March 21st, 2022 9:38am pdt

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


 read ( words)

"'Don't attach that fucking word to me or even an image of me in your mind. You are not qualified to make such a determination, nor is anyone else. Write it down and burn the paper, and then write it in ink on your forehead and likewise burn it. Yes, burn your forehead. The word is beyond your understanding and has become one of the largest points of contention on earth. Too bad, eh? Just shut your fucking face and forget you ever heard it.'

'I will personally eat, fuck and kill all three of you.' God bless that woman.

The opening paragraph here is a repeat of the trailing end of the previous entry for good reason. It could actually be an entire essay in and of itself, but I am honestly trying to avoid anything harsher. The fact is the subject permeates everything on earth, everything I've been concerned about here for the last two years, and every facet of whatever comes next. Already. Yep. This is fucking truth. A lifetime of the same bullshit finding me in an endless search for help on FIVE separate occasions, and then the bullshit becomes reinforced and rammed down my throat by those closest. Well, they are fucking nothing now. Nothing.

Portia has too strong a jawline.

1638 and I don't know what to do. Big fucking surprise. The house across the street is receiving new rain gutters and guards. Jesus, those guys work fast. Reminds me of the lateral being replaced last year. Just over six hours and they were straightening and cleaning. Wow. That's one thing I can't do anymore, work fast. The water heater job back in January was three days straight but our pace was comfortable. There was literally no reason to rush or kick our own asses. Some of our past jobs were the opposite. Part of the reason I ended the full-time work in the first place. I did some light organization today but not much more. Cleaned the kitchen again after lunch. Now I am waiting for the evening. I can look around and see other parts of the house in need of attention, yet the motivation is slower than molasses in January. Only little steps these days. I'm pissed off all the time and then hit sad periods, meaning no matter what I attempt there is always something in the background holding me down. Maybe this will change. Maybe it will not.

0721 the next morning. Vampires, coffee, news updates here and there, thoughts of what this day will bring. I am still pissed off.

I found a great tripod plate for my camera. One which both straps can attach, plus it can be left on the camera all the time, going from shoulder to tripod without changing anything or breaking out tools. The only downside is it will be replacing the plate which came with my tripod, but I suppose that's not a big deal. The major importance is to keep the camera secure. Anyway, all this tooling around the house with the camera has me refining the way I can carry it while in the field. Hopefully I don't have to worry about anything while we are at the show next week. I just want to capture some abstract details and enjoy the idea of being inside the lens again.

She does not work today but I'll have a few hours to myself due to her going to the city like usual. A little work here and there, perhaps in the garage, too. I don't know yet. The idea of darkher is coming to mind again. The title means much. In and around the work I will try to get the damned point across here.

I know from where the dream originated. A very long period of time combined with nearly unacceptable situations, and those born of a singular question I wish not to repeat again. Yesterday while taking a break in the garage, I looked out to the car and was reminded of driving up and down the coast a while back and seeing too much. I always see something, a fact pointed out here in spades (hence my remaining indoors unless needing something important for daily life). Well, I went on and on about the fictional, mechanical Jaime before beginning the months-long gushing about Jamie. The machine took over and I sought anything which reinforced the dream of 'no worries'. I don't know why she came to mind again, yet now I am once more preoccupied with thoughts of the impossible. This is not good, and at a time when I am already hanging by a thread. The more I think about those two smiling faces (three, if you add the closet doors), the more I believe that part of my life is finished, and the resulting mindset and anger will eventually render me helpless and without the desire to be near another person, friend or otherwise. The origin of the dream soon attached itself to those bad words and cutting remarks I cannot seem to forget. Last fall was the tipping point of another type of fall. I am still falling.

