The Girl and the Unyielding Wake Mature content No. 317 Published June 15th, 2022 11:53am pdt read ( words) Past entries "0657 on Thursday morning. The usual. Today is going to be mellow due to being pushed down last night, although the push was unintentional. A road trip again popped into my head. This morning I'm thinking about the route and the fact that I won't be able to explore and enjoy the open roads until Christ-knows when. Sad, disappointed, but at least I have this place and my time. I spoke to a friend last night and didn't realize he was leaving for Nevada just a few moments later. I thought their trip was going to be a few days from now. As I stood there and discovered he was just minutes away from taking what is likely my favorite drive in history, my head began to drop. I ceased it, wished him a safe trip, and returned to this living room with my brain recalling all those trips to the goblet. This feeling has faded a bit this morning, which is good. I don't need other dreams tying up my thinking today. There are plenty inside already. I need to take care of the morning business before returning to this crap for a while. Sarah was just twenty-five when this episode was produced. Damn, what a lucky girl. In that world for a while. She was very effective in the role, too. God damn did I love that girl in the past. 0756. Morning business out of the way. Fourth show. Coffee. I feel better than yesterday afternoon, too. Much better. For a while there I was in a hell of a slump and could scarcely see a way out. The problem of being 'down' during the afternoon was exacerbated by closing up the lighted windows to watch a movie with lunch. I should not have done that, or at least I would have been better off watching something else. As often as my head winds up inside a pair of pants, yesterday became quite the opposite, just very sad and feeling as if nothing is worth my effort. Really bad there for a while. So far today I am neutral. Care must be taken if I am to watch anything questionable. 'Increase speed to warp seven.' 'Aye, sir... Full impulse.' What the hell is that all about? Come on, Geordi. Heh. I love some of the little errors on this show. Yep, second series on this morning. At 0947 I have half the routine finished and laundry in process. Still drinking the last cup of coffee. Normally I would consider myself behind scehdule at this point, but there is not much to the kichen due to not cooking last night. No big deal, as I simply pushed the meals out one day. The day is now more wide open to whatever I wish to attempt. Sunshine. Warm. My head is still fucked up, however. That doesn't ever fully retreat. THE FUCKING GIRL. She would have been quite the comfort a little while ago. Impossible, you say? Of course... That little push the other day has me thinking. A lot. I have no clue as to why it arrived, but it did nonetheless, and I am left to wonder. I cannot ask questions because a precedent has been set and I will not disturb or change it in these late days. Eventually I may find the reason. Unfortunately, and like many other parts of my psyche, I cannot fully define it here. Privacy, always. I was thinking about the race last night because the event date is the end of July. In turn, I thought of my dramatic reaction to the race girl. Yep, her again. She had a hell of an impact upon my weakened condition and there is a distinct possibility that I will see her again. The exhibit has been there each year for almost a decade. The day will be a bit different than in the past, though. We usually set up our lunch bag and other items in the grandstand early and then meander around in search of some coffee. The track and pit area are very quiet in the morning. I believe the eliminations begin around eleven or so, allowing for lots of time to look around or take pictures. Historically, we are in the seats before the first pair of cars light off and remain there for the first round. Afterward, it's back down to the ground and a walk. I always grab some printed brackets to follow along with each race and record the results. Well, this year I'll be bringing my camera rather than relying upon the phone for images. This is a big change, from focusing upon the competition to shooting abstract images all over the grounds. I'm looking forward to being around the pits while everyone else is packed into the stands. It should be interesting. And? If that girl is there, I am going to request that she allow me to shoot a portrait. No bullshit. She reminded me of a VERY unique actor with whom I had been enamored for a long period of time and I need to capture the face for reference. I will not say the actor's name. One hint is that her image is here on the site. There are 1861 image files here as of this entry, so if you wish to search, good luck. I double-checked. She's here. Anyway, the image of her was placed on the site because I have a 'thing' for cat eyes, and hers cannot be refuted. The race girl resembles the actor in question. A lot. I fully intend to capture her if the opportunity arises. I may or may not be able to place the resulting beauty here, however. That would be up to her, and could require my revealing the URL so she could see the context. That may be a bad idea. In any case, I'll be pointing the camera at her one way or another, meaning with permission or without. I've done it before, and the idea of shooting a model at that type of event is commonplace anyway. I don't see a problem. 1054. Routine finished, laundry almost finished. It's still early, too. Second show along with a nice, cold glass of depression. Make no mistake... The mood is always much worse than what you read here. 1447. The girl dominates my thought processes, leaving little room for anything else. Thank goodness the second show is one I know very well, meaning I need not hear every word of dialog. I went to the market again for a few items. Nothing of note over there, thank Christ. I really don't need to see anything more in this life. There has been quite enough. 0749 on Friday morning after a difficult night. Yes, a tough one. My brain went places better left completely out of life itself. The damaging dream came to mind over and over, and then as if that wasn't enough shit to plow, early this morning was ANOTHER in the same vein. I am now left to wonder why my head has gone in such a direction just this year. Never before. Last night I had thoughts inside that can never come to light, nor can I attempt to seek help. There will be trouble. Damn this, anyway. At least I am very deceptive and can cover almost anything in order to appear as someone I am not. The ability comes in handy sometimes. Very fucking handy, for sure. Between the night and the second dream, I am left to think that can deal with this stuff on the inside, but one certainty is that my daydreaming will adjust to follow suit. I don't want that, yet I already know it will happen. And this brings up a reference to the aforementioned blown gas... There is simply no method for changing the way a person 'thinks'. They must do it themselves. Inside me now resides a system for dealing with the manner in which I've been dealing with certain people. I had to build it. Unfortunately, I cannot predict dreaming while asleep. This morning's dream was not entirely out of left field (due to last night's likely influence), and one of the most enticing, beautiful scenes in memory. It was like a few of the images from the site came to life. That is all I can say. One more scrape last night had me fighting to remain upright. The gesture reminded me of something similar from more than two decades ago, at the time I believed was simply a cute moment. Well, all these years and analysis later, both are like knives that do not recede. Nothing from either situation had anything to do with me, though. I just happened to be there and overheard some nice words. The one last night really struck me, too. Now I'm a tad lower than I had been just a day ago. Combined with the dream and all that other shit, this is going to be a tough road to travel. I'm going to need to avoid some situations. My brain is already around the world with the subject matter from that damned dream and I can't do anything about it. I'll have to keep myself away from some of those trying moments, I guess. There may be no other way. The good part is that I have control of my faculties and project the outward appearance of 'just another guy', meaning all of the turmoil and torment inside goes completely unseen. Others interact with me once in a while and believe they know at what they are looking. Unfortunately, the inside is a wrecking yard full of parts from every part of life. There is a movie theatre inside that yard, as well. It has been displaying my dreams for reference so that I know how strongly I need to hold back from speaking about a few specific topics while near another person. That screen also shows things I want or need. I cannot speak with a single soul of earth about any of it. Nothing. I have walled off far too much. Today is going to be mellow. The routine and very little else. I do not feel like tackling much because I can't get my mind away from damaging (yet very enticing) thinking. Either I will go on about it here today, or I'll just relax and think. The fact that I can't reveal anything means this could end up a page full of nothing. Or the race girl. Or the model you see here (again). But I don't know for sure. Right now I couldn't calculate one plus one without issue. I'm pretty fucked up. I feel like I am on a small float and the waves are having their way with my direction. Powerless. That damaging dream is going to be the subject here for quite some time to come. I can't get it out of my head most of the time, and last night it was amplified. I still see what was before me. This is not a good situation by any means, and up the page when I said 'tough road', I meant it. I'm already on that road. And I had thought yesterday morning was difficult? Nope. I have to do something that will help stop the slide show in my brain. I keep seeing the imagery over and over this morning. Hopefully it will fade as the hours pass. I'll drive myself crazy otherwise. The dream last night carried with it some elements of research I recently performed on a model. A few, anyway. The model has not graced the site because I never found satisfactory images, but I flipped through plenty in the process. I can see the dream, still. Sometimes I awaken very early with my head full of details of a dream, only to return to sleeping. I then awaken later with little or no memory left. Today happens to be one in which I can see some of the dream very clearly. Yesterday I ran across a short video that was created as a comparison of two female models, both of whom are stunning. Nothing came of the video, although my dream earlier held one specific detail that I happen to find incredibly attractive and stirring. Just one, but it's a big deal. And it was connected to someone that I badly need out of my brain. I really don't see that happening, and as a result I may continue to splay the screen with much ambiguity. Some aspects of life should not be discussed... Ever. I can't even mention the detail in the video. That may give away a little too much. Believe me, the vision goes all the way back to seeing Juliette for the first time. Gorgeous. I thought my eyes would pop out. I really didn't need a second dream, especially on the heels of last night. This is all so fucked up. And there is Mädchen Amick on the screen again. Reference blonde woman of the universe, top of the fucking list, yet I can't look at her without thinking of last night. The video may have put some details into my brain yesterday to influence thinking on a subconscious level. And then the incident last night. Everything poured over me at the same time and I guess I blew a gasket. This is all so fucking bad. I was going to sit here and speak of the relationship between the race girl and the 'girl', yet now everything is all mixed. Maybe I should not have done the legwork to secure the video. I can't get that detail out of my mind this morning. 1057 and the routine is finished. I don't even know how I did it. Not a clue. Maybe after all this time I've become 'programmed'. Second show, second season. This brings back memories of the glow. Why not? The imagery in my head has been ping-ponging between the model on this page with her incredible, sense-defying curves and the damaging dream which is injecting very erotic yet deviant thoughts. There is an upside right now, however, and that is the time and space to do whatever is necessary for my comfort while home today. The weather is warm once again, so later I'll have everything open and the damned fan spinning overhead. It is the single greatest improvement with regard to temperature management and heat transfer. Everyone who has ever known me is aware of my sensitivity to climate. The lion was not the only reason I left the valley in favor of the coast. The weather had a large hand in that decision. I would imagine the mercury in the house will top out over eighty by close of business and I don't even care. I'll be physically comfortable all day long. That and some relaxation due to being up late last night will facilitate the evening feeling satisfying. I have that to look forward, at the very least. The girl follows, all bouncing breasts and flowing hair. She is not real. Nothing I need is real. The completed routine means no matter which direction I may turn today, everything unreal and impossible will be swirling and leaving me at the mercy of dreams. What a fucking shit situation I have right now. At least my friends on the television would never forsake me for being such a mess. They will never change, thank the maker. Real people cannot compare. From this point forward today I will remain open to whatever makes me the most comfortable. Right now I need that as much as I need the lines directly before my face. Ugh. I do have the time, though. Not everything is fucked. I went into great detail regarding my feelings about the race girl. You may be tired of hearing it, but the truth is her importance can't be overstated. My reaction to her facial expression and the manner in which her eyes seemed to speak to me are byproducts of my own issues. I am not above reaching toward any encounter that appears to have the ability to 'save' me, whatever that means. She may have been the most powerful representation of my level of desperation. Making something out of nothing. I could have ran to her and fallen into an embrace. Contrarily, she may have been staring because I appear interesting due to the facial hair or tattoos, possibly something else about which I know nothing. I cannot know because anything taking place in her head was a complete mystery. She only did her job, nothing more. I am the one who took the moment and ran around the world with it. I would love to believe that her slender fingers are at this very minute typing all about what she may have seen. Crazy? Of course. But I can't fucking help it. Weak and desperate, more with each passing day. I am in a bad way right now. The race girl may become what I see when I think of the girl, or perhaps she will be combined with the woman pictured here. In any case, the dreaming does not stop. The mere fact that I go to such lengths in dreaming of these things is a clear indication that I am in dire need of help. Unfortunately, and like many other aspects of life, the help is most decidedly impossible. Everything aside from what I have deemed the 'norm' -- my shows, routine, projects, and the like -- has become equally impossible. My time for improving, understanding may have passed. Again I must point out the overwhelming importance of having all this time to myself. Saturday morning. I don't know where to go from here. There is pressure upon my head of a type I had not imagined prior to this calendar year. This kind of feeling has sprouted dreams I really did not want or need in my life. Sure, I’ve brushed up against this type of situation before, but never had it been so realistic or focused upon someone I actually know in life. Now my thoughts are all over the place. And when I say ‘brushed, I am only referring to thinking, nothing in reality. Sometimes the imagery can drive the wake, as well. I am as of yet completely powerless to remove the ideas from my head. Yesterday, for example, I daydreamed on and off throughout the work. This is a very bad situation and I don’t know if I can change it. Still... Not a clear word as to what I am referring. Splendid. If I had been told many years ago that my brain would drift in such a direction, there is no way I could have believed it. The current mindset is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. 0719. Fourth show again. Yesterday I added a streaming channel in order to watch one specific series dating back to the magical period when I first purchased a high-definition television. Not long after my wonder had piqued with such clarity, that girl appeared on the screen (yep, more than a decade back and I can STILL see her face and bright eyes). The time period in question became defined by the improvement and advancement of programming we watched on a daily basis. There had been lots of wonderful yet small details of life at that time which gave me more joy and comfort than I can possibly describe. Sometimes I feel that was the most comfortable place I’ve lived. Just three years, though. We moved on. As for the show, it predated my HD television by a couple of years, but once I discovered the new setup and a few shows, the die was cast. Well, I never saw the entire series run its course, nor did I watch once we moved out of that apartment. Over the past year or so, the show has been on my mind but I did not know how to watch it other than purchasing discs (not good). Yesterday I did some research and found the program in its entirety, along with many others. Due to the timeline of originally watching this series, my head almost immediately became flooded by the wake of the rollercoaster girl. And that leads to yet ANOTHER fucking realization related to the damaging dream and all this shit plaguing me every fucking day. So, let us recap... Something reminded me of the original program I hadn’t seen for years. I found it, and then after watching the first two episodes I was reminded of the incredible wonder of first enjoying high definition media almost twenty years ago. That led to the original channels I used to watch with wide eyes, and in turn straight to the rollercoaster girl. She is now a part of the damage and I cannot even say why. Just know that girl is related to the dream from months ago which has permanently altered the landscape of my mind. The power of the wake has redirected me and carried my head to a place I never thought it would inhabit. This is all just bad. My beloved rollercoaster girl is now a part of the problem, meaning even way back when her vast loveliness graced the screen, my brain was already being primed for what took place just this year. Everything has changed and there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. Thinking of the rollercoaster girl this morning also sprouted yet another desperate search for the video. It has to be out there somewhere. This is a huge fucking problem and I can’t reveal why. On the upside, the CD changer girl was different due to being right next to me on two occasions, although the two could have been twins. Again... I can’t spell out the reason. Leave it. But I have to find the rollercoaster girl. Unlike the others, she was filmed, meaning captured for all time and will not change. 1032. I finished half of the routine and folded some linens from yesterday’s laundry adventure. I also have an icy glass of bourbon next to me due to something wonderful happening a little while ago. Yes... I said wonderful, and a goal unprecedented in my history. I found the rollercoaster girl. That is not a joke. After mentioning her for the millionth time in just shy of two years – the first was at the end of July, 2020, believe it or not – I decided to search once again. I went by channels (not easy considering I was unsure of the original broadcast network), and then years, from 2004 to 2006, when one of the networks went away. The years also coincided with the period in which we lived in the apartment. I am certain I saw her for the first time while in that location. I then sought more information on the networks, and even went so far as to research production companies and the programming they created. Nada. The last ditch was to try keywords again because I knew of one theme park featured in the documentary. A dozen videos later, I found her. Immediately I located the highest resolution available and downloaded the entire video to this machine. Now I have her forever. This is unreal after almost two years of on-and-off scouring until my fingers went numb. Once I saw her face, the wake on my being increased ten-fold. She has now derailed whatever direction this entry was to take. Ho-ly shit. I have her at last... Good God. I am going to spend money on video editing software in order to grab frames from the documentary. Surprised? Nope. 1727, same day. The rollercoaster girl is floating inside my head like a savior angel. I will admit that the compulsion to find her and capture the video has been overwhelming at times, mostly during the last two years. The search has been exhaustive due to my memory of the documentary being fragmented. The wake has increased in power. I cared for the daily routine but have not gone beyond it much. I can’t stop thinking about her. The legwork required in narrowing her scenes within the video and then extracting images will be lengthy. I’ll do it anyway. The process reminds me of trying to transfer the copyright-protected video of the Mojo Girl with equipment borrowed from NASA. An entire calendar day was devoted to connecting and learning the system before finally grabbing the video, actually in lower resolution than I had hoped. She is still stunning and stirring, though. And her name is Katie. I am a basket case beyond comprehension, but at least her name isn’t Jamie. Heh. Soon enough I shall have a plethora of images. I can’t wait. I successfully located an open-source tool for extracting images from video. After a quick test, the software seems to work as advertised. Now, I must be able to isolate the sections of the video in which the rollercoaster girl appears or the file number will be excessive. Shot on film, the frame rate would be 24/sec. Shot digitally for television, the rate would be 29.97/sec. Either way, the image yield will be somewhere between 72000 and 90000. I don’t need that shit at all, nor do I need to lock up this machine by asking one application to monopolize resources for hours. So, video editing software is next. I’ll have to watch the entire program several times and take notes for each time frame. I’ll end up with perhaps two or three dozen individual clips, but the end result is as important as breathing. Honestly, I don’t give two shits about how long this process may take. I need her. Badly. Remember... I am not a balanced person. 