterday and there is nothing I can do about it now. You want to talk about the worst possible opposite fucking shitty motherfucking threat of a fear? Well, here it is. I cannot do a fucking thing about any of it because I have no fucking control over anything aside from this little house and what appears here. That is all. Nothing will ever come along and wrap itself in the blue dress, effectively wrapping me in warmth and comfort for all time. Nothing. The incident yesterday absolutely took all of the fear and made it permanent. That kind of revealing situation is something I really did not need at this point in life, but at least I can now simplify a few things. Mainly the way I deal with other people. All fucking two of them. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. The last switch... Intrinsic standards, such as the speed of light through a vacuum or a Cesium beam, are similar to what has been illuminated here in thirteen months. All those essays with titles like flip, turn, black or whatever, had notes of finality. So did a few others which recently popped up here. Well, intrinsic is the word. Unchangeable. Something which can be relied upon regardless of the passage of time. After all the shit spewed here, this is it. I've had it. Nothing has helped. Thinking is worse. Difficulties are expanding. More exploration will accomplish nothing. I'm too tired and worse off now than a year ago. Hell, even a month back. Fucking sick of it. Do you have any suggestions? Ideas? Little tidbits of wisdom or insight? Write them on a scrap of paper and set them afire. I can't do this any longer, but probably will anyway. Same words, more images, less understanding and zero good. This entry is tight for good reason. Rot in hell." 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
Toto Mature content No. 244 Published May 11th, 2021 6:57am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Into the evening with my mood already shit and my sense of taste is fading. Voodoo? No one knows. The one certainty is me sliding downward at an increasing rate. Removing one of my damned-few enjoyments at this point in life is going to cause bad things to happen. No one will wish to be within earshot of me any longer. Believe it. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. I cut and mounted the pantry doors today, the only rub being that I did not anticipate the cabinet being a fucking parallelogram. The measurements were correct and my drawing sound, yet the fitting was not good. I had to rework several variables before they operated as they should. Now I just need to add closures and handles. I also began work on a silly box to enclose the miter saw in order to keep the dust to a minimum. In the grand scheme it is unnecessary, but projects are an end unto themselves. Keeping busy is remaining alive. 5-5. I suppose keeping my mouth shut most of the time can spare others the difficulty of listening to me. Less and less reasons for doing anything by the book seem to be in my daily path. This is going to force me to reevaluate many parts of life. Last night was the same as the previous several. I may have to focus my intake of food on lunch from now on. If I cannot enjoy the food, I will not eat. Ugh. Hours ahead for whatever. 'Man is driven in toto by his insecurities.' I will continue doing whatever it is I am doing and see what comes down the pike. There is plenty of media available for me to drown within, lots of projects and little jobs, and the daily maintenance of this house to keep me occupied for the time being. I still don't know about the job possibility which should come along in the next month or more, though. And regardless of the opportunity, I do not feel that I can rise to the occasion at all. Turning it down might be the only choice considering my present condition. Damn, but I don't know of what I am capable anymore. I mentioned some time ago that I fear reentering the daily workforce. That was not some offhand observation, either. It is serious, and could possibly curtail the future. I will have to be careful. Right now each day must be detailed, scrutinized and cherished for the time available. Maximized to a point, I suppose. These times are going to fall by the wayside at some point in the future and I have to keep it in mind, just like a year ago at the outset of the first shelter order which I already miss. The period was unique and unlike anything ever in my life. I can still feel a bit of it, alas with the passage of too much time I will lose it all. Work or otherwise, bright or dim future, I simply must think of each hour right now. Every day. I just realized there is little point in typing words anymore. I guess I'll finish this and then leave the keyboard alone for a while. Switch, for Chrissakes. Lock the door. Drop the shade. Raise the volume. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Work in the garage will probably continue today, doors closed. The weather is cool and overcast so I won't be able to have everything open. I like shutting the world out anyway, so perhaps the garage will be fine. Lots I can do out there. Busy is important when I feel this way. The crap can be shoved aside for a while. Plus, I still have part of the routine left. I have parts ordered to fix up the cabinet doors, the new model arrived yesterday, and the little nagging projects are awaiting attention. Something will materialize here soon so I can get moving. One of the episodes the other day is still ringing my bell. It relates to a subject and condition from some years ago which stung even though I had been alone. I just cannot help but worry about what may be going on, yet knowing could be worse. Back and forth with that one, honestly. The episode brought the subject back to the forefront and now I cannot get past it. At least, not yet. I guess I had forgotten the situation which played out on the screen. It's been years since I watched this series. And though I knew there would be difficulty, the good far outweighs the bad, for sure. My head will be fucked up anyway... May as well watch and try to deal with everything. I feel weakened again. Not good. At least nothing was clearly present. Cryptic? Live with it. I still had some steam early this year. I really did. That fucking slam a short time later really stuck with me and I can't seem to avoid tons of reminders every damned day. When I think of that situation turning to shit, I recall the million other tiny details which play out over and over and push me down. The information and lifestyle had been ingrained for decades. The scene in the episode from a couple of days back is completely unrelated, yet piled on top. The steam valve is failing and leaking all over the place. Sometimes I have no clue as to how I get anything done these days. Maybe the booze is helping. 