March 7th, 2021 7:59am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning Triumvirate read ( words) "3-4, still going. Not the best day despite getting some work done and then a wonderful lunch. And believe me when I say that lunch was outstanding. Part of the time brought back my recent exploration into my heritage and that became the linchpin which destroyed any semblance of enjoyment from that point forward. It ruined me yet again once coupled with my inability to reproduce. That entire line of thinking has been worsening for many years and seems to be holding me down as if Satan himself has his giant foot upon my neck. I cannot pass the thought. My head has since blown wide open as a result of everything added to the situation at home regarding her family. I will not go into detail at all, but suffice to say these last eleven-plus months have seen my psyche build up with explosives and no fuse. Something is going to come along and light it off like the methanol which precedes nitromethane. The situation and spark will be very bad. And I mean worse than anything in my life thus far. Three problems full of information, yet nothing I can affect at all. Every fucking ship sailed many years ago and they shall not return. Mark my words, the combination is going to destroy me, sure as hell. Matter of time, that is all. Tomorrow morning is going to be the heaviest yet. The routine and coffee plus quiet time will be apparent and then realized, after which my intention is to streamline like never before. I am driven into the ground which means I need to drive the fuck away. Period. No more of this. Thank the fucking maker my auctions are bearing expensive fruit. Stop. 3-5, Friday. This is exceedingly difficult. There were already enough parts of this ethereal period driving nails into my head without having gone into the fucking shop of hellish heraldry. I never should have done such a thing. At least the illusion of what I was could have survived whatever else comes along. Now that I have all three on my shoulders -- with the 'two' right on top like a fucking cherry -- I do not believe the numbered days need be ambiguous. Throughout many months I have scaled-up the idea of two and wrote much about that problem. As of more recent days, however, the die has been cast and the journey of exploration and hoping to get past it all is now over. No more will I try. Closed off, quiet, finished. All I can do now is sell and amass some fucking cash. That is all. The days will find me hiding as always. While around others I will fire up the snowmaking machinery and create storms of bullshit. I will not be me any longer. Hopefully this mood will not cause too many words to fly. I'm ready to lash, though. I've been ready for months. Three little cherries atop my sundae of hell. There were only two and I felt hope. No more. All three. At least I now know there is nothing in the cards for me. Good or bad, the question is answered. On to today, I guess. The usual, plus one more listing for posterity. There is a connection which may be explored on the work front, although I doubt I'll be able to accept anything at this point because I don't fucking care anymore. When the trinity of shit began to sink in, I decided that my best course is to continue counting and finding the tiny joys in each day. None of that includes traveling to a place of work and making nice with people I am better off avoiding. The truth is that once employed, all I will do after a very short stint is to dream of escape, at some point later making it happen. I am famous for being completely fake and then blindsiding the world with my rash decisions born of discomfort and fear. Mark my words, any opportunity will eventually prove nothing more than a catalyst. Too much has transpired and buried me. That is that, no matter the position. I have already taken steps toward completion of the routine and just past eight in the morning. Not bad. Plenty of time for consideration of the future. This should be entitled 'quadrumvirate', for Christ's sake. Last night showed me something unexpected and then my downward spiral gained velocity, believe it or not. Yes, something on top of the rest of the shit and out of the clear, black fucking sky. Now I am smaller than twenty-four hours ago. Smaller. Different. Angry. God help anyone who takes issue with anything I say or do from this day forward. Not recommended. The Luxor may go away Sell, sell, sell. The word of the day, week, month, year... Life (or what remains). By close of business today I am hoping to be further along with some organization and streamlining of things. Yesterday I took a few steps in the old office and realized the drums need not go away for space. I am going to pull the ad and store them for the future. Not my future, mind you, but whomever ends up with them later. Since I have only sat behind that kit twice in two years, there is no reason for it to sit there collecting dust. No one seems to be interested in purchasing, so they will be packed up and made to disappear. And I found a method for cleaning the tape residue off my plastic watch box, meaning two are now going to be for auction. One at a time to keep the shipping manageable. The poor drill press has been on the back burner since my head exploded yesterday. Right now I just don't care. The makeshift washer drain works beautifully. When combined with the fact that the city visited and ran a camera through the main line, the replacement is in the works and my drain will be going away at some point. This is very good for the house. I may go underneath and do some work to improve the existing stack, too. It's not easy, but very rewarding. Anything which makes me feel good is very important these days. There's been enough down. Also while beneath the floor I will run wire from the garage to the load center. Straightforward, that one. Pause. 10:19am. Everything finished for the day unless I feel like going further. Gangsters on the televisions. I don't know what to do now. I thought I knew of my past, but that has been ripped away and my heritage now feels stolen from me. Not happy is an understatement. I do not believe this can ever go away, either. There is just too much attached to what I was told and all which has been observed for fifty fucking years. Fifty. Where do I go now? Do I have the test performed so everything I fear is confirmed? I was proud. Now? The pride is gone along with a multitude of behaviors inherited from those I followed. And I cannot take issue with anyone because like the behaviors, they are fucking gone. I have nowhere to turn. That is number one. Two was taken from me forty years ago and three more recently. The only word which comes to mind is loss. I have lost everything. The chores are completed, but none of it seems to matter anymore. I never expected such a turn of events. Even with a vast imagination, none of this was foreseen because I thought I knew from where I hailed. Now I am connected to a part of the world I do not even like. This is the worst fucking mood I have felt in my life. I wish I possessed a measure of the nitromethane. That stuff not only smells like victory, but has the power to fix everything. Too expensive. In the nineties the cost was more than forty dollars a gallon. I don't even want to know what it is these days. 10:29 in the morning on a Friday and I am very close to cracking a boatload of beer, heading out to the garage and tearing up the neighborhood with music which equals my mood. No recovery. None. I just realized a massive upside to feeling the way I do today. Believe it. The idea from weeks back in which I entertained spilling everything no longer is an issue. I will say exactly nothing from now on. My mood has helped me to compute the result of such an action, meaning