Learned Mature content No. 312 Published May 10th, 2022 10:55am pdt read ( words) Past entries "The days are becoming longer and longer as we head toward the solstice. I don't like it, but at least the mercury does not get out of control like in the valleys of the past. 1132. The routine is finished, I went shopping and showered. Laundry is running. There is but one positive right now, yet still a negative state of affairs, and that is the fact that the alcohol has successfully suppressed those oft out of control feelings during the morning. The third show is now into November of 1994, bringing an onslaught of mixed feelings. Not about the show, just the period. Friday morning and the business is finished. I have all the time to myself now. Unfortunately, so much has been said here (albeit very unclear with regard to meaning) that I am going to withdraw from the writing until such time as there is something different to report. The morning is like all others. The day will be like all others. My thinking has not changed. 1054 and my routine plus dry cleaning are finished. I will probably still do some laundry, though. Maybe later. Third show, big glass of vodka (decent vodka, that is), cats asleep. The weather is quite warm today, even with variable cloudiness up there. I don't know what else I will do today besides the laundry. I've been going through older images to include here, leading me to the idea of selling some on Adobe Stock. That could result in nothing or something. Too bad I never had the chance to capture what I REALLY needed. Eh, I don't expect anything good to happen in my life anyway. Whatever. If I join that community I will probably just fall down again. I ordered a second latch for the shelving door because the plywood is so fucking warped that it looks like shit from the side. Ever since I added the lower canopy for lighting and to flatten the door horizontally, the right side saw fit to adjust and warp more than before. Ugh. Well, the lower latch will solve that problem. Kasidy is boring to see and hear, whereas Jennifer is fucking stunning and fascinating. Anyway, this day may go somewhere. I just don't know where or when. I may just relax a while before attempting anything else. Going through the images and digital negatives, seeing folders of files segregated for the photo club, and recalling those reckless, insane days just after I moved to the coast from the valley have me humbled to the nth. My camera was very important to me back then, but now? It's a universe unparalleled in life. Some sadness, some joy back then. I actually miss the person walking next to me eleven years ago. And I miss the freedom. Ooh-fa, I hope the sum of memories and vodka don't send me down the rabbit hole. This period swings from one side of the circle to the other so quickly that I can barely keep up. Ugh. Jennifer is so pretty. All over the place today, my head. The daily torment did not arrive this morning. I wish I knew why those claws remained retracted today. As usual, there are no answers to my questions, only the knowlege that I know of a part of the genesis. Nothing more. The tide of my head moves whichever way and for whatever reasons. There is still no understanding, though. This day has moved along very slowly. The dry cleaning is finished, but I still have not decided if I want to wash a load of clothes. My brain is flip-flopping between so many subjects that I don't know which way to turn. The garage has a couple of items awaiting attention, the inside of the house has a long list of projects sitting idle, and my head continues to run along the side of the road rather than allowing me to grab the wheel and steer the time into production. I just don't know if I can do anything significant today. The shackles of depression have grabbed hold and the key eludes. Oy gawd is Jennifer tall and gorgeous. Just a hint of a smile and I melt inside. That reminds me of yesterday... While sitting here spinning my wheels and trying to remain updated on the eastern conflict, I thought of searching for images from the production of the third show for reasons of loving it but never having done such a thing before. Well, I ran across a huge image of some cast and crew members, leading me to the link from where it originated. I discovered an unexpected video of a retrospective that had been produced just a few years ago, a film previously unknown to me. I now have it saved on one of the streaming channels. The two-hour documentary is fascinating, so I began to watch just after lunch. Within moments of the opening sequence, my eyes began to tear up, and I quickly realized I should savor it and learn a bit first. My love for this show hit a peak just a few episodes back. Damn. And believe me... It's not the fact that it premiered during the late glow. My emotion stems from the series itself and all of the stories and characters. They have joined the big family in my head. This is a very unfortunate situation, for sure. An additional world in my eyes will only push reality further away. 0648 on Saturday morning. I had my garage lit last night for an hour or so. It just seemed like the thing to do because I added an old song from the glow to my phone and played it out there at low volume. Afterward, the lights came up just for added effect. The mood did not last long, however, because I had been watching an excellent two-part episode