April 3rd, 2022 8:40am pdt

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


 read ( words)

"'Down to the bottom of the fucking hole. All the way. Not a bottle, mind you, a hole in the world. Negative space, just like that other hole made of sack cloth, blacker than the Devil's heart. No one knows of such darkness. They believe, they hope, they speak... But they do not truly know. Their 'faith' has been misplaced for thousands of years, yet they will not accept such truth. That is fine. We need to remain alone, lest the smiles and platitudes cause behavior from which there can be no redemption.'

1028 and the routine is all but finished. Just one item soaking in the kitchen sink, the other kitchen sink in my head being very tempted to send words to the screen better left unsaid here. The fact is my typical morning cocktail comes on the heels of feelings I wish to derail or suppress (not good, ever), and the alcohol usually does the job of distracting me from disastrous thinking. Usually. Some days -- like today and this very moment -- there is little I can do to remove damaging ideas and anger. I have things to prepare for this afternoon, more organization to complete, and myself to groom before we head out the door in just over three hours, yet inside I am fighting an uphill battle unlike any other in life. During the latter half of eleven, I fell to a slave of this type of daydreaming. I fell every fucking day for months and felt like less than half a person as a result. When combined with an excess of alcohol, the situation became dangerous more often than not. The clear upside to this current period is the fact that I cut myself off after just one morning drink. I've learned that a second dive into one of those bottles behind me will end badly, every fucking time. I know it. The glass of whiskey to my right is succeeding at pushing the viral nature of my morning dreams far enough away to delay a return until tomorrow. That is better than nothing, I suppose. This is the darkest -- actually, darkhest -- time of my life thus far. The only rub is that I know one day soon this shit will come to a point of no return, a place in my head I would rather not explore or open. It is going to be very bad for people.

The last gathering across town was on the first day of the year and I did not feel this bad. I was in crappy shape, make no mistake, but the passage of time combined with the stagnant nature of life is forcing me to consider being mentally absent from the affair. Polite, as always, yet not there at all, if you know what I mean. My face will require massive, exhausting effort in order to appear 'normal'. This is not going to be easy by any stretch of the word. Returning home feels like a different kind of dream, and one I will be happy to experience. This is unfair. Make sure those words are in the proper context. I do not feel like a victim, only someone damaged by circumstances to the point of considering death several times throughout a given day. The remainder of this one will be difficult, to say the least, and compounded by the fact that the alcohol this morning served to accomplish nothing more than to push the feelings off another day. I get to do this all over again in less than twenty-four hours. Splendid. What a fucking life I've got here.

1225. My routine is finished, I cleaned myself for the occasion, and gathered stuff to bring along. My friends are still in the background, although the gardeners are here which makes hearing the dialog difficult. Not that big of a deal, really, because I know the story upside down and backwards. They are family, really, and at no time in the past have my daydreaming and desire to be in that universe been at a higher level than right now. All the problems would melt away. If only.

The Ukraine flag arrived today and is already flying in the breeze with the US flag to its right.

0737 on Monday morning and I have the day to myself. All quiet in the house.

Yesterday was enjoyable, mostly. I am not in very good shape anymore, so walking all over the place takes its toll the following day, and such a situation is playing out right now. Still, the weather was lovely, there were lots of opportunities to get inside the camera for a while, and a minimum number of gorgeous shapes around the area. I was actually looking, too, although nothing was comparable to those vehicles I love so much... Not even an ideally-shaped pair of legs wrapped tightly. Nope. The hardware and railroad exhibits took the cake. Next time, I am leaving the battery grip home because I barely scratched the surface of only one pack throughout nearly five hours. The extra weight is unnecessary. The nice part is the slingshot does not cause my back or neck any difficulty while out and about. Very nice.

Hmm. I figured this morning was going to be tough on more than one front, but I had no idea a word I rarely have employed here as it relates to my way of life would come to mind and attach itself to something I feel all the fucking time. No clue. I really didn't know. Sitting here right now is fairly comfortable, as I have the requisite coffee and family on the television, options open and with devices designed for keeping me secure here. Unfortunately, there is a battle inside which pushes a touch more each time and leaves me a combination of angry and depressed. More than usual, that is. As I know this is not an everyday occurrence, I am thus far keeping my head on straight and handling the weight. None of this is easy, and if there is a segment of my life which will not return, I will take steps. Horrible steps. This is not a good situation at all. I really did not need such a development considering all the other shit thrown in my direction throughout the last ten fucking years. God forbid someone actually asks me a question.

This is just another waste of effort, pile of shit part of an endeavor which should never have been expanded from its infantile beginnings. I don't even know how I did this.

0843 and the pain continues unimpeded, leaving my brain to strain for moving away from this and working around the house today. I really don't need anything else tripping up my ability to live.

1328, same day. I caught up with everything left undone yesterday due to visiting the car show. I also replaced the furnace filter and squared away my camera for home use once again, and after transferring images to this machine. I realized soon after the first image was moved that I never reset the clock on the camera for the time change. Oops. Timing is not a big deal for that sort of event, though. More important is when visiting some far-off place and trying to maintain a timeline, just like at the Sea. All the while today the show has been keeping me company by way of the seventh and final season. More and more I need to be there. Believe it or not, I love the setting, story and characters so much that I actually feel more for those people than I do for most real people in my life. Yes, I said that. Nothing ever goes aslant.