'Opposite thinking, lieutenant.' Fuck, I don't know. The examples have been too many for listing here. A couple of years ago (I think) was a major problem while out and about. I didn't put very much thought into it at the time, however. Those two words all that time later (last year) cemented the idea of a particular type of fear and dredged the initial situation right up out of the din of memory. Now it is nearly a daily thought. Even yesterday while watching the fucking food network of all things, my head wrapped itself tightly and I had to glue my fucking lips together to avoid a very harsh development. I cannot be unfair, no matter how much I hurt inside. All of that began to congeal earlier this year, and then some force washed away my past and replaced it with shit. Possibly the worst fucking turn on top of everything else. That card flipped over and killed me inside. Very little steam now. I am beginning to understand those people who claim the whole world is against them. That is unrealistic, of course, however sometimes I suppose everything feels that way because finding improvement can be pushed by more bad taking place. A little too much of that and there is the conclusion. Suspicion, anyway. I know the world is not against me because I am but a speck. Nothing is against me. Influenced, yes, but to believe the 'world' has screwed with a person's life is ridiculous. No one is so important. Part of this shit is the fact that I never retreat from being on edge. It is constant. Rather than relaxing and watching the world go by, I sit and scrutinize every last detail just in case something comes along to hurt me. All the shit from four decades ago right up to early this year has formed me into a ball of perpetual analysis and worry. I am fucking exhausted, but know of no other way to live anymore. We just passed 20000 lines since the outset of this fucked up year, in case anyone gives a crap. I don't, but it's a line. 'All the conversation I get around here, I might as well be a fuckin' dildo.' Oh, Tony. Broken inside, no shadow of a doubt. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. From one loss... I am in the image above. Might have been zero-four when they shot that from a helicopter. I felt important, relevant, and confident. All three? Gone. All those little jabs that date back to the phrase in the theatre still swirl on a daily basis. 'Keywords' barely scratched the surface. I keep thinking of the scene the other day and so much turmoil, and then relate it to something over which I have zero control. Society is partially at fault, as is the whole of the male population. Everyone heads in the same direction on such a subject. They run with it, always, because every incident is made to be either funny or threatening, and then the confidence flares. Euphemism leads them along like puppies on a series leash. I can do absolutely nothing about the big picture, which should indicate the idea of being comfortable within myself, right? Nope. It all keeps pushing, adds to those moments I cannot forget, eventually burying me. I am sitting here at this moment a product of everything. Knowing could be worse, too. Not knowing is frightening, although there is no worry over reaction of any kind. This is turning into an impossible conundrum. That is part of the reason for my need to stop typing. Nothing is being solved, I continue to repeat myself, and the site grows out of control. The jabs and words are driving this. In toto... No shit. Thanks, Herman. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. I can't even use the rest of the keywords. Too specific. Nice. 5-6. Every day is the same. Yesterday morning I thought it was a certain day, and then later I figured it was a different day. Afterward I learned it was neither. I am going nowhere and making those around me uncomfortable. On the one hand I don't care, but on the other -- more often than I would care to admit -- I must. Whatever has been shaping me for the last thirteen months is not their fault. Blame cannot be localized anymore. These days have all bled together into one long, sordid period in which I have been slowly going downhill. This may never end. There is a switch off this route, too. I just don't have the strength to choose it right now. I've said all that before. Remember? Another reason to cease typing. The same crap over and over. I just don't know what else to do. 5-7. Toto. The whole town is in this film. Geez. Kate, too. But also Charles Dance and Tobias Menzies. Good stuff, I think. Never saw past the first one. Too much trouble sometimes. Like watching the vampires, I suppose. That one is a guarantee. Speaking of shows? We haven't been able to continue our series since Tuesday and today is Friday. Maybe later. I both fear and look forward to the time. And no one knows why. Yesterday I hit a wall and had a hell of a time deciding between drinking and wallowing or being productive. Well, the booze remained corked and I went out to work on stuff in the garage. More signs on the table and a box I built the other day, the switches which now move the clothing rack up and down, and the latch for the new cabinet doors. That one could not be finished because the wood glue must dry. I might mess around with it later if the mood strikes. The whole garage is coming along nicely, too. Lots of improvements mean I can spend time out there working with pretty much anything and the space is comfortable. The television and sound out there have all but squashed the idea of music these days. A year ago when I cut the social media and became pissed off, the music was every day and quite loud. Now? My surrogate friends and family keeping me company from a place I desperately need to be. The point is I pushed the feelings of dread aside and went out there to remain positive and enjoy my projects. It worked. Something which does not often take place is that same choice going in the right direction. Many days have found me lost in a haze just after lunch. Working on that stuff yesterday helped me to stay on track all the way into the early evening. Afterward, of course, my sense of taste went away and we had dinner. That is the one time each day when the fears calm. I don't know why, but they do. If I could just taste the fucking food, my mood would improve. Overall, not bad. Fear is worse than an inability to enjoy food. There is still lunch, right? I intend to move along and pick up where I left off yesterday once the morning crap is out of the way. In about an hour I'll have the day ahead for whatever seems best. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. 