December 29th, 2022 13:48pm pst

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




The Failed Fantasy and the Dreams

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I don’t know what to do so I just keep living the same way day in and day out. The little enjoyments and comforts, remember? There does not seem to be any way out of this. Well, there is one, but I am unwilling as of yet. My only option seems to be the status quo. The more I see, the more I dream, and then the more my feelings and sensitivities become smashed to tiny bits as if I don’t matter. Sometimes I walk in a circle before I can move in any specific direction because I have to formulate an activity or chore that can actually be completed. The smallest charge can feel like a mountain to scale.

0714 on what some refer to as ‘boxing day’. Yesterday slammed my head pretty fucking badly. There was a bit of an incident during the afternoon which I cannot say right out. I just can’t. It was only a moment or two, but the damage was acute and extensive. I could not fucking believe my eyes and what they took in during such a short period of time. Damage. The angle and some odd positioning of her shirt... I have never felt so distressed in my life. The Christmas movies were nothing more than a speck when held against the sheer power of that gorgeous and stirring vision. I returned to the house and whatever the hell I had been doing, the day moved along toward evening, yet not a second passed without her unbelievable beauty directly behind my pupils. I can still see the image right now. Jesus. This will continue to happen, believe me. There is not much I can do about it, although minimizing the time I spend on the other side of the front door may help. I have never wanted something so bad.

My time in the office yesterday was cut short through no fault of my own. I am hoping today is different. I need some space to think this morning, especially considering the overwhelming power of the incident yesterday and my subsequent confusion. Well, time cannot fix all that is wrong, but maybe being alone for some hours will allow me to put the visions and pain into perspective. My prime concerns for much of this calendar year have been the effects of those dreams and a shift in thinking that I did not expect. They have literally taken over my thinking on more occasions than I care to admit. The largest issue of dealing with this shit is the fact that I cannot understand how or why they came along, nor can I speak to anyone or seek help. She is on my mind almost constantly and often usurps one of the Christmas movie beauties while those characters are on the screen. This is a huge problem because I can’t talk about it, can’t research why such a change took place months ago, nor do I have any other outlet aside from the keyboard. Remaining bottled up in such a manner is very unhealthy and can lead to all manner of physical and emotional problems. I am already experiencing the beginnings of both. Not only do I dislike being in this type of situation, but the dead end in front of me is removing ambition at an alarming rate. If I don’t find value in what I do here every day, there is no point in doing anything at all.

This is unbelievable. Do you recall how long I spoke about the rollercoaster girl? I found her earlier this year and since the summer she has faded due to the damaging dreams and subsequent visions. I searched and gushed about a person referred to as ‘her’, felt as if I would fucking die without finding said person, and then actually made a connection between two of the most stirring souls in existence. Oh, and then I made a second connection. And believe me, the correlation was both striking and amazing. ‘She’ has faded somewhat, too, just like the other one. Everything else, really. I have never been so moved in my life by something fleeting in the eyes and damaging to the mind. Her beauty and wondrous features are now the most important aspects of living.

And I can’t talk about it.

There is nothing I can do about the future. From time to time I will sit here and complain about the way all this shit is making me feel, and then I’ll step back for a while before returning and doing it all over again. What else do I have right now? Chores? Hobbies? Television? Nope. None of those has the power to alleviate damage or pain. None. All they serve is to hopefully distract me from the reality of being completely powerless and about as fucking weak as I could have imagined. Yesterday is fucking tormenting me; pulling at my brain in a such a way to as to make any guarding impossible. I keep seeing the situation over and over and fucking over. The third damaging dream half played out right there in front of me and I couldn’t think. This is the point when I usually point out something ‘fortunate’ that helped me get through the day. Well, not this time. Nothing helped. I still see everything and can’t spell out the words in my head. This is completely fucked.

I found some beautiful images which relate to the condition of my head. Unfortunately, I can’t include them here, nor can I say why.