I cannot do it, will never do it, and others are going to have to remain in the dark. Period. Considering all of the shit in my head since just yesterday afternoon coupled with the fucking slice last night, the choice is clear. I don't fucking care anymore and wish to ensure people have no Goddamned idea of what I have been speaking. That is it, cut and dry. Everything will remain within me because it doesn't matter now. The issues, too. No more of it. I have been cut in fucking half by three situations in life -- none of which will ever find resolution -- and due to the nature of my anger over so much shit, revealing more will accomplish nothing. NOTHING. Are you reading this? I am finished trying to seek any answers or help. Done, for all time. This is a very good thing because through the act of discussing my innermost demons I would only fall further. Now I don't have to worry about it any longer. All I have to do is focus on the little comforts. In the scheme of my world, this is one of the best feelings to have been illuminated. No more concern over how another person might react to the massive fear within. As of this morning it is locked up forever. Oh... Remember when I mentioned that huge lie from the eighties? Yep, that one is gone, too. I am now completely closed off to every living soul on the fucking planet. God damn does this feel liberating. If I had not learned so much in the last few years, the upside would be brighter. Too little now, and far too late, yet still a positive. The shit from the eighties had a huge hand in defining who I am at this very moment. Holding it back from people who know me is fantastic. And believe me when I say that everyone who actually did know of the situation is dead. Out of every possibility in the fucking world, I now hold complete control over one fucking thing. Wow. The images of Ruslana are grainy and pissing me off, but she is wondrous enough to leave them here. Unrelated: I adapted myself to a woman, and then another, and then two more. Adapted. Not myself. Not even close. Had they known me? Frozen emptiness, dire complications, and more reprehensible angry actions than you can possibly imagine within this life or ten others. In short, I destroyed myself for them. Perhaps not so unrelated, however. I am still adapting, waiting for something to come along, and yearning for the machinery which can propel me up and out of the triumvirate. What do you think? Possible? Out there? Yeah, I fucking thought so. Back broken, worn out, and sitting as a slave to those tiny aspects of life which have a snowball's chance in hell of bringing me joy. Demons under thrall. The foxes with the fabrications, carrying with them a host of vulpine labia. Everything is related, everything is destroyed. 'The blink of an eye, you know it's me. You keep the dagger close at hand. And you saw nothing. False love turned to pure hate. The wind cried a lamentation Before merging with the gray'. Read it again. And stop. 3-6, 6:25am. Saturday means a slightly different routine. Beginning with a little work, then into a film for a few hours, and then off to more work during the early afternoon. No big deal. Last night was fairly comfortable aside from yet again being unable to taste the food. That is twice in the space of a week. Not good. One of the few enjoyments left in my life is food. If it goes away, so will I. At least lunch isn't usually a problem. Wow this movie was the only choice at such an early hour, but one of the principals is not someone I wish to see all over the screen. The same actor has been a point of contention for some months now. Unbelievable. Every fucking time the name comes to mind I drop half a notch. It brings up the reference overheard during the show we had been following each night during dinner and that one little dig. Nothing goes away. I'll have to be patient this morning and just live with it until I can make more noise. The actor is related to the two and the three, believe it or not. Not a part of the triumvirate, yet still huge issues flying all around at the mere mention. There are others -- one on my show yesterday which then stabbed me in the heart for hours due to relating to my false heritage as well as the original two back many years ago -- and I generally shy away from anything including those names, but sometimes the media is good enough to keep my attention, provided I am alone at the time, that is. I was not like this during the zeros. Something happened to me. Three events right in a row, the last of which began to flare last night so I shut it down. One person has been erased. The other two problems are not people. No control. Last night and again this morning I had to exercise a touch of control over the site due to exposure in an unexpected direction. The error was not mine, but that of a person who does not understand the intricacies of WD. Not a big deal, but now I may be forced to make a change which was not to happen for some months, if not longer. I cannot have the site seen by certain people, so it is now inaccessible in a way so as to leave the visitor without a clue as to what may be wrong. For the time being, I see no other option. I cannot move the whole of the content right now. Nothing to do with the original problems which drove this entry. Just something else I have to fucking deal within the course of a typical day. I may have the side rocker made for my vest with the original configuration despite being slapped in the fucking face. I'll do it anyway just to have the thing. No one can tell me what to wear, either. If it's bullshit, then it's bullshit. Fuck you anyway. Looking at the fox faces yesterday was a bit easier than originally calculated. I did my best to come across as happy-go-lucky and I do not believe anyone was the wiser. The reason is probably my being so full of shit for so long that I am very accomplished and others do not realize when the horseshit is turned on or off. The original Lobby Bar in 1993 I am just too intelligent to be directed by another person these days. The control may not be present, but I can still lead others to believe pretty much anything necessary for me to be comfortable. Whatever that makes me, I don't give a shit. All those years of being knocked around have taken their toll and I don't have the fucking time to coddle people. A bit of courtesy here and there, nothing more. Hopefully no one crosses me. Ah... 6:55am. Light outside. Today may be sunny again. That means the house will warm itself. Very good. I may need to hook up the goofy washer drain again just to care for a few things before the movie. Don't know yet. I still haven't picked a film, either. After seeing this actor on the screen and considering all I've put myself through recently, nothing seems to be apparent. Sometimes choosing media is difficult, other times not so much, but right now I seem to be affected by the past again which may lead me to the show we've been following instead of a film. I don't know, and I hate this. The images have been removed from this entry. They are accomplishing nothing anymore. Maybe they never did. 7:08am. I keep thinking of that fucking restaurant visit so long ago. That was not a fabrication, yet the information I gleaned was just as bad, maybe worse. The more I try to analyze and come to terms with whether or not the situation rose for a very bad reason or something light and simple, the more I realize that my sensitivity has been made more severe during the last decade. It faded for a while, yet upon its return I have become something unrecognizable to myself. Others do not see it most of the time due to that huge wall of bullshit. I come across as doing fine for the most part, although sometimes I know there is more to the naked eye. If I don't see it and someone else