and needed to finish. I still have more I'd like to do out there, too. The timing doesn't matter due to no holidays or other reasons for a shindig for some months. I'll have to make my own schedule and then light up the night when appropriate. Two occasions are in the future and will probably necessitate creating a mood. Otherwise, I'll keep things in daytime or 'normal' mode. I am always considering the appearance of the garage and anything that can be done for improvement, or at least ways to bring a smile to my face. Not easy, that last one. In a few minutes I need to take care of the morning business, after which I'll probably sit with this for a while longer before the routine. Going through the images yesterday jammed a bunch of memories into my head, and thus forced a dream this morning. I am fairly certain that the image search prompted the dream and landscape within. There was also a character from the vampire show trying to help me in the kitchen of a travel trailer. I cannot explain his presence, though. I'll get to the rest soon enough. Niland, California, 12-18-10 4:04pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 85mm, f8 1/250sec I created a situation which became a problem. I did it knowing full well of the risk, yet the actual damage occurred not within others, but rather inside me. I created the situation and learned quite a bit regardless of the oft-troubling days and weeks involved. The entire shitaree accomplished nothing more than to create a massive, nearly unlivable delay prior to whatever may come next. Dark future. I learned, yet the lesson is now meaningless due to my penchant for reckless behavior and desperate actions when faced with anything even remotely tough. This is not a positive realization by any stretch. I knew what I was doing and why. That is a good portion of the reason for this current, fucking shit situation. And the other one... I know why I did that, too. From one place to another, and for some of the reasoning I thought had been important, soon after falling down and losing all that I had built for eleven years. But I knew what I was doing. Both situations were created -- and don't fool yourself, those are not the only two -- by yours truly, and both turned to shit very quickly. I knew they would. I always know. No one else knew or knows, for sure. They just move along thinking one thing while my brain is recalling the previous scrape just to prepare for another. Scrapes. Situations. Whatever. I don't need to worry about that kind of crap anymore. No one will want to be near me for more than a few seconds. I've done all sorts of stupid things. Don't even get me going with the shit from the eighties that STILL remains a mystery to anyone I've known throughout the last decade. That's a big one, yet in the long run probably doesn't fucking matter... Just like everything else in life. I tried this, I tried that, I spoke to them, I spoke to the others, and in the end I am still nothing more than a frightened pile of shit. Why don't you sit there and compose a nice message to me and explain what I am supposed to do next? Sound reasonable? People always seem to know the right answers because apparently they are wiser than those other people, right? Go for it. I would absolutely LOVE IT if you try. Kasidy has got some fantastic teeth. She may be boring, but the teeth cannot be denied. 0825 and my mood has gone to shit. I don't care, honestly, because I'm alone. And nothing ever changes as a result of my mood, anyway. Consistency, always. What the fuck matters here? Yes, I learned some things, however the massive and unrelenting pull upon my psyche has completely disallowed any improvement. Some is my fault (weakness) while the rest is not (trauma). I suppose the idea that I've been engaged in a fruitless search dating all the way back to the mid-nineties is not far off the mark. I cannot deny that first impulse when I was working for the fruit market in the Midwest. I really have no saving throw against such a thought. That period was up and down, mostly due to fear. The search existed long before seeing Marci or any other example of the obsession, partly because of a need I cannot spell out here, unfortunately. That goes along with the shit from the eighties of which no one is aware. But I still learned. Stability suffered, trust went up in flames, yet I learned. The next segment of my life would demonstrate that the impulse many years earlier could repeat given the proper circumstances. None of this will make sense to anyone aside from myself. I believe my difficulty in engaging in anything productive lately is directly related to -- or possibly solely caused by -- those actions and decisions I carried out coming back and haunting me. Sometimes getting up and moving around is so difficult that I cannot help but see those ghosts at fault. A good portion of my ruin is born of my own actions. And yes, before you draw a conclusion, I do feel a ton of remorse. Happy? My mood is heading south even while sipping the last of the coffee. This is unusual and has not been the result of the writing. The dream this morning was a situation in which three of us were in the desert due to fleeing the metropolitan areas in order to survive something. We were out there planning and preparing, all the while running some sort of campsite we had set up. A very strange individual showed up and began cooking