I am pathetic. I’ve felt desire before but this has become overpowering. I can’t fucking concentrate upon anything else. The dreams wedge their way into my brain and will not leave. This happens at some point every day. Every. Fucking. Day. Moreover, I fail to understand why they came about in the first place, unless the feelings are some sort of offshoot or side effect of living the way I have for so many years. Seventeen seemed to be a high point, honestly. That is why I wrote such a highly-veiled essay. It was out of desperation. On the surface, the writing seems to outline how much difficulty had been built up in my head, but the truth is I was screaming for help in the only way I knew how, and in random directions. The present may have developed, and those desperate dreams forced into my sleep time, due to living through my condition growing worse over the years. My head may have reached for anything fulfilling. The massive downside is all I can do is guess. There are no clear answers to any of my questions. I can’t believe the things that run through my head each day. Pathetic. Ridiculous. There will be more dreams. Of that I am certain.

The subject of the damaging dreams will constitute the bulk of this content from here on in.

Holy shit... The mere memory of yesterday is tearing me up inside. My mind is becoming a desolate wasteland of thoughts and dreams, none of which will ever come to pass in reality. I can sit here and withdraw more and more, yet the nature of what I need is equally impossible. I wish I could state the reasons. I still see it. Right there. This is going to be a bad day. The holiday has concluded. Let the wrath begin.

I stated five years ago that I have no direction. I still do not.

0902. I’ll have to do something else very soon. Maybe when the coffee is gone. Sitting here going over the events in my head is causing more anger than I care to feel right now, although if it’s not yesterday or the dreams, something else will be right behind waiting to piss me off. There is no fucking way out of this shit. I am nothing more than a little person with a keyboard and power over nothing. The atmosphere in the house and garage are controlled by yours truly, but the importance of life has become as lost as any power I may have had in the past. Can you blame me for being angry all the time? No sooner do I try to step out of the norm when a vision comes along and reminds me of just how fucking broken I have become. Pieces, all over the place. After all this time and effort, I just don’t see any other path to improvement. I can’t do it alone, that’s for sure, but I also can’t speak of my troubles. I am bottled and compressed. All I need is a touch of heat for the pressure to cause a mass of anger. The coffee is almost gone and I must get the hell away from this keyboard. I keep going, but nothing can be served. There is no saving throw. Maybe there never was a chance. The incident from yesterday is right there... It is becoming a curse of the highest order.



01

1009 and there is a huge, modified White Russian next to me along with vampires on the second display. I drove over to the small market for a few items that will be needed later. Uneventful aside from a pair of yoga-wrapped legs along the way. That is nothing new, nor is it something that will cause the obsession to flare right now. I have other imagery in my brain that rules the roost. In fact, I can’t get it the hell out of my mind this morning. The anger is building...

Earlier I remarked that my quiet time was cut short yesterday morning. Today? The time has been extended. I need the quiet and dark in front of this machine. The office is very dim other than the big display to my right. It pretty much remains dim in this room for the entire day. I don’t know what else to do anymore. I can’t say much, but I must sit here and type regardless of the restrictions. The need to exposit has never been stronger because I became overwhelmed by the sight yesterday. Over-fucking-whelmed. Believe it. Short of a massive earthquake, the ocean coming up the driveway, or the outset of world war three, nothing can come along with the power to remove her image from my head. Nothing. The God’s honest truth is that I have never wanted anything more in my life; fifty fucking years of it. The desire is so strong that my only path is either placing my thoughts here or flexing whatever I can in order to express a mass of unending anger. I am so pissed off over feeling this way that something must eventually give. I have never been more serious. If this continues to worsen, I will do whatever it takes to remove my ability for thinking. This quiet time is a tiny plus.

I fucking love this show despite all of the inherent problems. The atmosphere is fantastic and exotic, and the characters are very realistic in spite of being otherworldly.

To be completely honest, there is nothing left to say. Without going into detail and burying myself in the worst kind of trouble, all I can do is skirt the issue and go on about whatever else comes to mind. Oh, I’ve stated that I have run out of reasons to write, however the compulsion to operate the keyboard and mask my deviant desires continues to force my hand. I suppose this endeavor could be labeled a hobby. The site and everything required to maintain it, too. The truck is once again sitting idle in its display case, the garage projects no longer seem enticing or entertaining, and the outside world continues to be pushed away due to heeled-over condition. There are truly only a handful of activities in which to engage that don’t cause heartache.