does, that is not good. The restaurant visit may have been the first in recent years, too. I recall going back to that morning just months ago because of a glean. I forget nothing. The dots were connected quickly. Still, not a fabrication. That is different. I can take issue straight out with a fabrication. The truth may remain covered, though. Hence my doing nothing more than writing. Almost time for me to get up and get a few things prepared. I'll have to take a break, anyway, because movie time is not far off. I still don't know which film to choose. Ugh. I hate this shit. Stop. 3-7, 6:20am. Three movies yesterday. I really hung it out there trying to provide quality entertainment. Lots of hours all in a row. I took care of business earlier than usual and made the time to relax in front of the media for most of the day. It was part good and part bad. This morning the world looks the same, however. One would think I could spend an enjoyable day like that and come out the other side feeling well. Almost. There were snippets nagging at me here and there all fucking day long, and in the end the worst part was completely unrelated to anything flowing across the screen. Oh, some of the scenery began to cause problems like always, but I kept it together or the sake of the audience. That is simply a part of life for me. Others happy despite whatever may be chewing on me. The end of the screening time was fine. As I said, other devices at work inside. Sunday. What does it mean anymore? After all this time? Nearly a fucking year. 7:14am. I scoured around a bit for some nice images of the pyramid and learned the ownership is considering leveling that resort and the castle next door. That may be the last fucking straw. My back is nearly broken from all the joy being closed off or otherwise removed from my life. Too many straws in a very short period of time. That hotel is one of the most beloved places in my life. Might have to go down there and sit in Aurora for a drink or ten. If and when they decide to drop the resort in favor of something new, I just may lose it completely. Greedy fucks. Everything turns to shit. I should have taken the slide What the fuck can I do about it? Not a damned thing. Business is business, regardless of whether or not it ruins my life. Quadrumvirate. Probably more. Knowing that resort still stands there all majestic and wondrous, coupled with the most important memories in my life is a good thing. It keeps me going, as if the availability of the dripping illusion means there is escape. If and when the pyramid disappears, I will have that much less reason to do anything. Another cutting end of hope. A place unlike any other in the world and something I need very badly pretty much any day of the week. Now I have no idea of what to do. Today. Garbage, laundry, and the usual tasks will take place while I attempt to maintain an upright stance. This is not good. Worse than the other three. Something is taking place and slowly removing reasons to go forward. I have to make larger changes than the last time I tried to draw a fucking line. Things have to go out the door. More cash, less crap. Streamline. Narrow my world of possessions. Smallish, truncated, less footprint here. Just in case I can run one more time. But will it be the same? No fucking way. Not even close. The world has changed too much in the last year for anything to be as expected or as it was. Escaping to the dreamy pyramid will likely depress me more than walking away from Ashley and driving home in tears. This is so fucking bad that I do not have the words. Pieces of my heart are inside that fucking resort. Damn it all, and damn everyone. I was talking about today, right? Maybe this will be the line in the sand. As of learning of a possible major change to my dreams, I have decided that more will head out the door than originally thought. I need to be tiny now. As compact as possible. This day will be the beginning of a shift, just like toward the end of eleven. 'Mustgoes'... Everything must go. I will care for the usual crap and then move into the activities of the end times. I always say these are the late days -- even way back in fifteen when a woman moved me outside myself yet again -- yet now I see the lateness like never before. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. The 'Caverns' series of entries should have been a clue. Blue dress, remember? It's empty forever. My world is being removed from view, leaving a mere fraction of the vital, alive self I once was. Yes, the hotel is THAT important. Once gone, I will have no reason to do anything. Falling away. 'The Quad'. No... There is always more. Others will notice the fatalism increasing as of this morning. When I say 'bad', I mean it. And I realize I've overused that word recently, however this is a change with which I am ill-equipped to deal. Too important, and far too representative of the only happiness I have known in two decades. Freedom from everything, and likely the only actual control in existence. No machines, none of the shit I spouted regarding the foxes or vulpine parts, just control over my own wants and needs. That is it. The change will begin immediately. Like the forest of dreams, others may not like me any longer. New me. Very bad. Damn it all. Everything adds up to the idea that there is no longer any point to writing for others to see. I will probably continue anyway, solutions or not. This is all I have, and as of this morning, it is less. Hopefully the pyramid of my life will still be there when 299 reaches 0. She is inside." 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March 7th, 2021 7:59am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning Triumvirate read ( words) "3-4, still going. Not the best day despite getting some work done and then a wonderful lunch. And believe me when I say that lunch was outstanding. Part of the time brought back my recent exploration into my heritage and that became the linchpin which destroyed any semblance of enjoyment from that point forward. It ruined me yet again once coupled with my inability to reproduce. That entire line of thinking has been worsening for many years and seems to be holding me down as if Satan himself has his giant foot upon my neck. I cannot pass the thought. My head has since blown wide open as a result of everything added to the situation at home regarding her family. I will not go into detail at all, but suffice to say these last eleven-plus months have seen my psyche build up with explosives and no fuse. Something is going to come along and light it off like the methanol which precedes nitromethane. The situation and spark will be very bad. And I mean worse than anything in my life thus far. Three problems full of information, yet nothing I can affect at all. Every fucking ship sailed many years ago and they shall not return. Mark my words, the combination is going to destroy me, sure as hell. Matter of time, that is all. Tomorrow morning is going to be the heaviest yet. The routine and coffee plus quiet time will be apparent and then realized, after which my intention is to streamline like never before. I am driven into the ground which means I need to drive the fuck away. Period. No more of this. Thank the fucking maker my auctions are bearing expensive fruit. Stop. 3-5, Friday. This is exceedingly difficult. There were already enough parts of this ethereal period driving nails into my head without having gone into the fucking shop of hellish heraldry. I never should have done such a thing. At least the illusion of what I was could have survived whatever else comes along. Now that I have all three on my shoulders -- with the 'two' right on top like a fucking cherry -- I do not believe the numbered days need be ambiguous. Throughout many months I have