0627 on Saturday morning. All the usual stuff is done and I have a nice cup of coffee. The video is going to take longer than I had originally thought. I don’t even know how to use the simplest functions of the editing software. Some learning is on tap. Afterward, I can snip some sections and extract images. This is going to take time. And Sunday morning is not for me to scour instructions and attempt some trial and error in plodding through a new application. I’ll have to get to it later. A few minutes ago I took a quick peek at what will be involved, so I was able to see her introduction and about ten seconds of dialog. Jesus. I can’t believe I remembered her face for so long. Exactly matching what I had in my head all this time, there she was again. Unbelievable, and I am more of a crazy person than I was mere days ago. I am further off the deep end and losing cohesion by the minute. Reality? Slipping. Today will be the usual routine and garbage (how many times have I typed that?). I may also try to get some of the hedge cut, too. The end that remains is very twisted and difficult to work with, but as I say almost every day, I have plenty of time. I’m not going to sit here all day and goo ga over the video. Now that I have it, nothing feels so desperate any longer. I’ll have a few hours alone today. Fourth show in the background right now. An increase in the wake. I am behind the craft, flailing and weakening as time passes. The race girl pushed me pretty hard, and now the other one I discovered is likely going to cause nothing more than additional damage. I am all fucked up. The wake is pushing relentlessly, placing pressure upon me to point myself in directions better left alone. I am feeling this more and more each day, the passing imagery and occasional strikes included. More all the time. Just… More. The last week or so has had me scratching to remain upright in any sense of the word. This is not a good situation. A small chore which felt insignificant two years ago now appears insurmountable. Some of the projects I had planned to complete appear similarly impossible. I am losing ground day after day and my ability to cope with difficult situations is diminishing. More and more often I find myself sitting idle and daydreaming about where I may have been, and sometimes where I actually have been in relation to this stagnant, depressive state. I don’t know how much longer I can continue to decline before something bad takes place, possibly something permanent or even a decision from which there can be no return. I’ve done it before. The other night all of this popped into my head when I learned that my neighbor’s partner was leaving to drive to the goblet around ten at night and seemingly very excited about the trip. I know what that feels like because I’ve dashed there several times, each outset feeling like the largest dose of freedom available. Out of touch, beyond everyone’s control, and living as I saw fit. This current period with the little pushes and problems is pointing me toward another break, and likely one which could ruin everything. I have to be careful right now and embrace anything that may have the power to keep me sane. Locating the video of the most elusive beauty imaginable was a huge dream, but may in fact end up accomplishing nothing more than helping my feet take steps in negative directions. The wake does not let up, ever. I suppose I’ll have to do my best in completing things fairly early today rather than fucking around and wasting precious time. The load on my head is causing me to list terribly as the wake carries on. Anything further down could find me feeling very bad by close of business, and I just can’t fucking have that these days. I am so far down that the accomplishments simply MUST happen or I’ll fall further and probably feel behind by the time the next morning rolls around. Right now I feel ok for the most part, but there have been many occasions when I was sitting here sipping coffee and lamenting the previous day’s losses. That is not a good feeling at all, and I don’t want any more of it. Not much is asked of me. Earlier work is the idea. I’ll get started slowly as soon as the coffee is done and I have a pause in thinking. Every now and then I have to peek at the girl just because I can. Ok, so I went over to the editing software (only a trial version; I don’t know if it’s going to do everything I need yet) and trimmed a scene which yielded more than 1800 images, and the video was just over a minute and a half. Oy. After paring down the unwanted images and organizing for a few minutes, I have ninety left with her face. This may work out ok, but honestly the video is key. Most of the time I have nothing more than stillness, which in reality is very cold and flat. Video is warm and beautiful, stirring and haunting at the same time. At least I’ll have both, I suppose. Better than not seeing her at all. I figured I’d take a look while still sipping the coffee. Maybe later I’ll read about the process more and learn how to really isolate the girl from the rest. Crazy person. I’ve been enamored with her since first seeing this documentary on the television, likely in zero four. That is a long time and I never forgot her. I went months here and there not thinking about her, but always she was inside me. The reality is that the girl is now eighteen-plus years older and somewhere in Florida, I would imagine. Maybe very different. I will never know, and it doesn’t really matter anyway because I have her forever, just the way she was the very first time I saw. Crazy person. 0746. I may have to purchase a license in order to properly trim and save parts of the video. I am more than willing, but I do need to ensure the program will do everything I’d prefer. One of these days, I guess. Jesus fuck, she is every bit as beautiful as I recalled, all big, bright eyes and flowing hair. Damn it all, anyway. Thank Christ she will never know me. The rollercoaster girl has chiclets. Heh. So fucking cute. I still can’t believe I was able to find her. 0817 and I am about to rise and care for part of the routine. For some reason, I am antsy this morning. Perhaps the prospect of diving into video editing and image extraction has me at sixes and sevens after all these years. Once I complete some work today, I’ll likely be sitting at this machine and striving to do her vast beauty justice. So far, the images leave a bit to be desired as opposed to the actual video. The problem is motion. Without the motion ceasing, even for a fraction of a second, the image is blurred. Such is this type of process, I suppose. In the end, I may find that video clips are superior to still images. If so, I may need to go frame by frame and trim each clip to include only her. Whatever. I’m just happy to be able to see those bright eyes again. I’ll be playing the clips daily. Maybe... Hourly. Four images now, all blurry, yet still I know what is there. I know because I’ve seen the motion, and there is no adequate description for the wake that is manipulating my every thought. No saving throw. Nothing. I just have to stare. Nobody's listening. Nothing there, either. Marvelous. Katie is now Jaime. Or the other way around. Shit, I don’t know. Work it out. They are the ‘girl’. She is the girl. Whatever. Sometimes I read that word so many times that it ceases to make sense. Probably a good thing considering my personality. Little of me makes sense anymore. 1431 on Sunday afternoon. I trimmed the front and back trees, cleaned up the area where our flowers reside by the front of the house, and then attacked the hedge for a little while. Suffice to say, my ass is hereby kicked. No more labor today. Damn. Everything looks better, though. All the while during the work, one face spun me in circles. I even daydreamed during a break that Jaime walked up the driveway to tell me that my android had arrived and the worries were about to disappear. She was the android. Ugh. From here until evening, I plan to take it easy. The other half is returning from the city soon and my buddy may stop by to pick up a neon sign I’m giving to him for his garage. I don’t want it anymore. Other than organizing whatever food she brings back, I am not going to do much. Nice and early, too. I already have all the trash out of the house and ready to hit the curb. The work feels rewarding, yet my brain cannot stop seeing Jaime strolling up the driveway, all thigh gap and flowing hair apparent. Damn it. I really didn’t need that shit today, but honestly it’s not far off at any given time. Reality just is not cutting the fucking mustard these days and there isn’t shit I can do about it. I’ll keep dreaming. I watched the first twelve or so minutes of the video. She is so fucking unique that I can’t find the words. Two years of searching on and off to find her. And now I have her forever. It’s fortunate that the program is not on videotape because I would have to make a thousand copies. Just one would wear out. Fuck me in a ditch. I found her. Maybe I’ll continue to scour the Internet and see if I can secure a disc at higher resolution. 0753 on Monday morning with coffee and sunshine. Ah… I have to drive down the coast to make a delivery. That is going to interrupt my morning, although I do have part one of the routine finished. Hopefully I don’t see anything down there. Moreover, I have to fill the car with fuel. That’s going to be expensive. 0935. All done. Nothing of note. The fuel was ninety dollars. Wow. This is one of those mornings in which the android would help greatly. My mind has been preoccupied with the new Jaime, as well. All manner of thoughts have been swirling through me after watching part of the documentary yesterday. I can’t help it. She moves me quite a bit more than others. As for this day, I’ll care for the kitchen and then work on whatever seems best, or perhaps I’ll sit here and gush some more about her. The girl, along with a massive amount of wake against which I am powerless to resist. This just sucks out loud and right down to the ground. Some problems persist and others become even worse over time. I don’t like this feeling at all. I’ve said it too many times. Blah, blah, blah... Jaimecakes. After yesterday’s push to get the compost bin filled, I think I’m going to lay off the yard work today. There is always more of the hedge, especially considering I am at the final end of it. But that area is a pain in the ass. The dirt is all built up due to years of the branches becoming so thick and intertwined, meaning I can’t really cut them back without painstakingly digging out the soil a little at a time. Yesterday the work kicked my ass. Seeing as the garbage was just picked up this morning, I have all week to return to the project. I’m very close to employing the gardeners to pull the stumps. The more I remove, the lower the cost. The next item will be a huge shrub in the back which I intend to trim like a tree. The base covers roughly one hundred square feet of the yard, and if I can cut it up to head level, it will look like a tree with a single trunk. That will take months, I’m sure. I can only get so much in the can each week. At least it’s in the back, so no one will see it partially trimmed. Long term, that one. I enjoy the work for the most part. Well, as long as the weather is not too warm. Maybe I can cut a bit today and see how it will proceed. And I must be careful because there may be a bird’s nest inside, hopefully way up high. 1021. Foiled. Nothing on in the background right now. Coffee just about gone. Soon I’ll hit the bourbon because I am a basket case and cannot seem to remain upright without a fucking crutch these days. The girl has me almost completely fucked in the head. The wake is tremendous. I can't believe this. Jaimecakes. I have to go through the video in its entirety and list the time spans of when she appears. Basket case. Maybe then I can create a montage of only her because I'm ever closer to the basement and one video monitor so I can watch her bright beauty until the end of all things. And then I'll clutch the monitor and take Jaime with me. Sound good? I didn't think so. Aw geez... This episode. Not only Kristanna, but a plethora of others along with one hell of a premise from the beginning. Holy shit, what a fucking DREAM. Right up my alley, although they are living and not mechanical by any means. Still, the idea is wonderful and something I have considered on a thousand occasions. Every time this episode rolls around, my head also rolls around the idea and possibilities. And? During and after watching, I realize I am sitting here in the middle of an impossible world and surrounded by way too much fucking reality. The dream world means no need to be concerned about validation, and that is a feeling I can't shake regardless of what takes place in my life. There have been a few occasions when it eased some, but the damage always returns in short order. The scenario playing out on the screen reinforces fear, yet at the same time it is enticing beyond description. Nothing like that can ever happen to me. Nothing good can happen. Not anymore. All I have left are dreams. 1144 and the routine is finished. No lunch as of yet because I can’t make up my mind whether to remain here or cruise to the big hardware store down the peninsula. That could kill a ton of time today and help me to avoid the feeling of being ‘lost’ with no idea of how to proceed. Sometimes I go out and shop a little, structuring the trip to chew the clock to bits. When I return later, there is less time to worry and agonize over everything. The afternoon will be much more difficult if I do not go anywhere, much like most days. The hour is early. I have an ice-cold glass of depression next to me. If I do indeed travel to the hardware store, the booze will have my head relaxed enough to make a purchase without hesitation. Many of my most insane acquisitions have been while I was half-loaded. Ah fuck, there is Kristanna and her tremendous height. As much as I love the idea, the truth is I would most likely run away because she is a lion. Nice, huh? Holy Jesus God on a rubber crutch, she was but seventeen fucking years old when this episode originally aired. I had no idea. Perhaps I should refrain from gushing about her beauty at such a young age. I honestly didn’t know. Let me see... She was born in October of 1979 and the episode premiered in March of 1997. Am I correct? Seventeen? Unbelievable. And don’t even fucking get me started on one of her co-stars. Beyond comprehension, that type of beauty. Rare as hell. Jaime is adorable and unique, but she is not the only one. This entire paragraph has been derailed by facets of my personality of which I am not proud. Believe it, motherfucks. I didn’t ask to turn out this way. Too much swearing? I can ramp it up. Peppermint patties and bourbon are rivaling lamb and rosemary as the best combination. Yummy. Maybe I’ll heat a pizza, eat too much, and then sit here and doze off like a proper pile of shit. Good idea? What about... Drinking too much and becoming reckless and stupid? Either is fine. If I go to the hardware store, neither of those options will take place. At this point in life, I really don’t know which is best, nor do I fucking care. Again... Nice, huh? Maybe I’ll have one more drink and fucking drive to Nevada just to cause a reaction. I am too nice a person to do anything crazy. I have spent decades ensuring the happiness and comfort of a number of people. That could be the 1259 and here I sit awaiting an oil change. The idea of going out floated for mere minutes before I locked the house and took off. The magic of a full fuel tank, I suppose. Now if I could just remember all the items to pick up. Heh. Asian asses wrapped in yoga pants everywhere in this town. Shit. Not surprising. Ah... The car is ready. Off to the hardware. 1442 and I am home. The store was unremarkable. They no longer carry the hobby wood for which I was hoping. I picked up a few things and took off for home. Being on that side of the hill means there are ample opportunities for looking around other places, but on the return trip nothing really seemed a good idea. And arriving in my own neighborhood showed me that no matter where my attention lies, the radical nature of chance shall maintain control over my senses... Two girls walking along looking almost like twin examples of the damaging dream from months ago, right there smiling and bouncing along as if the world was their oyster. And when I say bouncing, I mean moving all over the place. Within a microsecond my head went everywhere and I nearly lost track of the last few hundred feet to the driveway. After exiting my car, I spied them strolling along the cross street, clad in gray and black, and with entirely too much skin on display. Ah, that fucking dream... Another return of the damage and my future becoming dimmer by the minute. Nothing good is going to happen to me, especially if the frightening information in my head ever finds ears. The mind of the listener be damned. I have to get away from this and work in the garage for a while. The weather is much cooler today. Perhaps I can straighten up a bit. Ugh... The fucking dream. 1714. All done in the garage for the time being. I restocked the cat food and fabricated a rod support for the shelf above my benches. One of the speakers is up there, along with a few light cases. The speaker is very heavy and I have wanted to add support for a while now. The shelf possibly losing adherence to the studs has been a concern, although I’ve not seen any deflection at all. I just feel better knowing that it cannot come down short of a large quake. I also organized a few things around the benches to make room for adapting another lighted decoration to the main power supply for the LEDs. Nearly all of the strips in the garage are now powered by the same source, and one large enough to supply voltage to twenty garages. I opted to go somewhat oversize for possible future expansion. On and off during the work I saw four breasts bouncing just behind my eyes. This is a very bad situation. Have I mentioned that no one is listening? Splendid. I really don’t need this shit right now. 0639. Tuesday. Coffee, fourth show, cats, flags... Whatever. That same episode is on. The one I was watching yesterday before the street sighting and subsequent damage. I always liked this story, too. Especially the beginning. Nothing like that would ever happen to me, though, and I am mostly grateful due to the nature of those vulpines. They exude power and use it often enough to manipulate the state of society. In the beginning, however, all is roses and bunnies. And boy are some of them gorgeous. The situation could be very enjoyable... For a while. Later? Dead. Maybe my damaging dream will come around again and include the foxes in this episode. There is Kristanna again. Jesus. Five-eleven and with a face sculpted unlike any other. Whatever. None of this is real. The relaxation worked well for me last night. I kept the empire lit until bedtime, too. Sometimes I like to take breaks out there. Simple dinner, lots of comfort. Now there is an entire circle of women around him, but not in a good way. Ooh-fa. Anyway, I still see those two girls walking along with nary a care in the world. I wish I could say the same for myself, damn it. Every moment is either falling on my face or trying to force anything in reality with enough strength to push the dream away and allow me to think straight. That dream has become one of the biggest points of reference in years and it doesn’t let up. Just months ago I went to sleep and awakened the following morning with a different head on my shoulders. I was after something very special and very close to attaining it, only to wake up and watch it all disappear. A second later I realized what it was. I had been dreaming about something better avoided in all of life. Since then, each occasion when I am reminded of the visions in the dream, the feeling stabs me a little more. I can’t seem to get away from this. Yesterday’s drive back was the cherry on top of an already ill-conceived sundae. I don’t believe there is anything I can do about this. Pretty well fucked. Today. Just a Tuesday, I suppose. I’m not planning on going anywhere, instead opting to do whatever I can around the house and garage while hopefully keeping those visions at bay. The sun is shining, so likely there will be comfort out there for whatever seems best. Right now I am thinking about the morning business and then the quiet afterward. Sometimes the best part of the day is morning. Pause. 