The morning alcohol successfully derailed any of the damaging thinking... Again. Fortunately, today has been especially busy with regard to catching up around the house. Otherwise, more booze would have been needed and likely resulted in a very bad mood. Even worse than right now. I am becoming more adept at shoving things away, yet in the back of my mind I know such 'solutions' are only going to make matters worse in the coming days. I know it by rote. Wont for everything, and everything the fuck out of place. The girl down the street is beginning to return. Very bad right now. Pissed off all the time underneath everything. Even yesterday at the show when I saw a pair of legs, the desire came and went very quickly, then replaced with a shitty mood I was forced to immediately shove aside around others.


1622. I went to the little market for some staples, returned and took care of more business. Dry cleaning and treating the perimeter of the house again took up the last of my time. The afternoon actually feels deserved thanks to the work. Tomorrow will be another uphill battle, however, from dawn to evening. Every day is the same in that respect. I am sick of this feeling.

I have been noticing an inordinate number of parents speaking to their children in a domineering or unpleasant manner. Just this afternoon was an overbearing woman bitching over her two young kids apparently taking too long to exit their truck. Overhearing the words and inflection irritates me to no end, but I am the last person to comment upon dealing with children. I just don't like it, that's all. I recall whenever my dad was unkind or in some shitty mood and took it out on me... Well, I still disliked a part of him for that even into my forties, believe it or not. That woman at the store should be careful. Assholes beget assholes, and sometimes the younger assholes do bad things to their parental assholes once free of them. Believe me, I know.

0841, Tuesday morning. Darkness, all around. Overcast I see out the window. Clouds over my brain. Darkhest of thoughts, as usual. All of the science fiction has been working on my head and conjuring thoughts of realism in technology. Day after day I sit here, do my work, or go shopping, and all the while I keep thinking that there is nothing left for me in reality aside from the occasional meal and perhaps a bit of booze. The darkhest time in memory. The darkhest thinking combined with everything but the darkhest skin tone. Olive is the word, although if you consider Jaime and what she was capable of altering, there are no worries as to any preference whatsoever, from one end of the spectrum to the other. And then there are other thoughts... The fiction barely touched upon any of them. This morning has shown me that I've risen about as far as I ever will, the downward spiral dotted with all those dreams never to be realized.

A slap in the face afterward, just like all those days passed. Another fucking slap in the face. This is where the content heads into the darkness.

0901. I have all this time...

The plan today is to remain calm and work on my usual stuff without flipping the fuck out. That is a tall order right now because each day represents more past and less future. See? The glow shines more and the days ahead become darker by the minute. There have been numerous mentions of this being a 'bad time', meaning I always feel as such no matter the little ups or comforts. They are merely distractions from the reality that I have built nothing and will leave nothing behind. Those visits to the bar have ceased for the time being because there are just too many retirees there every day who are stark reminders of what they have accomplished in life and all that I have not. This is bad, and when combined with the dreams of darkhers, the result is less and less motivation to do anything. I noticed yesterday -- even after completing much work and ensuring the house is in good shape -- that the evening felt only partially deserved. The truth is I sat here with my cocktail and felt more loss than accomplishment. Everything began to push me down, so I jumped up and worked on dinner. That didn't even turn out very good, either. Not a failure like in the morning, yet still not what I had hoped. I swear, if the kitchen work loses its shine and comfort, I will literally have nothing left to look forward. In a little while I will move away from this crap and do the routine, afterward hopefully feeling somewhat good about finishing. Right now I don't fucking see it, though. None of it. I have to remain calm and move along through the hours without becoming even more angry. Not easy. 0935, as if it matters.

I was overjoyed at the prospect of not having to maintain steady work and now the idea seems like a punch line. I could not go out there and work no matter the type of job. The circle shows me the same shit over and over, just as those fucking dioramas outside the windows of my train. Disney-ish, too. The Wedway Peoplemover, remember? Through the high technology and then cruising straight into the primeval world. And then a glimpse of everything which is now gone, just like sitting here each day recalling all those wonderful feelings. I would trade the rest of my life to roll along that track one more time. Believe it. There may be nothing left for me any longer.

The hours are here for me. Anything I feel is best. All that work yesterday? I finished much organization, cleaning and laundry. Dry cleaning, too. Everything was in good order by the time the late afternoon arrived, yet still I was uncomfortable all evening. And then dinner was crap. I really don't need this shit right now. Tons of free time I still would not give up for anything, but I am quite literally no better off. Hmm... Is that a positive? I think so, albeit a small one. Better than nothing, I suppose.

I am going to begin the routine a little later than usual to take advantage of the morning and push everything out so I have less time to lose my way after lunch. That is common and I hate it.

'Darkhest'. The beauty? I already wrote an entry with that same word in the title. Modified, of course, but it is there nonetheless. Was She the darkhest? I don't know anymore. The one down the street was pretty fucking dark, and I could see in her eyes that the inside may have matched the outside. But I'll never know because I am honestly better off staying the fuck away from any darkness. All it does is fuck me up inside and leaves me bereft of hope. I see, I fall down, I dream, and then all of it goes away. Always. Every fucking one of them. And then if anything goes further, the outcome changes to ME being the problem. Well, fuck you. I turned out like this through very little fault of my own, so shut the fuck up forever. 'The Darkest of Beauty' was a stunning, detailed description of Her at our first meeting. Not 'darkhest', though, because that term means some different aspects are present when my eyes meet the subject(s). It still happens, too. Right down the street and a meeting which never should have taken place. I am beyond hope. The 'h' in 'darkher' or 'darkhest' represents any number of 'hers', the basic problem inside me which has caused more turmoil than anything else is capable. Anything. The shit in the east could escalate until some device hits the roof of this fucking house, yet the simple truth is I would be no worse off. Would you like to know why? Because war is UNDERSTOOD. The beauty and torment are not. There you go. Laugh it up, fuckers. Just keep it away from me, lest I turn your heads into canoes. Pause for the cause.