5-9. Oy fuck, yesterday. Another Goddamned realization in the morning led me to the conclusion that the influences upon the way I think have become so different than those of other people that there is no longer a point in trying to either align or relate. Such an aspect of life is done for all time. The fact is I will remain in this place forever, bouncing between the flashes of desire and the knowledge that everything inside will only worsen. In. Toto. Get it? I need the omnipresence but it does not exist. Yesterday could have been much better with only two small alterations. Unfortunately, nothing which formulates in my brain can come to pass on a given day. Nada. Sitting here this morning with my second cup of coffee and thinking of the situations played out for years are all I have left. Memories. The place within which I am now permanently mired is completely different, and as I age one more day, everything sticks further. This is not a good situation by any stretch of the word. No one can be there to listen, I am falling a little further each day, and the issues carry right on down the road sans consideration for my well-being. The number of small moments which I enjoyed just a few months ago has decreased by one. I don't fucking need that right now. One down. Four to go. We watched an older film yesterday afternoon... One of my all-time favorites. Completely safe I suppose, yet other troubling thoughts were there from the past. The film is one of a few which were part of the catalyst for my industry dream. Regardless of happy or otherwise, those movies will always generate emotion. So, aside from the story and characters being nearly off-the-scale safe, there was still difficulty. I watched and dreamed of sitting at the dining table in Michigan working on my drawings and the drive back here a short time later. That is always going to happen, meaning I find it preferable to whatever else may come along to trip up my secure feeling. Despite the worry over whatever, I will be watching that film again in roughly a year. Alone, too, just in case I fall apart. Nothing is going to change or improve. I don't know of complete certainties, but the fact is I have seen too many clues and examples throughout the years for me to believe otherwise. Evidence, both directed at me and that which takes place because of me, is the reason. I can't believe anything different is remotely possible, unless one considers the continuing slide. Inevitable and unavoidable. So, I am beginning to see that there is nothing to lose if I let everything go and just throw it all out there. What possible damage could result? Am I not already falling off the edge of the world? And the big fucking question of the universe: Will I or anyone else actually give half a shit about anything I say? ...To another Doubtful. I brought it to mind this morning after dreaming that Jolene kissed me while I had a mouthful of celery. Yep, a complex series of dreams, one of which was over the top. Lately I have been dreaming of my old coworker quite often and am beginning to believe that I really do miss some aspects of that work. Physically I have slid down a lot since leaving the job last year, which means had I continued to work that one aspect of my decline would not have taken place. Interesting. Oh, I'd still be a wreck, just a healthier wreck. The dreams are indicative of the ill-fated fact that I am constantly questioning myself, and in such a respect point directly to the idea that I have prophesied at least one segment of this decline. I cannot spell it out, but at least I know what I've done. Normally, seeing myself as I was and in dreams causes me to feel disdain or disappointment in myself, but lately I do not head in those directions. This is more like depression flaring after visions of wonder and joy are ripped away. And no, Jolene kissing me was not the high point. Sorry. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Today is going to be tough on two levels. Nothing will be the same as this day a week ago, and my head is even more filled with the difficulties inherent in that fateful episode the other day. The imagery is still pushing against my will at each step. There is another face on the television which never caused trouble in the past, yet due to some recent conversation I see it differently. Nothing terrible, but a smidgen nonetheless. I am certain this will continue to happen whenever I go outside the scope of comfortable media. I will get through this day no matter the trials, as well. I always make it to the evening and then the next morning no matter what transpires. Just more information inside, nothing else. The understanding, too. Absent and ridiculous. I cannot explain. Yesterday it became a trial and with two other people here I could not do a fucking thing about it. Nothing. I suffered, just as I am this morning. Like all the issues, there is no solution in reality. Today? The disappointment and depression will be more visible than in the past. I can't do anything about anything these days. Why am I still here? Almost time for me to rise and care for the Sunday business. My usual stuff, plus whatever is necessary to keep my head out of the soil. Little things, nothing major. I may be inspired to clear out some shit if there is room in the garbage. Still no auctions for a while, though. I have to look at the idea more closely. 5-10. Intrinsic. This may be where I drop off a ways. Klingons all over the station. Yikes. All along I had been worried and then the worry went away. Well, it came back a short time later and still in my head. I thought something was missing... There is something missing. Oy, God damn am I overjoyed to have the house to myself in a little while. I need this time to sort out some shit, not the least of which is a series of flashes from the past. I knew of the wonder. It was sparse and still mostly a mystery. Now? I know everything and there is way too much information in my brain for me to relax about it. The worry continues. Ashley flashes, but nothing crazy. Her influence upon my lifestyle is all but gone now. The fact is I am dealing with much on a daily basis and the escape really helps, although one of the two big dreams cannot come to pass so I have to sit on that information I mentioned above. Goofy Leeta again. And Dax is drooling over some big Polynesian guy at her party. Splendid. Anyway, this day is going to be important to me. In roughly an hour I will have the space to hopefully put some of this crap into perspective. The alternative is I stop talking. I have to cease returning myself to that doll so many years ago. The memories are not helping. They may actually prove counterproductive to the joy I am seeking. Unfortunately for me and everyone else, yesterday as the clock moved from afternoon into evening, I realized whatever I may be seeking is probably unreal. I may need to stop everything I am doing. My head moves back in time, returns to the present, and then changes direction again to bring me into the glow or something similar. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. What am I doing, and why? Trying to regain those feelings? Impossible. Trying to recapture some kind of magic? Impossible. Pushing the present into some shape to bring satisfaction? Impossible. What the fuck am I doing? Losing my mind, that's what. Get the fucking bald guy out, already. I guess I have too much information inside to simply let go and relax about possibilities in the future. I can't forget anything. And it keeps coming back to the forefront over and over whenever I am reminded of the past. The reality is I have not been able to squash the two words, that fucking phrase in the theatre, or the fucked up situation which played out in the restaurant of my choice. Oh wait... I choose everything. Almost forgot. The worry started shortly thereafter and combined with way too much bullshit during football season. 