0749 and the morning stuff is out of the way. I switched over to the second show for a change of morning pace. Today may end up being a rather slow one. My ambition is waning as the coffee disappears. I might think of something later. For the time being I am going to sit here and relax, watch my family up there, and consider what the girl and the rollercoaster girl are doing to me. I also need to reconcile myself with the dreams. One more time... I didn’t ask to see what I saw, nor did I wish for the type of situation that grew out of the dream. When I was very young, if I knew a girl from school or the neighborhood as a friend or acquaintance and then had a dream about her, the infatuation was immediate. I thought I outgrew that puerile sense of astonishment many years ago, yet that is precisely what transpired months ago and led to a shift in my thinking processes. Not good. I can’t have this shit right now because I’m already trying to deal with being in love with impossibilities. Everything is just shit this morning. Maybe I shall foil the day just to add insult to injury. Not funny. Not by a damned sight. The rollercoaster girl awaits my attention. I did seek a better recording of the documentary, but alas there may not have been any in production at the time. I have no clue as to how the person acquired the video itself and placed it on the Internet, either. Perhaps the show was never put to media other than in digital format. I may never know which, of course, because there does not seem to be much information. Not even the original production house lists the program. Ugh. Higher resolution would be preferable, although I know just locating her in the first place was a huge victory for a person such as myself who lives within a fantasy world. Maintaining perspective with regard to the video is not easy for the same reason. Not good. 0903 and I have yet to work on the routine. I’ll get to it soon enough. I’ve been preoccupied with visions from yesterday and the damage-filled dream which has yielded questionable thinking. There have been too many connections to it in the last few months, not the least of which was an employee of the eyeglass store. You remember, right? That woman was a striking example of the dream, and standing before me looking amazing from head to toe. As I said before, the masks can often accentuate eyes due to so much of a person’s face being covered. She was no different, all bright and beautiful. Within seconds she was inside my head in any number of positions. One more time... Not good at all. The way I think on a daily basis can never see the light of day or flow into another pair of ears. The two bouncing their way along the sidewalk only served to cement what that dream has done to me. I can’t fucking say it. Not a word. I’m certain that more reminders are going to cross my vision in the future and I have no idea of what I can do to help myself. While I work around the house today, the combination of forms and eyes will be following at each step. Weak and desperate. Wake, ever pushing me. The girl is the wake, but then again she is not. She would never hurt me. My need for her is what hurts, meaning she is not at fault. The wake is due to such need inside me for all things unreal. My own head developed the wake, not someone else, society, or even a dream. As I fall further and further away, the wake pushes and helps me along to some kind of resulting situation, possibly nothing more than an ‘end’, yet I have no clue as to what is going to happen. The girl is holding power over me that I am too weak to withstand. She is all-powerful, honestly. Jaime, or whomever. The girl is an idea I made out of nothingness that now has been given all the power in the world. My need for that idea is wake. I am flailing in a vast sea of depression. The idea began with control, a machine, and then a real woman who does not (cannot) exist. I am unable to explain this any better because my head is distorted and disfigured beyond comprehension and this state of mind is affecting my attempts at communication. Marvelous. Honestly? Getting a point across probably doesn't matter in the least. Not anymore. Nothing can be done. This whole entry is a bad idea. Often when I watch these programs, I see little situations here and there which reinforce my dream state and the idea that the only possibility of finding exactly what I need has never existed. Only the fiction carries the ideas. I mentioned that watching years and years of science fiction has jaded my brain to the point of nearly living inside the stories. I believe that to be true, especially considering I need them in the background every fucking day or I am uncomfortable. That is just not good by any means. Two summers ago I felt I was far out of balance. I now believe I was in much better shape at that time than I am right now. This whole thing continues to worsen and force me to reach for anything able to bring a moment’s peace. I am deeply familiar with those people and need to know they are there for me. Bad? Oh, fuck yes. Routine soon. Alcohol soon. I have to get some of the shit out of my head but have no idea of how to go about it. At least the booze will help relax me for a while. I’m sure I’ll become a worthless pile of shit some time after lunch. It happens all too often. 1036. I took a quiz about alcohol abuse and answered four questions in the positive. According to the National Health something or other, three yes answers mean I have a problem. Hmm. I have a drink in the morning while cleaning the kitchen and then generally finish it while working on the site. I do not pour another until evening, typically between five and six. At that point I limit myself to three, all over ice and watered down by the time I refill. The first evening drink lasts upward of two hours most of the time. When I refill, the glass is already watered a bit. I would need to measure the pour each time in order to learn what the volume of pure alcohol can be on an average day. I believe the term for a person who drinks more than recommended yet still leads a life void of problems caused by alcohol is either a ‘functioning alcoholic’ or ‘high-functioning’. I may be one of those, but I do not currently have a job, meaning I can’t grade myself on the same scale as many others. I have also learned that to drink for the purpose of relaxing can be one of two situations. The first is dependency, and the second is simply taking the edge off the day (usually in the evening after business is complete). I have no idea of what all of it means to my lifestyle. If I exceed the numbers mandated by health organizations, I am an alcoholic. According to the information I found, my numbers are on the line. Very interesting. The only reason I did the search in the first place was due to the fact that it popped into my head as I filled a glass with bourbon just shy of ten in the morning. Whatever I am, nothing is going to change. I was simply curious. One certainty is that historically the booze tends to loosen my tongue around the opposite sex. That’s probably natural anyway. This entire subject is very subjective. Heh. Lisa Wilcox is in this episode and caused me to consider which guest star or stars I had the hots for over the years. She was one, and the draw was her big eyes. Blonde hair and blue eyes are not usually my thing, but the structure of her beautiful face is colorless. That means she is cute enough to transcend my preference of darkness. Too bad the end of this episode is fucking stupid and should have been written differently. Anyway, the more I think of all those guest actors, the less of a conclusion I can draw. There have been far too many to recall, anyway. I was just thinking about it right before I researched my love for booze during the morning. Thank God the booze cannot compare to my love for... This entry is ridiculous, like many others. And just to put things in perspective, I feel more love for this television series than I have for most people. There you go. Crucify me. Ah... Just below this work is a paragraph I jotted down in the hope of understanding why I turned out the way I did. Lots of big words there, I see. Realization. Validation. Attention. Trauma. Ooh-fa, and that was written last year because I had intended to share it with someone and hear her thoughts. In the end, I fucked it all up. My demeanor seemed to trivialize the feelings behind the words. Just a mess, that shit, and another mistake of which I cannot let go. I honestly do not know if the point was made, nor do I know if there truly was understanding. I am a pretty fucked up individual and further out of balance than ever in my life, so hoping to share and learn has been all but destroyed. I never should have uttered a fucking syllable. Another bad decision, and one I am still feeling after nearly a fucking calendar year. Splendid. Just in case you thought I forgot 0636 on Wednesday morning. The usual stuff. Fourth show. Dreams. Yesterday I decided to watch a film that has been on the watch since last year. Recollections of the in-between period at the beginning of eleven flowed into me. At that time, I had nowhere to stay. I had been thrown out of one apartment but did not secure my own place for a couple of months. I stayed with my sister and her family for a few days before plotting to get the hell away from everyone. That was the time when I was able to grab my car after being told that I needed to calm and help myself before being on my own. Heh. I leveraged that shit over to my control in a cold minute. Anyway, during the time while I was in my old home in the valley (as a guest), I sat and watched many movies on the laptop and in the privacy of the guest room. Just me, some snacks, and a bottle of whiskey. I ventured through different genres and experienced much filmed entertainment before finally taking the initiative and moving to my apartment here on the coast. Yesterday’s film was similar to the many independents I viewed during that isolation, albeit much more modern. And it has me thinking. One aspect of the film was the central location. She lived in a loft apartment that was amazing, and the type of design from which many of my home plans stemmed back in the nineties. One huge space with very little delineation. Right up my alley. Plus, it seemed very secure. The apartment also reminded me of a job we did in the city some years ago. That apartment was also a full-floor loft and enormous. I was immediately attracted to such a space and began to alter a design I’d been building for some months. Well, that drawing went by the wayside (like everything else these days) but I never forgot about the layout, and was reminded deeply during the film. Morning business time. 0738. I have half the routine finished like the other day. Sometimes getting that out of the way early helps me to relax into the later morning. I have to go to the market for a few things, and probably the hardware store for a flat shovel. The backyard critter has pushed so much dirt out of the lawn that I simply must shovel it back to the lawn. The front is the same, yet not quite as bad. Until now, I’ve only had a round shovel which doesn’t work well. I was talking about the film prior to the morning work. The protagonist was very isolated and in therapy. She had not really left her home (the loft) in nearly two years. The place was huge and she was tiny. That means the space probably appeared larger due to her size, but still... The loft was amazing. She may have been a shut-in for the most part, but all that space likely felt nice, not to mention being a few floors above the ground with a view. I’ve been in this house for more than two years and have only worked on a handful of occasions since last fall. I gave it up because I no longer needed to work and the physical aspects were wearing on me. All I do now – as anyone reading this for a length of time already knows – is take short trips for shopping or gas. Ninety-five percent of the time, I am right here in the house. Not the same as her situation in the film, yet still I’ve been very isolated. I immediately identified with at least that aspect of her living situation. The film was very entertaining. And what exactly does this have to do with the girl? Nothing, but it does relate to that fucking wake pushing me into situations and feelings I would rather avoid, one of them being the idea that everything I need is gone and will probably remain unavailable for the rest of my life barring any remarkable circumstances. Part of knowing such things is the way I feel in this house, mainly when I take a break standing in the garage for a cigarette and watching the world go by. I am not as isolated as the film’s main character. I am pretty damned isolated, though. The shopping trips are as much about me arriving back home to my space and comfort as they are for actually purchasing things we need in order to live. That is one sad fucking state of affairs. And my life is not fiction, either. The character in the film was fictional. The wake is what I see when gazing out the door or watching the local news. There is also a measure of wake when I go shopping because I am near others and feel weak. Not good. The only time the wake is eased as much as possible is when I am right here and alone. There are pushes of other types, but this is the only time when I feel less pressure. The wake is everywhere. Sometimes more, sometimes less. 0804 and I really do not want to go out today. I’ll get it done like always. Not happy about it, though. My brain needs the distraction this morning. Nothing can keep the dreams at bay sometimes, and today the feeling is very strong and reinforcing just how alone I truly am right now. And? No one is listening. I have one last cup of coffee and then I'll head to the hardware store and the market. Upon returning, my kitchen awaits, along with my friends and family on the television. Basket case. I sure hope there is nothing of note in the market this morning. I don't need that shit today. 1118 and I have the routine finished. I also have laundry and dry cleaning running at the same time, plus I went to the hardware store and market. Naturally, there were two strikes in the grocery store just when I didn’t need to see anything. I strolled in to get a chair that was advertised on sale at 25% off and it rang up at 50% off. Very nice. I loaded the chair into my car and then returned for a few items, and that’s when the trouble began. In the produce aisle I spied a tall woman in yoga pants along with her child perched in a cart. Immediately I went into defensive mode because of her obvious relationship. I will not stare and calculate in such a situation out of respect. I honestly should not do it anyway, but in my greatly weakened condition I really can’t help myself. I will not meet eyes, however. Well, I grabbed a watermelon right next to her position and then turned to head to the opposite end of the store, and that’s when I saw her shape, directly in front of me and appearing like so many models splayed here for seven years. Yep, everything right there. I could not believe my eyes. Fortunately, I sensed the difficulty immediately and dashed away, not looking back once. Next? Along the way I saw a VERY tall and slender shape along with flowing hair trying to read something at an endcap. Jesus fucking hell anyway, I really didn’t fucking need that shit. Good God, she was amazing from head to toe. I did not see her face, though. Probably a good thing considering the weakness will rear its ugly head and leave me flat on the floor, figuratively. Fuck. What a sight. She was extremely rare. Now I am all fucked up, but at least the drive to distraction had me barrelling toward the work. Everything is underway. My next task is to drive north to the cigarette store. Had I not been carrying frozen food, I could have made a third stop before returning home. Now I have to wait until after lunch. No big deal. The midday parking situation over there sucks, but there is always something. Might require a bit of a walk. I keep seeing the back of her pants and the sheer number of lines all over the place crying out to me. I am so fucking pathetic these days that I don’t have a clue as to how I am still drawing breath. Back to the girl. The dream. The fucking search which finally bore fruit in the shape of a representation of everything I am. The mold. There is no mold release. I can't stop thinking about her, and every single example of beauty on the Internet, up there on the television or wandering the world that I see in person has become crippling, one after another after another. Each forces me to consider the vast gradient between where I live and where I dream to live. Everything is impossible. The Paramount Plus channel on my streaming device pissed me off for the tenth time this morning, so I went back to the gangsters on HBO. That channel is fucking flawless. The pilot episode is playing right now, and I fully intend to follow along through the entire series. The show holds its share of strikes and dreamy women, but I know it well enough to deal with whatever will come along during the next few weeks as the stories play out. No worries. Er... Some worries. I already fucking failed today anyway, so more visions aren't going to do shit. Over and fucking out. The 'girl'." 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The Girl and the Unyielding Wake Mature content No. 317 Published June 15th, 2022 11:53am pdt read ( words) Past entries "0657 on Thursday morning. The usual. Today is going to be mellow due to being pushed down last night, although the push was unintentional. A road trip again popped into my head. This morning I'm thinking about the route and the fact that I won't be able to explore and enjoy the open roads until Christ-knows when. Sad, disappointed, but at least I have this place and my time. I spoke to a friend last night and didn't realize he was leaving for Nevada just a few moments later. I thought their trip was going to be a few days from now. As I stood there and discovered he was just minutes away from taking what is likely my favorite drive in history, my head began to drop. I ceased it, wished him a safe trip, and returned to this living room with my brain recalling all those trips to the goblet. This feeling has faded a bit this morning, which is good. I don't need other dreams tying up my thinking today. There are plenty inside already. I need to take care of the morning business before returning to this crap for a while. Sarah was just twenty-five when this episode was produced. Damn, what a lucky girl. In that world for a while. She was very effective in the role, too. God damn did I love that girl in the past. 0756. Morning business out of the way. Fourth show. Coffee. I feel better than yesterday afternoon, too. Much better. For a while there I was in a hell of a slump and could scarcely see a way out. The problem of being 'down' during the afternoon was exacerbated by closing up the lighted windows to watch a movie with lunch. I should not have done that, or at least I would have been better off watching something else. As often as my head winds up inside a pair of pants, yesterday became quite the opposite, just very sad and feeling as if nothing is worth my effort. Really bad there for a while. So far today I am neutral. Care must be taken if I am to watch anything questionable. 'Increase speed to warp seven.' 'Aye, sir... Full impulse.' What the hell is that all about? Come on, Geordi. Heh. I love some of the little errors on this show. Yep, second series on this morning. At 0947 I have half the routine finished and laundry in process. Still drinking the last cup of coffee. Normally I would consider myself behind scehdule at this point, but there is not much to the kichen due to not cooking last night. No big deal, as I simply pushed the meals out one day. The day is now more wide open to whatever I wish to attempt. Sunshine. Warm. My head is still fucked up, however. That doesn't ever fully retreat. THE FUCKING GIRL. She would have been quite the comfort a little while ago. Impossible, you say? Of course... That little push the other day has me thinking. A lot. I have no clue as to why it arrived, but it did nonetheless, and I am left to wonder. I cannot ask questions because a precedent has been set and I will not disturb or change it in these late days. Eventually I may find the reason. Unfortunately, and like many other parts of my psyche, I cannot fully define it here. Privacy, always. I was thinking about the race last night because the event date is the end of July. In turn, I thought of my dramatic reaction to the race girl. Yep, her again. She had a hell of an impact upon my weakened condition and there is a distinct possibility that I will see her again. The exhibit has been there each year for almost a decade. The day will be a bit different than in the past, though. We usually set up our lunch bag and other items in the grandstand early and then meander around in search of some coffee. The track and pit area are very quiet in the morning. I believe the eliminations begin around eleven or so, allowing for lots of time to look around or take pictures. Historically, we are in the seats before the first pair of cars light off and remain there for the first round. Afterward, it's back down to the ground and a walk. I always grab some printed brackets to follow along with each race and record the results. Well, this year I'll be bringing my camera rather than relying upon the phone for images. This is a big change, from focusing upon the competition to shooting abstract images all over the grounds. I'm looking forward to being around the pits while everyone else is packed into the stands. It should be interesting. And? If that girl is there, I am going to request that she allow me to shoot a portrait. No bullshit. She reminded me of a VERY unique actor with whom I had been enamored for a long period of time and I need to capture the face for reference. I will not say the actor's name. One hint is that her image is here on the site. There are 1861 image files here as of this entry, so if you wish to search, good luck. I double-checked. She's here. Anyway, the image of her was placed on the site because I have a 'thing' for cat eyes, and hers cannot be refuted. The race girl resembles the actor in question. A lot. I fully intend to capture her if the opportunity arises. I may or may not be able to place the resulting beauty here, however. That would be up to her, and could require my revealing the URL so she could see the context. That may be a bad idea. In any case, I'll be pointing the camera at her one way or another, meaning with permission or without. I've done it before, and the idea of shooting a model at that type of event is commonplace anyway. I don't see a problem. 1054. Routine finished, laundry almost finished. It's still early, too. Second show along with a nice, cold glass of depression. Make no mistake... The mood is always much worse than what you read here. 1447. The girl dominates my thought processes, leaving little room for anything else. Thank goodness the second show is one I know very well, meaning I need not hear every word of dialog. I went to the market again for a few items. Nothing of note over there, thank Christ. I really don't need to see anything more in this life. There has been quite enough. 