scaled-up the idea of two and wrote much about that problem. As of more recent days, however, the die has been cast and the journey of exploration and hoping to get past it all is now over. No more will I try. Closed off, quiet, finished. All I can do now is sell and amass some fucking cash. That is all. The days will find me hiding as always. While around others I will fire up the snowmaking machinery and create storms of bullshit. I will not be me any longer. Hopefully this mood will not cause too many words to fly. I'm ready to lash, though. I've been ready for months. Three little cherries atop my sundae of hell. There were only two and I felt hope. No more. All three. At least I now know there is nothing in the cards for me. Good or bad, the question is answered. On to today, I guess. The usual, plus one more listing for posterity. There is a connection which may be explored on the work front, although I doubt I'll be able to accept anything at this point because I don't fucking care anymore. When the trinity of shit began to sink in, I decided that my best course is to continue counting and finding the tiny joys in each day. None of that includes traveling to a place of work and making nice with people I am better off avoiding. The truth is that once employed, all I will do after a very short stint is to dream of escape, at some point later making it happen. I am famous for being completely fake and then blindsiding the world with my rash decisions born of discomfort and fear. Mark my words, any opportunity will eventually prove nothing more than a catalyst. Too much has transpired and buried me. That is that, no matter the position. I have already taken steps toward completion of the routine and just past eight in the morning. Not bad. Plenty of time for consideration of the future. This should be entitled 'quadrumvirate', for Christ's sake. Last night showed me something unexpected and then my downward spiral gained velocity, believe it or not. Yes, something on top of the rest of the shit and out of the clear, black fucking sky. Now I am smaller than twenty-four hours ago. Smaller. Different. Angry. God help anyone who takes issue with anything I say or do from this day forward. Not recommended. The Luxor may go away Sell, sell, sell. The word of the day, week, month, year... Life (or what remains). By close of business today I am hoping to be further along with some organization and streamlining of things. Yesterday I took a few steps in the old office and realized the drums need not go away for space. I am going to pull the ad and store them for the future. Not my future, mind you, but whomever ends up with them later. Since I have only sat behind that kit twice in two years, there is no reason for it to sit there collecting dust. No one seems to be interested in purchasing, so they will be packed up and made to disappear. And I found a method for cleaning the tape residue off my plastic watch box, meaning two are now going to be for auction. One at a time to keep the shipping manageable. The poor drill press has been on the back burner since my head exploded yesterday. Right now I just don't care. The makeshift washer drain works beautifully. When combined with the fact that the city visited and ran a camera through the main line, the replacement is in the works and my drain will be going away at some point. This is very good for the house. I may go underneath and do some work to improve the existing stack, too. It's not easy, but very rewarding. Anything which makes me feel good is very important these days. There's been enough down. Also while beneath the floor I will run wire from the garage to the load center. Straightforward, that one. Pause. 10:19am. Everything finished for the day unless I feel like going further. Gangsters on the televisions. I don't know what to do now. I thought I knew of my past, but that has been ripped away and my heritage now feels stolen from me. Not happy is an understatement. I do not believe this can ever go away, either. There is just too much attached to what I was told and all which has been observed for fifty fucking years. Fifty. Where do I go now? Do I have the test performed so everything I fear is confirmed? I was proud. Now? The pride is gone along with a multitude of behaviors inherited from those I followed. And I cannot take issue with anyone because like the behaviors, they are fucking gone. I have nowhere to turn. That is number one. Two was taken from me forty years ago and three more recently. The only word which comes to mind is loss. I have lost everything. The chores are completed, but none of it seems to matter anymore. I never expected such a turn of events. Even with a vast imagination, none of this was foreseen because I thought I knew from where I hailed. Now I am connected to a part of the world I do not even like. This is the worst fucking mood I have felt in my life. I wish I possessed a measure of the nitromethane. That stuff not only smells like victory, but has the power to fix everything. Too expensive. In the nineties the cost was more than forty dollars a gallon. I don't even want to know what it is these days. 10:29 in the morning on a Friday and I am very close to cracking a boatload of beer, heading out to the garage and tearing up the neighborhood with music which equals my mood. No recovery. None. I just realized a massive upside to feeling the way I do today. Believe it. The idea from weeks back in which I entertained spilling everything no longer is an issue. I will say exactly nothing from now on. My mood has helped me to compute the result of such an action, meaning I cannot do it, will never do it, and others are going to have to remain in the dark. Period. Considering all of the shit in my head since just yesterday afternoon coupled with the fucking slice last night, the choice is clear. I don't fucking care anymore and wish to ensure people have no Goddamned idea of what I have been speaking. That is it, cut and dry. Everything will remain within me because it doesn't matter now. The issues, too. No more of it. I have been cut in fucking half by three situations in life -- none of which will ever find resolution -- and due to the nature of my anger over so much shit, revealing more will accomplish nothing. NOTHING. Are you reading this? I am finished trying to seek any answers or help. Done, for all time. This is a very good thing because through the act of discussing my innermost demons I would only fall further. Now I don't have to worry about it any longer. All I have to do is focus on the little comforts. In the scheme of my world, this is one of the best feelings to have been illuminated. No more concern over how another person might react to the massive fear within. As of this morning it is locked up forever. Oh... Remember when I mentioned that huge lie from the eighties? Yep, that one is gone, too. I am now completely closed off to every living soul on the fucking planet. God damn does this feel liberating. If I had not learned so much in the last few years, the upside would be brighter. Too little now, and far too late, yet still a positive. The shit from the eighties had a huge hand in defining who I am at this very moment. Holding it back from people who know me is fantastic. And believe me when I say that everyone who actually did know of the situation is dead. Out of every possibility in the fucking world, I now hold complete control over one fucking thing. Wow. The images of Ruslana are grainy and pissing me off, but she is wondrous enough to leave them here. Unrelated: I adapted myself to a woman, and then another, and then two more. Adapted. Not myself. Not even close. Had they known me? Frozen emptiness, dire complications, and more reprehensible angry actions than you can possibly imagine within this life or ten others. In short, I destroyed myself for them. Perhaps not so unrelated, however. I am still adapting, waiting for something to come along, and yearning for the machinery which can propel me up and out of the triumvirate. What do you think? Possible? Out there? Yeah, I fucking thought so. Back broken, worn out, and sitting as a slave to those tiny aspects of life which have a snowball's chance in hell of bringing me joy. Demons under thrall. The foxes with the fabrications, carrying with them a host of vulpine labia. Everything is related, everything is destroyed. 