'Man is driven in toto by his insecurities.' Man, indeed. That may not be the best example of categorization, but still the guy had a point. I can almost wholly agree, although I do know things come along and trip up such wisdom, both from the inside and outside. External influence cannot be avoided most of the time. I may have been swayed over and over due to being directionless for so long. All the way back to those mint-green three-quarter cut bottoms I spied as I peered down her back and saw a few things I had not considered before that evening. From that point forward I was thinking too much. Not long after the night and underwear in question? A line of dialog. It was tiny back then and I did not consider the scene difficult or uncomfortable in any way because I always watched new movies alone. Year after year went by, I learned much more, and now I see all those words and situations as representative of some twisted competition and causing me endless trouble due to the inability to stop fucking thinking. And I had thought David Fisher was uptight. He can't compare to the extent I am wound up inside. Too much of this for too long has left me as an unrecoverable error. I really need to shove Ashley out the nearest airlock. She was more than seventeen years ago and the entire era is gone for good. Maybe I should not have listened to her in the first place. Remember the blue dress? Ashley wore it. Now it's empty, remember? Do you? The cavern? I'm still in there with all this crap like paperwork spread out all over the floor. Heads nor tails. Told you I was going to drop off. Get used to it. Intrinsic. Precision. And the day is all mine. Until afternoon, anyway. I have a few ideas for the time ahead. Right now? This just in... The problem will never go away because of the passage of time to this point. Everything back whenever. Wherever. Whomever. Right? Get it? All finished and now I have to come up with something else. And that last paragraph is lengthy because I cannot spell it out or I will be ridiculed. No more of that. People must remain in the fucking dark. I've known and seen far too much to simply relax and enjoy life anymore. I will be the same for the duration. Fuck me, anyway. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. So, the days follow a pattern and I can no longer count on a rewarding dinner each evening. Last night was fine because my sense of taste was working. But I can't rely on it anymore. Hit or miss, and mostly miss. The daytime meals will have to take priority and leave me with nothing more than booze in the evenings. Maybe a little booze during the day, too. There are very few enjoyments left these days, so anything with the ability to remove some sharpness will be embraced in spades. I will probably not go above and beyond much, either. Not feeling that shit right now. The comfort comes first. And believe me when I say I was thinking about that statement yesterday and the situation nearly went out the window. I got my arms around it, so no worries, but still... It will return soon enough. That feeling becomes very dire so quickly that I lose track of everything in the world. Overwhelmed, really. And I have no fucking control over it because I am not at fault. What the hell am I saying? Losing it... Whatever. Who cares? The blue dress gone again. My brain is dripping wet and losing mass like a fucking cheesecake on a Death Valley sidewalk. I'm gonna have to do something, yet like every other time I've brought up such a thought the idea never materializes. I spew words, express threats, pull the same shit here, and then eventually backpedal because I don't want to cause others discomfort. Really? What about me? The pattern of my days and routine are going to be all I have, and very soon. Nothing else can enter my little universe anymore. Not a person, an idea... Not even the voodoo. All the while that I am taking care of business here and trying to keep my head up, every fucking reference will come to mind. They never leave. The phrase in the theatre, the two words last year, and that Goddamned fucking series of events and words in the restaurant. There was also the horrid correlation just weeks ago which dredged the worst fucking argument in human history and nearly cost me my very life. I can still see the magazine and hear the yelling. Deep end, here we come. Fuck it. Why not? Is anyone going to take issue with my content or style here? I fucking doubt it. Ownership, people. There is nothing anyone can do about what appears in this domain. Threats and posturing aside, the pattern will continue until I am dust. I cannot deal with all that crap so I'll drown myself in whatever holds the ability to cause either a smile or some comfort. That is all. And I have to stop making mistakes. Can I? Is that realistic? Volume up. 5-11. Cement was poured into one of the gaps in my insides yesterday. The event basically confirmed a combination I have long feared. Above I mentioned the series of words in a restaurant which took place some time ago, and the shit yesterday fused them to the other difficult reference and now I am certain. Confirmation of the worst kind imaginable. Not all is lost, however. Believe it or not, there is still the possibility that some of what I fear is fairly meaningless and trivial. I don't know and will probably never know for sure, but I can't deny that it could be nothing serious. On the other hand, and if my suspicions are correct, this will cause the end of the world. The cement was poured yesterday and there is nothing I can do about it now. You want to talk about the worst possible opposite fucking shitty motherfucking threat of a fear? Well, here it is. I cannot do a fucking thing about any of it because I have no fucking control over anything aside from this little house and what appears here. That is all. Nothing will ever come along and wrap itself in the blue dress, effectively wrapping me in warmth and comfort for all time. Nothing. The incident yesterday absolutely took all of the fear and made it permanent. That kind of revealing situation is something I really did not need at this point in life, but at least I can now simplify a few things. Mainly the way I deal with other people. All fucking two of them. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. The last switch... Intrinsic standards, such as the speed of light through a vacuum or a Cesium beam, are similar to what has been illuminated here in thirteen months. All those essays with titles like flip, turn, black or whatever, had notes of finality. So did a few others which recently popped up here. Well, intrinsic is the word. Unchangeable. Something which can be relied upon regardless of the passage of time. After all the shit spewed here, this is it. I've had it. Nothing has helped. Thinking is worse. Difficulties are expanding. More exploration will accomplish nothing. I'm too tired and worse off now than a year ago. Hell, even a month back. Fucking sick of it. Do you have any suggestions? Ideas? Little tidbits of wisdom or insight? Write them on a scrap of paper and set them afire. I can't do this any longer, but probably will anyway. Same words, more images, less understanding and zero good. This entry is tight for good reason. Rot in hell."