Darkher. Darkness. Dark eyes, the appearance of which I've gone around the world describing; dark hair which often accompanies the eyes, and yet still I feel disdain toward that very same darkness. The fact is that attractive physical attributes come with a price, and one not the fault of the beauty. My attachment is now at issue. I've partially destroyed myself in search of those features, and then let everything fall away while near them. The Raven is a good example, but you already know that. There have been many others. The minds of those individuals became dangerous and drove me into the ground, if not simply in another direction. Darkher is my vision of beauty, and one that cuts me down every fucking time. The dream of the machine came about partially due to being completely controllable in such a way to result in zero worry of the 'mind', and partly because I still seek those features. This is difficult to explain. Perhaps if I point out on of the most reckless periods of my life...

I walked into the bank on Maryland Parkway and waited in line for a teller. When I arrived at the window, I saw those features all over Juliette, along with impeccable makeup, clothing and nails, and wrapped around a prominent pair of breasts trying to strain her blouse. Now, her appearance is not the point. My brain is the point. No sooner did I see her standing there with a smile when all of life's importance melted away like a stick of butter on the summer sidewalk. All I could see or envision was her beauty and my need to be completely wrapped around it. Everything left my head, so much so that I had a hell of a time articulating my transaction when she asked. That is called weakness. I was so fucking desperate that anything else in my brain disappeared in favor of quickly crafting some kind of request to be near her. It was all I could muster. I had gone from a plan to secure some cash after being shut down by the casino cashier (my credit card had never been used and then appeared in Vegas via a massive cash advance request... No wonder they denied it) to being completely dominated by one woman's beauty. Pathetic. There is nothing wrong with noticing. I'm certain many do that when something comes along, male or female. But my reaction was absolute desperation. I immediately felt that if I left that bank without saying SOMETHING, my life would be over. I was THAT bad. Weakened like never in my years. Juliette was a darkher. So was Andrea, Ellie, you name it. Jana. All of them except Ashley. I cannot recall how many times I threw my life into the toilet for the beauty. Even the fucking hybrid call girl a year before Juliette. I was an idiot. Probably still am.

Why am I going into this now? And after two years of bitching about being controlled by certain female physical features? Because a second issue grew out of nowhere (that I knew of, anyway) and killed me inside. Something I worried about during the early nineties and the glow. That never materialized, thank God, and remained dormant for a long time. Once flared, there is nothing I can do. Nothing. Hence the impossible machine. I am not going to be happy anyway, so I may as well develop something inside which can cause an inner smile. There is nothing else in the world left for me.

And no more female images here. I am too angry. 1.7 million words now, most of them during the last two years.


1222 on the same Thursday, the Irish holiday. My routine is complete and I am contemplating something to eat, although the onset of spring has forced my allergic reactions to flare. Sinus trouble. That means I may not be able to taste anything, and such a condition is unacceptable. No sense of taste means I will not eat. As for the rest of the afternoon, my field jacket will be cleaned after languishing in a closet for years. I need to have all of the survival and military-related supplies organized for peace of mind. I have no idea of whether or not the conflict in the east will worsen, so being ready for whatever may come along is important.

Now 1312 and lunch is in the oven. I'm really sick of the useless afternoon feeling which has taken over my thinking of late, so I'll have to force the issue once lunch is finished. I have a few hours before she returns, after which we will probably relax. That means between now and then I need to accomplish something. I have literally lost weeks to the afternoon sloth. Weeks. Maybe more. I can't fucking stand this situation sometimes as I have grown into not necessarily a lazy person, but one who has been finding motivation more and more difficult to achieve. I can't have this anymore. One step must be taken in order to seek others. The first is often the hardest. Perhaps if I become angry enough, the motivation will appear.

There is nothing wrong with having free time as our situation in this house has developed, and part of the reason I do have the time is we have crafted our lifestyle to allow for me to care for the house and related maintenance on my own and without the need to return to working in the trades. It is a two-fold benefit, yet if I am to realize the value, I must go further. Not easy much of the time.

The clock is displaying 1551 and I am taking a much-needed break from the efforts. I forced it, as mentioned, and organized our emergency kit, the secondary tool and weapons bag, and moved into the bedroom to change the sheets and swap two small tables. The floor was cleaned beneath each, too. Now I am tired, but at least I avoided sitting here dozing like some afternoons. None of this may seem very exciting, though. To me it is just work, yet I did succeed in rising and caring for some things rather than falling further down. I really don't want my days to lead toward a cascading exothermic inversion. Never good. Maybe I watch too much science fiction.