1201 and my routine is finished. I also called the lady down the street and gave her a line of bullshit. I'll head over there one day later this week to install the new shower hose. It's a five-minute operation but I have no wish to see anyone in person save for a cashier, and only if I really need to visit the market. The remainder of this day will be very mellow and peaceful. Perhaps a bit more work in the office because being in there among my stuff with the surrogate family in the background is heartwarming.

I forgot the name of the darkher down the street. Maybe the memory loss is a good thing. Hopefully, I will never see her again.

An older entry came to mind so I took a look just now. 'Amazing' is the word for how Julianne appeared just five years ago. 'Ugh' is the word now, as she has employed much surgery all over and appears as a fraction of her former stunning beauty. Everything turns to shit. All unnaturally exaggerated and puffy. I suppose that is the way of the world in these late days. Sad.


1309 and I no longer know what to do. I was in the office for about ten minutes, but that's it. I returned to the computer in order to transfer images from her computer as a backup and see if there have been updates to the shit on the other side of the world. There are roughly five hours left to my alone time and I have no fucking idea of which way to turn.

For the second time I see that little town in Kansas. Two visitors, neither of which remain in contact with the site for terribly long. Still, since this is in addition to the previous mention, I cannot help but wonder if they visit out of curiosity, to see the imagery, or out of an actual interest in what I am writing. The last is very unlikely, if you ask me. I just don't see it, and must keep in mind that for the last few weeks the index has been either absent or graced with nothing more than an image. No one can know what takes place in a person's head, anyway. There is an equal chance of honesty or lies. Perhaps it was the browser history or something, as if a person was simply searching the past. I don't fucking know, but it's interesting anyway.

0642 and we have coffee and vampires. Today and the rest of the week will be the earlier shift, so I'll have to be up soon. Right back here immediately after, though. Believe it. The morning is often the only good time of a given day, although it can also be the most difficult. No place to go today, no phone calls, no nothing. I am going to continue what I began yesterday afternoon which is the most complex model construction so I can pause at different stages and photograph the individual sections. I fully intend to do a bit outside the routine, as well, but not much. Not very much at all. One consideration over the past several months is that if I don't feel much has been accomplished during the day, I don't feel that the relaxation in the evening is deserved. Well, this is my life now, free time and all. I need to ease up on the pressure of hitting certain levels of work sometimes. One day at a time, as the alcoholics might say. I don't have to get everything done all the time just to sit and enjoy the evening. As I said, this is my life now. It must be adjusted to work as well as it can. My sanity is at risk.

Why the vampires? Because the streaming service improved the interface to display a blank screen when the program is paused. I probably mentioned this before. That means I can grab the big camera and capture Nora in all her fifth-season endlessly-dark glory and slap her likeness right here for all to see. The title comes and goes, the feelings remain. Every day of every week of... Yep, always. My never-ending desire to fulfill the obsession AS I HAVE DREAMED OF IT drives my head in one direction or another each day. I see some things, dream of other things, fall down on my stupid face, and in the end I just sit right here because nothing can be done. Well, Nora's loveliness can help (hurt) me deal (fall) with so much desire for impossibility. Moreover, the other little one will be on the screen during the latter half of this season and I fully intend to capture certain angles of her lower body and hair. I'm just going to keep plugging along with the photography until I completely lose my shit. There is plenty of memory in this machine and the RAID to continue gathering images until I die.


And here I am for the duration. The darkness is always right there behind my eyelids and waiting to destroy me from the inside out, and a little at a time. I must remain upright just in case there is happiness out there somewhere. This is the time of day when things appear possible, brighter, better, and open. The day ahead has not yet been lived. Up or down, good or bad, up to me. I guess. The weather outside indicates that if I intend to work in the garage I'll have to keep the doors closed, which is just fine. Contrarily, I can remain in the house and do whatever seems best. There is coffee left and things to say, so for the time being I will be sitting right here listening to my friends.

Too many of them. Darkhers all over the place at one time, reduced dramatically as time passed, and now I see the number rising again as my desperate nature is peaking. Sometimes I actually feel pain when I see the walk toward the camera's position, a situation and result I have only dealt with so deeply on one other occasion. In fact, it was likely the first in which I calculated and tried to analyze in such terms. The more recent occurrence is still shaking me and will roll around the bend sometime during the next week, I believe. Unlike some other programs, the vampire appearances of differing characters are not filed away in detail. I will have to make a log of certain episodes and running times in order to recall when exactly to steel my mind against the urge to slice myself to ribbons whenever I see her walk. I don't know what else to do. I need to see the dark beauty. More, actually, yet the ships of life are ever-sailing in greater numbers all the time. So much is gone now, only to be hopefully replaced by imagery to which I can attach my dreams. Pathetic, I know, but if you have a better fucking idea, I'm all ears. Remember to whom you may be speaking, however.

See below...

0001 0002
0004 0003
0005 0006

Any questions? She is amazing, and carries everything right there on her person. Everything. I'm going to cap the video of her walking. Just for reference, of course. And yes, all the animated images above are named 'Nora' despite only a few being taken from the vampire program. She is Nora no matter where in life, nor within whatever role. Jolaimora... Jolene, Jamie, Nora. My focus will shift depending upon the media. Jularana? That is not a name. It is a feeling, and one I need to expunge.