Toto
Mature content No. 244 Published May 11th, 2021 6:57am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Into the evening with my mood already shit and my sense of taste is fading. Voodoo? No one knows. The one certainty is me sliding downward at an increasing rate. Removing one of my damned-few enjoyments at this point in life is going to cause bad things to happen. No one will wish to be within earshot of me any longer. Believe it. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. I cut and mounted the pantry doors today, the only rub being that I did not anticipate the cabinet being a fucking parallelogram. The measurements were correct and my drawing sound, yet the fitting was not good. I had to rework several variables before they operated as they should. Now I just need to add closures and handles. I also began work on a silly box to enclose the miter saw in order to keep the dust to a minimum. In the grand scheme it is unnecessary, but projects are an end unto themselves. Keeping busy is remaining alive. 5-5. I suppose keeping my mouth shut most of the time can spare others the difficulty of listening to me. Less and less reasons for doing anything by the book seem to be in my daily path. This is going to force me to reevaluate many parts of life. Last night was the same as the previous several. I may have to focus my intake of food on lunch from now on. If I cannot enjoy the food, I will not eat. Ugh. Hours ahead for whatever. 'Man is driven in toto by his insecurities.' I will continue doing whatever it is I am doing and see what comes down the pike. There is plenty of media available for me to drown within, lots of projects and little jobs, and the daily maintenance of this house to keep me occupied for the time being. I still don't know about the job possibility which should come along in the next month or more, though. And regardless of the opportunity, I do not feel that I can rise to the occasion at all. Turning it down might be the only choice considering my present condition. Damn, but I don't know of what I am capable anymore. I mentioned some time ago that I fear reentering the daily workforce. That was not some offhand observation, either. It is serious, and could possibly curtail the future. I will have to be careful. Right now each day must be detailed, scrutinized and cherished for the time available. Maximized to a point, I suppose. These times are going to fall by the wayside at some point in the future and I have to keep it in mind, just like a year ago at the outset of the first shelter order which I already miss. The period was unique and unlike anything ever in my life. I can still feel a bit of it, alas with the passage of too much time I will lose it all. Work or otherwise, bright or dim future, I simply must think of each hour right now. Every day. I just realized there is little point in typing words anymore. I guess I'll finish this and then leave the keyboard alone for a while. Switch, for Chrissakes. Lock the door. Drop the shade. Raise the volume. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Work in the garage will probably continue today, doors closed. The weather is cool and overcast so I won't be able to have everything open. I like shutting the world out anyway, so perhaps the garage will be fine. Lots I can do out there. Busy is important when I feel this way. The crap can be shoved aside for a while. Plus, I still have part of the routine left. I have parts ordered to fix up the cabinet doors, the new model arrived yesterday, and the little nagging projects are awaiting attention. Something will materialize here soon so I can get moving. One of the episodes the other day is still ringing my bell. It relates to a subject and condition from some years ago which stung even though I had been alone. I just cannot help but worry about what may be going on, yet knowing could be worse. Back and forth with that one, honestly. The episode brought the subject back to the forefront and now I cannot get past it. At least, not yet. I guess I had forgotten the situation which played out on the screen. It's been years since I watched this series. And though I knew there would be difficulty, the good far outweighs the bad, for sure. My head will be fucked up anyway... May as well watch and try to deal with everything. I feel weakened again. Not good. At least nothing was clearly present. Cryptic? Live with it. I still had some steam early this year. I really did. That fucking slam a short time later really stuck with me and I can't seem to avoid tons of reminders every damned day. When I think of that situation turning to shit, I recall the million other tiny details which play out over and over and push me down. The information and lifestyle had been ingrained for decades. The scene in the episode from a couple of days back is completely unrelated, yet piled on top. The steam valve is failing and leaking all over the place. Sometimes I have no clue as to how I get anything done these days. Maybe the booze is helping. 'Opposite thinking, lieutenant.' Fuck, I don't know. The examples have been too many for listing here. A couple of years ago (I think) was a major problem while out and about. I didn't put very much thought into it at the time, however. Those two words all that time later (last year) cemented the idea of a particular type of fear and dredged the initial situation right up out of the din of memory. Now it is nearly a daily thought. Even yesterday while watching the fucking food network of all things, my head wrapped itself tightly and I had to glue my fucking lips together to avoid a very harsh development. I cannot be unfair, no matter how much I hurt inside. All of that began to congeal earlier this year, and then some force washed away my past and replaced it with shit. Possibly the worst fucking turn on top of everything else. That card flipped over and killed me inside. Very little steam now. I am beginning to understand those people who claim the whole world is against them. That is unrealistic, of course, however sometimes I suppose everything feels that way because finding improvement can be pushed by more bad taking place. A little too much of that and there is the conclusion. Suspicion, anyway. I know the world is not against me because I am but a speck. Nothing is against me. Influenced, yes, but to believe the 'world' has screwed with a person's life is ridiculous. No one is so important. Part of this shit is the fact that I never retreat from being on edge. It is constant. Rather than relaxing and watching the world go by, I sit and scrutinize every last detail just in case something comes along to hurt me. All the shit from four decades ago right up to early this year has formed me into a ball of perpetual analysis and worry. I am fucking exhausted, but know of no other way to live anymore. We just passed 20000 lines since the outset of this fucked up year, in case anyone gives a crap. I don't, but it's a line. 'All the conversation I get around here, I might as well be a fuckin' dildo.' Oh, Tony. Broken inside, no shadow of a doubt. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out.