There it was again... The image. It is like a short video looping over and over inside my head, one I cannot control. I keep seeing her. This is going to cause the lines on either side of me to converge more quickly than prior to the damaging dreams. I wish I could include the digital images mentioned above. I really do. The relationship between them and the vision from yesterday is striking. I can’t do it, though. Details must remain hidden, much like the way I need to hide myself from prying eyes. I swear to Christ, I’ll turn this office into a fucking anechoic chamber and truly embrace the quiet. Don’t tempt me.

‘You’re a good friend. Now get the fuck outta here.’ God damn this show is funny sometimes. I guess you have to hear it rather than simply reading here. Holy shit. I love it. My other favorite (there are way too many to list) is, ‘Convene your fucking board so we can deal with this uppity Wiccan cunt.’ Kristin is fucking amazing.

God damn fucking Jesus Harold Christ on a fucking rubber crutch do I ever desire that girl. I believe the operative word for the way my head operates these days is ‘certifiable’. Splendid. Each day is nothing more than another notch south of Heaven.

Sometimes, Lois Smith irritates the shit out of me. I don't know why. Ever since 'Minority Report' way back almost twenty years ago, some of her roles have jaded me. Whatever. She is ninety-two years old with a family and an illustrious award-winning career on the stage and screen. What am I? Do I have the right to feel irritated by her? I am no one. She has made a mark that shall remain in perpetuity. Isn't that nice? What the fuck have I accomplished.

Another fucking day. Great. What pitfalls and problems shall we find during the next several hours? Something new? The same shit?

0821 in the morning with my coffee and a very quiet house. The weather has been out of control all night long, culminating in a massive downpour early this morning. The backyard is once again flooded. There is nothing I can do about it in the short term. I’ll have to adapt some pipe to the rain gutter on one end of the patio to redirect the water to the side of the house rather than coming straight down on the concrete. Honestly, I should have had that done before the rainy part of the season but I just kept overlooking the project. Whatever. It’s just water and there is no threat to the house.

I can’t get that image out of my mind again today. A smile, that voice, and then a slight maneuver which hit me in the face like a wrecking ball. She is so fucking beautiful and enticing that all my strength is required to maintain any semblance of posture during those moments. There have been perhaps three that I can recall. I suppose the idea of just being angry all the time is about all I can employ these days. Nothing will change, anyway. I have to sit on the information like a fucking goose with an egg that will never hatch. Ridiculous? Oh, fuck yes. Is there anything else I can do right now? Fuck no. The image is causing me to look at every part of where I am in life. What do I see? Ten percent comfort. Guess the rest.

1354. I went to the market after finishing my routine. I was the hell in and out without issue, although there was a tall drink of water heading in the opposite direction after I checked out. Jesus. Very tall, actually, and despite the boots. I looked away and continued back to my car in anticipation of arriving home for a nice glass of whiskey. I took care of the laundry, too. The only item left on my list is to run some dry cleaning. The evening should prove very rewarding after taking care of business today. I already have everything in place for dinner, as well. It will be a very simple meal so as to allow me some serious relaxation. I don’t need any more shit on the pile right now.

Oh, poor Deborah. She made a great character, though.

I heard something which brought the recent vision to mind again. Today has not been very positive by any means, yet to add that fucking stunning and stirring motion to my head after a shitty morning really pushes the desire for lashing out at the world this afternoon. I may head out there after a snack and distort the limits of good form for a little while, or at least before the next storm hits. Last night the house was pummeled for hours with both wind and rain. Lizzy’s bra is showing through her t-shirt, something I never understood. At one point, all three servers at the restaurant displayed the same style. I don’t get it. Whatever. Nothing has the power to shove the damage out of my fucking tired brain. Nothing. If I do move to the garage and express myself for a while, nothing will change. I’ll return to the house a while later and no better for the effort. I already know the results of my actions prior to taking a single step.

This reimagined office setup is super comfortable. I didn’t realize how much I missed it when I first moved the table to the garage. The last few mornings in here have been really nice and remind me of fifteen when I spent so much time here trying to right my fucking head. That was bad, but the memory is not as negative as it once was.