and asking me to assist in preparing food for all of us. He was weird enough to keep me away, so I headed into a travel trailer to help with our own meal. Terry was there -- likely the result of years of watching him in the kitchen on the vampire show -- giving me instruction on cooking some chicken. The trailer was surreal and nothing was clear at all, not even his face, yet I knew the person. We had weapons and materials for remaining safe and away from society for a long time, possibly even months. The dream may have grown from reading news of the conflict in the east. My head sometimes goes over the possibility of war expanding into NATO and forcing us to escalate preparations for a very bad situation. This is contributing to my diminishing mood lately, not just the other, more personal issues. The combination makes it difficult for me to smile or laugh these days. I am still learning. 'The day we stop learning is the day we die.' You may have heard that same sentiment employing the word 'looking', but I am not going to comment on something which has already ruined my life. 0922 and time to work. 1024 and the routine is finished. I have an idea to relocate the main switched power for the garage color to the back of my table. That will make any future additions much easier to implement. In addition, I'll be able to monitor the power consumption more closely just in case it begins to get out of control. So far, and with eleven different points of connection and everything lit, the draw is no more than an ordinary sixty-watt incandescent light bulb. Heh. The technology has opened doors beyond belief. Anyway, I'll have to visit the hardware for some staples, but nothing crazy. Just a few items. I already have more than enough flex to expand the system quite a bit. Nice. By summer the garage should appear insane. Susanna is one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes upon. The more I see her, the more such a fact is cemented. Even as the arch nemesis of every race in the galaxy, she is fucking stunning. The episode which just aired is the ideal example of her eyes moving close to the head of the line (just behind Jamie, of course). Even Jolene's huge eyes are but third in the order. I've seen Susanna on screen for many years, and as time passes I find more appreciation for her face. Unbelievable, really. Just fucking unreal. But I digress, like always. I have more fucking love for this show than I have for actual people. Believe it. My own universe in which no one else is allowed, and not a soul on the planet knows why. Shut up. Let me be who I need. Vodka again. Good vodka. Not a day has gone by in the last year without me having a drink mid-morning. Do I have a problem? I don't feel as such, but allow me to relay part of a conversation with my doctor some time ago... Angelina: 'Do you drink alcohol?' Me: 'Every day.' Angelina: 'How much?' Me: 'Likely whatever is recommended for the average person over a week's time.' Angelina: 'Are you an alcoholic?' Me: 'Probably.' At the time, I had exhibited surprise that my blood pressure was normal. When asked why, I replied with the word 'alcohol' before the nurse suggested salt was a cause for elevated readings. Oops. I should have kept my mouth shut, but whatever. She recorded the information for my doctor, hence the conversation. I made sure Angelina understood that recommending I cease the few parts of life I actually enjoy was not a good idea. She resigned herself to the fact that I was not to be reasoned with, no matter what health effects she could describe. That was the end of that. Want to hear something nuts? I had the hots for that gorgeous woman. Surprised? Shut up. All I learned from her was that I had been living in a very reckless manner. In fact, after having blood drawn that same morning on an empty stomach (and passing out), she instructed me to eat something. Well, I drove nearly the hour back toward home and slid into one of my favorite restaurant/bar combinations where I proceeded to consume one salad and three cocktails. Such is me. Powell St. Station, San Francisco, California, 6-25-11 5:24pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f3.5 1/10sec 0700 on Sunday morning. This is becoming one of my favorite days of the week. I don't know why, but perhaps the schedule of my usual routine combined with the garbage has something to do with it. Maybe. I actually enjoy maintaining some order while dealing with the garbage. Is it control? Probably, but in more than one manner. The cans are dealt with my own way, just like the organization of the garage. Hmm... Control has to be it, but at least I know this. I suppose at this point in my life, anything over which I can hold control is helpful. During those days when I feel small, the controlling nature of my routine and other projects helps to bring a sense of order, and through such a feeling can come power. Not much, but some. Same with what has been developing in the garage. It's my small slice of the world and a clear demonstration of my disgust with society. If all of that boils down to the idea that I enjoy the Sunday schedule, so be it. Anything, these days. I've learned that the time spent alone and in control of the house can keep me balanced until the evening comes along. During the documentary yesterday afternoon I saw one of the cast members on stage at a convention. I believe it was