From one loss...
I am in the image above. Might have been zero-four when they shot that from a helicopter. I felt important, relevant, and confident. All three? Gone. All those little jabs that date back to the phrase in the theatre still swirl on a daily basis. 'Keywords' barely scratched the surface. I keep thinking of the scene the other day and so much turmoil, and then relate it to something over which I have zero control. Society is partially at fault, as is the whole of the male population. Everyone heads in the same direction on such a subject. They run with it, always, because every incident is made to be either funny or threatening, and then the confidence flares. Euphemism leads them along like puppies on a series leash. I can do absolutely nothing about the big picture, which should indicate the idea of being comfortable within myself, right? Nope. It all keeps pushing, adds to those moments I cannot forget, eventually burying me. I am sitting here at this moment a product of everything. Knowing could be worse, too. Not knowing is frightening, although there is no worry over reaction of any kind. This is turning into an impossible conundrum. That is part of the reason for my need to stop typing. Nothing is being solved, I continue to repeat myself, and the site grows out of control. The jabs and words are driving this. In toto... No shit. Thanks, Herman. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. I can't even use the rest of the keywords. Too specific. Nice. 5-6. Every day is the same. Yesterday morning I thought it was a certain day, and then later I figured it was a different day. Afterward I learned it was neither. I am going nowhere and making those around me uncomfortable. On the one hand I don't care, but on the other -- more often than I would care to admit -- I must. Whatever has been shaping me for the last thirteen months is not their fault. Blame cannot be localized anymore. These days have all bled together into one long, sordid period in which I have been slowly going downhill. This may never end. There is a switch off this route, too. I just don't have the strength to choose it right now. I've said all that before. Remember? Another reason to cease typing. The same crap over and over. I just don't know what else to do. 5-7. Toto. The whole town is in this film. Geez. Kate, too. But also Charles Dance and Tobias Menzies. Good stuff, I think. Never saw past the first one. Too much trouble sometimes. Like watching the vampires, I suppose. That one is a guarantee. Speaking of shows? We haven't been able to continue our series since Tuesday and today is Friday. Maybe later. I both fear and look forward to the time. And no one knows why. Yesterday I hit a wall and had a hell of a time deciding between drinking and wallowing or being productive. Well, the booze remained corked and I went out to work on stuff in the garage. More signs on the table and a box I built the other day, the switches which now move the clothing rack up and down, and the latch for the new cabinet doors. That one could not be finished because the wood glue must dry. I might mess around with it later if the mood strikes. The whole garage is coming along nicely, too. Lots of improvements mean I can spend time out there working with pretty much anything and the space is comfortable. The television and sound out there have all but squashed the idea of music these days. A year ago when I cut the social media and became pissed off, the music was every day and quite loud. Now? My surrogate friends and family keeping me company from a place I desperately need to be. The point is I pushed the feelings of dread aside and went out there to remain positive and enjoy my projects. It worked. Something which does not often take place is that same choice going in the right direction. Many days have found me lost in a haze just after lunch. Working on that stuff yesterday helped me to stay on track all the way into the early evening. Afterward, of course, my sense of taste went away and we had dinner. That is the one time each day when the fears calm. I don't know why, but they do. If I could just taste the fucking food, my mood would improve. Overall, not bad. Fear is worse than an inability to enjoy food. There is still lunch, right? I intend to move along and pick up where I left off yesterday once the morning crap is out of the way. In about an hour I'll have the day ahead for whatever seems best. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. 5-9. Oy fuck, yesterday. Another Goddamned realization in the morning led me to the conclusion that the influences upon the way I think have become so different than those of other people that there is no longer a point in trying to either align or relate. Such an aspect of life is done for all time. The fact is I will remain in this place forever, bouncing between the flashes of desire and the knowledge that everything inside will only worsen. In. Toto. Get it? I need the omnipresence but it does not exist. Yesterday could have been much better with only two small alterations. Unfortunately, nothing which formulates in my brain can come to pass on a given day. Nada. Sitting here this morning with my second cup of coffee and thinking of the situations played out for years are all I have left. Memories. The place within which I am now permanently mired is completely different, and as I age one more day, everything sticks further. This is not a good situation by any stretch of the word. No one can be there to listen, I am falling a little further each day, and the issues carry right on down the road sans consideration for my well-being. The number of small moments which I enjoyed just a few months ago has decreased by one. I don't fucking need that right now. One down. Four to go. We watched an older film yesterday afternoon... One of my all-time favorites. Completely safe I suppose, yet other troubling thoughts were there from the past. The film is one of a few which were part of the catalyst for my industry dream. Regardless of happy or otherwise, those movies will always generate emotion. So, aside from the story and characters being nearly off-the-scale safe, there was still difficulty. I watched and dreamed of sitting at the dining table in Michigan working on my drawings and the drive back here a short time later. That is always going to happen, meaning I find it preferable to whatever else may come along to trip up my secure feeling. Despite the worry over whatever, I will be watching that film again in roughly a year. Alone, too, just in case I fall apart. Nothing is going to change or improve. I don't know of complete certainties, but the fact is I have seen too many clues and examples throughout the years for me to believe otherwise. Evidence, both directed at me and that which takes place because of me, is the reason. I can't believe anything different is remotely possible, unless one considers the continuing slide. Inevitable and unavoidable. So, I am beginning to see that there is nothing to lose if I let everything go and just throw it all out there. What possible damage could result? Am I not already falling off the edge of the world? And the big fucking question of the universe: Will I or anyone else actually give half a shit about anything I say?