02

This morning was shitty. The afternoon? Better, I suppose. I finished everything in mind for this day and went a touch further. I had to grab my ladder and pull some of the icicle lights out of the rain gutters. The wind last night was insane. I do love it when the weather forces us to feel small, because we are. More storm systems are on the horizon. I’ll have to remain mindful of the lights.

The fucking squareheads came by just now. Unbelievable. My garage door is open, so I guess the five pentagrams out there on display – one of them nearly four feet in diameter – do not dissuade the efforts of the faithful. I had to reiterate my message from earlier in the year that I picked another direction in life. They were positive and polite, leaving a message of good hope for the future. Wow. The vampires pay no mind. Sometimes I wish I had taken that path many years ago. Maybe I’d be content right now. Maybe I’d be selling patio furniture on the side of the highway in Arizona, but at least happy. Or maybe I’d be in church one Sunday and drool over some girl in a dress and then feel guilty for crossing such a line with disrespect. I’ve done it in the past. Heh. Anyway, that should be the last visit for a long while. I made everything clear.

0646 on Wednesday morning. I really need the dim, quiet atmosphere in this office after the early business is finished. I need it badly. There is another Taylor movie on the televisions, meaning I’ve been splitting my time between trying to get things ready for the day and staring at her lines while daydreaming of positions to be explored. Yep.

0807. The morning stuff is out of the way and the time ahead is mine. I do have to visit three different stores later, though. Three. I am going to need to steel myself for the experience because my level of desperation is over the top right now. Yesterday there was a little glimpse, I saw a different set of lines that came out of the clear, blue sky, and the early part of the day became a complete pile of shit. I can’t have that today, so when I go out I need to be vigilant. I am distorted and ruled. The thoughts in my head which resulted from such a short-lived glimpse are unreal. I have created pictures, adventures; entire living situations much like that fucking television episode I still can’t recall. And much of the detail must be left out of this, naturally. The wrong set of eyes or perhaps some sort of machine to pick words and phrases here and there may have a chance of understanding me and I simply cannot have that kind of shit right now. I often become concerned about the amount of information I’ve placed here throughout the years. So much so, in fact, that this morning I removed nearly everything. The links are there, but the pages are gone. In the past, I did the reverse, meaning the links disappeared. Now? I feel that some enterprising individual could view the directory or file structure without my knowledge, so everything had to go. Deleted, for nothing more than the ridiculous reason of my wavering peace of mind. I don’t know if my words will harden or worsen, so keeping this shit private is the only way.

Sometimes I talk to myself out loud but in a hushed voice. Such behavior is the beginning of the trailing end of my downfall. The slow slide cannot be halted. I think about the visions and what has been right there in front of me in reality and then fall down and speak out loud because I am losing my mind one day at a time, one little piece at a time. The failing fantasy has advanced upon itself, forcing me to see that it has completely failed. Moreover, the imagery continues to skew my head and send me into territories previously not considered, none of them being positive in any way, shape or form. They are all very bad and have stemmed from the five year decline of something that was already in decline. ‘You can fuck your design; you’re in decline.’

‘Ain’t no one takin’ nobody nowhere.’ Wow. I think that is a quadruple negative. Some sort of record.

No one will be reading my material for a while, if at all. Either I stop writing due to the subject matter and/or fear, or I tighten the grip and keep everything to myself. The compulsion to continue here is too much right now. That means everything is mine and not another soul on earth will qualify to be included. No passwords, no nothing. The material is simply gone.

I was supposed to go and check on a friend’s bathroom sink but I’m going to postpone. Shopping will take quite a bit out of me and I have to be here as much as possible in order to remain as comfortable as possible. And now I just received an invitation to work tomorrow and Friday. I will not leave here tomorrow, though. I have too much going on in my brain to be helpful. The dreams and imagery from earlier this year – not to mention the fucking recent vision right in front of my face just three days ago – need to be ironed out before I can be any good to other people, even just temporarily. I keep seeing that shit over and over and I can barely handle the implications. Yesterday morning was bad enough, honestly. Very bad. I have to push like crazy these days. No aspect of this time period is positive.

Pants? Nope. Not this time. Something much more stirring and far worse. I cannot say.