some years ago judging by the ages. Well, the instinct and torment kicked in as soon as the camera swung around her end of the stage. She is petite, much like the girl at the store more than a week ago. Same legs, too. The woman on stage stood there with feet together and the entire image was lined just like those dramatic examples of mathematical convolution from the past which always sent me into a tailspin. Some forms are quite overwhelming while others are less so, and on the stage was a woman heading toward the highest order. During the few seconds while her shape was visible, my head traveled from the very emotional state of watching such a good retrospective all the way across the spectrum to where I live on a daily basis... A dark, desperate, depressive cavern stuffed with memories of everything permanently absent in my world. Once again, I became angry for a short time before regaining my composure and moving on with the evening. Soon enough, the booze was gone and I went to lie down, hopefully without thoughts of legs or anything else. Well, mostly, I suppose. There is always something going wrong. This morning I'm still a bit angry, though. I can push it back until my alone time and then react accordingly. Her shape while standing on that stage was a reminder, nothing more. And believe me, I recall every detail of everyone. My cabinet latch arrived yesterday. I'll probably slap it into the door later today when everything is in full swing. The wood being so warped is very irritating, especially considering the amount of effort I've put into the door and both canopies. Soon, though, nice and flat. I'd also like to shore up some areas where the storage has been lacking. Nothing crazy. While out there I'll try to maximize the garbage. Sunday is also the day I go through the refrigerator and remove any possible science experiments hiding toward the back or in the drawers. Once the routine begins, I generally work on the fridge and the rest of the kitchen at the same time. I like to make sure whatever needs to go away ends up at the curb by evening. This is all so very exciting. Third show again, and the subject of the documentary yesterday. It was very good, too. Emotional, mostly due to my feelings for the franchise and the fact that the world has lost many of those talents after all these years. I wish I could tell them what they've done for me. Anyway, I'll be watching this through to its conclusion and then switch to something else, as always. Ugh, the shit in my head. What was there, all I left behind, and those parts of life eluding me still. I keep thinking of the smiling faces and those fucking closet doors, too. That was so long ago. The snow falling outside and me believing those days had become some sort of line dividing where I wanted to be from where I had been. I don't know, really, but the thoughts do not stop sometimes. Days like this are contributing to my diminishing sense of reality and the near-constant requiem looping in my head. I can't fucking help it because I waited and waited for so long. Now here I sit with nothing more than disjointed images... Everything is lacking. Everything. Torment leads to desperation, and that in turn sends me sideways in the extreme. Perhaps today being Sunday can help, though, because I'll have the space and time (plus sunshine, it would appear) to blast my feelings while working. I have to say that what is going on inside has become much worse than anything I can describe here. Just fucking believe me, okay? Bad. Very bad. I thought I learned a lesson some years back, but the fact is after reading some older material this morning I decided that what I wrote years ago is actually hurting me more due to the stark reminders. Yep, another part of life torn away and burning to ash. Ah... There is the guy who appears and carries himself as the diametric opposide of me. Splendid. All the respect in the world for his work, yet now I feel small enough to go outside without opening the fucking door. Didn't need that shit today. I learned much from the universe playing out on the television every day, but I never said all of it was good. Sometimes it cripples me, yet I keep watching regardless of the pain. Memories of all that cannot return. Maybe I deserve such. Smiling faces. More of them than ever before, and I know precisely why. Like ghosts in a mirror, all fuzzy and transparent, they stare back and remind me of those times, the long and short past, in which I felt good while magical situations played out beyond my ability to understand. Now long gone, the ghosts pay no mind. Torment, nearly all of the time. The tiniest detail can unleash a tide of engrams, literally stopping any forward motion in life and forcing me to focus on all that is missing. I end up standing still in the house and staring at the decorations and furniture, bereft of ambition and hope. There may be nothing I can do now or in the future in order to remain upright in any fashion. This is all so very bad. Sometimes I feel I am right where I should be, while other times I simply don't understand why the bad has overtaken my entire life. It's just shit. Monday morning. 