January 27th, 2021 11:02am pst

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

The Two

 read ( words)

"The storm came and blew shit all over the place. And my laundry experiment worked well. Heh.


Yesterday was an education regarding patience, as well. Not the drains, the company and implications. I cannot go into detail right now, either. One over there and the other over there. This may be all I say about it for the time being. I just don't know. Too much going on inside this morning.

Today needs to be (MUST BE) better organized. I ran off to make use of her shower yesterday and we ended up visiting for quite a while before I returned here. We spoke, too. A little television in the background. Upon arriving home a while later, I really started to feel good about the way I've been dealing with this current problem in the house. I have to pass the time until work is completed. Not all is well, however. My head keeps going over certain segments of the day and treading paths better left unexplored. Damn. I figured this would happen, too. I am partially prepared. I am also prepared for some nice quiet later this morning. I need it. Thinking is paramount to bliss these days, especially considering I have almost complete control over the atmosphere most of the time. Today has to be an improvement over yesterday in at least one way. The eyes must feel earned. That is all. The bleach is never an issue. Pull the chute.

Right over there... I saw it. The target of life. I saw it for seconds and then it faded. She faded. No, not her, the other one. The impossible. Right over there, more than once actually. Like the Andreoid, only taller and more suited to my excessive nature. Unreal, unbelievable. I saw it. But don't put too much stock in my words here today. Remember I am not a well individual. The frame of reference began many years ago, went dormant for a very long time as my life went in directions difficult to understand, and then reappeared right here on these pages through a combination of realization and dissatisfaction. The reference was out there in the world for a few seconds. No name, no nothing. But over there.

She is out there. I am in here.

I have another, larger hurdle to overcome soon and have no idea whatsoever of how to go about it. Not even a beginning. Maybe the idea of the countdown was the correct line of thinking weeks ago. I don't know right now, but sometimes that path feels best. This shit I have to deal with is tiring and taxing on me both physically and mentally. There is a limit to both. I'll have to think about this for a while before deciding upon a direction. All over the place this morning, anyway. Whatever.

The reasoning behind my being so uncomfortable yesterday was probably the issue of doing laundry. My little world here is such that if I cannot accomplish my daily activities, my head does not work well. I feel as if I have done something wrong if everything does not advance as I expect. There might be a bit of leftover concern regarding the machine conversation, too. That subject is difficult to explain because as a dream it is entirely up to me... The design, appearance, function, everything. I have no wish to detail the whole thing because it is not necessary for my dream. I just need the fucking thing to work the way I wish. Period. If what I am dreaming is unrealistic, perhaps I need to point out that it is a DREAM and nothing anyone will be able to quantify. What is going on inside me would be impossible to explain. It is what I need, and would be lacking in everything which has caused me problems for decades. There you go. Chew it.


The time of work draws ever closer. Unlike yesterday, however, afterward I will be able to think. That is good.

I don't even know if I could explain my feelings at this point. Years of trying to figure it out and then the period which changed everything, followed by last year's discovery that for me to be happy something must take place which no one can ever understand. Maybe I should stop trying.

Morning crap is done. I am alone with my thoughts (dangerous).

The show is up there keeping me company. Something on a commercial reminded me of Traci, so I placed three images of here within this entry for good measure. I like to look at her sometimes because she reminds me of Michelle (the first one, anyway) in several ways. The lower part of Traci's beautiful face matches Michelle to a tee, and the blonde hair, too. I used to have the extreme hots for Traci, perhaps in the late eighties, but nothing related to her adult film work. That was bad and should have never happened. The face is the key, and that feature she shares with so many others pulls at me all the time. Michelle was the closest thing to a machine in this life, as well. I cared for her with all of me. Alas, that went bad and time progressed. I don't know why I decided to include Sherilyn, though. Maybe that movie which took my breath away so long ago before I knew anything about anything and wanted to see her chest. Teenagers do strange things, and sex is the draw of life at that age. Heh. She is beautiful, though. Look at her freaking eyes. Maybe I should have watched 'Twin Peaks', but the downside would have been Madchen. I would probably blow up the television from the pain of seeing her face too much. I can only take that reference in small doses. Jesus fuck, already.


