February 12th, 2022 10:54am pst

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

The Doxy Demesne

 read ( words)

"The two flanking Benny. I saw them. They represented something otherworldly now. An impossibility. And the smiling face found a twin. Ugh.

The morning was a dead-end, but I helped to make this afternoon better. Not great, but improvement. When I say 'dead-end', I mean there are two problems I cannot discuss here that are weighing heavily. No one knows. They remain locked away as I consider options. The blood in the Midwest is returning. Not good. Not at all. I have roughly two hours or so before the evening kicks off. Dinner, relaxation, television. I'll be continuing the fourth show through completion. Ugh... 'Completion'. The smiling face. Anyway, the evening is distraction, allowing me to function until the following morning. I'll be going to the aforementioned inspection meeting across the bay, so the morning issues will again be shoved into a mental vault. At least I won't be sitting right here dwelling in pain. I suppose that is a plus, although I've learned through experience that suppressing the problems only makes them worse in the future.

1538 in the afternoon. Dry cleaning is finished. I can't do anything else right now, either. There are far too many dreams bleeding out all over the fucking floor.

Saturday morning after a very difficult night of sleep. I have to change a habit or two, and soon. My sleep time is very important and I can't have it all fucked up. That was the half of it, physical problems caused by yours truly. The other half? Two dreams about the same woman. And she came into my dreams because I met her yesterday at a potential job. Ah there is the backup singer again. So lovely, just like the vision I spoke with not far from home. At first I noticed nothing because we were dealing with her roommate. Eventually the conversation was split and I ended up speaking with the goddess of a vision for several minutes regarding the work and being introduced. Jesus fuck, already. A sight somewhere out on the street or in a store is one thing, but right there in close proximity as I noticed her resemblance to someone else I once knew was difficult. Tall, lean, very dark. Black hair, dark brown eyes, and that facial feature I cannot seem to describe, ever. She had it all. Slender with yoga pants and boots. Fifteen minutes after beginning the meeting, we hopped back into our vehicle to leave. They thanked us profusely for making the time. The last thing I saw was the vision blowing me a kiss from the back deck of the house. My blood doxy? The way I think in desperate terms these days forces the consideration. Now I can't think straight.

And then I dreamed that she had a personality like mine -- introverted, sad, reckless, clingy, needy, and depressed -- and we were latched to one another in seconds. I felt love for her by the time I awakened. This is not a very good situation because my brain will not shut off no matter the state of the world. Today and tomorrow will prove such a fact as I attempt to work here and then watch the big game at the bar. We will see how far gone I am after thinking about her some more. To be perfectly honest, the fact is I have not seen anyone that aligned with my dreams or ideally suited to the ongoing obsession since the Raven. She was half my age, yet I very nearly threw my life away to hold Her hand daily. The unbelievable goddess yesterday is along the same lines but I am very different than I was seven years ago. This may sound strange, but I am more balanced than when I was spending time with Her. Back then? I was insane. Now I am merely crazy.

Very kind, sweet and personable. We spoke little. I saw much. Doubtful she has a clue as to the machinery at work inside my head. By the time we made the first determination regarding the work, I was already struck pretty badly. By the second point and then conclusion, I had to leverage my brain into avoiding staring at her face. And then we exchanged a few words as the others went back to the work area in question and my head exploded. Jesus. Just a house sitting up there at a pretty decent distance from the other homes, looking plain and rather run-down, and then from the door comes a person with the ability to shift my focus in life by one hundred percent. I will not be able to avoid the subject of her for some time. Right next to me. She shook my hand. Lots of smiling. Very sweet. And my brain manufactured dreams that very night. All of this adds up to the fact that no matter how much sense I've grown since that fateful year of fifteen and the very dangerous Raven period, I am possibly even weaker right now than I was while with Her. I have been fucking driven to this point, as well. Driven. If I could reveal everything, this entry would be miles long. But I must protect myself from prying eyes and analyzing minds. There is quite a bit I'll say about what happened yesterday and how fucked up I am over it, but there are underlying issues at work which quickly flip switches inside me. And that is when the trouble starts. Today I need to maintain perspective because I already know we will be working over there in the next week or two and I can't have any entanglements. I must take steps.

This type of thing has not happened more than twice in ten years. It hurts, deeply. All I can do now is sit here and fucking stew about it. This is not her fault, but honestly everything which brought me torment and pain just a day ago is now inflamed. Worse. The blood may be fading, however. I do not see it right now.

I did not do any writing yesterday because we were at the job waiting on an inspector for nearly six hours. By the time I returned home, it was afternoon and I had to get with the routine. I can see her smiling at me right now.

There had been a truth between the Raven and myself while we were together, and one which neither of us wished to face at any time until the shit went downhill. We knew just a short time after walking here and there hand in hand that our time would be short. Nothing could have worked for us. Nothing. We knew there was going to be bliss and then heartache. We discussed it at a restaurant not long after that first meeting I will never forget. I've not mentioned our damned conclusion or truth before, either. I suppose sometimes it hurts enough for me to push it away. No one's business but ours. Believe me, we knew early on there would be an end we did not want. Instead? We shoved it back, much like Andrea and me stumbling around Disneyworld knowing the doom was just beyond the next ride. Denial of the highest order.

