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Lost (Arina VIII)

alert   Mature content     No. 310    Published April 29th, 2022 9:31am pdt       read ( words)     Past entries

"Half an hour after the last entry, and Arina came to mind because something on the television reminded me of Cindy, which then led me to those entries featuring her images. And then I calculated that my preoccupation with the name Arina may not have come to an end as of yet. The feeling is similar to 'her', as a representative point rather than an actual woman, and one encompassing enough facets of my condition to possibly justify further exploration. And here we are... Many months after the seventh Arina entry and worse off for the time and effort. I tried to use that name for rolling everything into a ball and describing the negative effects over time which have left me void of hope. I still don't know if this will do any good, but I just happen to have the time and space for delving once again. All the time in the world. Perhaps too much fucking time. Cindy is not at issue here... Just decoration. I am at issue... Deterioration.

0900 straight up on the same Sunday morning. Overcast and cool. The routine and other tertiary tasks await.

1128 and the routine is finished, albeit that is only the beginning. I have the garbage business -- helped along by cleaning out the refrigerator yesterday -- and then whatever seems best. The current plan is to sit with this for a short time until my morning cocktail is gone and then hop to the office for a little while. I need to pull some of my photographs from the south wall of the office in anticipation of storing the mattress there behind my big table. I also must straighten the crap all over the drafting table as it has become somewhat of a 'catch-all' for anything not enjoying some other storage. This is overdue, honestly, but I can only work in there with one of the science fiction programs in the background because of familiarity. Listening is fine. I know the stories inside out, for the most part. Anyway, once the office work is finished I'll have to drag the big table away from the wall to store the mattress. Moreover, once the mattress is relocated, I'll have room to remove the plywood sheet in the center of the garage. That material will be used for the second speaker cabinet for the garage. Both items leaving the space mean the original layout I had envisioned last summer will return, making for a much more comfortable space during those evenings with the color on and music blaring. Jesus fucking Christ does Cindy ever have a magnificent pair of lips. Anyway, I need to relax a while and have something to eat before being on my feet again for some time.

Arina. The word of the day, I suppose. All the shit over which I have agonized for years rolled into a name for reference, and it includes this morning (like too many others). Dreams. Dissatisfaction. Yearning to the power of an nth degree. More dreams. And then naught. Understanding? Gone forever, most likely. Save for some fucking miraculous turn of events or gigantic leap in technology, everything is gone. Hmm... Just like Pan Am, when I had the logo as my front license plate and the phrase on the rear license plate frame, 'Gone but not forgotten.' Never forgotten. Arina carries everything through which I have traveled for decades, culminating in what is sitting here at this very moment, typing. I am wrecked, through and through. Arina may follow this content until I am finally dead.

'Look toward the Raven
As She flies away in the dark
Look toward the night
That took your love away.'

Morning again, 0805 on Monday. A new week, the same everything else. Arina and the problems, in mind. My mood is on an even keel so far today because the sun is shining and the day appears full of possibility. We shall see just what is possible, and soon. I am in the middle of the coffee, fourth show again, cats asleep, plenty on my mind. The missing aspects of life continue to plague me, mostly when I first hit this machine in the morning. Their return is most unlikely. Not a good situation at all. I want to do bad things to good people. I'll have to work toward mellowing some before late afternoon. Arina has more buttons than Tony's grandmother's corsets, and some of them have been pushed. Yesterday morning was tough as I realized the suspicion from earlier this year may actually be coming to pass, and at a time when one more little straw can force my hand in very negative ways. The subject is still on my mind right now. It follows me. There was/is a film title. It goes back to the earlier part of this year. It is bad, and a large part of the affront. Arina knows. As beautiful as she can be, her preoccupation with my demise is irritating, if understandable. Off the subject for now because I may let slip something which can add clues. Nope. Can't have that shit right now. Pissed off.

The first of two speaker cabinets was completed and tested yesterday. The sound is questionable, though. I don't have a mobile amplifier at present, meaning the only way to evaluate the audio is via the home theater receiver in the garage. The combination is an impedance mismatch, unfortunately, so whatever I am hearing is off quite a bit from a proper setup. The music actually seemed out of phase, although that cannot be the case. I will need another set of drivers in order to match the impedance of the amplifier. I don't have a clue as to when I can do something like that. Too bad. In the meantime, I'll build the other cabinet so it is at least ready when my electronics can be properly interfaced.