Here I am for the day left to my devices. Maybe some time in the garage. I don't know yet. Still sitting with this and the remaining coffee. Yesterday's laundry drain adventure worked well, and depending upon how long we have to deal with the fucking lateral, I may secure the line better and make it easier to disconnect. I'm still waiting to hear from the guys. And speaking of 'guys', that was one of yesterday's issues pulling my head down into the soil. Nothing serious, but it's always following right behind me and there is nothing I can fucking do about it. Believe me, I've tried for years and finally gave up. Machinery. Understand? I don't care anyway. I am not going to explain this, damn it. If people cannot derive the main component from the clues here, it's just too bad. Go pound sand. Kick rocks. I don't care. If I lay it all out, I will be ridiculed to no end. This is as good as it gets.

Fuck. No one seems to understand that the problem has no apparent resolution. It is worse than years ago -- even the period in the cave when I was constantly paranoid about what others were thinking. I have no fucking control over it. None whatsoever, hence the difficulty. I don't need to hear about other people dealing with the same shit, either. I have not the time nor inclination to help them because I have enough going on. Without faith, hope or trust, there isn't a damned thing I can do. See? The two. The issue of the ages. Machinery, plain and simple.

Still some leftover wind outside. I understand it will continue to increase through tomorrow night as well. I'll have to keep after the stuff outside so we don't have a repeat of the trash can flying across the yard. I switched to the news to get myself updated on everything.

I realize the problem is inside me, but that knowledge does not help. Due to my becoming turned so far inward the ideas and worries amplify at times and I speak to no one about any of it. I can't. That would result in feeling too wide open and I am ill-equipped to cope. Day after day goes by and I continue to head downward.

Switched to the show again. William Sadler is awesome.


Back to this day.

I am going to finish with the tree and store everything. I decided not to appropriate more lights and put them up because I don't want to spend the money right now. The tree will be boxed sans lighting. Yesterday I put on one of my favorite films from the last two decades to keep me company while working out here, and that led to the need for showing all three to the goddess at some point when we have the time. Eleven-plus hours of time, to be clear. They are lengthy and wonderfully immersive. I was all the way in yesterday. Aside from the tree and remaining totes of holiday stuff, the garage will be next. There are boxes full of dust that need to be investigated and disseminated. Space is good. My partner mentioned last night that she likes the idea of everything feeling more open, so I'm going to store whatever I can to facilitate easier cleaning and an uncluttered appearance in here. This is wonderful. I don't like crap all over the place because it's just more to dust. Heh.

Addressing the garage means I can capture a few more items to list for sale. The drill press is still sitting there awaiting word from a friend, and if that goes bad I will put in on the Internet. Free items always disappear quickly. The drums, too, although they will be for a price.

In and around everything today my head will continue to churn over two. Maybe something will come along -- like a realization that there are methods to employ so I feel more comfortable around women -- and maybe I will end up a big pile of nothingness and completely alone. Right now I don't see a way but that does not mean change is not forthcoming. I have to remain at least a little bit open. The alternative is not good. Speaking my mind is not going to help, either. I would have to trust. Not going to happen. All day long and everything I intend to accomplish... Two right there behind me like a figure bent upon my destruction. Maybe I'll just let it.

Casey Biggs is also fantastic. Damn, the talent.

Perhaps I'll dilute myself with alcohol and pizza later.

I am still angry from days ago. Yes, you read that right. I may seem to be moving along fine from one day to the next, but make no mistake. I am deceptive and secretive in my ways. The wool is a simple affair after decades of leveraging what I want and need and forcing others to only see what I wish. Underneath it all is the rampant and increasing disdain, disregard and anger toward the whole of society, and that fucking includes EVERYONE. Yes, you too. The wall, remember? Built strong and forthright. It is right there in front of me and awaiting a charge or challenge. Go ahead and give it a shot. I would love it. Anger, and one foot completely dissolved into the embrace of the forest. The rest of me will eventually be inside, and that fact is something people should fear. I will not be the same, instead becoming a mere fraction of a person. Inhuman, inhumane, and more difficult than can be imagined. Go for it.

That was a mouthful, albeit a necessary push. Should I mention the blue dress again? Did your fucking head follow that one? I doubt it. The blue dress, all dirty and in the wind. I am still in that cavern.

Everything is related. Long past... Near and far... Them and me. Keep trying. Follow.

Oy this is so fucking bad now. I have to get into the fortification today and that will help me a touch. The garage, the house, my things, and the space all around. Fortified. Just in case the poo poo hits the fucking fan. Up there... 'Everything is related'... The forest. One foot in there, more to come. The attitude will trail behind until such time as the anger is fully realized. Very bad.

Perhaps an entry a day should be the norm these days. I did it yesterday, and the result is shorter pages, ease of reading and less for me to track. There will be more titles, though. Maybe I'll split the archive like in the past. Right now I don't know, and honestly if people have to scroll their stupid asses off just to find something, I really don't give a shit. This is privately-held space. Eh... I just made up my mind. Forget it.