Burn your forehead.

Here we are on Friday morning after business is complete. 0800 straight up, coffee and the usual atmosphere in here right now. Yesterday went better than expected, and better than the last few weeks, for the most part. I don't know what happened, though. Maybe I just got more sick of feeling like nothing was being accomplished. Today can follow suit, I suppose, in and around this crap and keeping updated on the news from the east. The conflict over there has not spread into NATO at all, so I'm not as concerned as I was initially. Still, the best idea right now is to be ready for anything. The work yesterday was a good start. I suppose the mood struck and I ran with it during the afternoon. Whatever the reason, having our stuff organized is a good idea. There is always more, too. I'll have to work on thinning some items in two of the closets. I may not broach the darkher subject much more in this entry. Thinking straight is difficult with world events looming.

I changed my mind again. Sexual imagery has returned. Suck it. The fact of the matter is that the imagery will always come back no matter what may be taking place in the world or this house. I can't help it. My appreciation for the female form is at an all-time high and attached to other subjects which, unfortunately, are truths of my current condition. They are representative of most of the drive behind my dissatisfaction in life and society, people and pitfalls. I am like this for a reason, or a list of reasons. If I have to explain again, I'll lose my shit. Anyway, the forms are here, good or bad. The first is key, believe it or not. Her midsection is a physical manifestation of THREE fucking issues in my head, none of which is desire. Put that shit in your pipe and smoke it. When I say there are no solutions available, I mean it.

Sometimes Janina is gorgeous and other times she is not. Some features just don't fit, I suppose. She is the one actor who was the subject of an interview detailing the difficulties in working without clothing so often. She said in the beginning it was very trying, but later she realized that with the body makeup and camera work, she saw footage of herself and loved the way she looked on screen. That's cool and I respect it. I also respect the flip side, as in Brit not displaying her bare chest at all during the series. Personal choice, I suppose, yet there can also be a stipulation when producers are casting in which the idea of nudity is revealed to be an integral part of the character's arc, meaning anyone unwilling need not audition. Interesting. I, for one, could never do it. When I was a teen and saw a pair of breasts on the television, I thought it was the end-all be-all of human existence. Not anymore.

Ooh-fa, Bill's suit is fucking awesome. I think the reporter is smitten.

1200. High noon.

I went to a neighbor's house to asses a drain issue. I'll be returning Monday to try clearing the problem. Not sooner, though. I have to work up to the work, as it were. I also finished all my crap around the house for the morning. There are still chores, but I can get to them in a little while. I need rest. In a little over three hours I'll be meeting the boss at the bar for a work discussion. Right now I am unwilling to do much in the trade, although I can see the schedule and think about it. Sometimes a load of cash is worth being uncomfortable for a few days.

Well, I guess no work discussion. It turned out to be nothing more than a Friday afternoon social gathering. I should have remained here. Lost time now. This morning I am seeing the mistake. I should have known. Now, and since the major billiards influences had been there at the same time, there is a tournament set up for tomorrow afternoon. Good and bad, I suppose. It's been a while, honestly. If I feel up to it, the game will be fairly enjoyable. Otherwise I will remain here and quiet. I'm tired of pretty much everything now. Sitting at the table forced me to realize I am now the square peg. The tournament will probably be the end for a long while. I have other fish to fry. Throughout the last few months I've felt that any time spent there other than working or repairing something has been wasted and could have been better spent right here.

0644 on Saturday and I am looking forward to embracing the quiet in a little while. I have another camera accessory arriving sometime today, a leather grip for carrying the thing without the slingshot. It's a cheap one, so I don't expect the same quality as the slingshot, either. But it will do in a pinch. I am also going to continue the organization of all my clothing in the office and the room itself. Right now the idea of being in there with the second show in the background is heartwarming. Doors locked, media on high, and me left to whatever seems best.