0809 and I am still sitting here. One more cup of coffee in the next few minutes and then off to the races, I guess. I am going to do my damnedest to ensure I don't feel like shit when the late afternoon arrives. Little projects can advance, slowly, just so my head doesn't implode and I end up sitting here like a pile of shit. I can't have that anymore. It's killing me. The free time is STILL a good thing despite any difficulty in keeping myself occupied while alone. It really is. I dreamed of being out of the mainstream workforce for many years, and now that the idea has been enabled, my days must be a concert of relaxation and production, not merely one or the other. Nora and the others will have to be forcibly pushed back during daylight hours, no matter how much I feel inside or the level of desperation attained each morning. Yesterday was a bit of a turning point and lesson as I fell down and then viewed myself as weakened without respite.

Weaker and more desperate than ever. Dangerous time, these late days.

0851. Time to work.

1114 and that's that. The routine and some dry cleaning are finished. I also captured a few images of the progress on the model. The idea of shooting it at different stages came to mind yesterday, and so far it is going fine. I'm out of gas for the time being so I'll have to sit for a while and rest. My strength is not what it was just a year ago. My resolve is all but gone now. This day has but one positive. I can't say.

Earlier I was concerned about losing my way after the routine and lunch. Well, I had something to eat already and the hour is still early. I should be able to move forward in a little while after resting and care for some of the other items gracing my daily list. All I have to do is keep my brain away from anything dark or darkher than my outlook. Not easy. Oh boy. There she goes running across the cemetery -- bare-footed and in a nightgown -- and looking like a little, foundling waif dashing toward a shiny toy. Ugh. Sometimes this program is completely ridiculous. And in the very next scene? One of the worst aspects of society imaginable, and one which constantly reinforces and strengthens every shovel digging my fucking grave. Anyway, the rest of this day shall remain up in the air and completely dependent upon how far down I slide. Can't stand this shit sometimes.


I am on the other side of all that crap, alone, and in need of several saving throws the likes of which may never exist. I've tried, spoken, pleaded, gushed, everything. I fucking tried over and over and over again until my words became meaningless and I was blue in the face. To no avail. Nothing has changed, and I may in fact be worse at this very moment than ever before. I fucking hate everything. Every now and then, Anna's right nipple peeks out of the bath water and seeing it means nothing to me. Not a fucking thing. I don't WANT to see it anymore. Anyway, the difficulties have compounded recently, leaving me worse off than in the past. I tried to take a path back during the shit of eleven, too. I tried and failed, yet the present is exponentially worse. There and back again, as the Hobbits might muse. There and fucking back again. I am left with nothing and my feelings no longer matter. The stuff of the screen should not be affecting me as it does due to being alone, but still... Memories often take over and leave me weakened and worried. Small. Empty. Needy. Fucking hatred. This is what is behind every damned word I type and each subject as it comes and goes. The daily shit, too. My worry is constant. I am alone, yet still the world and its ways cut me in half every second of every day. No wonder I stopped going to be social at the bar and turned down the last two brotherhood events. Big fucking surprise that I cannot be around others right now.

The other side. My own side. NO ONE WILL EVER UNDERSTAND BECAUSE I WILL NOT SPEAK ANYMORE. Ruined. A good person turned into so much less that I have become immeasurable. Very hurt now. I am so hurt that God's own first aid kit cannot stop the bleeding. Gashed.

Did you do this? I want to turn someone's head into a fucking canoe.

Ah... A path just came to mind for at least an hour or so. Not yet, but soon. I don't know for sure if I can do it, though. The weather is still very cool out there. I was thinking of caring for some light organization in the garage, doors closed, with some very loud, negative music playing. As I said, maybe and maybe not. The more hurt I feel these days, the more angry I become. Oy this girl on the screen is disgusting beyond belief, yet she was written well for the overarching storyline. Played well, too. If I wasn't disgusted, she wouldn't be doing a good job as an actor, right? Awesome. She has nothing to do with the pain I am feeling right now. The show illuminates fear and concern, yet I cannot find fault in something I CHOOSE to watch. Yes, I know I am a paradox. Leave it alone. Bleeding all over the fucking place.

1523, same day. I've been looking at the updates on the conflict. Nothing good is taking place. More bullshit from one side, and only sorrow on the other. Very bad for those people. I wish I could be the one to pull the fucking trigger on that fucking asshole. The canoe? Worse.

Everything is finished, plus I cleaned out the refrigerator and watered the few plants in the back. The new sprayer from the big hardware store is great. I saw the hawk again sitting on the power lines out front a while ago, but by the time I switched lenses, he was gone. One of these days I will capture his image. I keep going back and forth between the zooms because I'm trying to grab good stuff off the television screen. The model moved along more, too. Engine built, part of the shifting system is together, and I am about to begin on the front suspension. That is another reason for the shorter zoom. Images of different stages of construction as it progresses. I can't wait to see Nora walk toward the camera again. I ordered a phone mount for my big tripod so as to record her in both slow-motion and normal speed. That way I can watch her for the rest of my miserable life. Pathetic, I know. 1536. One of the tertiary vampires has unbelievably shapely legs. No name, but it matters not.

No work in the garage because it's cool out there and I have been preoccupied with shit I cannot control. Plus, every single fucking aspect of life outside my reach is causing distress and derailing everything I attempt each day. I'm lucky to be able to put my clothes on correctly. Go ahead and laugh. The circumstance of being alone in my thinking hurts deeply. Yes, I am hurt. Again I mention it because of all the crap swirling inside almost constantly. I have participated in some questionable behavior in the past. Am I paying for it? Paying the fucking tab? Or are others forcing me to pay it? Maybe they sent the invoice. You make the call.