1233. There was a pair of shiny yoga pants just inside the door of the market. I turned away immediately after grabbing a basket.

So, I went to the pet store, wine store, cigarette store, and then the goddess market for dinner tonight. I was driven to take the drive, if you will. Was I overjoyed to arrive home again? Oh, hell yes. I took care of the floor and litter and then moved into the kitchen and polished it. Now that everything is finished, I’ve decided to sit at the computer for the rest of the day. My meeting with the friend will have to wait until tomorrow. I just don’t fucking care. The pants in the market were wrapped around the very girl who bagged my groceries. She was very nice, meaning as I walked out of the store I felt like shit. Thank Christ she had no idea of the machinations in my head as she smiled. A little while ago I felt the desire to have lunch delivered. My better judgment took over and I have something in the oven. Not pizza this time... A lighter lunch. I have a nice cocktail sitting to my right.

The fantasy is likely gone forever. Failed and foiled. I have been relegated to this situation by those who would exercise power over my good-natured personality. Curious, even after all this time I cannot be unkind. Maybe I’ve been saving it for the right moment when I can flex some power of my own. I wish I was a vampire with all of the pitfalls and difficulties therein. I really do. I could move about the world and take care of some business for those who have slighted me and then return home with a mass of cash to make my little home comfortable beyond belief. I have little regard left for anyone. Dead? No, of course not. I only wish for them to fear me to the point of remaining away forever. Please don’t ask if I meant what I’ve said. My reaction will be harsh and very unwelcome. Trust in my negative stance.

The opening sequence of this series shows off a flash of lines. I have seen the entire show through to its end several times and the reminder helps to fester the anger.

The principal character’s name in this series is ‘Sookie’. I dislike her so much that in my pathetic brain her name has been morphed into ‘Suckie’. Heh. She is very annoying, selfish, self-righteous and waifish at times. On the other hand, her presence as written and portrayed is very important to the whole of the story. And? If I dislike the character, that means the actor is doing a great job. I will also say that her physical condition is fucking unreal. The work involved in showing off nothing but muscle is representative of an enormous commitment. I respect the hell out of that. There is a scene sometime later in the series that puts quite the fine point on said commitment.



03

Failing? No... Failed. Period. There can be no denying such a state of affairs. The fact is obvious after all of my pining over the damaging dreams and accompanying imagery, both in my psyche and right before my sad, desperate eyes. I can’t fucking help it. For example, when my interest in the obsession goes from thinking about a woman’s appearance and into the territory of how she may think, the situation is bad. Now take that information and relate it to the damaging dreams and those visions I’ve seen in person. Much worse. More than I can say, in fact. The only upside, which I have mentioned recently, is the idea that I can maintain my composure during those moments. I don’t know if the reason is strength or the idea that the consequences of actions born from weakness could be dire, but I can still hold myself upright in front of other people. I truly wish I could sit in this fucking chair and spell out what this all means and what I’ve seen. I really do. A line from a song... ‘Bottled-in; a strong compression. My distortion shows obsession.’ I am so closed off and bottled up that to live each day and go through the motions seems miraculous. The fantasy was at risk more than five years ago when my desperation began to peak. All these years later, I can’t find enough superlatives to get the fucking point across. This is a bad fucking situation. Believe it.

1355. I postponed the appointment until tomorrow, and work Friday is fifty-fifty.

I had to take a trip to the little market because in two days at two different stores I forgot cream for my frickin’ coffee. Unbelievable. Sometimes the shit in my head is powerful enough to smash important tasks. Oy. Fortunately, there was nothing up there to distract me from gathering my needed items.

The lines are in there and I need to see them. I dream of them every day without fail. They are inside her clothing and locked away, much like everything else that creates turmoil inside me. The sight from a few days ago is fresh and slapping me in the face over and over like the ball from some errant tennis match between two demons. I keep seeing it no matter what I’m doing at any given time during the day. Images are flipping along and continuing to cause me to picture all manner of deviant situations. Three dreams while I slept and then three visions in reality and I am completely fucked. Did you notice that I’ve not mentioned ‘her’ for quite some time? I can feel the end of the world on the horizon.