The city sent a contractor yesterday to prune the tree, finally. didn't cost us a dime, thank the maker. Last summer I connected with a reputable company to have the work performed but they dropped off the face of the earth with regard to communication. The work they did yesterday is not the artistry I would expect from an arborist, but it's neater and lighter, anyway. Safer, too. That's the most important part. One less item on my list of daily worries.


0732 and the morning crap is finished. Still very dim outside between the time change and marine layer of fog. The atmosphere inside the house is like evening time. Very odd. I'll be in the quiet here for the next five hours or so, after which the best will be some lunch and perhaps a little more work around the house with one of the shows.

A little while ago I was recalling the early periods of this site when the entries were shorter and I used to refer to the time writing as 'spinning' my words to the screen and world. That was from early zero five until late zero seven. I sat there at the huge desk right next to the big slider and gazed out over the hills to the east, and I actually felt very secure. Way up off the ground, no elevator, and almost completely isolated from everyone else in the complex. It was nice. Those every-other Fridays were even better. No work meant I had lots of time with the morning coffee and typing or whatever seemed best at the time. That was when the site went through several different names and logos in the span of a few years. I used to dream of the forest mindset and landscape, painting pictures of a vastly different life somewhere else in the world. It was unrealistic, yet the separation felt amazing and I could not cease yearning to be out of the concrete jungle. I did not write very much, though, because very few words back then added up to quite a bit of thought. I didn't need much, really. Many of those days found me very comfortable. Life was very different, too. Right now I am seeing the only parallel, and that is writing and running some media in the background. First was the trailer and the period when the site was born, then the 1236 in which it continued to grow, albeit slowly, whilst I dreamed of impossible landscapes, and then the house. The middle came to mind this morning and I miss it.

Not only did I work on the site from time to time, but that period was also the most dramatic growth of the truck as opposed to any other time since I began the work in zero two. At some point each week, I had the truck splayed all over the coffee table while designing parts and making plans. Many of the images in that section of the site are from the same period. Things were simple, yet I was not happy. Big fucking surprise.

I have to keep yesterday in mind all the time. That was a mistake and I feel it more now than I did earlier this morning. Damn. I left just before three and arrive home half past five, hours which could have been spent in any number of better ways. Maybe I was hoping I'd feel differently upon arriving over there, I don't know, but I do not wish to repeat the feelings of lost time. I must remain mindful of how important it is for me to remain here and away from others. The market visit prior to the bar was no big deal, and I am glad it didn't add insult to injury. There was a slap in the face later, though. A big one. I need not go into it now because the problems have been described enough already. At least the market aspect was fine. That is now the plus as related to an otherwise very large minus. If I can pull focus upon the importance of being home, I'll keep my stupid ass out of those situations. The tournament tomorrow notwithstanding, of course. That was a tough one, yet I promised months ago that I would participate. After? Differences aplenty.

Another lost title. The slap yesterday was very blonde, too... Far from the darkness. Whatever. Darkher... Dark something, anyway. I don't know anymore.

0811 and coffee number three, likely the last. I'm feeling the fall situation I used to gush about during the middle period mentioned above. Right around the beginning of fall (the actual beginning, not the period the media pushes in order to get people to go shopping), my head would fabricate a trip 'up the mountain', meaning just a drive to the high country before the roads were closed. I don't know why. We did drive up there on a few occasions, ending up either turned around at the chain control point or heading further in the big truck and then tooling around a while before returning. It was silly, I'm sure, yet there was a feeling between where the music had been carrying me correlating with the landscape outside as we traveled to higher elevations. Maybe the whole thing was just a fantasy, but at the time I sure enjoyed being up there amidst the weather. Looking out the back windows right now reminds me of seeing the mercury coming down after a hot summer and pushing me to dream of cooler locales. That valley gets very hot.