Darkhest of times.

0636 on Thursday morning, the second to last day of March, two zero, two, two. We are nearly fifty years from that Shilo vision and perhaps equally blinded. Early shift again today. That means I will be alone in less than an hour and fully intend to embrace the solace, doors locked. Not the most comfortable morning so far, however. Not by a damned sight.

0802. I successfully changed the primary domain for the web hosting after months of on-and-off attempts. I don't know what may be different about today, but at least it's done. That means anyone who had been accessing the site will no longer find it unless they know of the other domains which I own. This was built for me, not other people. Sorry. And onward we go...

Yesterday was the first foray into using the big camera for capturing the model as partially built. The light was not great, so I opted to use the tripod for longer exposures. Once set up, I closed the lens quite a bit and ended up with three-second exposures and the shutter release on a timer so my hand did not cause a blur. And? Holy fucking shit, Batman, did the definition and field depth come out fucking gorgeous. Colors, too. The nice thing about those models is an entire palette of colors all working together. The camera captured so much beauty in that model that a good portion of today will be spent doing the same. I wished to grab images as it was being built, each stage documented for my own enjoyment, yet now I see the potential and value of using the tripod and an entirely new world of imagery has been born. The other big car may be the second subject once this one is finished. The whole project is very exciting. Early one, I did not consider the idea of the tripod due to having the smaller, faster lens. I do not own any prime lenses, however, so the two zooms are going to need to do all the work. With the tripod and wireless shutter release, I can snap all day long in beautiful, colorful clarity. This is new to me. God damn does Sara have some front teeth. Queen of the chiclets.

0855 and I have yet to attack the routine. No worries, though, because it will only take barely an hour before I can branch into other directions. I need to try avoiding focusing upon the camera and models, too. I can't spend all day fucking around with hobbies. Some other work must be accomplished. The cool weather continues, meaning very little (if any) work will be done in the garage. Freezing my ass off to organize stuff which can remain idle is not a good idea. Yesterday I did a good job of cleaning out some ignored crap in the fridge. Perhaps today I can move things around and clean the shelves. I also need to move more proteins into the freezer from the garage and update the inventory. Little things in and around my enjoyment of the photography can help keep my head out of the gutter.

I will not be attending the brotherhood event this Saturday because I don't believe it's a good idea during the pandemic. After visiting one last summer, I feel the risk is still too high, mainly due to people becoming far too relaxed at a time when there are still problems around the world. Variants, mostly. I bowed out of the last two events for the same reason. Last summer was a learning experience. These activities will still be there when the world is in better shape. Besides, a good portion of the reason I went last year and would go this weekend is the dated merchandise, such as a pin of the day or shirt. As of last week and a meeting with one of my brothers, he informed me that he is now in charge of all that stuff and I need not worry about attending anything. He will reserve the items for me. Awesome. Great guy, that one. I would do the same in his position.


The conflict is still fucked. I'll have to remain vigilant around the house and remain mindful of the possibility that, worst case, we could lose power, water or gas, and any procedures need to be set up in advance. Those types of situations have come up in the past due to some emergency or accident, and we generally used the occasions as educational tools for the larger picture. The military training, and all that stuff. So, the kits in the garage are in mind daily, as is the idea that the shit may hit the fan at any given time. Every day I think about all of this. Not fun, but necessary.

1042 and the routine is finished. Everything cleaned and squared away. The sun is shining, so I opened the big garage door in hopes of working out there later. So far, it seems the weather is on a warming trend. This is good for production. Unfortunately, heading out there for a cigarette after finishing the kitchen caused a massive flare of the obsession and subsequent depressive state. I heard a void coming up the street -- a sound very common in the warm weather as people walk the neighborhood -- and as it faded to a higher volume, the sight came into view within seconds. A very tall, slender woman pushing a stroller and following a toddler. Tons of dark brown hair, long legs wrapped in something very form-fitting, and a gait matching the inside of my head most of the time. Jesus fuck, I really didn't need that this morning. All the positives of completing work, having lots of hours to myself, and the new interest in pointing my big camera at the colorful model immediately became offset by one of the most crippling emotions in existence, not to mention a shitload of torment from the sight of her walking so close. The other side of the street, yet still near enough to light a fire inside. Now I have to sit here and think, damn it all.

So, you fucking name it... Turmoil resulting from an inability to see her up close, massive desire to slather parts of her better left out of this entry, and an overwhelming feeling of loss encircling my entire life. All of it at the same time, no less. Once again I have been reduced to a mere fraction of what I felt inside just an hour ago as I worked at the routine. The only positive is that I poured the typical glass of depression which these days serves double-duty. Relaxing any fear and numbing the desire. Had I not indulged in some whiskey prior to seeing her, I likely would have ran inside and stretched my zoom lens through the window to capture the beauty. Now I am wrecked for the thousandth time. Well, now that I think about it, there is another positive distraction from me falling all over myself trying to deal with such a gorgeous and stirring sight, and that is the mindset resulting from the conflict in the east and any possible fallout heading in this direction. Earlier I was reading about the feasibility of a 'pulse' rendering much of our electrical and electronic functionality useless and anything which can mitigate such a condition, should the need arise. That research led to basic survival tactics. The woman across the street was a fucking strike of epic proportions, yet my need to fortify may actually have the ability to force her away from deeper thinking.

Within seconds, I needed much more than I am willing to describe here. The smiling faces came to mind, as did the very idea of Jaime. Everything, and at the same fucking time. This is insufferable. I cannot believe how fucking weak I have become.