'The blink of an eye, you know it's me. You keep the dagger close at hand. And you saw nothing. False love turned to pure hate. The wind cried a lamentation Before merging with the gray'. Read it again. And stop. 3-6, 6:25am. Saturday means a slightly different routine. Beginning with a little work, then into a film for a few hours, and then off to more work during the early afternoon. No big deal. Last night was fairly comfortable aside from yet again being unable to taste the food. That is twice in the space of a week. Not good. One of the few enjoyments left in my life is food. If it goes away, so will I. At least lunch isn't usually a problem. Wow this movie was the only choice at such an early hour, but one of the principals is not someone I wish to see all over the screen. The same actor has been a point of contention for some months now. Unbelievable. Every fucking time the name comes to mind I drop half a notch. It brings up the reference overheard during the show we had been following each night during dinner and that one little dig. Nothing goes away. I'll have to be patient this morning and just live with it until I can make more noise. The actor is related to the two and the three, believe it or not. Not a part of the triumvirate, yet still huge issues flying all around at the mere mention. There are others -- one on my show yesterday which then stabbed me in the heart for hours due to relating to my false heritage as well as the original two back many years ago -- and I generally shy away from anything including those names, but sometimes the media is good enough to keep my attention, provided I am alone at the time, that is. I was not like this during the zeros. Something happened to me. Three events right in a row, the last of which began to flare last night so I shut it down. One person has been erased. The other two problems are not people. No control. Last night and again this morning I had to exercise a touch of control over the site due to exposure in an unexpected direction. The error was not mine, but that of a person who does not understand the intricacies of WD. Not a big deal, but now I may be forced to make a change which was not to happen for some months, if not longer. I cannot have the site seen by certain people, so it is now inaccessible in a way so as to leave the visitor without a clue as to what may be wrong. For the time being, I see no other option. I cannot move the whole of the content right now. Nothing to do with the original problems which drove this entry. Just something else I have to fucking deal within the course of a typical day. I may have the side rocker made for my vest with the original configuration despite being slapped in the fucking face. I'll do it anyway just to have the thing. No one can tell me what to wear, either. If it's bullshit, then it's bullshit. Fuck you anyway. Looking at the fox faces yesterday was a bit easier than originally calculated. I did my best to come across as happy-go-lucky and I do not believe anyone was the wiser. The reason is probably my being so full of shit for so long that I am very accomplished and others do not realize when the horseshit is turned on or off. The original Lobby Bar in 1993 I am just too intelligent to be directed by another person these days. The control may not be present, but I can still lead others to believe pretty much anything necessary for me to be comfortable. Whatever that makes me, I don't give a shit. All those years of being knocked around have taken their toll and I don't have the fucking time to coddle people. A bit of courtesy here and there, nothing more. Hopefully no one crosses me. Ah... 6:55am. Light outside. Today may be sunny again. That means the house will warm itself. Very good. I may need to hook up the goofy washer drain again just to care for a few things before the movie. Don't know yet. I still haven't picked a film, either. After seeing this actor on the screen and considering all I've put myself through recently, nothing seems to be apparent. Sometimes choosing media is difficult, other times not so much, but right now I seem to be affected by the past again which may lead me to the show we've been following instead of a film. I don't know, and I hate this. The images have been removed from this entry. They are accomplishing nothing anymore. Maybe they never did. 7:08am. I keep thinking of that fucking restaurant visit so long ago. That was not a fabrication, yet the information I gleaned was just as bad, maybe worse. The more I try to analyze and come to terms with whether or not the situation rose for a very bad reason or something light and simple, the more I realize that my sensitivity has been made more severe during the last decade. It faded for a while, yet upon its return I have become something unrecognizable to myself. Others do not see it most of the time due to that huge wall of bullshit. I come across as doing fine for the most part, although sometimes I know there is more to the naked eye. If I don't see it and someone else does, that is not good. The restaurant visit may have been the first in recent years, too. I recall going back to that morning just months ago because of a glean. I forget nothing. The dots were connected quickly. Still, not a fabrication. That is different. I can take issue straight out with a fabrication. The truth may remain covered, though. Hence my doing nothing more than writing. Almost time for me to get up and get a few things prepared. I'll have to take a break, anyway, because movie time is not far off. I still don't know which film to choose. Ugh. I hate this shit. Stop. 3-7, 6:20am. Three movies yesterday. I really hung it out there trying to provide quality entertainment. Lots of hours all in a row. I took care of business earlier than usual and made the time to relax in front of the media for most of the day. It was part good and part bad. This morning the world looks the same, however. One would think I could spend an enjoyable day like that and come out the other side feeling well. Almost. There were snippets nagging at me here and there all fucking day long, and in the end the worst part was completely unrelated to anything flowing across the screen. Oh, some of the scenery began to cause problems like always, but I kept it together or the sake of the audience. That is simply a part of life for me. Others happy despite whatever may be chewing on me. The end of the screening time was fine. As I said, other devices at work inside. Sunday. What does it mean anymore? After all this time? Nearly a fucking year. 7:14am. I scoured around a bit for some nice images of the pyramid and learned the ownership is considering leveling that resort and the castle next door. That may be the last fucking straw. My back is nearly broken from all the joy being closed off or otherwise removed from my life. Too many straws in a very short period of time. That hotel is one of the most beloved places in my life. Might have to go down there and sit in Aurora for a drink or ten. If and when they decide to drop the resort in favor of something new, I just may lose it completely. Greedy fucks. Everything turns to shit. I should have taken the slide What the fuck can I