Thinking of how desperate I was to be near Her and the shifts I made in life in order to meet covertly sometimes, I can see the difference in how my thinking has changed. My situation right now is precious and fragile in some ways. I can't have this apple cart upset no matter what kind of stunning goddess comes along, nor when. I just can't have that. Too many times I have reached, each one eventually going bad. Several. But I can say this pull is nearly beyond my strength. I will blow my fucking head off before causing anyone distress. I'll sit right here centered between the potential for true happiness and fulfillment on one side, and the status quo on the other. The space I inhabit is otherwise empty, yet still full of dreaming. I can't help it after all this time. Whatever has been my fault or that of other people, and whatever actions and decisions helped to guide me to this current state of mind, the fact is I have never felt so desperate and weakened in my entire life. Not even when I ran to Her. This is very bad and more dangerous than I can put into words. All I can do is sit here and think about everything. Hence the tremendous anger and violent thoughts which recently took over. I saw red everywhere. Flashbacks to the hideous manner in which I daydreamed at work many years ago. I still see it.

Aw, Look at Cara sitting there with the new baby. A little blanket on the front lawn. A very nice shot. And the first thing entering my mind is that I could fuck her in half. I don't fucking care anymore. Call me whatever the hell you want.

She may have been over five-seven but I can't be certain. Pretty fucking tall, though. She had a coat on which hid much of where I would probably have been focused, although I already know what was there. I could tell. Years of study. I know. The point is I saw her and fell down but had to maintain my stance because of the work. That is very difficult. I did well, though, because I can't have myself all fucked up in front of others, especially those who are unfamiliar. I saved up the turmoil and dreaming until reaching home. Now I'm all fucked up and probably worse than when she was right there three feet away and smiling as she spoke. That facial thingy I can't describe is going to drive me up the wall. Above I mentioned this is likely the worst time in life because of the way I feel. Well, that woman is related because the incident was like some power up there in the sky teasing me with vast beauty directly before me and then pulling it back and leaving me right fucking here with no more than a head full of hell. God damn do I ever wish I had a lick of strength. Not long ago I was informed that I am VERY strong. I can't see it, though. Maybe the fact that I am still right here and maintaining everything is the result of me being forthright. I don't know. When I see her smile inside my brain, I want to toss her over my shoulder and drive to the ends of the earth. That is not the stance of a well soul.

So beautiful. Right there.

0734 and the morning damage has not occurred for whatever reason. I guess I just feel completely empty these days and know in advance that there is nothing I can do but either remain bad or change it and then feel worse. Again... I DON'T FUCKING KNOW WHAT TO DO ANYMORE. Only so much of this before I am dead. No more thinking. What a beautiful idea.

I can still see that facial feature looking right at my eyes. I honestly wish she had not been there, or maybe that I could have avoided going to look at the job. I need more of this feeling in my life like I need another hole in my head. Nothing can be undone. Time cannot reverse. She is going to remain for quite some time, especially if we return there for the installation. If so, I'll have to steel myself like never before. Believe me when I say that I am more than capable of losing my head completely while in the presence of such wonder. I've done it too many times to admit. Dreaming about her the night after meeting is crazy. That is my state now... So far off the deep end of the world that there is no returning, ever. I dreamed... We were very close, as if clinging to each other for comfort. Clinging, people. I am fucked up.

I am going to leverage the house and garage atmospheres today. Force. As usual, such feelings of loss, need and fascination related to that girl are pushing me in a familiar direction. Toward anger. And I mean fucking red hot. I never wanted to be this way and here I am. Here it is. And there she is. Jamie. Ugh... I can shove her to the rear until making some sense of my situation. Pissed off and cunty. Inflamed. I never wanted this for myself. I'll shoulder some of it, though. Always. I am not fucking stupid. The rest? Red cauliflower. People are shit to me.

I needed to plant a kiss to the crotch of her thin pants. Go ahead... Say it again. I don't care. This is what I have become and the manner in which I think sometimes. Bad fucking shape.

0822 now. Soon I suppose I'll head to the garage so I can keep the house quiet. My brain is really screwed right now, too. Screwed up. I can't get the dream out of my head because the most precious and loving parts of life were taking place. That brings up a point I probably brought up before...

Back during the Shilo period and maybe a few years after, I would occasionally dream of a girl in school whom I had never really considered someone I necessarily liked. After the dream? Total infatuation. That is what I am beginning to feel right now. Being a child means some things are beyond explanation because at a young age we do not understand much of the way the world operates. Well, I am perched halfway between fifty and sixty and still experiencing the same emotions. I am infatuated with the woman I met yesterday (and yes, I know her name but cannot mention it here for obvious reasons) and all fucked up because not only was there dreaminess present in my mind due to her appearance but also feelings of mystery and wonder immediately thereafter, not to mention the reinforcement due to dreaming about us glued to each other. This is so bad in so many ways -- and combined with what I am often living through during mornings -- that I don't even know where to fuckin' start. I should not be all fucking giddy and ridiculous over a woman at my age. Not impossible, but I don't see it being healthy by any stretch of the word. Why did she have to blow me a kiss? Was that something she did regularly, like more of a wave? It's probably nothing, but the film keeps looping inside me. Weak. Desperate. Soon I'll be manufacturing scenes and writing fiction about her. You'll see.