1134. Something to eat, soon. Ooh-fa, the chiclets again. She may be goofy and blonde to the core, yet I would still love to see her little ass up in the air and on display. Fuck you. The world did this to me.

Second vampire season, and one of my favorites. 'Get the humans' is still toward the top of my list. Soon.

'I hope you enjoy your blood substitute which is costing me forty-five dollars.'
'Oh, I have no intention of drinking it. I just want you to pay for it.'

So funny. And the woman who dropped the bottle at their table? Delicious. Sometimes I wish I was a vampire. So many of the issues would disappear, along with a great many people. Jesus fuck does Ashley have some huge eyes.

The remainder of this day may end up full of beer and loud music. The temperature outside continues to rise, meaning I may be able to work in the garage for a while. The house can sit and await more motivation. Christ, another one of those scenes I could live without, especially considering the sheer amount of reading I did yesterday regarding one of the most popular characters. I still can't get past that shit, nor can I reconcile myself with the fucked-up conversation last fall related to the same. That fucking day cut me in half, literally. Not only am I a product of the past, but also one of insensitivity and greed. The garage tends to be therapeutic during these times, albeit temporarily. At least the neighborhood will remain at a distance. Better than nothing.

0757 on Friday morning and I am pissed off again. Two dreams, one ridiculous and the other unbelievable. I really do not need that fucking shit these days and at a time when my brain is on a hair trigger. Those types of dreams need to stay away from me, especially when the subject matter relates to a situation in reality. Not good. I spoke to the woman, she smiled, and both after my life had been threatened as if I was in some sort of spy novel. The enemy was with her, but I had been allowed to hold a conversation with such incredible beauty. I saw way too much, actually asked about her beauty, and then realized she would allow anything. Tall and dark, just like the fucking woman across the street yesterday. That is how my head manufactures things. Splendid.

I believe there were three dreams. One related to work, one which began to play out as the aforementioned spy story, and the last was right outside the bar, believe it or not. Now I am distracted. Very bad. Miserable, actually. This is happening too often lately.

'Grand adventures await those who are willing to turn the corner.'

'If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.'

'Move in the direction of your dreams.'

Bullshit. What if the dreams are not up to an individual, but instead the result of some other type of force or happenstance? What about that? 'You may end up where you are heading.' Yeah, um... Okay. Where am I heading? This morning has shown me far too much already, and when combined with the last seven hundred days, I am beginning to see that place mentioned in the proverb. Not a good place. Two years ago was the beginning of the most damaging illusion imaginable, and I sit here right now as a product of every issue combined. Moreover, each day which passes (and believe me, they pass quickly) I see less and less of the world, while embracing more and more solitude. Eventually something bad is going to happen, and it's not going to be some fucking grand adventure, fucksticks. Read all that shit again.

0911 and there is a bit of coffee left. There was a problem (veiled) mentioned some months ago right here which I had thought may turn into something more difficult in the future. After reading some psychology on the subject and continuing to remain alone, I believe the situation is an aftereffect of two other situations, one being my own inability to understand desire. The other? All that crap inflicted upon me with a cherry on top in the shape of rampant insensitivity. I sit here day after day completely alone, yet I cannot get out of it because speaking with another person will only make things worse. Embarrassment, to say the least, plus I am already off my fucking rocker worried about what some people think. Adding one more pair of ears can only advance my decline. And then we move in the direction of the only resulting feelings forced upon me by circumstance once again, and that is a fucking load of anger larger than the solar system itself. Not good. But then again, what the fuck IS good anymore? Good answer.


1150 and the routine is finished. No lunch yet. The morning whiskey has partially suppressed any physical issues, yet still my brain is operating at light speed. I am unable to cease the thinking most of the time because of the dire nature of my living situation. Just a bit ago while cleaning the kitchen, I stepped to the front porch to dispose of some recycling and AGAIN saw a pair of legs, all slender and curvy, wrapped in tight black material and beautifully walking their way up the fucking street. The main problem being my attempts to drink and push away anything damaging and then seeing a strike. It's like a reset button in the sky, one of those stupid plot devices which repair an hour of science fiction damage in a matter of seconds. Well, the opposite, really, because I successfully moved away from just sitting here gushing and attended to my housework, typically the passing of the physical shit in my head, and then everything comes flooding back as if I am a fucking teenager. I HATE THIS SO MUCH THAT THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH WORDS IN THE UNIVERSE. Now? Sitting again with this stupid fucking exposition after being shut down as I tried to move forward. Fuck me. I can't even go out and kill those responsible because most are already dead and I do not know the names of the rest. There are very few of which I am intimately familiar, though. They remain at a distance. I fucking hate everything right now.

Here's a plate full of food for thought: My dad worked in defense electronics from the mid-seventies until his passing exactly nine years ago today. In all that time I gained a deep understanding of the nuclear world of weaponry and the manner in which strikes are calculated. Take that information and add it to the growing shit situation in the east, and one can imagine how my mind operates. Many people who do not understand the way these things work believe that they can hide from the 'prime' or 'strategic' areas that will be targeted. Well, I happen to know that even one or two hundred miles will make zero difference. There will be no getting away or missing the target. Think of a blanket, or, if you are old enough, recall the term 'carpet bombing' from the second big war. That is the way it works. The fact that I am over an hour from two critical and strategic facilities does not mean I am safe. Blanketed. The bottom line is more yield and less opposition. Think about it for a while. Why did I go into all that? Because the possible flash can solve all my problems quicker than a machine named Jaime. Suck it.