0645, cats fed, flags out, third show, coffee. I started the fourth symbol in the garage yesterday, a representation which shall replace the framed poster on the chimney. The drawing was rather a pain in the ass because I had to scale it up, meaning a grid, precision measurements, and eventually the flexible template since I don't have a French curve anymore. After the drawing, I cut out the shape and painstakingly attached it to one side and then the other, translating the pattern to the plywood. So far, all I've accomplished is in pencil. At some point a decision must be made regarding the outer circle, as in whether or not I can place my coded lettering inside and expect it to come out legible. No one ever knew the five words around the circle. Years ago I made my own alphbet in order to display thoughts only I could read, and eventually that language worked its way into my apartment. All that is gone now, yet the legacy has been carrying on and building inside the garage lately. I suppose I'll continue later today if the weather permits. So far, lots of sunshine. 0734 and the morning stuff is out of the way. I am in the quiet with my friends up there. I don't know what may be on tap for the remainder of this day, however. The morning has been peaceful, mostly, yet back there somewhere in my head are the thoughts I wish did not occur so often. Not torment. That one is sporadic. The difficulty lies in the daydreaming and recalling those times when I was actually happy for a while. The morning has been ruined. All I can do now is try to lift myself through housework and the peaceful nature of the atmosphere during the typical weekday when I am alone. I do not like failures, yet my control over those feelings falters every now and again. There seems to be nothing I can do about this situation. Recalling better days is not helping. Soon I'll rise and care for the routine. For now, however, I am stuck here due to the failure driving another nail into my sorry head. There are so many that my brain is beginning to rust during humid mornings. This is not good at all, and I'm sick of it. Unfortunately, my feelings do not matter any longer. No one is listening, and I am beginning to learn that the ears may be gone forever. Nike Missile Site SF-88L, Mill Valley, California, 8-6-11 2:00pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 300mm, f5.6 1/80sec I need to write an entry about battleship eyes, and soon. Yesterday was more positive. All my garbage work went very well, I cleaned out the refrigerator, cared for the routine, and then moved into the garage with wide enough eyes to begin the big drawing. The garage is starting to feel like one big rebellion against all my issues. It is the one place over which I hold absolute control and enjoy complete freedom to do as I please. The darkening mood out there began with the shelving door and then moved right to the area where Emily has been for the last few years. One by one all of the female imagery has disappeared to make room for my shitty mood. The occasions for lighting everything and spending time out there during the evenings are few and far between, partly due to the late sunset this time of year and partly due to the weather. The occasions will return, though, and by that time -- possibly the fourth of July -- the space will appear very intimidating and mysterious. Not since the cave period have I embraced such imagery and worked so much to create that type of mood. The apartment had restrictions, however, and the garage has but one, and that is the fact that we need access to the appliances, pantry, and laundry area. Those are all kept clear these days. My work can continue as I see fit. No one else can hold sway over what I do out there. No one. Hopefully the coming days and nights will demonstrate my penchant for raising questions which are then left unanswered. I'll just smile and wordsmith my way around anything coming out of another person's maw. And if I don't want to hear it, the massive audio system shall respond in kind. I'm glad I made the decision to remove the framed picture and create another symbol no one can understand. Yesterday was only the beginning. 0827 and I still feel weak and crappy. My head is not on straight these days. The girl in the store weeks ago was nothing more than a representation of how weak I've become, not to mention being so desperate that I felt if I could not see more of her I would not survive the day. She had the battleship eyes. Just a person, though. She was a person above all other things and the fault of me needing so badly to look at her is partly mine, yet none of hers. Just a person. I've been driven to this through years of the world being far enough out of balance for me to disregard other people as if they are nothing more than sporadic rocks to be avoided on a dirt path leading nowhere. The diminishing respect I have for people is a part of the reason I watch nearly nothing aside from fictional media. Out of balance, to the nth. This morning I can see her walking across the carpet unknowing of the hellish torment developing inside me and leading to one failure after another. I'll have to step away from this crap very soon. Circles. I am going in circles again. I took a short break from the typing but still feel the same... Broken, empty, depressed. I don't think the routine or anything else will be a problem today, though. There is nothing wrong with having work to do. Anything keeping me busy can be helpful, no doubt. As of yet, I have not pushed the trouble away. I keep seeing the bright eyes and thinking that this is all I have left for the rest of my