Where the fuck do I go from here? Hmm. One idea is to shove everything into the cloud, buy a continuing subscription and do away with extraneous domains and other products to cut the cost. I don't know much about dealing with the cloud insofar as the IDE, although I do have plenty of time these days for research. I guess I can gain from learning. The other, less-friendly option is to leave everything off the production environment completely until such time as I feel the need to publish. Right now I just don't know. Nothing can stop the exploration, however. Nothing.

Part of my routine (as truncated as it is now) is complete and I have some time to gather thoughts. Good and bad. I keep thinking of that empty dress blowing in the wind but remain unable to alter its condition. There is little I can do in such a situation... The one I created through continuing realizations. Machinery, minds, hearts, whatevers. Everything seems to push me down. There are lots of items I can address today, yet the dress will be right there at each step. The garage, my little details inside the house, lunch, television... All of it is being shadowed by the blue beauty all covered in dirt. I don't know what to do. Maybe a morning cocktail will assist my brain. Hmm. Opposite thinking, that one.

Hours upon hours of consideration. I did not have this measure of time while still working. The more than ten months behind me have been full of free time. Tons of worry drove this in the beginning, and now I feel that there is nothing else I have in the world aside from exposition here. No matter what a day holds in store for me, words swirl inside and eventually find some semblance of cohesion in these pages. Or, at least I believe they do. The jury may never return. One 'up' and also a 'down' is the fact that there is but one football game left (except for the Pro Bowl, but that is a pile of shit), meaning the related aspect of my concern will be gone until early September. Three months from the end of the world, but still all those others in between. I'll miss the sport but I will not miss the worry. All this time at home has also allowed me to more fully plan the outings for the games each week. I worked on myself to such an extent that I ended up quite fatigued yet still watched. Honestly, there is no clue whatsoever if the extra consideration has helped or hurt. Tons of time, or so I had thought.

Even the show is carrying with it some difficulty. Fortunately, I am alone.

Some of those references have cut me deep enough to leave marks I cannot ignore. They are pressing on my head at this very moment and assisting my inability to get up and do anything else. Damn it. Did I really do this to myself? Or was it a combination of events beyond my direct control? Eh... The fucking control again. I'll tell you one thing, given the ability to travel back knowing all I do now? Destruction, plain and simple. That would effectively have eliminated the problem and cause a permanent decrease in my future chances of developing into this mess. Control. Perhaps that really is issue five. Or was that the vulpine labia? I can't recall right now. The two is shit, and causing me to question everything.

Cuts all over the fucking place. I cannot remove or forget. Sitting here at this moment I can feel them all, along with the words which keep echoing. Trust cannot exist now. Probably never.

This is a Wednesday. A year ago I was working, unhappy, broken and wondering where to go. Now I am not working, unhappy, broken and wondering where to go. Nothing leaves my head. Ever. I can't let it all go. I am 'me', and that means all the little parts added together. If I remove some, the fear is that I will no longer be 'me'.

'Vulpine labia with the blue dress on'.


One-a-Day entries plus calcium? Nothing is funny anymore.

I keep seeing them, everywhere. I see and analyze, write and obsess, often full of desire. And then the other thing happens and I begin to feel that I am completely unfair. And then I don't. The feeling changes to a massive loss through threats and not knowing of what is going on in there. And then everything softens. And then I begin to relax for five minutes and the whole fucking mess starts over with something out there in the world of beauty. Over and over again, day in and day out, every miserable fucking month throughout every miserable year. I keep seeing them. Nothing is funny anymore. Everything is pushing. All directions at once. The blue dress may never see the light of day again.


Red and dark turns to gold and light;
Teal comes along and causes a fight.

Cocktail time.

Front to back and back to front. The sides are compressed. Taller. Thinner? Four dimensions may not be enough to hold it all. I cannot forget. Everything still there and forcing a lack of space. Inside may turn to outside, and then the center will fall away just like all those days ramming my sorry head against the information from hell. No response. Nothing. Quiet, screaming. Pushing the other way accomplishes only fatigue. Taller, like those actors. Some, but not all. The other actors are a part of the problem. They are looming and awaiting the next cut to my soul. Information does not help. Speaking does not help. Typing does not help. The two is in charge of me, completely.

Goddamned motherfucking shit anyway. The end of this calendar year shall be the end of everything. Wait for it.

She is out there."