The high country feeling likely stemmed from two aspects of my personality. First is climate, as I have always felt more comfortable when the weather is cool. Second was the idea that the more harsh the weather, the less people are willing to visit or live in a certain type of area. All of a sudden the rain is pouring outside. I seem to recall seeing the forecast yesterday morning. Must have forgotten. Anyway, sitting high up in the apartment and spinning tales relates to the drive up the mountain and my desire to be isolated from the masses. The whole thing came to mind this morning and this is not the first reminder in recent months.

Yesterday morning I pulled out the old field jacket, separated it from the liner, and washed both. I've been trying to thin out the clothing seemingly in long-term storage, and the field jacket is something I cannot live without. It represents all that militaristic planning when we moved into the house in the valley, plus those trips to the high country when I had to plan ahead just in case we ended up stuck. It's one of my favorite pieces of clothing and I intend to keep it a long time. The truth is that jacket began an investigation into what else has been languishing in that back closet. Now I am on somewhat of a mission to see what else can go out the door in the interest of space. The office, too. The rain is going sideways, and Nora is going to grace the screen very soon. Anyway, all my 'just in case' stuff has been in mind lately due to the shit in the east, so I'll just continue in the same vein today. I need things to be in good order. The field jacket was the catalyst and I am very glad I grabbed it.

God damn it, there she is. I have not seen her for some months. Might have to break out the big camera and capture her for all time. Nora rivals Jamie sometimes. Another darkher. Just my luck.

The time for my routine is fast approaching. These weekend days are very different and rather haphazard as opposed to the weekdays. I have to remain mindful that sometimes my needs will appear alien to other people, meaning I need to adjust my behavior a bit. Not a big deal. More and more while outside this house and among society, I am seeing the contrast. I don't purport to know what takes place in other heads. I can only see things from my perspective most of the time. For myself, the differences are stark. Knowing what people are thinking or dealing with is not necessary for me to remain at a distance. Ah geez, there is the other one with breasts all over the place and the darkher features. Her first name is Jamie, but not THAT Jamie. Totally different. Ooh-fa, this fucking show. And now there they are... The Stupid. Ass. College. Girls. Just shut up and go away. Disgusting. But Jesus, Deborah has got some fucking teeth.

0924 now. I really need to get some things finished before too long. The motivation will come.

Motivation did indeed arrive on the heels of the coffee. 1141 and my routine is finished. I am anxiously awaiting the delivery of my leather camera grip. It should work well in concert with the slingshot. In a bit I'm going to set up the GPS module and have the entire camera built as if I am at the car show. The weight is not fun, although it does remind me of the 'wristwatch weight' discussions I've read over the years. Some prefer a light timepiece that does not constantly remind the wearer that it is present, while others prefer the heft of stainless steel or the like. Personally, I enjoy both, yet a heavy watch just feels substantial on the wrist, a reminder of the hobby. The hand grip I used to have (which was made by Nikon itself) was never quite right on the wrist yet carried a hefty price tag because of the name. Other accessories simply MUST be from the same manufacturer so they communicate seamlessly with the body. The grip? Not so much. Hopefully it lives up to the reviews, though. As for the weight of the camera, it is just a reminder of the value of a DSLR over any other type of device. I don't mind. Photography is a leisure activity for me.


I fucking love Nora so much. Ugh. And I don't give a shit that they ravaged each other in a shipping container as brother and sister. They were VAMPIRES, you idiots. Different type of 'blood' relationship. Get past that part and you can move on to other cringe-worthy moments. Nora was and is a part of the 'Jaime' construct, and shall be for all time. I love her. Jolaimora, dipshits. Jolai-fucking-mora. More Nora, less of the others, yet this is but a temporary situation.

0711 on Sunday. Vampires and coffee so far. I don't need to leave for the tournament until nearly one this afternoon. That is, if I don't change my mind. Right now I am about seventy-thirty in favor of staying away from people. Yesterday was rather okay, I guess. I did not do much beyond the usual, though. A bit of laundry and worked with her car a little. The little camera grip arrived and I already don't like it very much right out of the fucking gate. I'll tool around more today with the grip as well as the slingshot. Once the plate arrives, I'll have everything necessary to complete the setup. It'll just me a matter of details. I'm looking forward to playing around with that stuff today. Honestly, the comfort of being inside the house may be the clincher in keeping me away from people today.