life. Ambition to tackle anything beyond little projects and my typical work is gone. I just can't get myself to care anymore. Advertisements splayed across my news source keep showing me that decades of careers had the potential to put me in a better, more comfortable situation in life, yet my shit decisions and chasing the most elusive of joy have left me with nearly nothing. By this point in age, the average person is thinking about and working toward a retirement. Me? Nope. There is not one avenue open to me anymore. Oh, I have all the free time in the world and am supported in the same, but the truth is I feel like a needle which began at zero, moved up the scale, and then lost power and dropped back to the stop pin on the left. The needle is now disconnected. The bright eyes force me to think of when I felt the same, so many years ago and during the glow. And then I ruined that, afterward building again into a better place with a future. And then I ruined that, tossed everything into the wind, and ran after temporary bliss. Now? There is no longer bliss. Just the routine, an occasional enjoyable lunch, and whatever I can do in the garage to put people off. I am what time and circumstances have made me. Blame no longer matters. And some people I used to associate with wondered why I drink hard alcohol in the morning. Yeah, okay... Keep wondering. Or just read the last hundred entries, dumb fucks. And that reminds me that I have been disconnected from the bar social circle for more than two months now. I don't feel that I have been missing anything, however, because those people all live and work within a sphere to which they can all relate, have similar interests, and know what to expect from each other, whereas I would sit there losing interest in the conversations and scanning the windows and door for something which may strike me upside the fucking head. Sometimes it happened, other times it did not. But I sat there being a fucking fake artist and wondering why I was so damned different and severely depressed. Well, I put that shit to bed, and the work, too. I was messaged some days ago with a request to inform my old boss if I felt like getting out of the house for a while to help with work. Nope. Nada. I cannot go there at this point in time. I just can't. I have to remain here where I am both safe and alone. Those bar patrons are just fine without me. They were during the first dry spell, anyway. I don't believe my life impacts anything enough for them to be concerned beyond a slight curiosity, honestly. I really don't. Sitting here right now makes me think that being in that circle was too much work and I don't need it anymore. There is already plenty keeping my head busy. And God forbid I have some sort of breakdown and lash out at people who do not deserve it. Not good. Alone is the only way. 'What are you doing on the phone?' 'I'm writing a story.' 'Are you a writer?' 'No... I am a plumber.' That was a few years ago when I used the Documents application on my phone to jot down thoughts while trying to recall my adventures in Nevada and Florida. A friend of mine saw me fervently typing and became curious. He then laughed at my answer. That was pretty funny at the time. Little did I know that the writing would soon take over half of my life, the other half having been reserved for torment and desperation. That part is not funny. 0936 and I have yet to do anything else. Doesn't matter. My schedule is my own. Whatever. I'll get to it. Yesterday I was very productive early in the day due to the garbage work, but today I have no reason to be in a hurry. Third show, still (my extended family and a place I have wanted to live for many years). Tiny bit of coffee left. Alcohol, and soon. 1050. Booze a'flowin. The routine is finished. I don't know whether to sit with this for a while or work in my new 'empire', otherwise known as the garage. And again with the background beauty on the show, damn it all. There is always something to see. Good thing the morning went to shit not long after my quiet time commenced, otherwise the beauty would be more troubling. The process of temporarily erasing the torment causes other problems, though. Shit problems. I never needed a machine more than right fucking now. No one is listening. Maybe I'll sit on this sofa all day with whiskey and chocolate. By close of business I'll be a wreck, but I may not care. Heh. Another lost title. What have I learned? Facts and figures, nothing more. No solutions other than escaping into a dream world (ever expanding, too) and leaving all of reality behind, or at least as much as I have been able. I should buy something enjoyable. Waiting for a parcel to arrive is always exciting. Whiskey and chocolate. I believe I will go out to the empire and work on the drawing, possibly performing some painting, too. There is little reason to remain inside this morning. I have the essential work finished and everything else can wait until such time as my head is righted -- if that is even possible anymore. Mostly righted, I suppose. The empire can be relaxing at times, like yesterday. Oh, the scaling was a pain in the ass, and just when I had paper spread all over my table and work bench, a massive gust of wind came along and relocated everything. I had thought the scaling would be the tough part, yet Mother Nature is not a figure to be trifled. Heh. Anyway, I believe