0749 on Friday morning after a difficult night. Yes, a tough one. My brain went places better left completely out of life itself. The damaging dream came to mind over and over, and then as if that wasn't enough shit to plow, early this morning was ANOTHER in the same vein. I am now left to wonder why my head has gone in such a direction just this year. Never before. Last night I had thoughts inside that can never come to light, nor can I attempt to seek help. There will be trouble. Damn this, anyway. At least I am very deceptive and can cover almost anything in order to appear as someone I am not. The ability comes in handy sometimes. Very fucking handy, for sure. Between the night and the second dream, I am left to think that can deal with this stuff on the inside, but one certainty is that my daydreaming will adjust to follow suit. I don't want that, yet I already know it will happen. And this brings up a reference to the aforementioned blown gas... There is simply no method for changing the way a person 'thinks'. They must do it themselves. Inside me now resides a system for dealing with the manner in which I've been dealing with certain people. I had to build it. Unfortunately, I cannot predict dreaming while asleep. This morning's dream was not entirely out of left field (due to last night's likely influence), and one of the most enticing, beautiful scenes in memory. It was like a few of the images from the site came to life. That is all I can say. One more scrape last night had me fighting to remain upright. The gesture reminded me of something similar from more than two decades ago, at the time I believed was simply a cute moment. Well, all these years and analysis later, both are like knives that do not recede. Nothing from either situation had anything to do with me, though. I just happened to be there and overheard some nice words. The one last night really struck me, too. Now I'm a tad lower than I had been just a day ago. Combined with the dream and all that other shit, this is going to be a tough road to travel. I'm going to need to avoid some situations. My brain is already around the world with the subject matter from that damned dream and I can't do anything about it. I'll have to keep myself away from some of those trying moments, I guess. There may be no other way. The good part is that I have control of my faculties and project the outward appearance of 'just another guy', meaning all of the turmoil and torment inside goes completely unseen. Others interact with me once in a while and believe they know at what they are looking. Unfortunately, the inside is a wrecking yard full of parts from every part of life. There is a movie theatre inside that yard, as well. It has been displaying my dreams for reference so that I know how strongly I need to hold back from speaking about a few specific topics while near another person. That screen also shows things I want or need. I cannot speak with a single soul of earth about any of it. Nothing. I have walled off far too much. Today is going to be mellow. The routine and very little else. I do not feel like tackling much because I can't get my mind away from damaging (yet very enticing) thinking. Either I will go on about it here today, or I'll just relax and think. The fact that I can't reveal anything means this could end up a page full of nothing. Or the race girl. Or the model you see here (again). But I don't know for sure. Right now I couldn't calculate one plus one without issue. I'm pretty fucked up. I feel like I am on a small float and the waves are having their way with my direction. Powerless. That damaging dream is going to be the subject here for quite some time to come. I can't get it out of my head most of the time, and last night it was amplified. I still see what was before me. This is not a good situation by any means, and up the page when I said 'tough road', I meant it. I'm already on that road. And I had thought yesterday morning was difficult? Nope. I have to do something that will help stop the slide show in my brain. I keep seeing the imagery over and over this morning. Hopefully it will fade as the hours pass. I'll drive myself crazy otherwise. The dream last night carried with it some elements of research I recently performed on a model. A few, anyway. The model has not graced the site because I never found satisfactory images, but I flipped through plenty in the process. I can see the dream, still. Sometimes I awaken very early with my head full of details of a dream, only to return to sleeping. I then awaken later with little or no memory left. Today happens to be one in which I can see some of the dream very clearly. Yesterday I ran across a short video that was created as a comparison of two female models, both of whom are stunning. Nothing came of the video, although my dream earlier held one specific detail that I happen to find incredibly attractive and stirring. Just one, but it's a big deal. And it was connected to someone that I badly need out of my brain. I really don't see that happening, and as a result I may continue to splay the screen with much ambiguity. Some aspects of life should not be discussed... Ever. I can't even mention the detail in the video. That may give away a little too much. Believe me, the vision goes all the way back to seeing Juliette for the first time. Gorgeous. I thought my eyes would pop out. I really didn't need a second dream, especially on the heels of last night. This is all so fucked up. And there is Mädchen Amick on the screen again. Reference blonde woman of the universe, top of the fucking list, yet I can't look at her without thinking of last night. The video may have put some details into my brain yesterday to influence thinking on a subconscious level. And then the incident last night. Everything poured over me at the same time and I guess I blew a gasket. This is all so fucking bad. I was going to sit here and speak of the relationship between the race girl and the 'girl', yet now everything is all mixed. Maybe I should not have done the legwork to secure the video. I can't get that detail out of my mind this morning. 1057 and the routine is finished. I don't even know how I did it. Not a clue. Maybe after all this time I've become 'programmed'. Second show, second season. This brings back memories of the glow. Why not? The imagery in my head has been ping-ponging between the model on this page with her incredible, sense-defying curves and the damaging dream which is injecting very erotic yet deviant thoughts. There is an upside right now, however, and that is the time and space to do whatever is necessary for my comfort while home today. The weather is warm once again, so later I'll have everything open and the damned fan spinning overhead. It is the single greatest improvement with regard to temperature management and heat transfer. Everyone who has ever known me is aware of my sensitivity to climate. The lion was not the only reason I left the valley in favor of the coast. The weather had a large hand in that decision. I would imagine the mercury in the house will top out over eighty by close of business and I don't even care. I'll be physically comfortable all day long. That and some relaxation due to being up late last night will facilitate the evening feeling satisfying. I have that to look forward, at the very least. The girl follows, all bouncing breasts and flowing hair. She is not real. Nothing I need is real. The completed routine means no matter which direction I may turn today, everything unreal and impossible will be swirling and leaving me at the mercy of dreams. What a fucking shit situation I have right now. At least my friends on the television would never forsake me for being such a mess. They will never change, thank the maker. Real people cannot compare. From this point forward today I will remain open to whatever makes me the most comfortable. Right now I need that as much as I need the lines directly before my face. Ugh. I do have the time, though. Not everything is fucked. I went into great detail regarding my feelings about the race girl. You may be tired of hearing it, but the truth is her importance can't be overstated. My reaction to her facial expression and the manner in which her eyes seemed to speak to me are byproducts of my own issues. I am not above reaching toward any encounter that appears to have the ability to 'save' me, whatever that means. She may have been the most powerful representation of my level of desperation. Making something out of nothing. I could have ran to her and fallen into an embrace. Contrarily, she may have been staring because I appear interesting due to the facial hair or tattoos, possibly something else about which I know nothing. I cannot know because anything taking place in her head was a complete mystery. She only did her job, nothing more. I am the one who took the moment and ran around the world with it. I would love to believe that her slender fingers are at this very minute typing all about what she may have seen. Crazy? Of course. But I can't fucking help it. Weak and desperate, more with each passing day. I am in a bad way right now. The race girl may become what I see when I think of the girl, or perhaps she will be combined with the woman pictured here. In any case, the dreaming does not stop. The mere fact that I go to such lengths in dreaming of these things is a clear indication that I am in dire need of help. Unfortunately, and like many other aspects of life, the help is most decidedly impossible. Everything aside from what I have deemed the 'norm' -- my shows, routine, projects, and the like -- has become equally impossible. My time for improving, understanding may have passed. Again I must point out the overwhelming importance of having all this time to myself. Saturday morning. I don't know where to go from here. There is pressure upon my head of a type I had not imagined prior to this calendar year. This kind of feeling has sprouted dreams I really did not want or need in my life. Sure, I’ve brushed up against this type of situation before, but never had it been so realistic or focused upon someone I actually know in life. Now my thoughts are all over the place. And when I say ‘brushed, I am only referring to thinking, nothing in reality. Sometimes the imagery can drive the wake, as well. I am as of yet completely powerless to remove the ideas from my head. Yesterday, for example, I daydreamed on and off throughout the work. This is a very bad situation and I don’t know if I can change it. Still... Not a clear word as to what I am referring. Splendid. If I had been told many years ago that my brain would drift in such a direction, there is no way I could have believed it. The current mindset is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. 0719. Fourth show again. Yesterday I added a streaming channel in order to watch one specific series dating back to the magical period when I first purchased a high-definition television. Not long after my wonder had piqued with such clarity, that girl appeared on the screen (yep, more than a decade back and I can STILL see her face and bright eyes). The time period in question became defined by the improvement and advancement of programming we watched on a daily basis. There had been lots of wonderful yet small details of life at that time which gave me more joy and comfort than I can possibly describe. Sometimes I feel that was the most comfortable place I’ve lived. Just three years, though. We moved on. As for the show, it predated my HD television by a couple of years, but once I discovered the new setup and a few shows, the die was cast. Well, I never saw the entire series run its course, nor did I watch once we moved out of that apartment. Over the past year or so, the show has been on my mind but I did not know how to watch it other than purchasing discs (not good). Yesterday I did some research and found the program in its entirety, along with many others. Due to the timeline of originally watching this series, my head almost immediately became flooded by the wake of the rollercoaster girl. And that leads to yet ANOTHER fucking realization related to the damaging dream and all this shit plaguing me every fucking day. So, let us recap... Something reminded me of the original program I hadn’t seen for years. I found it, and then after watching the first two episodes I was reminded of the incredible wonder of first enjoying high definition media almost twenty years ago. That led to the original channels I used to watch with wide eyes, and in turn straight to the rollercoaster girl. She is now a part of the damage and I cannot even say why. Just know that girl is related to the dream from months ago which has permanently altered the landscape of my mind. The power of the wake has redirected me and carried my head to a place I never thought it would inhabit. This is all just bad. My beloved rollercoaster girl is now a part of the problem, meaning even way back when her vast loveliness graced the screen, my brain was already being primed for what took place just this year. Everything has changed and there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. Thinking of the rollercoaster girl this morning also sprouted yet another desperate search for the video. It has to be out there somewhere. This is a huge fucking problem and I can’t reveal why. On the upside, the CD changer girl was different due to being right next to me on two occasions, although the two could have been twins. Again... I can’t spell out the reason. Leave it. But I have to find the rollercoaster girl. Unlike the others, she was filmed, meaning captured for all time and will not change. 1032. I finished half of the routine and folded some linens from yesterday’s laundry adventure. I also have an icy glass of bourbon next to me due to something wonderful happening a little while ago. Yes... I said wonderful, and a goal unprecedented in my history. I found the rollercoaster girl. That is not a joke. After mentioning her for the millionth time in just shy of two years – the first was at the end of July, 2020, believe it or not – I decided to search once again. I went by channels (not easy considering I was unsure of the original broadcast network), and then years, from 2004 to 2006, when one of the networks went away. The years also coincided with the period in which we lived in the apartment. I am certain I saw her for the first time while in that location. I then sought more information on the networks, and even went so far as to research production companies and the programming they created. Nada. The last ditch was to try keywords again because I knew of one theme park featured in the documentary. A dozen videos later, I found her. Immediately I located the highest resolution available and downloaded the entire video to this machine. Now I have her forever. This is unreal after almost two years of on-and-off scouring until my fingers went numb. Once I saw her face, the wake on my being increased ten-fold. She has now derailed whatever direction this entry was to take. Ho-ly shit. I have her at last... Good God. I am going to spend money on video editing software in order to grab frames from the documentary. Surprised? Nope. 1727, same day. The rollercoaster girl is floating inside my head like a savior angel. I will admit that the compulsion to find her and capture the video has been overwhelming at times, mostly during the last two years. The search has been exhaustive due to my memory of the documentary being fragmented. The wake has increased in power. I cared for the daily routine but have not gone beyond it much. I can’t stop thinking about her. The legwork required in narrowing her scenes within the video and then extracting images will be lengthy. I’ll do it anyway. The process reminds me of trying to transfer the copyright-protected video of the Mojo Girl with equipment borrowed from NASA. An entire calendar day was devoted to connecting and learning the system before finally grabbing the video, actually in lower resolution than I had hoped. She is still stunning and stirring, though. And her name is Katie. I am a basket case beyond comprehension, but at least her name isn’t Jamie. Heh. Soon enough I shall have a plethora of images. I can’t wait. I successfully located an open-source tool for extracting images from video. After a quick test, the software seems to work as advertised. Now, I must be able to isolate the sections of the video in which the rollercoaster girl appears or the file number will be excessive. Shot on film, the frame rate would be 24/sec. Shot digitally for television, the rate would be 29.97/sec. Either way, the image yield will be somewhere between 72000 and 90000. I don’t need that shit at all, nor do I need to lock up this machine by asking one application to monopolize resources for hours. So, video editing software is next. I’ll have to watch the entire program several times and take notes for each time frame. I’ll end up with perhaps two or three dozen individual clips, but the end result is as important as breathing. Honestly, I don’t give two shits about how long this process may take. I need her. Badly. Remember... I am not a balanced person. 0627 on Saturday morning. All the usual stuff is done and I have a nice cup of coffee. The video is going to take longer than I had originally thought. I don’t even know how to use the simplest functions of the editing software. Some learning is on tap. Afterward, I can snip some sections and extract images. This is going to take time. And Sunday morning is not for me to scour instructions and attempt some trial and error in plodding through a new application. I’ll have to get to it later. A few minutes ago I took a quick peek at what will be involved, so I was able to see her introduction and about ten seconds of dialog. Jesus. I can’t believe I remembered her face for so long. Exactly matching what I had in my head all this time, there she was again. Unbelievable, and I am more of a crazy person than I was mere days ago. I am further off the deep end and losing cohesion by the minute. Reality? Slipping. Today will be the usual routine and garbage (how many times have I typed that?). I may also try to get some of the hedge cut, too. The end that remains is very twisted and difficult to work with, but as I say almost every day, I have plenty of time. I’m not going to sit here all day and goo ga over the video. Now that I have it, nothing feels so desperate any longer. I’ll have a few hours alone today. Fourth show in the background right now. An increase in the wake. I am behind the craft, flailing and weakening as time passes. The race girl pushed me pretty hard, and now the other one I discovered is likely going to cause nothing more than additional damage. I am all fucked up. The wake is pushing relentlessly, placing pressure upon me to point myself in directions better left alone. I am feeling this more and more each day, the passing imagery and occasional strikes included. More all the time. Just… More. The last week or so has had me scratching to remain upright in any sense of the word. This is not a good situation. A small chore which felt insignificant two years ago now appears insurmountable. Some of the projects I had planned to complete appear similarly impossible. I am losing ground day after day and my ability to cope with difficult situations is diminishing. More and more often I find myself sitting idle and daydreaming about where I may have been, and sometimes where I actually have been in relation to this stagnant, depressive state. I don’t know how much longer I can continue to decline before something bad takes place, possibly something permanent or even a decision from which there can be no return. I’ve done it before. The other night all of this popped into my head when I learned that my neighbor’s partner was leaving to drive to the goblet around ten at night and seemingly very excited about the trip. I know what that feels like because I’ve dashed there several times, each outset feeling like the largest dose of freedom available. Out of touch, beyond everyone’s control, and living as I saw fit. This current period with the little pushes and problems is pointing me toward another break, and likely one which could ruin everything. I have to be careful right now and embrace anything that may have the power to keep me sane. Locating the video of the most elusive beauty imaginable was a huge dream, but may in fact end up accomplishing nothing more than helping my feet take steps in negative directions. The wake does not let up, ever. I suppose I’ll have to do my best in completing things fairly early today rather than fucking around and wasting precious time. The load on my head is causing me to list terribly as the wake carries on. Anything further down could find me feeling very bad by close of business, and I just can’t fucking have that these days. I am so far down that the accomplishments simply MUST happen or I’ll fall further and probably feel behind by the time the next morning rolls around. Right now I feel ok for the most part, but there have been many occasions when I was sitting here sipping coffee and lamenting the previous day’s losses. That is not a good feeling at all, and I don’t want any more of it. Not much is asked of me. Earlier work is the idea. I’ll get started slowly as soon as the coffee is done and I have a pause in thinking. Every now and then I have to peek at the girl just because I can. Ok, so I went over to the editing software (only a trial version; I don’t know if it’s going to do everything I need yet) and trimmed a scene which yielded more than 1800 images, and the video was just over a minute and a half. Oy. After paring down the unwanted images and organizing for a few minutes, I have ninety left with her face. This may work out ok, but honestly the video is key. Most of the time I have nothing more than stillness, which in reality is very cold and flat. Video is warm and beautiful, stirring and haunting at the same time. At least I’ll have both, I suppose. Better than not seeing her at all. I figured I’d take a look while still sipping the coffee. Maybe later I’ll read about the process more and learn how to really isolate the girl from the rest. Crazy person. I’ve been enamored with her since first seeing this documentary on the television, likely in zero four. That is a long time and I never forgot her. I went months here and there not thinking about her, but always she was inside me. The reality is that the girl is now eighteen-plus years older and somewhere in Florida, I would imagine. Maybe very different. I will never know, and it doesn’t really matter anyway because I have her forever, just the way she was the very first time I saw. Crazy person. 0746. I may have to purchase a license in order to properly trim and save parts of the video. I am more than willing, but I do need to ensure the program will do everything I’d prefer. One of these days, I guess. Jesus fuck, she is every bit as beautiful as I recalled, all big, bright eyes and flowing hair. Damn it all, anyway. Thank Christ she will never know me. The rollercoaster girl has chiclets. Heh. So fucking cute. I still can’t believe I was able to find her. 0817 and I am about to rise and care for part of the routine. For some reason, I am antsy this morning. Perhaps the prospect of diving into video editing and image extraction has me at sixes and sevens after all these years. Once I complete some work today, I’ll likely be sitting at this machine and striving to do her vast beauty justice. So far, the images leave a bit to be desired as opposed to the actual video. The problem is motion. Without the motion ceasing, even for a fraction of a second, the image is blurred. Such is this type of process, I suppose. In the end, I may find that video clips are superior to still images. If so, I may need to go frame by frame and trim each clip to include only her. Whatever. I’m just happy to be able to see those bright eyes again. I’ll be playing the clips daily. Maybe... Hourly. Four images now, all blurry, yet still I know what is there. I know because I’ve seen the motion, and there is no adequate description for the wake that is manipulating my every thought. No saving throw. Nothing. I just have to stare. Nobody's listening. Nothing there, either. Marvelous. Katie is now Jaime. Or the other way around. Shit, I don’t know. Work it out. They are the ‘girl’. She is the girl. Whatever. Sometimes I read that word so many times that it ceases to make sense. Probably a good thing considering my personality. Little of me makes sense anymore. 1431 on Sunday afternoon. I trimmed the front and back trees, cleaned up the area where our flowers reside by the front of the house, and then attacked the hedge for a little while. Suffice to say, my ass is hereby kicked. No more labor today. Damn. Everything looks better, though. All the while during the work, one face spun me in circles. I even daydreamed during a break that Jaime walked up the driveway to tell me that my android had arrived and the worries were about to disappear. She was the android. Ugh. From here until evening, I plan to take it easy. The other half is returning from the city soon and my buddy may stop by to pick up a neon sign I’m giving to him for his garage. I don’t want it anymore. Other than organizing whatever food she brings back, I am not going to do much. Nice and early, too. I already have all the trash out of the house and ready to hit the curb. The work feels rewarding, yet my brain cannot stop seeing Jaime strolling up the driveway, all thigh gap and flowing hair apparent. Damn it. I really didn’t need that shit today, but honestly it’s not far off at any given time. Reality just is not cutting the fucking mustard these days and there isn’t shit I can do about it. I’ll keep dreaming. I watched the first twelve or so minutes of the video. She is so fucking unique that I can’t find the words. Two years of searching on and off to find her. And now I have her forever. It’s fortunate that the program is not on videotape because I would have to make a thousand copies. Just one would wear out. Fuck me in a ditch. I found her. Maybe I’ll continue to scour the Internet and see if I can secure a disc at higher resolution. 