0923. Garbage trucks, thank the maker for their work.

I now have a pretty good idea of what has been going wrong, and an even better idea of why. This morning is a prime supporting part of the cast in this dreaded film. The wonder came and went. The smiling face made an appearance -- much like Arina smiling down on my plight -- and then disappeared into the foggy landscape beyond my reach, and believe me when I say the reach was excessive for a time. I recall a job across town directly across the street from a future job, in which I had been thinking in terms of the mathematical properties of beauty, effectively exacerbating an already dire situation. And then there was improvement for a time. And now everything has gone to shit. I can take little more of knowing that only a very specific set of circumstances and an extremely unlikely alignment of tumblers must take place in order for this issue to be alleviated, or at least eased a bit. The massive downside is there is no one to listen. Such a situation is going to be the end of me; the death of what little remains of my ambition to move along in life. Treat this as a warning. I simply know 'too much' these days. I just fucking KNOW. No one else does. They are all gone. Every other fucking aspect of life seems trivial compared to the driving forces inside me as they relate and churn. Everything makes me angry. The subject matter creates a combination of rancor and longing. If I truly can do nothing about such problems, I will be very unpleasant, to say the least. My little world shall shrink ever more. I see no reason to entertain anything from beyond the property line. I suppose I'll just continue as I have for the last several months... Small tasks, some physical comfort, and what feels an endless number of difficult mornings. God help whomever may wish to cross me.

Fourth show, still. Sixth season now, and I intend to roll right through the remainder of the series and then switch to the fifth. I flirted with the idea of running through the third again, and actually began the show just the other day. I might change my mind by the time this one ends. The anger is going to have to wait until I feel like being out there among the garage atmosphere again. Work inside the house means no one can see me and I can focus upon the stories with more clarity. I always seem to miss something here or there, so remaining inside all day adds up to better sound and an opportunity to really listen. I love these programs. They are helping to keep me alive. I have to get up and care for the routine. Sitting here only makes me see enemies. I also see Kim's eyes up there. Large and very pretty sometimes. More images of Charlotte will be here soon.



74

Look at the fucking lips on that woman


In 'Darkhest' I mentioned that the alcohol can work as a defense mechanism against two of the issues I experience daily. So far, it does suppress feelings in those two directions, yet I have noticed that my reckless thinking also expands and turns to anger very quickly. Again... Don't fucking cross me. I will cause so much fucking damage that you will not be able to keep up with the thrash. Trust the words. And if there is doubt as to how I feel toward people, try something. Go ahead. I no longer have anything to lose. Just make sure you do it after my first cocktail. You'll receive the full brunt.

Time to work.

1129 now and the routine is finished, laundry drying. The weather is quite warm for this time of day, too. I believe the house will be warm enough to air out a bit in a little while. I feel weaker than ever right now. Each day is uphill, beginning with the simplicity of rising from bed and making revolutions for a new day. This condition is cumulative, and will likely leave me with fewer daily options in the future. On the positive side of things, the booze has indeed suppressed the possibility of further physical issues today. My realization this morning was harsh, though. Nothing can extricate the worry inside. Not a fucking thing helps. All that was has been ripped away. I am left completely empty and void of hope. Booze can't do anything for such a condition. This will kill me save for the most unlikely turn of the coin. Arina has always had this facet. I just didn't want to acknowledge it. The remainder of the day will be spent doing almost nothing. I have to move the mattress because it is blocking the upright pantry. I'll take care of it after lunch, I guess. Other than that one item, this day will be worthless. Ah... I recall, 'Live every day as if it were your last dance on earth.' Well, Carlos, easier said than done. Much easier. That shit always sounds nice and inspiring until reality comes along and slices throats. Fuck you, too.