...To another
Doubtful. I brought it to mind this morning after dreaming that Jolene kissed me while I had a mouthful of celery. Yep, a complex series of dreams, one of which was over the top. Lately I have been dreaming of my old coworker quite often and am beginning to believe that I really do miss some aspects of that work. Physically I have slid down a lot since leaving the job last year, which means had I continued to work that one aspect of my decline would not have taken place. Interesting. Oh, I'd still be a wreck, just a healthier wreck. The dreams are indicative of the ill-fated fact that I am constantly questioning myself, and in such a respect point directly to the idea that I have prophesied at least one segment of this decline. I cannot spell it out, but at least I know what I've done. Normally, seeing myself as I was and in dreams causes me to feel disdain or disappointment in myself, but lately I do not head in those directions. This is more like depression flaring after visions of wonder and joy are ripped away. And no, Jolene kissing me was not the high point. Sorry. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Today is going to be tough on two levels. Nothing will be the same as this day a week ago, and my head is even more filled with the difficulties inherent in that fateful episode the other day. The imagery is still pushing against my will at each step. There is another face on the television which never caused trouble in the past, yet due to some recent conversation I see it differently. Nothing terrible, but a smidgen nonetheless. I am certain this will continue to happen whenever I go outside the scope of comfortable media. I will get through this day no matter the trials, as well. I always make it to the evening and then the next morning no matter what transpires. Just more information inside, nothing else. The understanding, too. Absent and ridiculous. I cannot explain. Yesterday it became a trial and with two other people here I could not do a fucking thing about it. Nothing. I suffered, just as I am this morning. Like all the issues, there is no solution in reality. Today? The disappointment and depression will be more visible than in the past. I can't do anything about anything these days. Why am I still here? Almost time for me to rise and care for the Sunday business. My usual stuff, plus whatever is necessary to keep my head out of the soil. Little things, nothing major. I may be inspired to clear out some shit if there is room in the garbage. Still no auctions for a while, though. I have to look at the idea more closely. 5-10. Intrinsic. This may be where I drop off a ways. Klingons all over the station. Yikes. All along I had been worried and then the worry went away. Well, it came back a short time later and still in my head. I thought something was missing... There is something missing. Oy, God damn am I overjoyed to have the house to myself in a little while. I need this time to sort out some shit, not the least of which is a series of flashes from the past. I knew of the wonder. It was sparse and still mostly a mystery. Now? I know everything and there is way too much information in my brain for me to relax about it. The worry continues. Ashley flashes, but nothing crazy. Her influence upon my lifestyle is all but gone now. The fact is I am dealing with much on a daily basis and the escape really helps, although one of the two big dreams cannot come to pass so I have to sit on that information I mentioned above. Goofy Leeta again. And Dax is drooling over some big Polynesian guy at her party. Splendid. Anyway, this day is going to be important to me. In roughly an hour I will have the space to hopefully put some of this crap into perspective. The alternative is I stop talking. I have to cease returning myself to that doll so many years ago. The memories are not helping. They may actually prove counterproductive to the joy I am seeking. Unfortunately for me and everyone else, yesterday as the clock moved from afternoon into evening, I realized whatever I may be seeking is probably unreal. I may need to stop everything I am doing. My head moves back in time, returns to the present, and then changes direction again to bring me into the glow or something similar. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. What am I doing, and why? Trying to regain those feelings? Impossible. Trying to recapture some kind of magic? Impossible. Pushing the present into some shape to bring satisfaction? Impossible. What the fuck am I doing? Losing my mind, that's what. Get the fucking bald guy out, already. I guess I have too much information inside to simply let go and relax about possibilities in the future. I can't forget anything. And it keeps coming back to the forefront over and over whenever I am reminded of the past. The reality is I have not been able to squash the two words, that fucking phrase in the theatre, or the fucked up situation which played out in the restaurant of my choice. Oh wait... I choose everything. Almost forgot. The worry started shortly thereafter and combined with way too much bullshit during football season. 'Man is driven in toto by his insecurities.' Man, indeed. That may not be the best example of categorization, but still the guy had a point. I can almost wholly agree, although I do know things come along and trip up such wisdom, both from the inside and outside. External influence cannot be avoided most of the time. I may have been swayed over and over due to being directionless for so long. All the way back to those mint-green three-quarter cut bottoms I spied as I peered down her back and saw a few things I had not considered before that evening. From that point forward I was thinking too much. Not long after the night and underwear in question? A line of dialog. It was tiny back then and I did not consider the scene difficult or uncomfortable in any way because I always watched new movies alone. Year after year went by, I learned much more, and now I see all those words and situations as representative of some twisted competition and causing me endless trouble due to the inability to stop fucking thinking. And I had thought David Fisher was uptight. He can't compare to the extent I am wound