0753 on Monday morning with coffee and sunshine. Ah… I have to drive down the coast to make a delivery. That is going to interrupt my morning, although I do have part one of the routine finished. Hopefully I don’t see anything down there. Moreover, I have to fill the car with fuel. That’s going to be expensive. 0935. All done. Nothing of note. The fuel was ninety dollars. Wow. This is one of those mornings in which the android would help greatly. My mind has been preoccupied with the new Jaime, as well. All manner of thoughts have been swirling through me after watching part of the documentary yesterday. I can’t help it. She moves me quite a bit more than others. As for this day, I’ll care for the kitchen and then work on whatever seems best, or perhaps I’ll sit here and gush some more about her. The girl, along with a massive amount of wake against which I am powerless to resist. This just sucks out loud and right down to the ground. Some problems persist and others become even worse over time. I don’t like this feeling at all. I’ve said it too many times. Blah, blah, blah... Jaimecakes. After yesterday’s push to get the compost bin filled, I think I’m going to lay off the yard work today. There is always more of the hedge, especially considering I am at the final end of it. But that area is a pain in the ass. The dirt is all built up due to years of the branches becoming so thick and intertwined, meaning I can’t really cut them back without painstakingly digging out the soil a little at a time. Yesterday the work kicked my ass. Seeing as the garbage was just picked up this morning, I have all week to return to the project. I’m very close to employing the gardeners to pull the stumps. The more I remove, the lower the cost. The next item will be a huge shrub in the back which I intend to trim like a tree. The base covers roughly one hundred square feet of the yard, and if I can cut it up to head level, it will look like a tree with a single trunk. That will take months, I’m sure. I can only get so much in the can each week. At least it’s in the back, so no one will see it partially trimmed. Long term, that one. I enjoy the work for the most part. Well, as long as the weather is not too warm. Maybe I can cut a bit today and see how it will proceed. And I must be careful because there may be a bird’s nest inside, hopefully way up high. 1021. Foiled. Nothing on in the background right now. Coffee just about gone. Soon I’ll hit the bourbon because I am a basket case and cannot seem to remain upright without a fucking crutch these days. The girl has me almost completely fucked in the head. The wake is tremendous. I can't believe this. Jaimecakes. I have to go through the video in its entirety and list the time spans of when she appears. Basket case. Maybe then I can create a montage of only her because I'm ever closer to the basement and one video monitor so I can watch her bright beauty until the end of all things. And then I'll clutch the monitor and take Jaime with me. Sound good? I didn't think so. Aw geez... This episode. Not only Kristanna, but a plethora of others along with one hell of a premise from the beginning. Holy shit, what a fucking DREAM. Right up my alley, although they are living and not mechanical by any means. Still, the idea is wonderful and something I have considered on a thousand occasions. Every time this episode rolls around, my head also rolls around the idea and possibilities. And? During and after watching, I realize I am sitting here in the middle of an impossible world and surrounded by way too much fucking reality. The dream world means no need to be concerned about validation, and that is a feeling I can't shake regardless of what takes place in my life. There have been a few occasions when it eased some, but the damage always returns in short order. The scenario playing out on the screen reinforces fear, yet at the same time it is enticing beyond description. Nothing like that can ever happen to me. Nothing good can happen. Not anymore. All I have left are dreams. 1144 and the routine is finished. No lunch as of yet because I can’t make up my mind whether to remain here or cruise to the big hardware store down the peninsula. That could kill a ton of time today and help me to avoid the feeling of being ‘lost’ with no idea of how to proceed. Sometimes I go out and shop a little, structuring the trip to chew the clock to bits. When I return later, there is less time to worry and agonize over everything. The afternoon will be much more difficult if I do not go anywhere, much like most days. The hour is early. I have an ice-cold glass of depression next to me. If I do indeed travel to the hardware store, the booze will have my head relaxed enough to make a purchase without hesitation. Many of my most insane acquisitions have been while I was half-loaded. Ah fuck, there is Kristanna and her tremendous height. As much as I love the idea, the truth is I would most likely run away because she is a lion. Nice, huh? Holy Jesus God on a rubber crutch, she was but seventeen fucking years old when this episode originally aired. I had no idea. Perhaps I should refrain from gushing about her beauty at such a young age. I honestly didn’t know. Let me see... She was born in October of 1979 and the episode premiered in March of 1997. Am I correct? Seventeen? Unbelievable. And don’t even fucking get me started on one of her co-stars. Beyond comprehension, that type of beauty. Rare as hell. Jaime is adorable and unique, but she is not the only one. This entire paragraph has been derailed by facets of my personality of which I am not proud. Believe it, motherfucks. I didn’t ask to turn out this way. Too much swearing? I can ramp it up. Peppermint patties and bourbon are rivaling lamb and rosemary as the best combination. Yummy. Maybe I’ll heat a pizza, eat too much, and then sit here and doze off like a proper pile of shit. Good idea? What about... Drinking too much and becoming reckless and stupid? Either is fine. If I go to the hardware store, neither of those options will take place. At this point in life, I really don’t know which is best, nor do I fucking care. Again... Nice, huh? Maybe I’ll have one more drink and fucking drive to Nevada just to cause a reaction. I am too nice a person to do anything crazy. I have spent decades ensuring the happiness and comfort of a number of people. That could be the 1259 and here I sit awaiting an oil change. The idea of going out floated for mere minutes before I locked the house and took off. The magic of a full fuel tank, I suppose. Now if I could just remember all the items to pick up. Heh. Asian asses wrapped in yoga pants everywhere in this town. Shit. Not surprising. Ah... The car is ready. Off to the hardware. 1442 and I am home. The store was unremarkable. They no longer carry the hobby wood for which I was hoping. I picked up a few things and took off for home. Being on that side of the hill means there are ample opportunities for looking around other places, but on the return trip nothing really seemed a good idea. And arriving in my own neighborhood showed me that no matter where my attention lies, the radical nature of chance shall maintain control over my senses... Two girls walking along looking almost like twin examples of the damaging dream from months ago, right there smiling and bouncing along as if the world was their oyster. And when I say bouncing, I mean moving all over the place. Within a microsecond my head went everywhere and I nearly lost track of the last few hundred feet to the driveway. After exiting my car, I spied them strolling along the cross street, clad in gray and black, and with entirely too much skin on display. Ah, that fucking dream... Another return of the damage and my future becoming dimmer by the minute. Nothing good is going to happen to me, especially if the frightening information in my head ever finds ears. The mind of the listener be damned. I have to get away from this and work in the garage for a while. The weather is much cooler today. Perhaps I can straighten up a bit. Ugh... The fucking dream. 1714. All done in the garage for the time being. I restocked the cat food and fabricated a rod support for the shelf above my benches. One of the speakers is up there, along with a few light cases. The speaker is very heavy and I have wanted to add support for a while now. The shelf possibly losing adherence to the studs has been a concern, although I’ve not seen any deflection at all. I just feel better knowing that it cannot come down short of a large quake. I also organized a few things around the benches to make room for adapting another lighted decoration to the main power supply for the LEDs. Nearly all of the strips in the garage are now powered by the same source, and one large enough to supply voltage to twenty garages. I opted to go somewhat oversize for possible future expansion. On and off during the work I saw four breasts bouncing just behind my eyes. This is a very bad situation. Have I mentioned that no one is listening? Splendid. I really don’t need this shit right now. 0639. Tuesday. Coffee, fourth show, cats, flags... Whatever. That same episode is on. The one I was watching yesterday before the street sighting and subsequent damage. I always liked this story, too. Especially the beginning. Nothing like that would ever happen to me, though, and I am mostly grateful due to the nature of those vulpines. They exude power and use it often enough to manipulate the state of society. In the beginning, however, all is roses and bunnies. And boy are some of them gorgeous. The situation could be very enjoyable... For a while. Later? Dead. Maybe my damaging dream will come around again and include the foxes in this episode. There is Kristanna again. Jesus. Five-eleven and with a face sculpted unlike any other. Whatever. None of this is real. The relaxation worked well for me last night. I kept the empire lit until bedtime, too. Sometimes I like to take breaks out there. Simple dinner, lots of comfort. Now there is an entire circle of women around him, but not in a good way. Ooh-fa. Anyway, I still see those two girls walking along with nary a care in the world. I wish I could say the same for myself, damn it. Every moment is either falling on my face or trying to force anything in reality with enough strength to push the dream away and allow me to think straight. That dream has become one of the biggest points of reference in years and it doesn’t let up. Just months ago I went to sleep and awakened the following morning with a different head on my shoulders. I was after something very special and very close to attaining it, only to wake up and watch it all disappear. A second later I realized what it was. I had been dreaming about something better avoided in all of life. Since then, each occasion when I am reminded of the visions in the dream, the feeling stabs me a little more. I can’t seem to get away from this. Yesterday’s drive back was the cherry on top of an already ill-conceived sundae. I don’t believe there is anything I can do about this. Pretty well fucked. Today. Just a Tuesday, I suppose. I’m not planning on going anywhere, instead opting to do whatever I can around the house and garage while hopefully keeping those visions at bay. The sun is shining, so likely there will be comfort out there for whatever seems best. Right now I am thinking about the morning business and then the quiet afterward. Sometimes the best part of the day is morning. Pause. 0749 and the morning stuff is out of the way. I switched over to the second show for a change of morning pace. Today may end up being a rather slow one. My ambition is waning as the coffee disappears. I might think of something later. For the time being I am going to sit here and relax, watch my family up there, and consider what the girl and the rollercoaster girl are doing to me. I also need to reconcile myself with the dreams. One more time... I didn’t ask to see what I saw, nor did I wish for the type of situation that grew out of the dream. When I was very young, if I knew a girl from school or the neighborhood as a friend or acquaintance and then had a dream about her, the infatuation was immediate. I thought I outgrew that puerile sense of astonishment many years ago, yet that is precisely what transpired months ago and led to a shift in my thinking processes. Not good. I can’t have this shit right now because I’m already trying to deal with being in love with impossibilities. Everything is just shit this morning. Maybe I shall foil the day just to add insult to injury. Not funny. Not by a damned sight. The rollercoaster girl awaits my attention. I did seek a better recording of the documentary, but alas there may not have been any in production at the time. I have no clue as to how the person acquired the video itself and placed it on the Internet, either. Perhaps the show was never put to media other than in digital format. I may never know which, of course, because there does not seem to be much information. Not even the original production house lists the program. Ugh. Higher resolution would be preferable, although I know just locating her in the first place was a huge victory for a person such as myself who lives within a fantasy world. Maintaining perspective with regard to the video is not easy for the same reason. Not good. 0903 and I have yet to work on the routine. I’ll get to it soon enough. I’ve been preoccupied with visions from yesterday and the damage-filled dream which has yielded questionable thinking. There have been too many connections to it in the last few months, not the least of which was an employee of the eyeglass store. You remember, right? That woman was a striking example of the dream, and standing before me looking amazing from head to toe. As I said before, the masks can often accentuate eyes due to so much of a person’s face being covered. She was no different, all bright and beautiful. Within seconds she was inside my head in any number of positions. One more time... Not good at all. The way I think on a daily basis can never see the light of day or flow into another pair of ears. The two bouncing their way along the sidewalk only served to cement what that dream has done to me. I can’t fucking say it. Not a word. I’m certain that more reminders are going to cross my vision in the future and I have no idea of what I can do to help myself. While I work around the house today, the combination of forms and eyes will be following at each step. Weak and desperate. Wake, ever pushing me. The girl is the wake, but then again she is not. She would never hurt me. My need for her is what hurts, meaning she is not at fault. The wake is due to such need inside me for all things unreal. My own head developed the wake, not someone else, society, or even a dream. As I fall further and further away, the wake pushes and helps me along to some kind of resulting situation, possibly nothing more than an ‘end’, yet I have no clue as to what is going to happen. The girl is holding power over me that I am too weak to withstand. She is all-powerful, honestly. Jaime, or whomever. The girl is an idea I made out of nothingness that now has been given all the power in the world. My need for that idea is wake. I am flailing in a vast sea of depression. The idea began with control, a machine, and then a real woman who does not (cannot) exist. I am unable to explain this any better because my head is distorted and disfigured beyond comprehension and this state of mind is affecting my attempts at communication. Marvelous. Honestly? Getting a point across probably doesn't matter in the least. Not anymore. Nothing can be done. This whole entry is a bad idea. Often when I watch these programs, I see little situations here and there which reinforce my dream state and the idea that the only possibility of finding exactly what I need has never existed. Only the fiction carries the ideas. I mentioned that watching years and years of science fiction has jaded my brain to the point of nearly living inside the stories. I believe that to be true, especially considering I need them in the background every fucking day or I am uncomfortable. That is just not good by any means. Two summers ago I felt I was far out of balance. I now believe I was in much better shape at that time than I am right now. This whole thing continues to worsen and force me to reach for anything able to bring a moment’s peace. I am deeply familiar with those people and need to know they are there for me. Bad? Oh, fuck yes. Routine soon. Alcohol soon. I have to get some of the shit out of my head but have no idea of how to go about it. At least the booze will help relax me for a while. I’m sure I’ll become a worthless pile of shit some time after lunch. It happens all too often. 1036. I took a quiz about alcohol abuse and answered four questions in the positive. According to the National Health something or other, three yes answers mean I have a problem. Hmm. I have a drink in the morning while cleaning the kitchen and then generally finish it while working on the site. I do not pour another until evening, typically between five and six. At that point I limit myself to three, all over ice and watered down by the time I refill. The first evening drink lasts upward of two hours most of the time. When I refill, the glass is already watered a bit. I would need to measure the pour each time in order to learn what the volume of pure alcohol can be on an average day. I believe the term for a person who drinks more than recommended yet still leads a life void of problems caused by alcohol is either a ‘functioning alcoholic’ or ‘high-functioning’. I may be one of those, but I do not currently have a job, meaning I can’t grade myself on the same scale as many others. I have also learned that to drink for the purpose of relaxing can be one of two situations. The first is dependency, and the second is simply taking the edge off the day (usually in the evening after business is complete). I have no idea of what all of it means to my lifestyle. If I exceed the numbers mandated by health organizations, I am an alcoholic. According to the information I found, my numbers are on the line. Very interesting. The only reason I did the search in the first place was due to the fact that it popped into my head as I filled a glass with bourbon just shy of ten in the morning. Whatever I am, nothing is going to change. I was simply curious. One certainty is that historically the booze tends to loosen my tongue around the opposite sex. That’s probably natural anyway. This entire subject is very subjective. Heh. Lisa Wilcox is in this episode and caused me to consider which guest star or stars I had the hots for over the years. She was one, and the draw was her big eyes. Blonde hair and blue eyes are not usually my thing, but the structure of her beautiful face is colorless. That means she is cute enough to transcend my preference of darkness. Too bad the end of this episode is fucking stupid and should have been written differently. Anyway, the more I think of all those guest actors, the less of a conclusion I can draw. There have been far too many to recall, anyway. I was just thinking about it right before I researched my love for booze during the morning. Thank God the booze cannot compare to my love for... This entry is ridiculous, like many others. And just to put things in perspective, I feel more love for this television series than I have for most people. There you go. Crucify me. Ah... Just below this work is a paragraph I jotted down in the hope of understanding why I turned out the way I did. Lots of big words there, I see. Realization. Validation. Attention. Trauma. Ooh-fa, and that was written last year because I had intended to share it with someone and hear her thoughts. In the end, I fucked it all up. My demeanor seemed to trivialize the feelings behind the words. Just a mess, that shit, and another mistake of which I cannot let go. I honestly do not know if the point was made, nor do I know if there truly was understanding. I am a pretty fucked up individual and further out of balance than ever in my life, so hoping to share and learn has been all but destroyed. I never should have uttered a fucking syllable. Another bad decision, and one I am still feeling after nearly a fucking calendar year. Splendid. Just in case you thought I forgot 0636 on Wednesday morning. The usual stuff. Fourth show. Dreams. Yesterday I decided to watch a film that has been on the watch since last year. Recollections of the in-between period at the beginning of eleven flowed into me. At that time, I had nowhere to stay. I had been thrown out of one apartment but did not secure my own place for a couple of months. I stayed with my sister and her family for a few days before plotting to get the hell away from everyone. That was the time when I was able to grab my car after being told that I needed to calm and help myself before being on my own. Heh. I leveraged that shit over to my control in a cold minute. Anyway, during the time while I was in my old home in the valley (as a guest), I sat and watched many movies on the laptop and in the privacy of the guest room. Just me, some snacks, and a bottle of whiskey. I ventured through different genres and experienced much filmed entertainment before finally taking the initiative and moving to my apartment here on the coast. Yesterday’s film was similar to the many independents I viewed during that isolation, albeit much more modern. And it has me thinking. One aspect of the film was the central location. She lived in a loft apartment that was amazing, and the type of design from which many of my home plans stemmed back in the nineties. One huge space with very little delineation. Right up my alley. Plus, it seemed very secure. The apartment also reminded me of a job we did in the city some years ago. That apartment was also a full-floor loft and enormous. I was immediately attracted to such a space and began to alter a design I’d been building for some months. Well, that drawing went by the wayside (like everything else these days) but I never forgot about the layout, and was reminded deeply during the film. Morning business time. 0738. I have half the routine finished like the other day. Sometimes getting that out of the way early helps me to relax into the later morning. I have to go to the market for a few things, and probably the hardware store for a flat shovel. The backyard critter has pushed so much dirt out of the lawn that I simply must shovel it back to the lawn. The front is the same, yet not quite as bad. Until now, I’ve only had a round shovel which doesn’t work well. I was talking about the film prior to the morning work. The protagonist was very isolated and in therapy. She had not really left her home (the loft) in nearly two years. The place was huge and she was tiny. That means the space probably appeared larger due to her size, but still... The loft was amazing. She may have been a shut-in for the most part, but all that space likely felt nice, not to mention being a few floors above the ground with a view. I’ve been in this house for more than two years and have only worked on a handful of occasions since last fall. I gave it up because I no longer needed to work and the physical aspects were wearing on me. All I do now – as anyone reading this for a length of time already knows – is take short trips for shopping or gas. Ninety-five percent of the time, I am right here in the house. Not the same as her situation in the film, yet still I’ve been very isolated. I immediately identified with at least that aspect of her living situation. The film was very entertaining. And what exactly does this have to do with the girl? Nothing, but it does relate to that fucking wake pushing me into situations and feelings I would rather avoid, one of them being the idea that everything I need is gone and will probably remain unavailable for the rest of my life barring any remarkable circumstances. Part of knowing such things is the way I feel in this house, mainly when I take a break standing in the garage for a cigarette and watching the world go by. I am not as isolated as the film’s main character. I am pretty damned isolated, though. The shopping trips are as much about me arriving back home to my space and comfort as they are for actually purchasing things we need in order to live. That is one sad fucking state of affairs. And my life is not fiction, either. The character in the film was fictional. The wake is what I see when gazing out the door or watching the local news. There is also a measure of wake when I go shopping because I am near others and feel weak. Not good. The only time the wake is eased as much as possible is when I am right here and alone. There are pushes of other types, but this is the only time when I feel less pressure. The wake is everywhere. Sometimes more, sometimes less. 0804 and I really do not want to go out today. I’ll get it done like always. Not happy about it, though. My brain needs the distraction this morning. Nothing can keep the dreams at bay sometimes, and today the feeling is very strong and reinforcing just how alone I truly am right now. And? No one is listening. I have one last cup of coffee and then I'll head to the hardware store and the market. Upon returning, my kitchen awaits, along with my friends and family on the television. Basket case. I sure hope there is nothing of note in the market this morning. I don't need that shit today. 