0644 on Tuesday morning. This is an early day again, so I'll be up in a few minutes for the morning business. I relocated the mattress yesterday and put the office in as much order as it possible right now. Lots of stuff in there. I may go back and improve the situation today. The big upside is the center of the garage is now clear and I haven't seen that since moving the tables months ago. This is very good for my space out there. Very important. I need what has become a haven for my rebellious and antisocial nature. The area must not appear inviting to others. Only me. Twenty four hours ago I mentioned the day may be worthless, yet I did accomplish quite a bit. I need to do some relaxing and thinking today, meaning I'll be away from the garage yet again. The projects are slimming, anyway. Shit in my head again, too. Shit. Again. Arina knows. Fourth show for a little while. Coffee. Cats asleep. Flags out. I'm going back to the vampires soon. Sometimes I need them up there... The characterization and setting are fantastic.

Susanna Thompson on the screen. I recall reading about her portrayal of the queen. She said it was extremely taxing every day. Long hours, lots of makeup. I can only try to imagine. The woman hit it out of the park, though. Hard to believe that underneath all that green technology and insane makeup is one of the most beautiful faces I've seen on television. Crazy. I need to look up the number of occasions in which I've mentioned this series... 45. I've typed the words 'fourth show' 45 times in the last two years. Jesus. Let's try some others, shall we?

Gangsters: 111
Vampires: 68
Dragons: 13
First show: 3
Second show: 12
Third show: 14
Fourth show: 45
Fifth show: 2

Hmm. Some of those numbers are lacking because I didn't mention the shows every time. And the mentions may not all be tied to actually watching at the time the entry was written. Still, one can see that I am out of balance and in need to some sort of intervention for obsessive viewing. Whatever. I don't fucking care anyway. I do what I do for reasons I refuse to lay out here. Live with it. Suffice to say, I rewatch much of the past. The main reason is familiarity and a close second is comfort. I need it up there much of the time because everything else in life is failing.

0828. I have yet to do anything but sit here and sip coffee. Plans, though. Once the routine is finished and I work a bit in the office, the idea is to disassemble the piece-of-shit speaker cabinet I built and store the drivers until such time as I have amassed more inspiration for better work. I really don't like it at all and should have waited a while. There must be another pair of coaxial drivers to balance the impedance, and all of it should be in a much nicer cabinet. I don't care, though. It was an experiment. The remaining plywood is going to be another painted symbol that will hang where Emily now resides. She must come down for two reasons, the main being the space for the symbol. Second is I'm tired of seeing her amazing breasts up there in full color. Beauty causes damage and I really don't need any more of that in my life. I am already in plenty of pain. If the weather remains fairly cool and gray, I'll cut the sheet of wood and begin outlining the symbol today. Then the paint, and on the back wall it goes. The lighting is already in place thanks to my work last year. That is that. No more beautiful boobs. They live in my brain anyway.

Speaking of beautiful boobs, the dragon episode yesterday displayed a pair the likes of which must be extremely rare in the world. Absolutely stunning, and much like the globes that bounced around inside Andrea's thin clothing as we gallivanted about the nation. I still can't believe her appearance and the fact that she was wrapped around me for three fucking weeks. Maybe after she departed the Venetian, my best option was to slide down the outside of the Luxor. The interval between then and now has not exactly been optimal. Well, some good has taken place, I guess. A handful of people, mostly those who cared for me and accepted my shit. For reasons of good form (and a completely skewed sense of reality), I may roll back that episode and capture her twin beauties with the camera. I've done it with the vampires. Eline's chest is the stuff of dreams. My dreams. You know, those that are so far out of balance that I've driven myself insane over the gradient. Fuck.