do about it? Not a damned thing. Business is business, regardless of whether or not it ruins my life. Quadrumvirate. Probably more. Knowing that resort still stands there all majestic and wondrous, coupled with the most important memories in my life is a good thing. It keeps me going, as if the availability of the dripping illusion means there is escape. If and when the pyramid disappears, I will have that much less reason to do anything. Another cutting end of hope. A place unlike any other in the world and something I need very badly pretty much any day of the week. Now I have no idea of what to do. Today. Garbage, laundry, and the usual tasks will take place while I attempt to maintain an upright stance. This is not good. Worse than the other three. Something is taking place and slowly removing reasons to go forward. I have to make larger changes than the last time I tried to draw a fucking line. Things have to go out the door. More cash, less crap. Streamline. Narrow my world of possessions. Smallish, truncated, less footprint here. Just in case I can run one more time. But will it be the same? No fucking way. Not even close. The world has changed too much in the last year for anything to be as expected or as it was. Escaping to the dreamy pyramid will likely depress me more than walking away from Ashley and driving home in tears. This is so fucking bad that I do not have the words. Pieces of my heart are inside that fucking resort. Damn it all, and damn everyone. I was talking about today, right? Maybe this will be the line in the sand. As of learning of a possible major change to my dreams, I have decided that more will head out the door than originally thought. I need to be tiny now. As compact as possible. This day will be the beginning of a shift, just like toward the end of eleven. 'Mustgoes'... Everything must go. I will care for the usual crap and then move into the activities of the end times. I always say these are the late days -- even way back in fifteen when a woman moved me outside myself yet again -- yet now I see the lateness like never before. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. The 'Caverns' series of entries should have been a clue. Blue dress, remember? It's empty forever. My world is being removed from view, leaving a mere fraction of the vital, alive self I once was. Yes, the hotel is THAT important. Once gone, I will have no reason to do anything. Falling away. 'The Quad'. No... There is always more. Others will notice the fatalism increasing as of this morning. When I say 'bad', I mean it. And I realize I've overused that word recently, however this is a change with which I am ill-equipped to deal. Too important, and far too representative of the only happiness I have known in two decades. Freedom from everything, and likely the only actual control in existence. No machines, none of the shit I spouted regarding the foxes or vulpine parts, just control over my own wants and needs. That is it. The change will begin immediately. Like the forest of dreams, others may not like me any longer. New me. Very bad. Damn it all. Everything adds up to the idea that there is no longer any point to writing for others to see. I will probably continue anyway, solutions or not. This is all I have, and as of this morning, it is less. Hopefully the pyramid of my life will still be there when 299 reaches 0. She is inside."
March 7th, 2021 7:59am pst
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning
Triumvirate
read ( words)
"3-4, still going. Not the best day despite getting some work done and then a wonderful lunch. And believe me when I say that lunch was outstanding. Part of the time brought back my recent exploration into my heritage and that became the linchpin which destroyed any semblance of enjoyment from that point forward. It ruined me yet again once coupled with my inability to reproduce. That entire line of thinking has been worsening for many years and seems to be holding me down as if Satan himself has his giant foot upon my neck. I cannot pass the thought. My head has since blown wide open as a result of everything added to the situation at home regarding her family. I will not go into detail at all, but suffice to say these last eleven-plus months have seen my psyche build up with explosives and no fuse. Something is going to come along and light it off like the methanol which precedes nitromethane. The situation and spark will be very bad. And I mean worse than anything in my life thus far. Three problems full of information, yet nothing I can affect at all. Every fucking ship sailed many years ago and they shall not return. Mark my words, the combination is going to destroy me, sure as hell. Matter of time, that is all. Tomorrow morning is going to be the heaviest yet. The routine and coffee plus quiet time will be apparent and then realized, after which my intention is to streamline like never before. I am driven into the ground which means I need to drive the fuck away. Period. No more of this. Thank the fucking maker my auctions are bearing expensive fruit. Stop. 3-5, Friday. This is exceedingly difficult. There were already enough parts of this ethereal period driving nails into my head without having gone into the fucking shop of hellish heraldry. I never should have done such a thing. At least the illusion of what I was could have survived whatever else comes along. Now that I have all three on my shoulders -- with the 'two' right on top like a fucking cherry -- I do not believe the numbered days need be ambiguous. Throughout many months I have scaled-up the idea of two and wrote much about that problem. As of more recent days, however, the die has been cast and the journey of exploration and hoping to get past it all is now over. No more will I try. Closed off, quiet, finished. All I can do now is sell and amass some fucking cash. That is all. The days will find me hiding as always. While around others I will fire up the snowmaking machinery and create storms of bullshit. I will not be me any longer. Hopefully this mood will not cause too many words to fly. I'm ready to lash, though. I've been ready for months. Three little cherries atop my sundae of hell. There were only two and I felt hope. No more. All three. At least I now know there is nothing in the cards for me. Good or bad, the question is answered. On to today, I guess. The usual, plus one more listing for posterity. There is a connection which may be explored on the work front, although I doubt I'll be able to accept anything at this point because I don't fucking care anymore. When the trinity of shit began to sink in, I decided that my best course is to continue counting and finding the tiny joys in each day. None of that includes traveling to a place of work and making nice with people I am better off avoiding. The truth is that once employed, all I will do after a very short stint is to dream of escape, at some point later making it happen. I am famous for being completely fake and then blindsiding the world with my rash decisions born of discomfort and fear. Mark my words, any opportunity will eventually prove nothing more than a catalyst. Too much has transpired and buried me. That is that, no matter the position. I have already taken steps toward completion of the routine and just past eight in the morning. Not bad. Plenty of time for consideration of the future. This should be entitled 'quadrumvirate', for Christ's sake. Last night showed me something unexpected and then my downward spiral gained velocity, believe it or not. Yes, something on top of the rest of the shit and out of the clear, black fucking sky. Now I am smaller than twenty-four hours ago. Smaller. Different. Angry. God help anyone who takes issue with anything I say or do from this day forward. Not recommended.