I need the third dream combined with the philosophy of one particular person from my long past. Impossible? Yep, sure as hell. The vision the other day was so close to the dream that I nearly fell to the ground. I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Time continues to wear away at my ability to remain standing, not to mention the decreasing value and offset of the little comforts and enjoyments that have carried me for so long. I’ll tell you this: If I had been working past the beginning of the pandemic, these words would never have been put to the screen. Anna is wearing a see-through teddy. Disgusting. Anyway, I am still going through the motions and chores each day regardless of how far down I’ve traveled recently. I have to do something aside from just sitting here. Is that strength? I don’t know, either. What I do know is that directly attached to any activity or thought is an image from another world, one in which I feel as if everything will be ok. The last time I felt that was during a dream. Here in this house, my circumstances are quite different.

I want to see her lines more than anything in the world right now. Well, almost anything. The ‘smiling face’ would be preferable. I will not go further than that statement. God damn is my head ever sideways. I need to scream all this shit but cannot. That would be the last of me for sure. I have to keep this pace and go through the motions until something comes along to force or allow some sort of change. What that may be, I have no fucking idea. The chance of a tiny boost is clear. Anything further seems very unlikely. Those lines are in there. I know it. Right fucking there. And nothing can be done, ever. Not a fucking smidgen. My imagination is the only way.

Damn it.

This morning I had the shopping on top of my head and was unable to enjoy the darkness and quiet as much as usual. Tomorrow will be much better. A longer morning, anyway, and without the stress of having to visit four stores. I will say one thing about the current period, and that is the idea of not needing to work more than I’d care to really helps me to exercise control over the time. In the past, I often felt as if the clock and calendar were completely in charge, rather than the other way around. The problems were present no matter where we had to work or for how long. Sometimes the hours dragged so slowly that I thought I would have to change careers and find something more suited to my taste (I had that career but everything went to shit after realizing I had been reduced to a commodity). There was one day, though, when I was on my way to one of the very difficult jobs in the City and quickly decided to turn right instead of left, thus removing the stress of work and placing myself in control of the day. I ended up in a place more warm and comfortable than I could have imagined when stepping out of bed that morning. Nothing of the sort exists now, though. Not even close. That day went down in history as a turning point in others’ perception of just how dangerous my behavior could become when pushed. A second day right around that same time was similar in that I felt uneasy to the point of physical issues and flipped a switch. I walked out of the building and drove home. The feeling was one of wonder and fear combined. Unfortunately, my destination on either of those days cannot be discussed here. The bottom line is that I need to remain mindful and appreciative of this living condition regarding work.

The converging lines seem to be related not only to life but the dreams, as well. I noticed that the lion’s share of this and the previous entry has been focused upon the damage and resulting turmoil inside me. There are two reasons for feeling this way, but only one of which I can mention here. That would be the passage of time. The ‘failing fantasy’ back during the summer of seventeen has become nearly the top of my shit list, having fallen away like everything else and completely fucking ‘failed’. It was on its way down all those years ago. Now? I don’t see anything on the horizon other than more turmoil and pain. I had thought I was losing my fucking mind five years ago and was basically forced into much anger, and now I can’t even scratch the surface of the negative feelings. Every now and again they come forth – like one occasion back in November while spending time in the garage late at night – and typically take me away from clear, consistent thinking. Care must be taken so as to keep my demons and those responsible from coming out of my mouth. Right now, the lines of which I have spoken before as they seem to bracket my path have become even more troublesome and left me in the middle of a dilemma the likes of which I could not have imagined. The damaging dreams have taken much of my daily attention away from the norm and left me in a mental fetal position. Each day holds more difficulty than the last, meaning the lines (not those lines) have been accelerated by the dreams. My head will not stop manufacturing fantasies. New ones, that is. The other one failed.

You can fuck your design. Fuck. Your. Design.
You can fuck your design. Fuck. Your. Design.
You can fuck your design. Fuck. Your. Design.
You can fuck your design. Fuck. Your. Design.