For the time being, the 'her' at the end of each entry will represent the woman I met yesterday. Not specifically her physical being, but more what she represents to me. Mmkay? Mmkay.

I am probably going to be crucified for all this shit. Again... I AM IN VERY BAD SHAPE, so please... You must know this is bad if I'm not going all over the place about Jamie. Bad. Worse, actually.

I will be home all day today. The usual routine and business, maybe the garage for a while with some music. I don't fucking know. Everything hurts right now. As of yet I have not shied away from the housework, so I guess that's a good thing, but honestly right behind every fucking step I take feels overwhelmingly difficult. None of the issues leave me for a second these days, and now there is another sitting atop everything and slicing me up inside. I was already going downhill yesterday morning but ended up forced to remain upright because of the work. Even sitting and waiting for the inspector, I saw more than one strike on the sidewalk and felt compelled to write about each. Now? I can only see one form out of many. Right there next to me and looking like the inside of my brain. Dealing with this just became worse than I could have imagined. The work around the house had better help, or else. I had been seeing that smiling face. Today the face is different and has a name. Damn it all.

The basement awaits. Straitjacket, too. All of it. Losing my mind. Coffee is waning.


I don't know how I will continue the fiction without losing my way and steering the story toward this new development and how it has affected me. You must admit it's pretty fucked up that an encounter such as what took place yesterday can have such bearing on my thinking. I've made it as clear as possible that I have been severely depressed and in need of impossible things, yet now I see even more and am realizing that just when I thought I was hitting the limits of weakness, another push is driving new nails into my head. More feelings than I would have guessed. Maybe I should not have returned to part-time work. It has exposed me to a situation nearly impossible to deal with and on top of all I was complaining about prior to yesterday. I already began the epilogue, too. Ideas were flowing like they did when I first crafted those stories. Now I have another fucking problem and more desperation than had been present during those months of writing. Sometimes I don't know why I even try to do anything.

I've written more than 89,000 lines of code since the first mention of the fictional 'Jaime' in twenty. The girl from yesterday is not named Jaime, yet her name is close. What does that mean? I'm crazier than I had thought a day ago? How many lines will now be devoted to this shit?

Fucking sick and tired of feeling this way. Something had better give or shit is going to fly. NOT KIDDING.

1017 and the caring is diminishing at an alarming rate. Honestly. Very quickly heading down the fucking drain with all the shit and other waste. Hmm... Waste. Is that what the site has become? Have I said anything at all different in the last two years? Three? There are stories of the past, but do they benefit me or anyone else? Am I better for speaking of so many stupid decisions and so much wasted time? Good luck answering that one.

The garage is open and so is my first beer. This entry is going to be cut shorter than the norm and thrown to the index in a few minutes. I don't fucking care.

Blood on the most striking artwork in the universe. Do you see? Do you have a clue as to what my mind creates when I look at those two models? More than you may believe. Oh, there is the sex and desire and obsession and all that other shit, but also more. Blood on the cauliflower. Believe it, fuckheads. Messy, dripping death.

I am in a very bad mood right now. At least I'm home all day so no one else need be subject to it.

My watch arrived yesterday and is a stunning beauty, kind of like the one standing before me yesterday, except much more technologically advanced and possessed by me. Dreams. Fucked up dreams. I was being held by her in the dream, not a wristwatch. I plan to set up the camera and tripod to capture some detailed images of the watch.

This day had better find direction, and soon. Blood on the artwork. I wonder what she is doing right now.

The sun is shining. Temperature is decent. I can either rise and do something or sit here and accomplish absolutely nothing. Either is fine. I don't care about much anymore, so if those projects and other tasks sit idle for years it doesn't make a difference to me. I'll be exactly the same no matter what changes. Miserable. This morning has been the worst in recent memory. Working around the house as a distraction from all the shit requires tremendous effort, especially anything beyond the daily routine. Every fucking step has me deciding whether to continue or just give up and do nothing. I always have my friends waiting, though. They never let me down. If I cease forward motion, they keep me company. Going downhill, fast.

I still see her smiling at me. Eyelashes, gorgeous makeup, dark eyes, long hair. Damn it. And that name...

Long fucking legs. I am completely fucked... AGAIN.

Nothing will happen. Nothing will change. If we end up working there for a few hours, I'll be near her for a while and then gone. My brain will have all sorts of problems functioning for a while and then I'll do nothing more than end up right fucking here and worse off for the experience. If I've learned anything in the last few years, it is the idea that no matter what I dream, the result will be the same: Miserable. She will soon be nothing more than another beauty gone by the wayside and the subject of much complaining. Nothing will change. Today is going to be a pile of shit.

Not much left to go on here. Not much left of this wasted life.

You know what? I've fucking had it with this shit. Fuck it all.

Her? Dead."