I don't remember if I went into the idea of resurfacing this lap desk, but I did it yesterday with a sheet of rubber and some serious adhesive. So far, my solution was not only half the cost of replacing the lap desk, but possibly a longer-term solution. The only downside is the rubber has been outgassing. That means it smells odd but should dissipate over time. I also removed the defunct rubber feet from the bottom of the laptop in favor of some heavy-duty units designed for furniture. The old feet had become sticky over the years. These newer feet made primarily of fiber will not stick to the rubber, nor will they allow the machine to slip. Overall I did a good thing here. I only wish I could improve other aspects of life. So far, all I can do is sit here and swallow problems, one after the other.

0751 on Saturday morning.

'I know the truth about life.' -- Anna

This morning is different, somehow, as if I awakened knowing there is no early business and that led to thoughts of production later. The sun is already shining. I rarely feel this way on a Saturday. Plus, I'm already pissed off about the ways of the world and the manner in which I have been addressed at times, so why not just go for it today? Right? Eh... Fuck you, too. And them. The coffee may be kicking me in the ass already, or perhaps yesterday was just too much for me to swallow and the result is my pushing back in whatever way I am able. This is probably going to turn out to be one more of those days in which I go out there with a full head of steam and then run out of ambition shortly thereafter and before any significant progress. My mood just sucks anymore. I'll go out there and give it a try anyway. I have little else left in this life.

And speaking of little else, my boss sent me a message the other day stating that there is work coming up soon if I want to 'get out' for a while. I only responded to the first line asking how I've been these last few weeks. I did not reply to the other, but I probably will this morning because I don't want to leave the idea wide open like that in case he needs to line up someone else to help. I can be closed off, but I can't be mean. Unfortunately, the help will not be me. I have to remain here as much as possible.

No one is listening anymore. Nothing I say makes a lick of difference in the world. Hence the site moving to a new location. No one is listening. This is a very bad time.

1121 and the routine is finished. Flags out in support of the Ukraine. A woman came to my door asking from where I purchased the flag. She wishes to display their support as well. Very nice lady. Now I am open to the remainder of the day, but not knowing which way to turn. I would like to cut some material from the trees in the backyard to help with the green can and keep the limbs above head level, yet wherever I go from this point in the day remains a mystery. I am already most of the way through a cocktail, too. That means I must stay active or I'll sit with this crap and begin to doze. I can't fucking have that today. This is a Saturday, so part of me feels that taking it easy before the Sunday work is acceptable.

Now we have the stupid shit from the Oscars last week which is going to become all blown up and take over a portion of the daily news, which is completely ridiculous. People are fleeing their homes on the other side of the world, yet this self-involved and media-driven country can still become preoccupied with Hollywood horseshit. Unbelievable. The conflict takes precedence, no matter what may play out on the stage during an awards show. Jesus, people, fucking figure it out already. And I still don't know if the conflict over there is actually a 'war'. Yes, I said that, because 'war' requires a formal declaration, and as of yet I have heard exactly nothing of the sort. This may be a technicality -- like Vietnam, which to this day is still considered a 'police action' or 'conflict' -- but the difference means the rules of the Geneva Convention and other doctrines regarding the fight will change.

The title has been partially lost on world events. I don't care. This bullshit I write will likely carry on for a very long time if I avoid the 'decision', meaning I have plenty of time to comment upon the obsession, being completely alone, desire, the morning shit feelings, loss, all those problems which rear their ugly heads at random times, and God-knows what else. Whims? Maybe. Moods? Sometimes. The outside world? Probably. The fact is my attention wanders from here to there very quickly some days. I can't help it, especially considering the delicate nature of dealing with the east. One wrong or aggressive move and we become a part of the conflict. If that takes place, everything else will melt away in seconds.

Here I sit at 0713 on Sunday morning after one of those evenings. The type that can ruin everything, yet last night was just fine. I helped with some motorcycle work and enjoyed music, and then helped the neighbor's daughter with choosing a captive ring out of my collection. The night was odd, too, because she had said there was to be some sort of high school party around the corner from us and she was invited. Her dad said, 'Nope. You'll hear the police over there soon, and then everyone will be leaving.' And he was right. The entire street filled with cars and teenagers on foot, all heading to the same house. It was like some sort of mass exodus, until perhaps an hour later when the police did indeed come rolling along to dissipate the kids. Too funny. I did not remain out long, though. We had dinner earlier and I pretty much set a time when I intended to be back inside for rest. It worked fine. Moreover, due to having the idea for a little gathering in the first place, I straightened the area for a while and am very pleased with the results. Now, whatever work I wish to perform out there today will be that much easier.


Dreams again. One involved some Japanese guests in a house -- one of which was a stunning hybrid beauty the likes of which I'd never seen so close -- who were trying to evade some bad guys. There was one man in charge of the rest and he seemed to be the one who could ensure everyone's safety. Why I was there, I'll never know, yet I will say I had the strongest desire to be close to the younger beauty (naturally). After a while of being in some house, the main guy went out and I realized the people they had been avoiding were actually Yakuza, an organization about which I know just enough to be fearful. Anyway, I had been focused upon ways of getting very close to the girl, when the guy returned all covered in blood and injured. Everyone jumped to his assistance and he seemed to have succeeded in mitigating the threat outside. At that point we all left and walked along the street toward some unknown destination. As we moved along, the young girl was next to me and we chatted a little as I noticed her eyes were at my eye-level. More fascination, and then awake.

She was also a darkher -- one of those from which I cannot ever let go, and a person floating between fantasy and reality while being aligned with everything of which I have dreamed for years. In other words, impossibility, through and through. She was gorgeous and unique, and I lost once again. Another darkher off in the distance and never to be seen again.