Arina has no breasts. She is a point of reference, like Satan or God. A figurehead of sorts. A representation of just how fucked up I've become over the years. Every fucking morning looks really nice, leading to the midday which is confusing and confounding, and then each evening that rolls on by like a train without brakes. I have tons of options but rarely does anything seem appealing, mostly simple devices derived from a deep need for comfort. No matter what I do or where I begin to work, the reality comes along and slaps me across the face as if to say, 'Still here, motherfucker.' I don't know what the fuck to do about it, either. So far, and if you've read anything in the last year, all I've accomplished is writing while the difficulty continues to mount. Yesterday was a prime example of a situation I feared. The morning was very bad and led me to learn that I may not be what I once was. Age affects many parts of life. It is affecting me. Yesterday the longing led to such a realization, eventually leading me to hatred once again. That is where everything ends if given enough time and space to flourish. Everything leads to hatred and anger. All of this shit is rolled up into Arina because I had hoped the compartmentalization could steer me to learn or understand. Well, what I understand is that I have been treated to a ride on Satan's fucking railroad. An endless ride, and one which continues to darken as time passes. No dioramas this time. Just a figure I had hoped could help me. Now she won't fucking go away. I guess I'll just keep writing about her. The only hope I have right now is that I do not worsen to the point of too much desperation. That can lead to disaster. Believe me, I've done it.



75

Her shoulders remind me of Nathalie


'I have dwelled in the dark for so long that I have become the night.' Indeed, Sami.

I can't even say what I fucking NEED TO SAY on my own site. This is ridiculous. I am afraid of being typecast and labeled, yet no one is reading or listening. Does it matter? Maybe. Some parts of me have to remain hidden away because of fear. But sometimes I feel like screaming everything out to the stupid world. I really do. I fucking hate everything. This has been the ideal time for me to begin displaying violent references in my garage and lighting them for emphasis. They are so important to me that I am more compelled than even the audio work. The ambiguous nature forces people to question the meaning, which is always open to individual interpretation, and that leads to confusion. I. Fucking. Love. It. No one gets an answer. No one even gets an acknowledgment of the question. Go fuck yourselves. This is what happens when NO ONE IS FUCKING LISTENING TO ME. And it shall continue. Almost booze time. 0908. Definitely booze time.

1030 and the routine is finished. I have the big garage door open so passers by see the symbol in all its glory, but the back door must remain closed due to the wind. Cocktail, third show up there, cats basking on the bed, and the day is wide open for whatever I wish to do. I have a load of dry cleaning, but nothing else pressing. The second symbol is on this machine. I'll have to fire up the printer so I can scale up the image as large as will fit where Emily resides. After that, the plywood will yield to my wishes. I had the idea of adding a third symbol to the lower part of the table in the garage. There may be enough wood to cover that area where the 'road closed to through traffic' sign now hangs. Priorities, you know. That space must announce my state of mind, and the road sign is not aligned with my mood. And speaking of mood, I must again place a paragraph here which dominates my daily thinking and issues. This will be the third inclusion...

'Recently I saw something that I've experienced in the past on a few rare occasions. I know what it is, but I have no clue as to the how or why. The situation is elusive beyond belief. The last time was quite a while ago and I cannot go into detail nor define the subject. NO ONE IS FUCKING LISTENING. There can be no hope of such an experience again, especially considering it requires deep conversation and much understanding. When I say 'bereft', I fucking mean it. Seeing an example of a similar situation nearly broke me in half. Right now there is little in life that does not piss me off beyond comprehension. I don't even know why I brought this up. How can this exposition and exploration be therapeutic if I continue to worsen? Yeah... That's what I thought, fucksticks. 'Better to have...' What? What did you say? Shove it in your ass.'

Everything is bad as relates to that thought. And as much as I need to scream at the top of my lungs, I cannot do anything. Shackled by my own fears. This has become an everyday occurrence, as well. Every fucking day the imagery and memories cement themselves in such a way so as to derail clear thinking. I can't fucking stand it anymore but there is nothing I can do... No path, no relief, no nothing. Great situation here. I'm so fucking angry, yet my feelings apparently do not fucking matter in the least. The above paragraph shall be repeated here in perpetuity. Guaranteed, motherfucks.

0656 on Wednesday morning. Fourth show again, coffee, pissed off, depressed. This feeling is actually worse than yesterday in that I can see what's going on more clearly, yet still sit here powerless. Pretty fucking bad, and nothing I expected to ever happen.

Yesterday I ventured out after the routine and fabricated the second symbol for the garage. It's cut, drawn, painted and hanging where Emily was. No more Emily, but I don't care. Her loveliness has been tattooed to my brain over the last couple of years. There honestly used to be two of her, the one mentioned here and another above where my tool chest resides. Right next to her was Alexis. Both of them came down during the early part of the pandemic when I put up the gangsters. Whatever. Anyway, the second symbol is in place for whatever it may be worth. My mood has changed since yesterday afternoon, so nothing seems appealing right now. The smiling faces took over again and left me very upset. I really don't need this right now. Nothing seems right, anyway. No amount or order of words will make any difference.