0644 on Thursday morning. Vampires and coffee; early chores very soon. Like yesterday, the feeling right now is that of spending a lot of time right here in the office. All of the shopping and time outside the house has reinforced my need to remain indoors. Maybe I’ll do the same tomorrow and skip work. As nice as some cash in my pocket has been for the holiday season, I have to look out for number one above all others. Again, only working when I feel like it has become a godsend. This morning will progress and the most likely outcome will be a cancellation of tomorrow’s job for yours truly. This office is once again becoming very comfortable and spending time in a room over which I have control of the lighting, temperature and entertainment is just what the doctor ordered. I am isolated and the world has been shut out. I am so pleased about the decision to turn this space into an office once again.



04

The morning business is nearly complete and I am awaiting the quiet time.

‘We hath arriveth.’

I learned that operating one of the steaming services on two different devices at the same time can result in a delayed broadcast on one of them. It sounded funny for a minute.

Drifting into the gray of reality can often be offset somewhat by the comfort of this room and the prospect of not needing to work. I have written those first six words before, and at a time when my situation was actually much better than I thought. I failed to appreciate some of the pluses back then. Anyway, reality continues to be gray and I am still floating (drifting) within. Sometimes I want to suck on Allie’s lips. Sue me. Shoot me. I don’t care. As for the gray, I am inside it regardless of any fleeting feelings that things are going well. The comfort of relaxing in this office and avoiding contact with people is damned-near the only saving throw I have versus the dreams. My quiet space to think and explore has become so important that the very idea of working even two days straight is now alien. I am ninety percent heeled toward canceling tomorrow. The gray has taken over my mindset and left me unwilling to connect outside this fucking house. I do not know where I am drifting, but the ancient situation and angry circumstances have caught up with the present time. Floating without the benefit of the mind’s eye is unpleasant and wrought with imagery of things I should be avoiding, yet still the gray of reality is something I am trying to temper through being in this room each day. And avoiding the imagery or dreamy visions is nearly impossible while in the office for reasons I cannot reveal. Believe me when I say that you do not want to know.

0822 and the quiet has engulfed this room aside from the voices on the show.

Lorena is menacing and beautiful at the same time. That is likely the most frightening combination possible for a woman. The slow-motion footage of her gliding along the hotel hallway with hair bouncing and her dress moving in concert is fucking amazing and still gives me goosebumps. Don’t even get me started on her facial expression during that shot. The woman is five-ten and carries herself ideally for that character. Jesus.

I’ve been trying to push the dreams out of my head this morning because they have the singular ability to derail pretty much anything I attempt. The vision returns over and over; her hands. I can’t understand how it happened, but believe me... I saw WAY too much distortion and the unkempt nature which drove me out of my fucking mind. It still does, really. I keep seeing the image like a video looping through with so much desire attached to it that something has to eventually either stop this or make it come true. Either is fine. I just need to be able to function through a day without being completely knocked off my feet by her. Maybe I should have told the fucking squareheads what goes through my head at key moments on the average day. Heh. I have to keep pushing or the imagery and memories of those moments will get the best of me and bad things will happen.

I need so badly to know what is going on inside. I need it more than anything in the world, even to know ‘her’. This is impossible in reality, of course, but I keep going over it in my head and the desire continues to grow with each passing moment. I have seen much, yet not nearly enough. You will not understand that last statement. Why don’t you go to Vegas and look up Ashley. She knows. The damaging dreams are going to become permanent residents inside me. That means the need to know what’s inside will be equally cemented. Tell me I have a choice.

‘I’m your... Your... Density.’ – George McFly

The lines are there and I will never be able to see them. Marvelous.

Right there in front of my face... Three fucking times. I saw too much. The hands were the problem, really. The hands had a ‘hand’ in what went through my head like crap through a goose. I can take little more of seeing such imagery. Wait... Imagery? No, that was more like a video. Several videos, actually. And then that fateful day when the video was very close. Oh, fuck... So close. I never knew I had so much fucking strength. The lines entered my head before I went fucking crazy. By that point, nothing mattered anyway, so experiencing that level of damage didn’t even matter in the grand scheme. I expect nothing less in these late days. The knives will never stop plunging into my heart.