1118 and I have the routine finished. I also have laundry and dry cleaning running at the same time, plus I went to the hardware store and market. Naturally, there were two strikes in the grocery store just when I didn’t need to see anything. I strolled in to get a chair that was advertised on sale at 25% off and it rang up at 50% off. Very nice. I loaded the chair into my car and then returned for a few items, and that’s when the trouble began. In the produce aisle I spied a tall woman in yoga pants along with her child perched in a cart. Immediately I went into defensive mode because of her obvious relationship. I will not stare and calculate in such a situation out of respect. I honestly should not do it anyway, but in my greatly weakened condition I really can’t help myself. I will not meet eyes, however. Well, I grabbed a watermelon right next to her position and then turned to head to the opposite end of the store, and that’s when I saw her shape, directly in front of me and appearing like so many models splayed here for seven years. Yep, everything right there. I could not believe my eyes. Fortunately, I sensed the difficulty immediately and dashed away, not looking back once. Next? Along the way I saw a VERY tall and slender shape along with flowing hair trying to read something at an endcap. Jesus fucking hell anyway, I really didn’t fucking need that shit. Good God, she was amazing from head to toe. I did not see her face, though. Probably a good thing considering the weakness will rear its ugly head and leave me flat on the floor, figuratively. Fuck. What a sight. She was extremely rare. Now I am all fucked up, but at least the drive to distraction had me barrelling toward the work. Everything is underway. My next task is to drive north to the cigarette store. Had I not been carrying frozen food, I could have made a third stop before returning home. Now I have to wait until after lunch. No big deal. The midday parking situation over there sucks, but there is always something. Might require a bit of a walk. I keep seeing the back of her pants and the sheer number of lines all over the place crying out to me. I am so fucking pathetic these days that I don’t have a clue as to how I am still drawing breath. Back to the girl. The dream. The fucking search which finally bore fruit in the shape of a representation of everything I am. The mold. There is no mold release. I can't stop thinking about her, and every single example of beauty on the Internet, up there on the television or wandering the world that I see in person has become crippling, one after another after another. Each forces me to consider the vast gradient between where I live and where I dream to live. Everything is impossible. The Paramount Plus channel on my streaming device pissed me off for the tenth time this morning, so I went back to the gangsters on HBO. That channel is fucking flawless. The pilot episode is playing right now, and I fully intend to follow along through the entire series. The show holds its share of strikes and dreamy women, but I know it well enough to deal with whatever will come along during the next few weeks as the stories play out. No worries. Er... Some worries. I already fucking failed today anyway, so more visions aren't going to do shit. Over and fucking out. The 'girl'."
The Girl and the Unyielding Wake
Mature content No. 317 Published June 15th, 2022 11:53am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"0657 on Thursday morning. The usual. Today is going to be mellow due to being pushed down last night, although the push was unintentional. A road trip again popped into my head. This morning I'm thinking about the route and the fact that I won't be able to explore and enjoy the open roads until Christ-knows when. Sad, disappointed, but at least I have this place and my time. I spoke to a friend last night and didn't realize he was leaving for Nevada just a few moments later. I thought their trip was going to be a few days from now. As I stood there and discovered he was just minutes away from taking what is likely my favorite drive in history, my head began to drop. I ceased it, wished him a safe trip, and returned to this living room with my brain recalling all those trips to the goblet. This feeling has faded a bit this morning, which is good. I don't need other dreams tying up my thinking today. There are plenty inside already. I need to take care of the morning business before returning to this crap for a while. Sarah was just twenty-five when this episode was produced. Damn, what a lucky girl. In that world for a while. She was very effective in the role, too. God damn did I love that girl in the past. 0756. Morning business out of the way. Fourth show. Coffee. I feel better than yesterday afternoon, too. Much better. For a while there I was in a hell of a slump and could scarcely see a way out. The problem of being 'down' during the afternoon was exacerbated by closing up the lighted windows to watch a movie with lunch. I should not have done that, or at least I would have been better off watching something else. As often as my head winds up inside a pair of pants, yesterday became quite the opposite, just very sad and feeling as if nothing is worth my effort. Really bad there for a while. So far today I am neutral. Care must be taken if I am to watch anything questionable. 'Increase speed to warp seven.' 'Aye, sir... Full impulse.' What the hell is that all about? Come on, Geordi. Heh. I love some of the little errors on this show. Yep, second series on this morning. At 0947 I have half the routine finished and laundry in process. Still drinking the last cup of coffee. Normally I would consider myself behind scehdule at this point, but there is not much to the kichen due to not cooking last night. No big deal, as I simply pushed the meals out one day. The day is now more wide open to whatever I wish to attempt. Sunshine. Warm. My head is still fucked up, however. That doesn't ever fully retreat. THE FUCKING GIRL. She would have been quite the comfort a little while ago. Impossible, you say? Of course... That little push the other day has me thinking. A lot. I have no clue as to why it arrived, but it did nonetheless, and I am left to wonder. I cannot ask questions because a precedent has been set and I will not disturb or change it in these late days. Eventually I may find the reason. Unfortunately, and like many other parts of my psyche, I cannot fully define it here. Privacy, always. I was thinking about the race last night because the event date is the end of July. In turn, I thought of my dramatic reaction to the race girl. Yep, her again. She had a hell of an impact upon my weakened condition and there is a distinct possibility that I will see her again. The exhibit has been there each year for almost a decade. The day will be a bit different than in the past, though. We usually set up our lunch bag and other items in the grandstand early and then meander around in search of some coffee. The track and pit area are very quiet in the morning. I believe the eliminations begin around eleven or so, allowing for lots of time to look around or take pictures. Historically, we are in the seats before the first pair of cars light off and remain there for the first round. Afterward, it's back down to the ground and a walk. I always grab some printed brackets to follow along with each race and record the results. Well, this year I'll be bringing my camera rather than relying upon the phone for images. This is a big change, from focusing upon the competition to shooting abstract images all over the grounds. I'm looking forward to being around the pits while everyone else is packed into the stands. It should be interesting. And? If that girl is there, I am going to request that she allow me to shoot a portrait. No bullshit. She reminded me of a VERY unique actor with whom I had been enamored for a long period of time and I need to capture the face for reference. I will not say the actor's name. One hint is that her image is here on the site. There are 1861 image files here as of this entry, so if you wish to search, good luck. I double-checked. She's here. Anyway, the image of her was placed on the site because I have a 'thing' for cat eyes, and hers cannot be refuted. The race girl resembles the actor in question. A lot. I fully intend to capture her if the opportunity arises. I may or may not be able to place the resulting beauty here, however. That would be up to her, and could require my revealing the URL so she could see the context. That may be a bad idea. In any case, I'll be pointing the camera at her one way or another, meaning with permission or without. I've done it before, and the idea of shooting a model at that type of event is commonplace anyway. I don't see a problem. 1054. Routine finished, laundry almost finished. It's still early, too. Second show along with a nice, cold glass of depression. Make no mistake... The mood is always much worse than what you read here. 1447. The girl dominates my thought processes, leaving little room for anything else. Thank goodness the second show is one I know very well, meaning I need not hear every word of dialog. I went to the market again for a few items. Nothing of note over there, thank Christ. I really don't need to see anything more in this life. There has been quite enough. 0749 on Friday morning after a difficult night. Yes, a tough one. My brain went places better left completely out of life itself. The damaging dream came to mind over and over, and then as if that wasn't enough shit to plow, early this morning was ANOTHER in the same vein. I am now left to wonder why my head has gone in such a direction just this year. Never before. Last night I had thoughts inside that can never come to light, nor can I attempt to seek help. There will be trouble. Damn this, anyway. At least I am very deceptive and can cover almost anything in order to appear as someone I am not. The ability comes in handy sometimes. Very fucking handy, for sure. Between the night and the second dream, I am left to think that can deal with this stuff on the inside, but one certainty is that my daydreaming will adjust to follow suit. I don't want that, yet I already know it will happen. And this brings up a reference to the aforementioned blown gas... There is simply no method for changing the way a person 'thinks'. They must do it themselves. Inside me now resides a system for dealing with the manner in which I've been dealing with certain people. I had to build it. Unfortunately, I cannot predict dreaming while asleep. This morning's dream was not entirely out of left field (due to last night's likely influence), and one of the most enticing, beautiful scenes in memory. It was like a few of the images from the site came to life. That is all I can say. One more scrape last night had me fighting to remain upright. The gesture reminded me of something similar from more than two decades ago, at the time I believed was simply a cute moment. Well, all these years and analysis later, both are like knives that do not recede. Nothing from either situation had anything to do with me, though. I just happened to be there and overheard some nice words. The one last night really struck me, too. Now I'm a tad lower than I had been just a day ago. Combined with the dream and all that other shit, this is going to be a tough road to travel.
I'm going to need to avoid some situations. My brain is already around the world with the subject matter from that damned dream and I can't do anything about it. I'll have to keep myself away from some of those trying moments, I guess. There may be no other way. The good part is that I have control of my faculties and project the outward appearance of 'just another guy', meaning all of the turmoil and torment inside goes completely unseen. Others interact with me once in a while and believe they know at what they are looking. Unfortunately, the inside is a wrecking yard full of parts from every part of life. There is a movie theatre inside that yard, as well. It has been displaying my dreams for reference so that I know how strongly I need to hold back from speaking about a few specific topics while near another person. That screen also shows things I want or need. I cannot speak with a single soul of earth about any of it. Nothing. I have walled off far too much. Today is going to be mellow. The routine and very little else. I do not feel like tackling much because I can't get my mind away from damaging (yet very enticing) thinking. Either I will go on about it here today, or I'll just relax and think. The fact that I can't reveal anything means this could end up a page full of nothing. Or the race girl. Or the model you see here (again). But I don't know for sure. Right now I couldn't calculate one plus one without issue. I'm pretty fucked up. I feel like I am on a small float and the waves are having their way with my direction. Powerless. That damaging dream is going to be the subject here for quite some time to come. I can't get it out of my head most of the time, and last night it was amplified. I still see what was before me. This is not a good situation by any means, and up the page when I said 'tough road', I meant it. I'm already on that road. And I had thought yesterday morning was difficult? Nope. I have to do something that will help stop the slide show in my brain. I keep seeing the imagery over and over this morning. Hopefully it will fade as the hours pass. I'll drive myself crazy otherwise. The dream last night carried with it some elements of research I recently performed on a model. A few, anyway. The model has not graced the site because I never found satisfactory images, but I flipped through plenty in the process. I can see the dream, still. Sometimes I awaken very early with my head full of details of a dream, only to return to sleeping. I then awaken later with little or no memory left. Today happens to be one in which I can see some of the dream very clearly. Yesterday I ran across a short video that was created as a comparison of two female models, both of whom are stunning. Nothing came of the video, although my dream earlier held one specific detail that I happen to find incredibly attractive and stirring. Just one, but it's a big deal. And it was connected to someone that I badly need out of my brain. I really don't see that happening, and as a result I may continue to splay the screen with much ambiguity. Some aspects of life should not be discussed... Ever. I can't even mention the detail in the video. That may give away a little too much. Believe me, the vision goes all the way back to seeing Juliette for the first time. Gorgeous. I thought my eyes would pop out. I really didn't need a second dream, especially on the heels of last night. This is all so fucked up. And there is Mädchen Amick on the screen again. Reference blonde woman of the universe, top of the fucking list, yet I can't look at her without thinking of last night. The video may have put some details into my brain yesterday to influence thinking on a subconscious level. And then the incident last night. Everything poured over me at the same time and I guess I blew a gasket. This is all so fucking bad. I was going to sit here and speak of the relationship between the race girl and the 'girl', yet now everything is all mixed. Maybe I should not have done the legwork to secure the video. I can't get that detail out of my mind this morning. 1057 and the routine is finished. I don't even know how I did it. Not a clue. Maybe after all this time I've become 'programmed'. Second show, second season. This brings back memories of the glow. Why not? The imagery in my head has been ping-ponging between the model on this page with her incredible, sense-defying curves and the damaging dream which is injecting very erotic yet deviant thoughts. There is an upside right now, however, and that is the time and space to do whatever is necessary for my comfort while home today. The weather is warm once again, so later I'll have everything open and the damned fan spinning overhead. It is the single greatest improvement with regard to temperature management and heat transfer. Everyone who has ever known me is aware of my sensitivity to climate. The lion was not the only reason I left the valley in favor of the coast. The weather had a large hand in that decision. I would imagine the mercury in the house will top out over eighty by close of business and I don't even care. I'll be physically comfortable all day long. That and some relaxation due to being up late last night will facilitate the evening feeling satisfying. I have that to look forward, at the very least. The girl follows, all bouncing breasts and flowing hair. She is not real. Nothing I need is real. The completed routine means no matter which direction I may turn today, everything unreal and impossible will be swirling and leaving me at the mercy of dreams. What a fucking shit situation I have right now. At least my friends on the television would never forsake me for being such a mess. They will never change, thank the maker. Real people cannot compare. From this point forward today I will remain open to whatever makes me the most comfortable. Right now I need that as much as I need the lines directly before my face. Ugh. I do have the time, though. Not everything is fucked. I went into great detail regarding my feelings about the race girl. You may be tired of hearing it, but the truth is her importance can't be overstated. My reaction to her facial expression and the manner in which her eyes seemed to speak to me are byproducts of my own issues. I am not above reaching toward any encounter that appears to have the ability to 'save' me, whatever that means. She may have been the most powerful representation of my level of desperation. Making something out of nothing. I could have ran to her and fallen into an embrace. Contrarily, she may have been staring because I appear interesting due to the facial hair or tattoos, possibly something else about which I know nothing. I cannot know because anything taking place in her head was a complete mystery. She only did her job, nothing more. I am the one who took the moment and ran around the world with it. I would love to believe that her slender fingers are at this very minute typing all about what she may have seen. Crazy? Of course. But I can't fucking help it. Weak and desperate, more with each passing day. I am in a bad way right now. The race girl may become what I see when I think of the girl, or perhaps she will be combined with the woman pictured here. In any case, the dreaming does not stop. The mere fact that I go to such lengths in dreaming of these things is a clear indication that I am in dire need of help. Unfortunately, and like many other aspects of life, the help is most decidedly impossible. Everything aside from what I have deemed the 'norm' -- my shows, routine, projects, and the like -- has become equally impossible. My time for improving, understanding may have passed. Again I must point out the overwhelming importance of having all this time to myself. Saturday morning. I don't know where to go from here. There is pressure upon my head of a type I had not imagined prior to this calendar year. This kind of feeling has sprouted dreams I really did not want or need in my life. Sure, I’ve brushed up against this type of situation before, but never had it been so realistic or focused upon someone I actually know in life. Now my thoughts are all over the place. And when I say ‘brushed, I am only referring to thinking, nothing in reality. Sometimes the imagery can drive the wake, as well. I am as of yet completely powerless to remove the ideas from my head. Yesterday, for example, I daydreamed on and off throughout the work. This is a very bad situation and I don’t know if I can change it. Still... Not a clear word as to what I am referring. Splendid. If I had been told many years ago that my brain would drift in such a direction, there is no way I could have believed it. The current mindset is unlike anything I’ve experienced before.