Jaime would make everything disappear. The appearance I created combined with the words Ashley spoke to me while I was on her sofa, again a day later. Jaime would make all the bad go away. She could make me disappear, as well, because I would no longer have need for society. Maybe Ashley's words and demeanor ruined me and then became reinforced by one other dark individual... Eventually forcing me into this present mess. I don't know, however. I just don't fucking know. The certainty is that machine would be the catch-all problem solver of the universe. At this very moment, I am worse off than the last decade. The feelings ebb and flow, yet lately the truth is I have not found any peace. Something has to happen here, people. I can take only so much. Short of the impossible shit at the beginning of this paragraph, I don't see any other avenues. I really don't. Nothing. My health may be at risk. That is not a joke.

Maybe I'll just talk about today. The flags are out.

This is the middle day in which I have a longer morning but shorter afternoon, if that makes sense. I fully intend to remain indoors today except for breaks. I was in the garage yesterday for several hours working on the symbol, so not much advancement in here. I need to hear one of the shows all day, too. The comfort cannot be overstated these days. Anything to keep my head out of the din. The office will be first on the list after I finish my routine. That work should facilitate other organization afterward. Time will tell, but those are my intentions, anyway. I need to get in there and make a big difference without becoming distracted by hobbies or some other such crap. Lately I've been pretty good at maintaining focus. I can do it again. The day is already sunny, so inside will stay warm. I realize in other parts of the world the idea right now is to stay cool, but this close to the ocean combined with hills all around means cool all the time, especially at night. My left hip has been killing me lately, mostly in the morning. I can barely put a sock on my left foot after rising out of bed. My positioning right now has most likely made a huge difference. I think about it each day and make little changes here and there so I don't make the problem worse. And speaking of problems, I'm going to do my best to leave the ongoing shit out of the remainder of this entry. Everything adds up to failure, anyway. The day ahead can help. And I really hope this day can erase being foiled.

Foiled. There may be no turns on this road. Rails? Ugh... No more of that shit for now.

I need something different, and not just my reaffirmed love for being in the lens, either. Something larger, perhaps. Moving myself into the office later may lead to ideas. I don't know. After relocating the mattress to that room and clearing out the center of the garage, I don't feel so compelled to do a bunch of work out there. The space looks nice. I should focus upon the office and some items which tend to sit for months for a lack of better storage. Little steps in such a direction, I guess. If I can get the garage in order, I should be able to do the same in the office. Also, if I intend to set up a desktop computer in the future, the room needs to be in better shape. I worry about this machine falling behind in power as the software advances, and a desktop machine means more power for less money. Another problem could be solved, as well. The monitor I installed on the east wall of the garage can move into the office for the computer, after which I can set up an actual television in its place so the audio options are improved. That could fix the stereo/surround issue with which I am still contending. Ugh. One step at a time. Arina can wait. The morning has been a failure, anyway.



76

Doe eyes


I have to water our few plants this morning.

The fourth show is in its seventh season. It will roll through to the end very soon, possibly as early as tomorrow, and then I'll do something else. Maybe the fifth. All my friends up there. Family, too. Those who always keep me company and do not judge. They cannot. Not the way the characters were written. If only other parts of life had been 'written' with the same compassion and understanding, maybe I would not be like this. Maybe. I love those people gracing the screen. I have for a very long time. My dreams are unrealistic, but they still remain. Fuck you. Leave me alone. Jaime could make it disappear. There is no Jaime. Just me.

0900 on the nose (although I am seeing a digital display on the clock... Figure of speech). I have yet to do anything for reasons of keeping the house quiet for the other one still sleeping. I'll get going in a few minutes because I'm tired of sitting here and the coffee is nearly gone. Hopefully, the kitchen will still hold the heartwarming feelings when I get in there and pour a drink.