All I have left is anger toward so many things that a good portion of the reason I am unwilling to leave this house is due to the need to avoid people. Most of them don't deserve my affliction, and those who do will probably never cross my path. I shoved away the possibility of some upcoming work, too. None of that holds my interest these days, not even considering the cash I could earn. And speaking of cash, I was never paid for two jobs that date back to January. Not a word. The amount is not anything to be overly concerned about, though. Not a big deal, but the point is that I was overlooked and it makes me upset. Anyone who wishes an audience with yours truly will probably receive a very unpleasant response. This is not like during the beginning of the pandemic, however. That was different. Yesterday showed me that I can still be a tiny bit social and remain at home at the same time. No one is listening, either. No one there for me. I can't talk, anyway. Whatever.

The second dream this morning was confusing. Two women, one of whom resembled a model from the shows I used to see each year in December, were sort of dancing while I waited on a nearby sofa. Someone else was there, too, but I don't know because the person was very unclear. The women seemed annoyed or impatient about whatever that other person was doing, and due to that attention I was all but ignored. There are other details, yet none that I can place here or I will be crucified. I know that the taller woman had very dark, curly hair just like the young hybrid in the other dream. That makes little sense to me. Fuck it... That's all I have.

This morning is one of 'those', like many in the past and I'm certain the lion's share of the future. This is what I must consider. I suppose one of these days the pissy mood will take over and I'll lose everything which brings that bit of comfort. I have to avoid snapping my cap, too. I simply have to roll over and take it, like I've taken everything else thrown my way for decades. Problems and more problems, followed by distractions and more distractions, and then the evening and then the morning again. Maybe this is the fucking pathetic cycle I am to endure until the end of all things, but I can't be certain. The goblet memories all seem so far away now, even the one from less than three years ago. Situations came and went, I fell on my face due to opening way too fucking much and then watched nothing come of it, ever. I am still seeing nothing possible. The specifics will be left out like always, though. The next time someone ridicules me I will cause destruction, yes, although if I leave enough here to allow for such behavior, it's my fault and they get off without a warning. This morning I have all that shit in my head like most days, the dreamy girl in the dream (heh), and everything missing continues to stab me. Fucking hell does Hadley have a pair of breasts. Wow. Anyway, perhaps I've railed this enough. Bad mood, like most of the time, especially mornings. There is still a day in front of me. There was an amazing darkher in the background a moment ago. Damn it all.

I have the garbage business later, the routine and a bit of laundry. I will also probably work on the model some more and fire up the camera at some point. The sun is shining again, too. Hopefully it will warm the house like yesterday so I can give the furnace a break. As far as more work around the house, I don't know what should come first, and that is only if I can get myself out of this recent fucking rut that has taken hold. My mood can affect everything in life. Today is no different. Sometimes I fucking hate everyone and everything. There is just no getting around it. The current period is wrought with pain and longing like never in my life.

I suppose the only real path right now is to do everything the way I normally do and simply proceed through my day, enjoying whatever may be possible. Small details. Little moments. Like the model or the camera, perhaps with my other friends up there keeping me company. I'll have the house to myself for a number of hours later, as well, so whatever I wish to do will be fine. There is no pressure on anything these days aside from the worst pressure inside me, but I can't do anything about that shit any longer. That part of my life is probably over and will cause something bad in the future. So, the little enjoyments are going to have to suffice for the time being. And there is no fucking way the fist fight between Anna and Debbie would have gone as far as it did before the scissors. No way in hell, people. Whatever. Fiction.

Darkhest time imaginable. Had I known at this age that I would be so fucked up, the eleven isolation would have gone just a little bit further.

I ordered a little mount for the phone to attach to my tripod so I can record video of Nora walking toward the camera with her FUCKING INEXPLICABLE GAIT I've rarely seen in life. I seem to recall Stephanie at the fruit market back east had something similar, but she always wore the proper flat shoes so nothing was accentuated. Nora is wearing boots with heels during the scene in question, and the combination of those and the jeans make her appear heavenly. I simply MUST capture her so I can watch over and over like a proper idiot. There is no longer reason to even attempt denying that I have to see certain aspects of the female form sometimes. I mean, look at the images. The latest six beauties running down this entry are numbered beyond one thousand, a line in the sand some time ago that I figured was a good place to stop. Several times I've mentioned that looking is not good for me, but at this point I don't see reasons for changing myself or even trying to improve. Seconds of comfort or wonder will just have to be worth hours of turmoil and heartache. Watching Nora walk is one of those little things which still stirs me deep inside. Recording was inevitable from the beginning because of Marci all those years ago, but she is another story. The mount is scheduled to arrive next Friday, after which I can begin to figure the best way to record her. Still images were only the beginning.

0834 now. Perhaps one more cup of coffee and then I'll have to dress and do something productive. Right now I don't know what may be first, but I do know that there will be a heaping helping of alcohol involved. That is a given these days because after daydreaming and then actually dreaming of those stirring situations for years, I have come to realize that the booze can operate as a defense against harmful thinking. That may sound like an oxymoron, but the truth is if I am in the type of mood to work around the house and remain mellow, a drink furthers that mood and I end up okay by late afternoon. The opposite has not taken place for many months... That type of day in which the booze fuels the shitty mood and I end up drunk by lunch time and completely worthless. I may have become too smart to allow that shit to happen. Talk about 'darkhest'. Not good, that stuff. The 'dark' must remain in my eyes and not my brain. Beauty is one thing. Suicide is something entirely different.