The Luxor may go away
Sell, sell, sell. The word of the day, week, month, year... Life (or what remains). By close of business today I am hoping to be further along with some organization and streamlining of things. Yesterday I took a few steps in the old office and realized the drums need not go away for space. I am going to pull the ad and store them for the future. Not my future, mind you, but whomever ends up with them later. Since I have only sat behind that kit twice in two years, there is no reason for it to sit there collecting dust. No one seems to be interested in purchasing, so they will be packed up and made to disappear. And I found a method for cleaning the tape residue off my plastic watch box, meaning two are now going to be for auction. One at a time to keep the shipping manageable. The poor drill press has been on the back burner since my head exploded yesterday. Right now I just don't care. The makeshift washer drain works beautifully. When combined with the fact that the city visited and ran a camera through the main line, the replacement is in the works and my drain will be going away at some point. This is very good for the house. I may go underneath and do some work to improve the existing stack, too. It's not easy, but very rewarding. Anything which makes me feel good is very important these days. There's been enough down. Also while beneath the floor I will run wire from the garage to the load center. Straightforward, that one. Pause. 10:19am. Everything finished for the day unless I feel like going further. Gangsters on the televisions. I don't know what to do now. I thought I knew of my past, but that has been ripped away and my heritage now feels stolen from me. Not happy is an understatement. I do not believe this can ever go away, either. There is just too much attached to what I was told and all which has been observed for fifty fucking years. Fifty. Where do I go now? Do I have the test performed so everything I fear is confirmed? I was proud. Now? The pride is gone along with a multitude of behaviors inherited from those I followed. And I cannot take issue with anyone because like the behaviors, they are fucking gone. I have nowhere to turn. That is number one. Two was taken from me forty years ago and three more recently. The only word which comes to mind is loss. I have lost everything. The chores are completed, but none of it seems to matter anymore. I never expected such a turn of events. Even with a vast imagination, none of this was foreseen because I thought I knew from where I hailed. Now I am connected to a part of the world I do not even like. This is the worst fucking mood I have felt in my life. I wish I possessed a measure of the nitromethane. That stuff not only smells like victory, but has the power to fix everything. Too expensive. In the nineties the cost was more than forty dollars a gallon. I don't even want to know what it is these days. 10:29 in the morning on a Friday and I am very close to cracking a boatload of beer, heading out to the garage and tearing up the neighborhood with music which equals my mood. No recovery. None. I just realized a massive upside to feeling the way I do today. Believe it. The idea from weeks back in which I entertained spilling everything no longer is an issue. I will say exactly nothing from now on. My mood has helped me to compute the result of such an action, meaning I cannot do it, will never do it, and others are going to have to remain in the dark. Period. Considering all of the shit in my head since just yesterday afternoon coupled with the fucking slice last night, the choice is clear. I don't fucking care anymore and wish to ensure people have no Goddamned idea of what I have been speaking. That is it, cut and dry. Everything will remain within me because it doesn't matter now. The issues, too. No more of it. I have been cut in fucking half by three situations in life -- none of which will ever find resolution -- and due to the nature of my anger over so much shit, revealing more will accomplish nothing. NOTHING. Are you reading this? I am finished trying to seek any answers or help. Done, for all time. This is a very good thing because through the act of discussing my innermost demons I would only fall further. Now I don't have to worry about it any longer. All I have to do is focus on the little comforts. In the scheme of my world, this is one of the best feelings to have been illuminated. No more concern over how another person might react to the massive fear within. As of this morning it is locked up forever. Oh... Remember when I mentioned that huge lie from the eighties? Yep, that one is gone, too. I am now completely closed off to every living soul on the fucking planet. God damn does this feel liberating. If I had not learned so much in the last few years, the upside would be brighter. Too little now, and far too late, yet still a positive.
The shit from the eighties had a huge hand in defining who I am at this very moment. Holding it back from people who know me is fantastic. And believe me when I say that everyone who actually did know of the situation is dead. Out of every possibility in the fucking world, I now hold complete control over one fucking thing. Wow. The images of Ruslana are grainy and pissing me off, but she is wondrous enough to leave them here. Unrelated: I adapted myself to a woman, and then another, and then two more. Adapted. Not myself. Not even close. Had they known me? Frozen emptiness, dire complications, and more reprehensible angry actions than you can possibly imagine within this life or ten others. In short, I destroyed myself for them. Perhaps not so unrelated, however. I am still adapting, waiting for something to come along, and yearning for the machinery which can propel me up and out of the triumvirate. What do you think? Possible? Out there? Yeah, I fucking thought so. Back broken, worn out, and sitting as a slave to those tiny aspects of life which have a snowball's chance in hell of bringing me joy. Demons under thrall. The foxes with the fabrications, carrying with them a host of vulpine labia. Everything is related, everything is destroyed. 'The blink of an eye, you know it's me. You keep the dagger close at hand. And you saw nothing. False love turned to pure hate. The wind cried a lamentation Before merging with the gray'. Read it again. And stop. 3-6, 6:25am. Saturday means a slightly different routine. Beginning with a little work, then into a film for a few hours, and then off to more work during the early afternoon. No big deal. Last night was fairly comfortable aside from yet again being unable to taste the food. That is twice in the space of a week. Not good. One of the few enjoyments left in my life is food. If it goes away, so will I. At least lunch isn't usually a problem. Wow this movie was the only choice at such an early hour, but one of the principals is not someone I wish to see all over the screen. The same actor has been a point of contention for some months now. Unbelievable. Every fucking time the name comes to mind I drop half a notch. It brings up the reference overheard during the show we had been following each night during dinner and that one little dig. Nothing goes away. I'll have to be patient this morning and just live with it until I can make more noise. The actor is related to the two and the three, believe it or not. Not a part of the triumvirate, yet still huge issues flying all around at the mere mention. There are others -- one on my show yesterday which then stabbed me in the heart for hours due to relating to my false heritage as well as the original two back many years ago -- and I generally shy away from anything including those names, but sometimes the media is good enough to keep my attention, provided I am alone at the time, that is. I was not like this during the zeros. Something happened to me. Three events right in a row, the last of which began to flare last night so I shut it down. One person has been erased. The other two problems are not people. No control. Last night and again this morning I had to exercise a touch of control over the site due to exposure in an unexpected direction. The error was not mine, but that of a person who does not understand the intricacies of WD. Not a big deal, but now I may be forced to make a change which was not to happen for some months, if not longer. I cannot have the site seen by certain people, so it is now inaccessible in a way so as to leave the visitor without a clue as to what may be wrong. For the time being, I see no other option. I cannot move the whole of the content right now. Nothing to do with the original problems which drove this entry. Just something else I have to fucking deal within the course of a typical day. I may have the side rocker made for my vest with the original configuration despite being slapped in the fucking face. I'll do it anyway just to have the thing. No one can tell me what to wear, either. If it's bullshit, then it's bullshit. Fuck you anyway. Looking at the fox faces yesterday was a bit easier than originally calculated. I did my best to come across as happy-go-lucky and I do not believe anyone was the wiser. The reason is probably my being so full of shit for so long that I am very accomplished and others do not realize when the horseshit is turned on or off.