0945 and half the routine is finished. Still nice and quiet in here. Whiskey next to me, because... I don't fucking care anymore. Fourth show, still. I need it. Considering the way I feel so far this morning, I will most likely stick to the plan of being indoors all day. I was thinking a bit ago about connecting my BT version of the MDRs to this machine, yet I have never been able to get the BT to work. The headphones are fine and connect to the phone within seconds, but this monster is another story. Early this year I replaced the mouse (trackball) with an updated version for the purpose of losing the USB dongle which sticks out of the back of the computer. The newer mouse is BT-capable, but the fucking computer has some issue I cannot solve. If the computer worked as it should, the headphones could follow me around the house running from this machine. I have the same media here as on the televisions. The idea is fantastic. Too bad I can't fucking solve the BT hangup. Something in Windows 10. I spent days trying to find a solution and then gave up.

Some of the background information in this episode is both frightening and gorgeous. Jesus, how did they find so many beautiful extras? Ugh. Whatever... I don't need that shit right now. Fortunately, I have the daily medicine next to me or I would otherwise change the program. This is a great episode, too. I'd hate to switch it off. Dwight has blue sunscreen on his nose. Heh.

In the house all day. Garage closed, perhaps. Although, I normally have the big door up for ventilation since we have two pantries out there. And I don't usually worry about who might see me. No one has contacted me in weeks. The symbols will help others to understand that they may not want to know what I've been thinking. The fucking squareheads gave up, too. Basket case. Alone. Left to my devices, thank Christ. At least I still have the extended family up there. Oy, there is the adultress. Wow, blonde hair and bright red clothing combined with an assertive attitude. She is the diametric opposite of the inside of my head. Curious, she still draws me a bit for some reason. Hmm... Probably because she is fictional. Anyway, in less than an hour I'll have the place to myself for a little while. This is good. But I don't have all sorts of aspirations today. All I want to do is finish the routine and then tool around in the office a bit. Nothing heavy. My time is my own.

1014 now. Booze is flowin' like a two-bit whore. We roll'n. Eh... The adultress' crap demeanor and insulting comments just removed any flailing attraction. She's done. What a fucking bitch toward Dwight. I can't abide that shit.

Ooh-fa, I can still see that woman walking out of the ocean with a wrap and everything in good order. I don't need it, but then again I need it. What a fucking rig. Floating, flying... Falling. Fucked.

0822 on Thursday after an eventful, if difficult, Wednesday. We had to take care of the eyeglass shopping -- which I did not anticipate being an easy task -- which meant heading out to a few stores for research. The third stop ended up being exactly what we needed, and the shopping was fulfilled. The first stop was one of the most troubling visits to a retailer since the Asian eyeglass woman at the mall south of here. You may recall my gushing half an essay about her body and clothing, along with the fact that I was pretty much stuck in that store for over an hour and stared at her much more than I should have. Well, another eyeglass retailer became an almost immediate cardiovascular issue as soon as we were greeted. Yep, a girl standing there with big, bright eyes and that long, dark fucking hair which sends me flying inside. And then walking around the store with us following (never a good situation), and her standing near the displays with one foot pointed inward and everything I have discussed, tried to describe, and lamented for ten fucking years all written up and down her person. The thoughts going through my head at the time and again this morning should land me in hell, if not worse. I just could not believe my fucking eyes. We were in the store for less than ten minutes, but the damage was both immediate and crippling. Two retailers later and we had all the business completed and in good order. The other upside was the woman assisting with the purchase was just your average, very friendly and helpful person. Not a fucking supermodel like the first stop. Jesus fucking Christ, take me right now. Just take me to hell.

Two aspects of yesterday drove me to dream early this morning of breasts and other oddities, most of which eluded me as usual. I cannot discuss the second catalyst, though, only the shopping trip and the endless patterns being drawn by her walk -- nearly matching the manner in which Andrea's pants were always snug yet yielded a bit as she moved along. I actually stared too much. All fucked up. The dream was no better, either. I believe what was going through my head at the store is what I tried to make happen in the dream, while the person near me was being quite flirty, yet standoffish. I don't get it, but whatever. I am not meant to understand everything in the world. Fucking hell, anyway... I want to go back there and... Never mind. My brain is worsening.