up inside. Too much of this for too long has left me as an unrecoverable error. I really need to shove Ashley out the nearest airlock. She was more than seventeen years ago and the entire era is gone for good. Maybe I should not have listened to her in the first place. Remember the blue dress? Ashley wore it. Now it's empty, remember? Do you? The cavern? I'm still in there with all this crap like paperwork spread out all over the floor. Heads nor tails. Told you I was going to drop off. Get used to it. Intrinsic. Precision. And the day is all mine. Until afternoon, anyway. I have a few ideas for the time ahead. Right now? This just in... The problem will never go away because of the passage of time to this point. Everything back whenever. Wherever. Whomever. Right? Get it? All finished and now I have to come up with something else. And that last paragraph is lengthy because I cannot spell it out or I will be ridiculed. No more of that. People must remain in the fucking dark. I've known and seen far too much to simply relax and enjoy life anymore. I will be the same for the duration. Fuck me, anyway. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. So, the days follow a pattern and I can no longer count on a rewarding dinner each evening. Last night was fine because my sense of taste was working. But I can't rely on it anymore. Hit or miss, and mostly miss. The daytime meals will have to take priority and leave me with nothing more than booze in the evenings. Maybe a little booze during the day, too. There are very few enjoyments left these days, so anything with the ability to remove some sharpness will be embraced in spades. I will probably not go above and beyond much, either. Not feeling that shit right now. The comfort comes first. And believe me when I say I was thinking about that statement yesterday and the situation nearly went out the window. I got my arms around it, so no worries, but still... It will return soon enough. That feeling becomes very dire so quickly that I lose track of everything in the world. Overwhelmed, really. And I have no fucking control over it because I am not at fault. What the hell am I saying? Losing it... Whatever. Who cares? The blue dress gone again. My brain is dripping wet and losing mass like a fucking cheesecake on a Death Valley sidewalk. I'm gonna have to do something, yet like every other time I've brought up such a thought the idea never materializes. I spew words, express threats, pull the same shit here, and then eventually backpedal because I don't want to cause others discomfort. Really? What about me? The pattern of my days and routine are going to be all I have, and very soon. Nothing else can enter my little universe anymore. Not a person, an idea... Not even the voodoo. All the while that I am taking care of business here and trying to keep my head up, every fucking reference will come to mind. They never leave. The phrase in the theatre, the two words last year, and that Goddamned fucking series of events and words in the restaurant. There was also the horrid correlation just weeks ago which dredged the worst fucking argument in human history and nearly cost me my very life. I can still see the magazine and hear the yelling. Deep end, here we come. Fuck it. Why not? Is anyone going to take issue with my content or style here? I fucking doubt it. Ownership, people. There is nothing anyone can do about what appears in this domain. Threats and posturing aside, the pattern will continue until I am dust. I cannot deal with all that crap so I'll drown myself in whatever holds the ability to cause either a smile or some comfort. That is all. And I have to stop making mistakes. Can I? Is that realistic? Volume up. 5-11. Cement was poured into one of the gaps in my insides yesterday. The event basically confirmed a combination I have long feared. Above I mentioned the series of words in a restaurant which took place some time ago, and the shit yesterday fused them to the other difficult reference and now I am certain. Confirmation of the worst kind imaginable. Not all is lost, however. Believe it or not, there is still the possibility that some of what I fear is fairly meaningless and trivial. I don't know and will probably never know for sure, but I can't deny that it could be nothing serious. On the other hand, and if my suspicions are correct, this will cause the end of the world. The cement was poured yesterday and there is nothing I can do about it now. You want to talk about the worst possible opposite fucking shitty motherfucking threat of a fear? Well, here it is. I cannot do a fucking thing about any of it because I have no fucking control over anything aside from this little house and what appears here. That is all. Nothing will ever come along and wrap itself in the blue dress, effectively wrapping me in warmth and comfort for all time. Nothing. The incident yesterday absolutely took all of the fear and made it permanent. That kind of revealing situation is something I really did not need at this point in life, but at least I can now simplify a few things. Mainly the way I deal with other people. All fucking two of them. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. Ya get the bald guy out. The last switch... Intrinsic standards, such as the speed of light through a vacuum or a Cesium beam, are similar to what has been illuminated here in thirteen months. All those essays with titles like flip, turn, black or whatever, had notes of finality. So did a few others which recently popped up here. Well, intrinsic is the word. Unchangeable. Something which can be relied upon regardless of the passage of time. After all the shit spewed here, this is it. I've had it. Nothing has helped. Thinking is worse. Difficulties are expanding. More exploration will accomplish nothing. I'm too tired and worse off now than a year ago. Hell, even a month back. Fucking sick of it. Do you have any suggestions? Ideas? Little tidbits of wisdom or insight? Write them on a scrap of paper and set them afire. I can't do this any longer, but probably will anyway. Same words, more images, less understanding and zero good. This entry is tight for good reason. Rot in hell."
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