Today, regardless of whether or not I do attend the tournament, I need to have the garbage in order along with clothing. Two out of three of the pants I wear daily are suffering and in need of stitching. That is a priority over much of my usual stuff, too. I need them repaired. I did accomplish a bit more organization yesterday and intend to continue this morning. The way I feel right now is such that if I never see another human being again in life that is just fine. The house can take up all my time. If I do decide to attend the event today, I'll have most of my crap finished prior to leaving the house. The one upside to being involved in those pool games is my head can benefit from the distraction. Unlike work, I can be there as I wish and leave as I wish, no explanation given. I can be very crafty when it comes to snowing people into believing that I must head home for some higher purpose. Deborah's hair looks amazing behind a headband and when combined with makeup, has effectively removed a few years from her apparent age. The red just kills me, though. I used to find red hair pretty fascinating, yet more recently it has changed to scary. Anyway, the tournament is still a possibility. If I feel the time is available and I am not concerned, I'll go. The business takes precedence, however. The first order will take place in just over an hour. At that time I will finalize my decision.

I need to go outside the norm quite a bit more. A few days have found me there, yet the lion's share are spent on the little projects and details. There are aspects of the house I do not like and wish to change, meaning at some point I need to push much more than I have in the last two years. And that number is sharp. I was looking back at images on my phone this morning and learned that I shot the television screen behind the bar two years ago -- plus three days -- in order to capture the headline of the very first shelter-in-place order that was given by six counties. Unbelievable. Anyway, pushing is good sometimes. One small example was yesterday as I avoided falling into the same old shit in the garage. We were out there speaking with another neighbor for a while when my neighbor had to leave for a bit. He asked how long I'd be in the garage with the music playing, so I told him one hour. The weather was cold with a decent breeze. Well, an hour later he had not yet returned, so I closed shop and came inside to begin working on dinner. A few years ago I would have waited and then likely skipped dinner just to spend time outside. I wasn't feeling it very much, plus the cold drove me into the house. I passed on the evening, meaning I went around the typical weakness and forced the issue. That is uncommon and I must do more of it, beginning with later this morning. Shoving stuff into the trash is one way of pushing, while making some other sort of dramatic change inside can be another. Sometimes that is difficult, however, because so many things in this house have attached importance which grows over time. I've successfully separated myself from a lot of clutter by simply cutting the attachment and making it all disappear. Years later, I miss nothing. That is one way of ensuring I will feel the day has been well-spent. It's important now. Very important.

What about the darkher? I don't know.

Ahh... Yes. I thought of that word and its many implications just now as I looked at Rikki on the screen. I always remember her because the character is such a tough one. She is not to be trifled and never hesitates to push back when treated unfairly or with disrespect. Attractive? Not that much, it's just that one term which I will NOT type here. That word became a point of contention inside my head after a couple of examples throughout the last year. Unfortunately, the fact that I am so unbalanced and unfair means I will not speak of it, nor can I offer anything in the opposite direction about which anyone will give a fuck. I cannot identify the term or anything nearby, either. Nothing. No help. I just have to fucking sit on it. And believe me, this subject comes up every fucking day of every fucking week no matter what I may be watching on the televisions. It has become pervasive and there is nothing I can do about it. The type of anger generated inside due to those few occasions cannot be defined or overstated. I have no power to do anything. Darkher? Yep, that is where the power went, and the primary reason for my anger. There you go. Damn, but Arlene has got some sticks.

Coffee and vampires, thoughts and dreams. The construct keeps coming to mind because of being reminded that Nora was a huge subject here not long ago and soon became more important than she should have in a very short period of time. Weakness is the reason. And desperation built that woman from the ground up. Need. The need to drop all the worries and leave them behind. The machine could have fixed everything. Too bad, yet not surprising that I would come up with an impossible solution rather than attempting to repair the situation in reality. That last word is my least favorite right now. I can't even live vicariously because my friends are far too separated from that fucking word. The jacket will help me to rip my head out of the fictional pants I created due to being a basket case. And don't give me any shit about the media I watch so often.