The original Lobby Bar in 1993
I am just too intelligent to be directed by another person these days. The control may not be present, but I can still lead others to believe pretty much anything necessary for me to be comfortable. Whatever that makes me, I don't give a shit. All those years of being knocked around have taken their toll and I don't have the fucking time to coddle people. A bit of courtesy here and there, nothing more. Hopefully no one crosses me. Ah... 6:55am. Light outside. Today may be sunny again. That means the house will warm itself. Very good. I may need to hook up the goofy washer drain again just to care for a few things before the movie. Don't know yet. I still haven't picked a film, either. After seeing this actor on the screen and considering all I've put myself through recently, nothing seems to be apparent. Sometimes choosing media is difficult, other times not so much, but right now I seem to be affected by the past again which may lead me to the show we've been following instead of a film. I don't know, and I hate this. The images have been removed from this entry. They are accomplishing nothing anymore. Maybe they never did. 7:08am. I keep thinking of that fucking restaurant visit so long ago. That was not a fabrication, yet the information I gleaned was just as bad, maybe worse. The more I try to analyze and come to terms with whether or not the situation rose for a very bad reason or something light and simple, the more I realize that my sensitivity has been made more severe during the last decade. It faded for a while, yet upon its return I have become something unrecognizable to myself. Others do not see it most of the time due to that huge wall of bullshit. I come across as doing fine for the most part, although sometimes I know there is more to the naked eye. If I don't see it and someone else does, that is not good. The restaurant visit may have been the first in recent years, too. I recall going back to that morning just months ago because of a glean. I forget nothing. The dots were connected quickly. Still, not a fabrication. That is different. I can take issue straight out with a fabrication. The truth may remain covered, though. Hence my doing nothing more than writing. Almost time for me to get up and get a few things prepared. I'll have to take a break, anyway, because movie time is not far off. I still don't know which film to choose. Ugh. I hate this shit. Stop. 3-7, 6:20am. Three movies yesterday. I really hung it out there trying to provide quality entertainment. Lots of hours all in a row. I took care of business earlier than usual and made the time to relax in front of the media for most of the day. It was part good and part bad. This morning the world looks the same, however. One would think I could spend an enjoyable day like that and come out the other side feeling well. Almost. There were snippets nagging at me here and there all fucking day long, and in the end the worst part was completely unrelated to anything flowing across the screen. Oh, some of the scenery began to cause problems like always, but I kept it together or the sake of the audience. That is simply a part of life for me. Others happy despite whatever may be chewing on me. The end of the screening time was fine. As I said, other devices at work inside. Sunday. What does it mean anymore? After all this time? Nearly a fucking year. 7:14am. I scoured around a bit for some nice images of the pyramid and learned the ownership is considering leveling that resort and the castle next door. That may be the last fucking straw. My back is nearly broken from all the joy being closed off or otherwise removed from my life. Too many straws in a very short period of time. That hotel is one of the most beloved places in my life. Might have to go down there and sit in Aurora for a drink or ten. If and when they decide to drop the resort in favor of something new, I just may lose it completely. Greedy fucks. Everything turns to shit.
I should have taken the slide
What the fuck can I do about it? Not a damned thing. Business is business, regardless of whether or not it ruins my life. Quadrumvirate. Probably more. Knowing that resort still stands there all majestic and wondrous, coupled with the most important memories in my life is a good thing. It keeps me going, as if the availability of the dripping illusion means there is escape. If and when the pyramid disappears, I will have that much less reason to do anything. Another cutting end of hope. A place unlike any other in the world and something I need very badly pretty much any day of the week. Now I have no idea of what to do. Today. Garbage, laundry, and the usual tasks will take place while I attempt to maintain an upright stance. This is not good. Worse than the other three. Something is taking place and slowly removing reasons to go forward. I have to make larger changes than the last time I tried to draw a fucking line. Things have to go out the door. More cash, less crap. Streamline. Narrow my world of possessions. Smallish, truncated, less footprint here. Just in case I can run one more time. But will it be the same? No fucking way. Not even close. The world has changed too much in the last year for anything to be as expected or as it was. Escaping to the dreamy pyramid will likely depress me more than walking away from Ashley and driving home in tears. This is so fucking bad that I do not have the words. Pieces of my heart are inside that fucking resort. Damn it all, and damn everyone. I was talking about today, right? Maybe this will be the line in the sand. As of learning of a possible major change to my dreams, I have decided that more will head out the door than originally thought. I need to be tiny now. As compact as possible. This day will be the beginning of a shift, just like toward the end of eleven. 'Mustgoes'... Everything must go. I will care for the usual crap and then move into the activities of the end times. I always say these are the late days -- even way back in fifteen when a woman moved me outside myself yet again -- yet now I see the lateness like never before. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. The 'Caverns' series of entries should have been a clue. Blue dress, remember? It's empty forever. My world is being removed from view, leaving a mere fraction of the vital, alive self I once was. Yes, the hotel is THAT important. Once gone, I will have no reason to do anything. Falling away. 'The Quad'. No... There is always more. Others will notice the fatalism increasing as of this morning. When I say 'bad', I mean it. And I realize I've overused that word recently, however this is a change with which I am ill-equipped to deal. Too important, and far too representative of the only happiness I have known in two decades. Freedom from everything, and likely the only actual control in existence. No machines, none of the shit I spouted regarding the foxes or vulpine parts, just control over my own wants and needs. That is it. The change will begin immediately. Like the forest of dreams, others may not like me any longer. New me. Very bad. Damn it all. Everything adds up to the idea that there is no longer any point to writing for others to see. I will probably continue anyway, solutions or not. This is all I have, and as of this morning, it is less. Hopefully the pyramid of my life will still be there when 299 reaches 0. She is inside."
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