Ah... There is Martha again, bless her awesome work.

There was a bit of an impromptu driveway and garage event for a few hours last night. Mostly just sitting around discussing whatever came up, but also rather relaxing from my point of view because after finishing two out of four eventual symbols out there, I was pleased to see everything lit and glowing as I had hoped. From the street, my garage appears as something to be avoided, for sure. As for the gathering, no big deal. I did not stay up too late, didn't drink too much, and kept the music to a reasonable volume. Overall not bad, I suppose. My head was in that girls pants the entire time, though. Basket case. I keep seeing her walking.

I have to go to the grocery store soon. A few items, plus something good for lunch. Ah... That was the negative from spending time in the garage during the evening -- no dinner. Anyway, I'm not worried about seeing any other fucking pants over there today because whatever may cross my vision will not hold a candle to yesterday. As soon as the coffee is gone, I'll take a drive. I already have a small portion of the routine finished. Today's plan is to do as little as possible because the sighting of that girl yesterday made me very sad, and the more time that passes only brings me futher down. Sometimes when there is a stunning form I become angry. This time? Only sadness and depression. Not because she was likely thirty years my junior, but due to the missing pieces I already deal with daily. I never lament my age, only situations of the past which pull at me sometimes. The sight of her stirred me to the core. I hate to repeat certain parts of this content most of the time, but honestly... 'I shall never look upon her like again.' This is absolutely, positively fucked right now. Everything is just fucked.



77

The girl at the store had doe eyes, too


One might think I didn't see her eyes because I'm always focusing upon pants and such. Well, you should know by now -- most importantly due to the race girl and all the shit I went through over her staring at me -- that the eyes can outweigh everything else, even my deep-seated need to devour. Doe eyes, but thank the maker they were not cat eyes. That would only be a larger issue piled atop this shit. I'd give anything to see her again.

And now my head is back at the beginning... Fifteen, when I changed the site direction and began to feel torment and a sense of loss whenever something struck me upside the head. I feel that now. After seeing her yesterday, I am at a loss. Does this happen because of what I felt years ago, when I first made business cards in hopes of DP turning into something real? Or is the tormen driven by desire? I can't know right now; may never know. This morning my head is filled with the appearance of her beautiful gait (probably unknowing of the nature of her image in those clothes) and the idea that my life is void of anything REAL. This is a very dangerous situation because such a vision right there in front of me is a good portion of the reason I ran away so many times. Part of me was desperately seeking such an appearance combined with the most elusive of understanding. I can't even sit here and state that this is a 'bad time' due to everything continuing to worsen. I will probably never know why the torment and turmoil take over and leave me at an immeasurable loss. Would I have tried to hand her a card? Or would I have shied away like on many occasions? Years ago a friend actually physically restrained me from offering a DP card to a woman because she felt the idea was ludicrous. The entire project was scrapped almost four years ago because I could not disagree even though the compulsion was grinding me into dust. While I can freely and confidently admit I felt a mass of immediate physical desire toward that girl, the truth is the numbers were also a portion of my thinking. Years of imagery and analysis have taught me that such a form is rare, and worse than that, still more important to me than anything else in life. I've stated that my mind is going in a very bad direction. And this is the truth, regardless of the numerous mentions... I am going to lose it completely at some point in the future. I can only hope I am alone when it finally takes me.

Add to that the increasing frequency of my physical issues. Sum it. Go ahead.

0941 and the last of the coffee. I'll be going to the store shortly. Fourth show again. Cats asleep. Every single fucking strong need? Absent from my life. Splendid.