0805 and I can't seem to get two fucking straight minutes of quiet now. Between the noise, my sinuses getting all stuffed up out of the clear, blue sky, and my Goddamned eye watering, thinking is almost impossible. I can't be all pissed off this early in the day. Not good.

The darkher is my own fault, I guess. Weakness. I ran after whatever, and then suffered the consequences. I ran again and the same result. I lunged and fell. It's all my fault. The part for which I refuse to take responsibility is the shit from the past and the manner in which said shit affects everyday life for yours truly. Every. Day. Life. Not many know. Very few. And only one person in memory has used that shit against me intentionally. That person is gone from my life. Years ago. I suppose that is one positive in a vast sea of negatives. The situation came and went but still has me thinking sometimes. I was told long ago (nearly back to the fucking cunt who forced me to defend myself) that I have placed too much importance on certain incidents and situations, meaning my limitations have been self-induced. Well, I disagree somewhat. The limitations are only partially me. Others are from others. The thinking comes about as related to what may be going on in people's heads as they FUCKING LIE through their teeth to yours truly. Oh, I was the one accused of the flim flam, but you can't sit there and tell me other people are limiting what they say to me to pure truth. Bullshit. This entire line of thinking is a pile of crap. Pissed off. The one fact which glares at me each day is the darkher and what I've done to create it. That is that.

The sun is shining. Hopefully that means I can complete my work today without being too cold out there. I have much to do around the house. Right now it is 0839 and I intend to sit here awhile with the television and this IDE in order to hash out some shit. I have to be careful, though. The previous paragraph almost hit a few nails but I held back just enough information to keep the major issues hidden. I will not be more specific because at some point in the future I may actually begin publishing again and I won't abide people taking me to cause for anything here. I'll have to focus on the menial stuff rather than going on about why I am in such a bad fucking mood.


Nora is a vampire and would probably drain me. Food for her, food for thought. At least I'd be close to her before dying.

Ooh-fa, my intention to join the pool tournament is shrinking by the minute. There is nothing which can bring me more comfort than the idea of shirking something out in the world in favor of remaining home, alone. I am in complete control of the atmosphere in this house, a feeling which continues to grow as the days pass. The tournament might end up fun, but I may not know it. As the hour passes, my coffee wanes along with any ambition to leave here today.

Two years since the first shelter order and I am still here. I've worked less than three weeks in total since that time. Good and bad, but mostly good. I wished for more free time and less work for a number of years and never thought anything could provide relief. Now? We are in a position that has benefited both of us and allowed me to lessen my contact with the outside world. That last part has been a desire of mine since the early nineties, believe it or not. The Midwest was the only real period in which I embraced being home and in control of my situation, until two years ago. Two and a half decades in between.

0912 now, and I am close to rising and caring for some things before opening the garage. Garbage day means the refrigerator and whatever else can be cleaned in favor of using up as much space in the containers as possible. I like to maximize everything on Sundays.

And another day later... 0742 on Monday morning, typically one of my favorite parts of the week. Aside from heading to the neighbor's house in a few hours to help with the tub, I'll be here for the duration and probably relaxing for the most part.

I ended up feeling as if my presence was wanted at the tournament yesterday, and so I went to participate. The entire affair was much smaller than I had originally thought. Rather enjoyable, too. Rather. If it weren't for the fucking bitchy woman trying to quiet the room for a show downstairs, the last game would have gone much more smoothly. Whatever. I'll protest it through channels, later. The fact is the hours were ok and I returned home to finish everything in good time. No issues over there, either. The fact is I would have been fine remaining here all day, too, but they honestly wanted me there. Some of the faeries on this show are so fucking gorgeous and exotic that the scenes can be quite distracting. Even with Nora within the frame. Anyway, I went and returned, the work was finished, and the evening went on like any other. No big deal. Now, however, I wish to be home every day for weeks again just to maintain my sanity. I can only be out there in the world for so long before I need a long break. This morning is the beginning.