0719. Fourth show again. Yesterday I added a streaming channel in order to watch one specific series dating back to the magical period when I first purchased a high-definition television. Not long after my wonder had piqued with such clarity, that girl appeared on the screen (yep, more than a decade back and I can STILL see her face and bright eyes). The time period in question became defined by the improvement and advancement of programming we watched on a daily basis. There had been lots of wonderful yet small details of life at that time which gave me more joy and comfort than I can possibly describe. Sometimes I feel that was the most comfortable place I’ve lived. Just three years, though. We moved on. As for the show, it predated my HD television by a couple of years, but once I discovered the new setup and a few shows, the die was cast. Well, I never saw the entire series run its course, nor did I watch once we moved out of that apartment. Over the past year or so, the show has been on my mind but I did not know how to watch it other than purchasing discs (not good). Yesterday I did some research and found the program in its entirety, along with many others. Due to the timeline of originally watching this series, my head almost immediately became flooded by the wake of the rollercoaster girl. And that leads to yet ANOTHER fucking realization related to the damaging dream and all this shit plaguing me every fucking day. So, let us recap... Something reminded me of the original program I hadn’t seen for years. I found it, and then after watching the first two episodes I was reminded of the incredible wonder of first enjoying high definition media almost twenty years ago. That led to the original channels I used to watch with wide eyes, and in turn straight to the rollercoaster girl. She is now a part of the damage and I cannot even say why. Just know that girl is related to the dream from months ago which has permanently altered the landscape of my mind. The power of the wake has redirected me and carried my head to a place I never thought it would inhabit. This is all just bad. My beloved rollercoaster girl is now a part of the problem, meaning even way back when her vast loveliness graced the screen, my brain was already being primed for what took place just this year. Everything has changed and there is not one fucking thing I can do about it. Thinking of the rollercoaster girl this morning also sprouted yet another desperate search for the video. It has to be out there somewhere. This is a huge fucking problem and I can’t reveal why. On the upside, the CD changer girl was different due to being right next to me on two occasions, although the two could have been twins. Again... I can’t spell out the reason. Leave it. But I have to find the rollercoaster girl. Unlike the others, she was filmed, meaning captured for all time and will not change. 1032. I finished half of the routine and folded some linens from yesterday’s laundry adventure. I also have an icy glass of bourbon next to me due to something wonderful happening a little while ago. Yes... I said wonderful, and a goal unprecedented in my history. I found the rollercoaster girl. That is not a joke. After mentioning her for the millionth time in just shy of two years – the first was at the end of July, 2020, believe it or not – I decided to search once again. I went by channels (not easy considering I was unsure of the original broadcast network), and then years, from 2004 to 2006, when one of the networks went away. The years also coincided with the period in which we lived in the apartment. I am certain I saw her for the first time while in that location. I then sought more information on the networks, and even went so far as to research production companies and the programming they created. Nada. The last ditch was to try keywords again because I knew of one theme park featured in the documentary. A dozen videos later, I found her. Immediately I located the highest resolution available and downloaded the entire video to this machine. Now I have her forever. This is unreal after almost two years of on-and-off scouring until my fingers went numb. Once I saw her face, the wake on my being increased ten-fold. She has now derailed whatever direction this entry was to take. Ho-ly shit. I have her at last... Good God. I am going to spend money on video editing software in order to grab frames from the documentary. Surprised? Nope. 1727, same day. The rollercoaster girl is floating inside my head like a savior angel. I will admit that the compulsion to find her and capture the video has been overwhelming at times, mostly during the last two years. The search has been exhaustive due to my memory of the documentary being fragmented. The wake has increased in power. I cared for the daily routine but have not gone beyond it much. I can’t stop thinking about her. The legwork required in narrowing her scenes within the video and then extracting images will be lengthy. I’ll do it anyway. The process reminds me of trying to transfer the copyright-protected video of the Mojo Girl with equipment borrowed from NASA. An entire calendar day was devoted to connecting and learning the system before finally grabbing the video, actually in lower resolution than I had hoped. She is still stunning and stirring, though. And her name is Katie. I am a basket case beyond comprehension, but at least her name isn’t Jamie. Heh. Soon enough I shall have a plethora of images. I can’t wait. I successfully located an open-source tool for extracting images from video. After a quick test, the software seems to work as advertised. Now, I must be able to isolate the sections of the video in which the rollercoaster girl appears or the file number will be excessive. Shot on film, the frame rate would be 24/sec. Shot digitally for television, the rate would be 29.97/sec. Either way, the image yield will be somewhere between 72000 and 90000. I don’t need that shit at all, nor do I need to lock up this machine by asking one application to monopolize resources for hours. So, video editing software is next. I’ll have to watch the entire program several times and take notes for each time frame. I’ll end up with perhaps two or three dozen individual clips, but the end result is as important as breathing. Honestly, I don’t give two shits about how long this process may take. I need her. Badly. Remember... I am not a balanced person. 0627 on Saturday morning. All the usual stuff is done and I have a nice cup of coffee. The video is going to take longer than I had originally thought. I don’t even know how to use the simplest functions of the editing software. Some learning is on tap. Afterward, I can snip some sections and extract images. This is going to take time. And Sunday morning is not for me to scour instructions and attempt some trial and error in plodding through a new application. I’ll have to get to it later. A few minutes ago I took a quick peek at what will be involved, so I was able to see her introduction and about ten seconds of dialog. Jesus. I can’t believe I remembered her face for so long. Exactly matching what I had in my head all this time, there she was again. Unbelievable, and I am more of a crazy person than I was mere days ago. I am further off the deep end and losing cohesion by the minute. Reality? Slipping. Today will be the usual routine and garbage (how many times have I typed that?). I may also try to get some of the hedge cut, too. The end that remains is very twisted and difficult to work with, but as I say almost every day, I have plenty of time. I’m not going to sit here all day and goo ga over the video. Now that I have it, nothing feels so desperate any longer. I’ll have a few hours alone today. Fourth show in the background right now. An increase in the wake. I am behind the craft, flailing and weakening as time passes. The race girl pushed me pretty hard, and now the other one I discovered is likely going to cause nothing more than additional damage. I am all fucked up. The wake is pushing relentlessly, placing pressure upon me to point myself in directions better left alone. I am feeling this more and more each day, the passing imagery and occasional strikes included. More all the time. Just… More. The last week or so has had me scratching to remain upright in any sense of the word. This is not a good situation. A small chore which felt insignificant two years ago now appears insurmountable. Some of the projects I had planned to complete appear similarly impossible. I am losing ground day after day and my ability to cope with difficult situations is diminishing. More and more often I find myself sitting idle and daydreaming about where I may have been, and sometimes where I actually have been in relation to this stagnant, depressive state. I don’t know how much longer I can continue to decline before something bad takes place, possibly something permanent or even a decision from which there can be no return. I’ve done it before. The other night all of this popped into my head when I learned that my neighbor’s partner was leaving to drive to the goblet around ten at night and seemingly very excited about the trip. I know what that feels like because I’ve dashed there several times, each outset feeling like the largest dose of freedom available. Out of touch, beyond everyone’s control, and living as I saw fit. This current period with the little pushes and problems is pointing me toward another break, and likely one which could ruin everything. I have to be careful right now and embrace anything that may have the power to keep me sane. Locating the video of the most elusive beauty imaginable was a huge dream, but may in fact end up accomplishing nothing more than helping my feet take steps in negative directions. The wake does not let up, ever.
I suppose I’ll have to do my best in completing things fairly early today rather than fucking around and wasting precious time. The load on my head is causing me to list terribly as the wake carries on. Anything further down could find me feeling very bad by close of business, and I just can’t fucking have that these days. I am so far down that the accomplishments simply MUST happen or I’ll fall further and probably feel behind by the time the next morning rolls around. Right now I feel ok for the most part, but there have been many occasions when I was sitting here sipping coffee and lamenting the previous day’s losses. That is not a good feeling at all, and I don’t want any more of it. Not much is asked of me. Earlier work is the idea. I’ll get started slowly as soon as the coffee is done and I have a pause in thinking. Every now and then I have to peek at the girl just because I can. Ok, so I went over to the editing software (only a trial version; I don’t know if it’s going to do everything I need yet) and trimmed a scene which yielded more than 1800 images, and the video was just over a minute and a half. Oy. After paring down the unwanted images and organizing for a few minutes, I have ninety left with her face. This may work out ok, but honestly the video is key. Most of the time I have nothing more than stillness, which in reality is very cold and flat. Video is warm and beautiful, stirring and haunting at the same time. At least I’ll have both, I suppose. Better than not seeing her at all. I figured I’d take a look while still sipping the coffee. Maybe later I’ll read about the process more and learn how to really isolate the girl from the rest. Crazy person. I’ve been enamored with her since first seeing this documentary on the television, likely in zero four. That is a long time and I never forgot her. I went months here and there not thinking about her, but always she was inside me. The reality is that the girl is now eighteen-plus years older and somewhere in Florida, I would imagine. Maybe very different. I will never know, and it doesn’t really matter anyway because I have her forever, just the way she was the very first time I saw. Crazy person. 0746. I may have to purchase a license in order to properly trim and save parts of the video. I am more than willing, but I do need to ensure the program will do everything I’d prefer. One of these days, I guess. Jesus fuck, she is every bit as beautiful as I recalled, all big, bright eyes and flowing hair. Damn it all, anyway. Thank Christ she will never know me. The rollercoaster girl has chiclets. Heh. So fucking cute. I still can’t believe I was able to find her. 0817 and I am about to rise and care for part of the routine. For some reason, I am antsy this morning. Perhaps the prospect of diving into video editing and image extraction has me at sixes and sevens after all these years. Once I complete some work today, I’ll likely be sitting at this machine and striving to do her vast beauty justice. So far, the images leave a bit to be desired as opposed to the actual video. The problem is motion. Without the motion ceasing, even for a fraction of a second, the image is blurred. Such is this type of process, I suppose. In the end, I may find that video clips are superior to still images. If so, I may need to go frame by frame and trim each clip to include only her. Whatever. I’m just happy to be able to see those bright eyes again. I’ll be playing the clips daily. Maybe... Hourly. Four images now, all blurry, yet still I know what is there. I know because I’ve seen the motion, and there is no adequate description for the wake that is manipulating my every thought. No saving throw. Nothing. I just have to stare. Nobody's listening. Nothing there, either. Marvelous. Katie is now Jaime. Or the other way around. Shit, I don’t know. Work it out. They are the ‘girl’. She is the girl. Whatever. Sometimes I read that word so many times that it ceases to make sense. Probably a good thing considering my personality. Little of me makes sense anymore. 1431 on Sunday afternoon. I trimmed the front and back trees, cleaned up the area where our flowers reside by the front of the house, and then attacked the hedge for a little while. Suffice to say, my ass is hereby kicked. No more labor today. Damn. Everything looks better, though. All the while during the work, one face spun me in circles. I even daydreamed during a break that Jaime walked up the driveway to tell me that my android had arrived and the worries were about to disappear. She was the android. Ugh. From here until evening, I plan to take it easy. The other half is returning from the city soon and my buddy may stop by to pick up a neon sign I’m giving to him for his garage. I don’t want it anymore. Other than organizing whatever food she brings back, I am not going to do much. Nice and early, too. I already have all the trash out of the house and ready to hit the curb. The work feels rewarding, yet my brain cannot stop seeing Jaime strolling up the driveway, all thigh gap and flowing hair apparent. Damn it. I really didn’t need that shit today, but honestly it’s not far off at any given time. Reality just is not cutting the fucking mustard these days and there isn’t shit I can do about it. I’ll keep dreaming. I watched the first twelve or so minutes of the video. She is so fucking unique that I can’t find the words. Two years of searching on and off to find her. And now I have her forever. It’s fortunate that the program is not on videotape because I would have to make a thousand copies. Just one would wear out. Fuck me in a ditch. I found her. Maybe I’ll continue to scour the Internet and see if I can secure a disc at higher resolution. 0753 on Monday morning with coffee and sunshine. Ah… I have to drive down the coast to make a delivery. That is going to interrupt my morning, although I do have part one of the routine finished. Hopefully I don’t see anything down there. Moreover, I have to fill the car with fuel. That’s going to be expensive. 0935. All done. Nothing of note. The fuel was ninety dollars. Wow. This is one of those mornings in which the android would help greatly. My mind has been preoccupied with the new Jaime, as well. All manner of thoughts have been swirling through me after watching part of the documentary yesterday. I can’t help it. She moves me quite a bit more than others. As for this day, I’ll care for the kitchen and then work on whatever seems best, or perhaps I’ll sit here and gush some more about her. The girl, along with a massive amount of wake against which I am powerless to resist. This just sucks out loud and right down to the ground. Some problems persist and others become even worse over time. I don’t like this feeling at all. I’ve said it too many times. Blah, blah, blah... Jaimecakes. After yesterday’s push to get the compost bin filled, I think I’m going to lay off the yard work today. There is always more of the hedge, especially considering I am at the final end of it. But that area is a pain in the ass. The dirt is all built up due to years of the branches becoming so thick and intertwined, meaning I can’t really cut them back without painstakingly digging out the soil a little at a time. Yesterday the work kicked my ass. Seeing as the garbage was just picked up this morning, I have all week to return to the project. I’m very close to employing the gardeners to pull the stumps. The more I remove, the lower the cost. The next item will be a huge shrub in the back which I intend to trim like a tree. The base covers roughly one hundred square feet of the yard, and if I can cut it up to head level, it will look like a tree with a single trunk. That will take months, I’m sure. I can only get so much in the can each week. At least it’s in the back, so no one will see it partially trimmed. Long term, that one. I enjoy the work for the most part. Well, as long as the weather is not too warm. Maybe I can cut a bit today and see how it will proceed. And I must be careful because there may be a bird’s nest inside, hopefully way up high.