The time is 0925 and I have yet to do anything but sit here and type. The show is keeping me company. I had to reconfigure the table somewhat so I could see out the office window. I like to leave the big garage door open during the day for when I take a break from the chair. Lately, some neighbors have been concerned about news of a resident’s offspring causing trouble, so if the door is open I must be able to see outside. The routine will have to begin soon, I suppose. Usually I have everything finished by lunch, at which time my direction for the day will disappear. Yesterday was a bit different because I was out shopping for a while. I don’t have anywhere to go today except my friend’s house in a few hours. I already know that situation will turn out to be nothing because the problem is beyond repair without going into the walls. That is just not going to happen. And there was one of those shots on the show which reinforces my disdain for society. Anyway, earlier I had the idea to work inside the office for a good portion of my time today. I’d like this cocoon to be as nice and comfortable as I can make it, within reason of course. I’ve seen images of gaming setups and other office spaces which are completely insane. I don’t need to go that far. This will be more like a control center of sorts. After the routine is finished I will work to that end.

1114. I have half the routine finished and will work on more later. I need to take a break right now. The vampires have been keeping me company all morning and I have a little something in the glass to my right. Medicine, if you will. I’ve had far too much on my mind to stay away from anything enjoyable, and believe me when I say the alcohol provides just enough looseness to allow me to relax in the morning.

There has been another slight. I have not mentioned it for some weeks because of the delicate nature of this type of situation. As usual, there will be only enough information for me to know of the details, of course. And a note regarding that last point... Two such events have transpired since Halloween, plus the issue of the damaging dreams continues to plague the site. Not a soul on earth, no matter their possible level of clairvoyance, knows what the fuck I’ve been speaking about since summer. No one. Back to the slight. I tightened the content here because I no longer believe anything positive can develop from others’ eyes upon my work. Nothing. I can read everything, though, and that is the main point of my bringing up the slight. I do not foresee a time when the material will return to the production environment. Words can be uplifting and beautiful, or they can come across as violent and belittling. For reasons of fear and good form, I must regard the site in a certain way due to the latter. Being slighted is not something I take lightly. Live with it. And? Go away. Pause.

1259 is what I see on the clock. I postponed my diagnostic meeting for the second time because I just don’t give a shit right now. The next step will be to cancel work tomorrow for the same reason. Focusing upon my own comfort has taken priority over everything else. If I have to go shopping or something, well, that’s different. Going to the store usually means maintaining the house and meals. Nothing else will get me to leave this place. I have again returned to the office with my psychopathic friends in the background.

I am pleased with the decision to remove content availability. The deviant turn of events this year has me at sixes and sevens all the time, and to explore the subject means leaving everyone else the fuck out. The situation is far too dangerous right now and I see complete privacy becoming more important as time passes. This is not a good state of affairs, especially considering the amount of effort required to write tons of words and mask all key knowledge at the same time. The effort has been exhausting.

The dry cleaning is finished. One more chore today. There is a giant glass of Irish cream resting to my right. It is yummy, and not too high in alcohol.

So, I know of one reason for feeling so much fucking desire. I really do. The problem is, this type of yearning has never come about in my life. The reason cannot be discussed here. Holy Jesus fuck in a bra cup, there is Evan. Wow, would I love to bury myself inside her Goddamned thong. Anyway, the first damaging dream planted thoughts in my head that had not existed in the past, and then the festival three months ago pretty well cemented the idea that I have been looking through different eyes of a type I had not imagined before. This is not a good thing no matter how you slice it. Not fucking good at all, but the feelings are inside me regardless. They have already become overpowering and crippling at times. I don’t know what the fuck to do. This is the type of difficulty that hurts bad enough for me to begin considering speaking with someone. The downside is that I would be out so much money relaying such a lengthy backstory, meaning there would not likely be relief until I reside in the poor house. Moreover, I may be either embarrassed or ridiculed for the way I think. I believe there is still too much fear for me to reach out.

One person comes to mind, though. Without a single word, I already know that the individual of whom I speak would not judge me in the least. Quite the reverse, actually. They would do nothing but try to help. As nice as this idea may sound, however, I am still far too fearful for reaching. The truth is my head would manufacture all sorts of bullshit regardless of the feelings of the other person. I’d ruin the whole shitaree before it had a chance of bearing fruit.

I am completely fucked and there is no way around it anymore.

End of line."



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