The problems never go away. They become pushed back into the shadows for a while, but the return is as certain as the sun rising each day. There was actually one woman who slid up to the bar not long before I left the place. The entire upstairs bar area was empty for a while when I took off. The woman was asking about some sweet wine and I tried to help the bartender come up with a concoction aligned with that woman's wishes for a drink. She spoke a bit and then went back downstairs. Amazing eyes, yet one of them appeared a touch 'lazy' compared to the other. Overall, her personality struck me as very odd, high-maintenance and difficult to please, leaving me to focus on the eyes, which were beautiful. A very short discussion later, I was glad she walked away and returned to the show. Much of her appearance was striking, though. I was captivated for a matter of milliseconds. Yep, that's it. Every person out there represents some type of trouble, mostly those of the opposite sex due to my fucked up head. I should always endeavor to avoid everything. Pretty, but pretty is not good anymore.

Two hours before I have to go help the neighbor. In the meantime I will be sipping coffee and considering my current situation. This is actually the worst position in which I've been mired thus far in life. Some of it is far beyond my understanding, while some is actually my doing. Ah... Geez. Nora is there is all her dark glory and beauty. Anyway, I don't know what to do these days. The same shit is taking place over and over and fucking over, seemingly on autopilot. While I can admit that much of the usual is just fine, other aspects of my living this way are most decidedly not. The resulting anger and dissatisfaction continues to grow beyond anyone's control. Oy, Salome just drank it all. Huge mistake, trusting that guy. Anyway, I recall a split-second feeling yesterday as I gazed at that strange woman's eyes, and one I have not felt for some years. Maybe a decade. It is not a positive feeling at all. Dangerous. Worrisome. Wrong. I have little control over this shit anymore, though. The days pass, I worsen, and then thoughts spiral down into a netherworld much like what I created in Vegas nearly nineteen years ago. Very bad. I can't have that right now. Holy crap is Maurella ever fucking cute sometimes.

This is a lousy morning, and not just because I have to go work with that bathtub. The losses mount quite often in the morning and I end up turning to the routine for comfort. It will definitely help today. Less than an hour until I am scheduled to meet with the resident down the street. The fact that I have been trying to formulate reasons all morning to avoid the job is not surprising. As much as I do not wish to disappoint people, my number one priority is to maintain myself, and that is already an uphill battle without the need to go out and work. I agreed to giving it a shot, though, meaning I should at least try to clear the drain with the machine I have in the garage. That person is not responsible for my condition being all fucked up. There is a small war in my brain right now. I'll decide soon. The massive possible upside is two-fold, really. My effort in merely diagnosing the situation is already appreciated beyond belief, plus after finishing and returning home I will feel wonderful. Deciding if the benefits outweigh any discomfort is the problem right now.

Nora's rear end is fucking unreal. And the other scene... A few days ago when she was walking toward the camera in boots floored me. I could not believe her gait matches my dreams to a fucking tee. Unbelievable, to the last. I'm going to go back and run that sequence so she can be captured for my viewing pleasure. The more I watch this show, the closer she gets to usurping Jamie from the top of my list. The woman is so far beyond beautiful and so aligned to the dreams and visions throughout years that I still can't believe it. And like Jamie, the focus is her character, not the actor. Remember... I live in a dream world all by myself. No matter what bevy of beauties graces the big screen during this series, Nora remains light years beyond them all... Even combined. I am a crazy person.

0934 and the inner battle continues. Do I actually give it a try? Something I've accomplished successfully many times before? Or do I move aside and recommend a professional? So far, I am not terribly uncomfortable because I know there is the possibility that I can't clear the problem because the machine may be too large. If I try and do not fix the problem, she will still be very pleased that I made the effort. I may not be able to sit here day after day knowing I disappointed someone who is very nice. Pretty soon I'll have to go one way or another. That much is certain. And this entry is long enough.

To be continued in a few minutes... Not dark, but even darkher.