1021. Foiled. Nothing on in the background right now. Coffee just about gone. Soon I’ll hit the bourbon because I am a basket case and cannot seem to remain upright without a fucking crutch these days. The girl has me almost completely fucked in the head. The wake is tremendous. I can't believe this. Jaimecakes. I have to go through the video in its entirety and list the time spans of when she appears. Basket case. Maybe then I can create a montage of only her because I'm ever closer to the basement and one video monitor so I can watch her bright beauty until the end of all things. And then I'll clutch the monitor and take Jaime with me. Sound good? I didn't think so. Aw geez... This episode. Not only Kristanna, but a plethora of others along with one hell of a premise from the beginning. Holy shit, what a fucking DREAM. Right up my alley, although they are living and not mechanical by any means. Still, the idea is wonderful and something I have considered on a thousand occasions. Every time this episode rolls around, my head also rolls around the idea and possibilities. And? During and after watching, I realize I am sitting here in the middle of an impossible world and surrounded by way too much fucking reality. The dream world means no need to be concerned about validation, and that is a feeling I can't shake regardless of what takes place in my life. There have been a few occasions when it eased some, but the damage always returns in short order. The scenario playing out on the screen reinforces fear, yet at the same time it is enticing beyond description. Nothing like that can ever happen to me. Nothing good can happen. Not anymore. All I have left are dreams. 1144 and the routine is finished. No lunch as of yet because I can’t make up my mind whether to remain here or cruise to the big hardware store down the peninsula. That could kill a ton of time today and help me to avoid the feeling of being ‘lost’ with no idea of how to proceed. Sometimes I go out and shop a little, structuring the trip to chew the clock to bits. When I return later, there is less time to worry and agonize over everything. The afternoon will be much more difficult if I do not go anywhere, much like most days. The hour is early. I have an ice-cold glass of depression next to me. If I do indeed travel to the hardware store, the booze will have my head relaxed enough to make a purchase without hesitation. Many of my most insane acquisitions have been while I was half-loaded. Ah fuck, there is Kristanna and her tremendous height. As much as I love the idea, the truth is I would most likely run away because she is a lion. Nice, huh? Holy Jesus God on a rubber crutch, she was but seventeen fucking years old when this episode originally aired. I had no idea. Perhaps I should refrain from gushing about her beauty at such a young age. I honestly didn’t know. Let me see... She was born in October of 1979 and the episode premiered in March of 1997. Am I correct? Seventeen? Unbelievable. And don’t even fucking get me started on one of her co-stars. Beyond comprehension, that type of beauty. Rare as hell. Jaime is adorable and unique, but she is not the only one. This entire paragraph has been derailed by facets of my personality of which I am not proud. Believe it, motherfucks. I didn’t ask to turn out this way. Too much swearing? I can ramp it up. Peppermint patties and bourbon are rivaling lamb and rosemary as the best combination. Yummy. Maybe I’ll heat a pizza, eat too much, and then sit here and doze off like a proper pile of shit. Good idea? What about... Drinking too much and becoming reckless and stupid? Either is fine. If I go to the hardware store, neither of those options will take place. At this point in life, I really don’t know which is best, nor do I fucking care. Again... Nice, huh? Maybe I’ll have one more drink and fucking drive to Nevada just to cause a reaction. I am too nice a person to do anything crazy. I have spent decades ensuring the happiness and comfort of a number of people. That could be the 1259 and here I sit awaiting an oil change. The idea of going out floated for mere minutes before I locked the house and took off. The magic of a full fuel tank, I suppose. Now if I could just remember all the items to pick up. Heh. Asian asses wrapped in yoga pants everywhere in this town. Shit. Not surprising. Ah... The car is ready. Off to the hardware. 1442 and I am home. The store was unremarkable. They no longer carry the hobby wood for which I was hoping. I picked up a few things and took off for home. Being on that side of the hill means there are ample opportunities for looking around other places, but on the return trip nothing really seemed a good idea. And arriving in my own neighborhood showed me that no matter where my attention lies, the radical nature of chance shall maintain control over my senses... Two girls walking along looking almost like twin examples of the damaging dream from months ago, right there smiling and bouncing along as if the world was their oyster. And when I say bouncing, I mean moving all over the place. Within a microsecond my head went everywhere and I nearly lost track of the last few hundred feet to the driveway. After exiting my car, I spied them strolling along the cross street, clad in gray and black, and with entirely too much skin on display. Ah, that fucking dream... Another return of the damage and my future becoming dimmer by the minute. Nothing good is going to happen to me, especially if the frightening information in my head ever finds ears. The mind of the listener be damned. I have to get away from this and work in the garage for a while. The weather is much cooler today. Perhaps I can straighten up a bit. Ugh... The fucking dream. 1714. All done in the garage for the time being. I restocked the cat food and fabricated a rod support for the shelf above my benches. One of the speakers is up there, along with a few light cases. The speaker is very heavy and I have wanted to add support for a while now. The shelf possibly losing adherence to the studs has been a concern, although I’ve not seen any deflection at all. I just feel better knowing that it cannot come down short of a large quake. I also organized a few things around the benches to make room for adapting another lighted decoration to the main power supply for the LEDs. Nearly all of the strips in the garage are now powered by the same source, and one large enough to supply voltage to twenty garages. I opted to go somewhat oversize for possible future expansion. On and off during the work I saw four breasts bouncing just behind my eyes. This is a very bad situation. Have I mentioned that no one is listening? Splendid. I really don’t need this shit right now. 0639. Tuesday. Coffee, fourth show, cats, flags... Whatever. That same episode is on. The one I was watching yesterday before the street sighting and subsequent damage. I always liked this story, too. Especially the beginning. Nothing like that would ever happen to me, though, and I am mostly grateful due to the nature of those vulpines. They exude power and use it often enough to manipulate the state of society. In the beginning, however, all is roses and bunnies. And boy are some of them gorgeous. The situation could be very enjoyable... For a while. Later? Dead. Maybe my damaging dream will come around again and include the foxes in this episode. There is Kristanna again. Jesus. Five-eleven and with a face sculpted unlike any other. Whatever. None of this is real. The relaxation worked well for me last night. I kept the empire lit until bedtime, too. Sometimes I like to take breaks out there. Simple dinner, lots of comfort. Now there is an entire circle of women around him, but not in a good way. Ooh-fa. Anyway, I still see those two girls walking along with nary a care in the world. I wish I could say the same for myself, damn it. Every moment is either falling on my face or trying to force anything in reality with enough strength to push the dream away and allow me to think straight. That dream has become one of the biggest points of reference in years and it doesn’t let up. Just months ago I went to sleep and awakened the following morning with a different head on my shoulders. I was after something very special and very close to attaining it, only to wake up and watch it all disappear. A second later I realized what it was. I had been dreaming about something better avoided in all of life. Since then, each occasion when I am reminded of the visions in the dream, the feeling stabs me a little more. I can’t seem to get away from this. Yesterday’s drive back was the cherry on top of an already ill-conceived sundae. I don’t believe there is anything I can do about this. Pretty well fucked.
Today. Just a Tuesday, I suppose. I’m not planning on going anywhere, instead opting to do whatever I can around the house and garage while hopefully keeping those visions at bay. The sun is shining, so likely there will be comfort out there for whatever seems best. Right now I am thinking about the morning business and then the quiet afterward. Sometimes the best part of the day is morning. Pause. 0749 and the morning stuff is out of the way. I switched over to the second show for a change of morning pace. Today may end up being a rather slow one. My ambition is waning as the coffee disappears. I might think of something later. For the time being I am going to sit here and relax, watch my family up there, and consider what the girl and the rollercoaster girl are doing to me. I also need to reconcile myself with the dreams. One more time... I didn’t ask to see what I saw, nor did I wish for the type of situation that grew out of the dream. When I was very young, if I knew a girl from school or the neighborhood as a friend or acquaintance and then had a dream about her, the infatuation was immediate. I thought I outgrew that puerile sense of astonishment many years ago, yet that is precisely what transpired months ago and led to a shift in my thinking processes. Not good. I can’t have this shit right now because I’m already trying to deal with being in love with impossibilities. Everything is just shit this morning. Maybe I shall foil the day just to add insult to injury. Not funny. Not by a damned sight. The rollercoaster girl awaits my attention. I did seek a better recording of the documentary, but alas there may not have been any in production at the time. I have no clue as to how the person acquired the video itself and placed it on the Internet, either. Perhaps the show was never put to media other than in digital format. I may never know which, of course, because there does not seem to be much information. Not even the original production house lists the program. Ugh. Higher resolution would be preferable, although I know just locating her in the first place was a huge victory for a person such as myself who lives within a fantasy world. Maintaining perspective with regard to the video is not easy for the same reason. Not good. 0903 and I have yet to work on the routine. I’ll get to it soon enough. I’ve been preoccupied with visions from yesterday and the damage-filled dream which has yielded questionable thinking. There have been too many connections to it in the last few months, not the least of which was an employee of the eyeglass store. You remember, right? That woman was a striking example of the dream, and standing before me looking amazing from head to toe. As I said before, the masks can often accentuate eyes due to so much of a person’s face being covered. She was no different, all bright and beautiful. Within seconds she was inside my head in any number of positions. One more time... Not good at all. The way I think on a daily basis can never see the light of day or flow into another pair of ears. The two bouncing their way along the sidewalk only served to cement what that dream has done to me. I can’t fucking say it. Not a word. I’m certain that more reminders are going to cross my vision in the future and I have no idea of what I can do to help myself. While I work around the house today, the combination of forms and eyes will be following at each step. Weak and desperate. Wake, ever pushing me. The girl is the wake, but then again she is not. She would never hurt me. My need for her is what hurts, meaning she is not at fault. The wake is due to such need inside me for all things unreal. My own head developed the wake, not someone else, society, or even a dream. As I fall further and further away, the wake pushes and helps me along to some kind of resulting situation, possibly nothing more than an ‘end’, yet I have no clue as to what is going to happen. The girl is holding power over me that I am too weak to withstand. She is all-powerful, honestly. Jaime, or whomever. The girl is an idea I made out of nothingness that now has been given all the power in the world. My need for that idea is wake. I am flailing in a vast sea of depression. The idea began with control, a machine, and then a real woman who does not (cannot) exist. I am unable to explain this any better because my head is distorted and disfigured beyond comprehension and this state of mind is affecting my attempts at communication. Marvelous. Honestly? Getting a point across probably doesn't matter in the least. Not anymore. Nothing can be done. This whole entry is a bad idea. Often when I watch these programs, I see little situations here and there which reinforce my dream state and the idea that the only possibility of finding exactly what I need has never existed. Only the fiction carries the ideas. I mentioned that watching years and years of science fiction has jaded my brain to the point of nearly living inside the stories. I believe that to be true, especially considering I need them in the background every fucking day or I am uncomfortable. That is just not good by any means. Two summers ago I felt I was far out of balance. I now believe I was in much better shape at that time than I am right now. This whole thing continues to worsen and force me to reach for anything able to bring a moment’s peace. I am deeply familiar with those people and need to know they are there for me. Bad? Oh, fuck yes. Routine soon. Alcohol soon. I have to get some of the shit out of my head but have no idea of how to go about it. At least the booze will help relax me for a while. I’m sure I’ll become a worthless pile of shit some time after lunch. It happens all too often. 1036. I took a quiz about alcohol abuse and answered four questions in the positive. According to the National Health something or other, three yes answers mean I have a problem. Hmm. I have a drink in the morning while cleaning the kitchen and then generally finish it while working on the site. I do not pour another until evening, typically between five and six. At that point I limit myself to three, all over ice and watered down by the time I refill. The first evening drink lasts upward of two hours most of the time. When I refill, the glass is already watered a bit. I would need to measure the pour each time in order to learn what the volume of pure alcohol can be on an average day. I believe the term for a person who drinks more than recommended yet still leads a life void of problems caused by alcohol is either a ‘functioning alcoholic’ or ‘high-functioning’. I may be one of those, but I do not currently have a job, meaning I can’t grade myself on the same scale as many others. I have also learned that to drink for the purpose of relaxing can be one of two situations. The first is dependency, and the second is simply taking the edge off the day (usually in the evening after business is complete). I have no idea of what all of it means to my lifestyle. If I exceed the numbers mandated by health organizations, I am an alcoholic. According to the information I found, my numbers are on the line. Very interesting. The only reason I did the search in the first place was due to the fact that it popped into my head as I filled a glass with bourbon just shy of ten in the morning. Whatever I am, nothing is going to change. I was simply curious. One certainty is that historically the booze tends to loosen my tongue around the opposite sex. That’s probably natural anyway. This entire subject is very subjective. Heh. Lisa Wilcox is in this episode and caused me to consider which guest star or stars I had the hots for over the years. She was one, and the draw was her big eyes. Blonde hair and blue eyes are not usually my thing, but the structure of her beautiful face is colorless. That means she is cute enough to transcend my preference of darkness. Too bad the end of this episode is fucking stupid and should have been written differently. Anyway, the more I think of all those guest actors, the less of a conclusion I can draw. There have been far too many to recall, anyway. I was just thinking about it right before I researched my love for booze during the morning. Thank God the booze cannot compare to my love for... This entry is ridiculous, like many others. And just to put things in perspective, I feel more love for this television series than I have for most people. There you go. Crucify me. Ah... Just below this work is a paragraph I jotted down in the hope of understanding why I turned out the way I did. Lots of big words there, I see. Realization. Validation. Attention. Trauma. Ooh-fa, and that was written last year because I had intended to share it with someone and hear her thoughts. In the end, I fucked it all up. My demeanor seemed to trivialize the feelings behind the words. Just a mess, that shit, and another mistake of which I cannot let go. I honestly do not know if the point was made, nor do I know if there truly was understanding. I am a pretty fucked up individual and further out of balance than ever in my life, so hoping to share and learn has been all but destroyed. I never should have uttered a fucking syllable. Another bad decision, and one I am still feeling after nearly a fucking calendar year. Splendid.
Just in case you thought I forgot
0636 on Wednesday morning. The usual stuff. Fourth show. Dreams. Yesterday I decided to watch a film that has been on the watch since last year. Recollections of the in-between period at the beginning of eleven flowed into me. At that time, I had nowhere to stay. I had been thrown out of one apartment but did not secure my own place for a couple of months. I stayed with my sister and her family for a few days before plotting to get the hell away from everyone. That was the time when I was able to grab my car after being told that I needed to calm and help myself before being on my own. Heh. I leveraged that shit over to my control in a cold minute. Anyway, during the time while I was in my old home in the valley (as a guest), I sat and watched many movies on the laptop and in the privacy of the guest room. Just me, some snacks, and a bottle of whiskey. I ventured through different genres and experienced much filmed entertainment before finally taking the initiative and moving to my apartment here on the coast. Yesterday’s film was similar to the many independents I viewed during that isolation, albeit much more modern. And it has me thinking. One aspect of the film was the central location. She lived in a loft apartment that was amazing, and the type of design from which many of my home plans stemmed back in the nineties. One huge space with very little delineation. Right up my alley. Plus, it seemed very secure. The apartment also reminded me of a job we did in the city some years ago. That apartment was also a full-floor loft and enormous. I was immediately attracted to such a space and began to alter a design I’d been building for some months. Well, that drawing went by the wayside (like everything else these days) but I never forgot about the layout, and was reminded deeply during the film. Morning business time. 0738. I have half the routine finished like the other day. Sometimes getting that out of the way early helps me to relax into the later morning. I have to go to the market for a few things, and probably the hardware store for a flat shovel. The backyard critter has pushed so much dirt out of the lawn that I simply must shovel it back to the lawn. The front is the same, yet not quite as bad. Until now, I’ve only had a round shovel which doesn’t work well. I was talking about the film prior to the morning work. The protagonist was very isolated and in therapy. She had not really left her home (the loft) in nearly two years. The place was huge and she was tiny. That means the space probably appeared larger due to her size, but still... The loft was amazing. She may have been a shut-in for the most part, but all that space likely felt nice, not to mention being a few floors above the ground with a view. I’ve been in this house for more than two years and have only worked on a handful of occasions since last fall. I gave it up because I no longer needed to work and the physical aspects were wearing on me. All I do now – as anyone reading this for a length of time already knows – is take short trips for shopping or gas. Ninety-five percent of the time, I am right here in the house. Not the same as her situation in the film, yet still I’ve been very isolated. I immediately identified with at least that aspect of her living situation. The film was very entertaining. And what exactly does this have to do with the girl? Nothing, but it does relate to that fucking wake pushing me into situations and feelings I would rather avoid, one of them being the idea that everything I need is gone and will probably remain unavailable for the rest of my life barring any remarkable circumstances. Part of knowing such things is the way I feel in this house, mainly when I take a break standing in the garage for a cigarette and watching the world go by. I am not as isolated as the film’s main character. I am pretty damned isolated, though. The shopping trips are as much about me arriving back home to my space and comfort as they are for actually purchasing things we need in order to live. That is one sad fucking state of affairs. And my life is not fiction, either. The character in the film was fictional. The wake is what I see when gazing out the door or watching the local news. There is also a measure of wake when I go shopping because I am near others and feel weak. Not good. The only time the wake is eased as much as possible is when I am right here and alone. There are pushes of other types, but this is the only time when I feel less pressure. The wake is everywhere. Sometimes more, sometimes less. 0804 and I really do not want to go out today. I’ll get it done like always. Not happy about it, though. My brain needs the distraction this morning. Nothing can keep the dreams at bay sometimes, and today the feeling is very strong and reinforcing just how alone I truly am right now. And? No one is listening. I have one last cup of coffee and then I'll head to the hardware store and the market. Upon returning, my kitchen awaits, along with my friends and family on the television. Basket case. I sure hope there is nothing of note in the market this morning. I don't need that shit today. 1118 and I have the routine finished. I also have laundry and dry cleaning running at the same time, plus I went to the hardware store and market. Naturally, there were two strikes in the grocery store just when I didn’t need to see anything. I strolled in to get a chair that was advertised on sale at 25% off and it rang up at 50% off. Very nice. I loaded the chair into my car and then returned for a few items, and that’s when the trouble began. In the produce aisle I spied a tall woman in yoga pants along with her child perched in a cart. Immediately I went into defensive mode because of her obvious relationship. I will not stare and calculate in such a situation out of respect. I honestly should not do it anyway, but in my greatly weakened condition I really can’t help myself. I will not meet eyes, however. Well, I grabbed a watermelon right next to her position and then turned to head to the opposite end of the store, and that’s when I saw her shape, directly in front of me and appearing like so many models splayed here for seven years. Yep, everything right there. I could not believe my eyes. Fortunately, I sensed the difficulty immediately and dashed away, not looking back once. Next? Along the way I saw a VERY tall and slender shape along with flowing hair trying to read something at an endcap. Jesus fucking hell anyway, I really didn’t fucking need that shit. Good God, she was amazing from head to toe. I did not see her face, though. Probably a good thing considering the weakness will rear its ugly head and leave me flat on the floor, figuratively. Fuck. What a sight. She was extremely rare. Now I am all fucked up, but at least the drive to distraction had me barrelling toward the work. Everything is underway. My next task is to drive north to the cigarette store. Had I not been carrying frozen food, I could have made a third stop before returning home. Now I have to wait until after lunch. No big deal. The midday parking situation over there sucks, but there is always something. Might require a bit of a walk. I keep seeing the back of her pants and the sheer number of lines all over the place crying out to me. I am so fucking pathetic these days that I don’t have a clue as to how I am still drawing breath. Back to the girl. The dream. The fucking search which finally bore fruit in the shape of a representation of everything I am. The mold. There is no mold release. I can't stop thinking about her, and every single example of beauty on the Internet, up there on the television or wandering the world that I see in person has become crippling, one after another after another. Each forces me to consider the vast gradient between where I live and where I dream to live. Everything is impossible. The Paramount Plus channel on my streaming device pissed me off for the tenth time this morning, so I went back to the gangsters on HBO. That channel is fucking flawless. The pilot episode is playing right now, and I fully intend to follow along through the entire series. The show holds its share of strikes and dreamy women, but I know it well enough to deal with whatever will come along during the next few weeks as the stories play out. No worries. Er... Some worries. I already fucking failed today anyway, so more visions aren't going to do shit. Over and fucking out. The 'girl'."
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