0741 on Friday after a very mellow Thursday. Nice and quiet in here aside from the show up there. Coffee and slumbering cats. Yesterday in and around my daydreaming and lamenting, I was able to begin another symbol for the garage to replace a street sign that no longer carries meaning for me. That means another small canopy and lighting to dramatize the appearance at night. This morning I've been thinking that those types of projects which can bring a small smile to my face when complete are going to fix exactly nothing in the long run. Just a series of distractions, one after the other after the other. I really have no avenues to be explored. I'll finish the drawing later today and perhaps get it ready to go, but inside I'll be the same half-dead soul floating along with nary a chance of being saved. Today is yet another example of Ashley's words slapping me in the face while completely alone. Just like most mornings, I am very unhappy. That usually leads to angry actions, yet even those can do nothing because there is NO ONE THERE. No one is listening. This is a very bad situation. I am beginning to hate some that I previously loved. Yep... I really said that. Those who have been closest. This is just another step toward understanding how the idea of Arina has affected me. A very negative position, and one from which there is no way out. Further and further. The symbols in the garage are representative of the idea that I no longer want people around me, and as such, shall continue to grow. The first step I took with the plan for a shelving door has now evolved into a theme and atmosphere. And there is more to come.

Unbelievable, again. And again and again and again. I fucking hate this everyday bullshit with the feelings and faces, dreams and pitfalls. Another pitfall has come to pass and I am more angry about the overarching subject and reasoning than ever in my life. I will admit the girl from two days ago shook me to the core and was very unexpected, effectively exacerbating an already crippling situation. She doesn't know, of course, and such a fact actually pleases me. No one should be subject to my very detrimental type of mood right now, especially someone so young and bright. She is not to blame, naturally. Blame is a waste of time these days. Doesn't matter, really. What does matter is the worsening attitude inside me and the manner in which the tiniest reference can affect my thinking, just like seeing her body move across the room. Two years ago I would have lusted, written, whatever, but now I've been driven into the soil by the changing face of time. Thoughts and dreams lead to the realization that things are different now. Not vastly, but enough to force my hand and cause possibly more worry than I can handle anymore. Yesterday was an example, today is an example, and I have a pretty good idea of tomorrow. Even if the house and its contents can keep me upright in the morning, at some point the knowledge will hit me again and I will fall hard. This pitfall has the ability to end my life.

No one knows what is at work inside. Oh, there have been a few who ewre allowed through the door, yet the truth is I had to embellish at one end of the stream of information and distort the opposite end, leaving a very unclear image of what I am actually thinking at a given moment, and far less of a result than what another person may believe has been intimated. In short, there was a bit of bullshit in order to candy-coat, followed by a massive lack of detail. Not bald-faced lying, per se, yet a stretch nonetheless. I do not have the conscience for outright lies in most situations. The only course is to withold details which will then create a problem, possibly mistrust or disdain. But I have to protect myself, whatever the cost. My current state is that of someone who forced so much protection that I've been left alone. I just cannot see another way. This is the most unhealthy emotional strain imaginable, and it is worsening with each passing morning.

0837 and I really don't give half a shit if this day turns into anything. The neighbor mentioned there may be a bit of a gathering this evening and we are welcome to join, but considering the way I feel right now? I really don't want to be around people. Maybe I could just hole up in the garage to show others that I am not well. Nothing else is going to work anyway, so clamming up may be paramount. Option B would be to close up shop and act as if I am unavailable from the beginning. Right now I don't fucking know. I already feel bad enough. I'll get up and care for the routine in a little bit and then whatever. The symbol I made yesterday is awaiting more drawing, so perhaps if the weather is warm I can work on it later. I can't light it yet, though.

0921 on the clock. Doesn't matter in the least.

Every entry is the same. Some remain on topic and others drift all over the map. All contain the same veiled thoughts and issues, complaints about my current condition, and the typical drivel regarding some beautiful woman out there in society or some other facet of beauty that stirs me and inflames my insides. These entries have gone nowhere and are heading nowhere. I just keep typing and including whatever images seem interesting. I changed the primary domain and am now fully confused as to the content of the analytics, so my audience is likely shrunken beyond belief, if there was one at all. I can't tell anymore. Everything has just gone to shit during this last month... My health, worry over things changing over which I have no control, and the direction of life. I don't know what the fuck to do anymore, so I sit here and type over and over. For the time being, I shall continue in this vein because I have not clue one as to solutions. Fuck it...

Here I shall remain; a small person (man?) in a little house; all encircling devices and alcohol; forever yearning for the past and the impossible. No one will know. That guy who is always there... In the garage... Solemn, broken expressions apparent. Lost, forever.

No one will know. Just Arina.

Her."



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