heading out there in a bit will be good for me. I'll report back, likely tomorrow morning. The female shapeshifter is a fucking cunt, yet a great character. Capri Rd., Desert Shores, California, 12-14-10 4:05pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f13 1/640sec Ah... The trip from ten still stirs me enough to include images here. The one above was shot the day we arrived at the Sea and less than a week after I procured the camera, lens and bag. The more time that passes, the more I feel love for that period, believe it or not. We had problems -- mostly my doing, of course -- but the driving and feeling of being all the way in the lens were unreal and unlike anything I had experienced to that point in life. Not a day goes by without some part of me wishing to spin the clock backward all the way to our arrival at my timeshare in Indio. Returning four years ago was amazing, and even the more recent trip appears magical now. I may have to go there a third time just for the nostalgia. Damn. Friday morning, 0702. Flags, cats, coffee, show, whatever. Same things every morning. I try to remain caught up with the conflict in the east and anything else which may affect this house. The early business will be in roughly half an hour, after which I will be in my little world. Yesterday I finised drawing the shield on the back of the chimney and then painted the entire symbol. It looks decent, but needs more. The shield's main component is inside a large circle and is positioned slightly lower than center, meaning there is room above to the left and right for additional symbolism to confound passers by. I will also add a lower canopy to make the lighting more dramatic. Yesterday I also mentioned that the garage will heretofore be known as the 'empire'. I believe the moniker fits. Naming the space now dictates that I must go into slightly more detail when out there working. Each facet of the garage must be gone over again. I don't want anything half-assed. Today's work shall include some planning. For some reason I am really looking forward to the alone time today. I don't feel the morning issues, nor do I see the day as overwhelming, like those times when I look around and see far too much to handle. All I have to do is tackle one item at a time, little more if I feel the need. Mostly I am here to maintain everything and keep the living space and daily life operating smoothly, not necessarily constant home improvement. The projects should be in order of importance, honestly, but sometimes prioritizing takes a back seat to enjoyment, and then things get backed up or out of control. I can't have that these days. There is already enough shit pressing on me. The battleship eyes should have been addressed at the beginning of this entry rather than in their own. Eh... I don't know. They kill me inside sometimes. Almost time for morning business. Afterward I'll probably try to get a head start on the routine so sitting here with the remaining coffee is more comfortable. Not that I ever feel guilty over taking it easy in the morning, it's just that I like to care for some things earlier rather than later, sort of like having lunch into the second half of a workday instead of earlier. More work before lunch and then less after. It's just pushing the reward further out in order to ease the afternoon. No big deal. Also today I need to address a few little nags that I see around the house, like the floor or whatever. Walking by the same problem for days because it is not pressing is not a crime, just kind of lazy. I've been trying to hit some of those recently to feel accomplished. So far, it's working a little. 0802. Alone for the duration. The day is wide open. For a few minutes while I cared for the morning responsibilities, there was an inkling of thought and worry, thankfully only for a short period. I do not understand such occurrences, even after years of fucking analysis. It's gone now, but I honestly have no clue as to from where the thinking stemmed, nor why. This is the type of shit that irritates me to no end. A regular morning -- and one in which I feel decent and the time seems wide-open to whatever I wish to do -- and then all of a sudden the unexpected feelings surface right out of the clear, blue fucking sky. Thank Christ it disappeared soon after or I would be in a much worse mood right now. I can't have a repeat of yesterday. No good. Looks like I have to drive to the big wine store later. Ugh. I usually go to the pet supply next door while making such a trip, but this time I don't need anything. One stop, I guess, and hopefully there are no pants. While in the garage painting, the disturbing dream and related imagery came up in my mind due to a pair of legs walking by on the other side of the street. This is beginning to worry me, honestly. I can't describe what took place in the dream, nor the processes in my head. Some feelings simply MUST be left out of this content or the backlash could be severe. I've caught enough shit in the past to know better. I suppose that is a positive, yet the truth is the feelings are there and the dream took place. It was bad. I knew immediately after awakening. Yesterday the legs dredged up the dream and forced me to really concentrate on the work. The store represents a massive lack of control on my part because it is a public place and anyone may enter to shop. The only saving throw versus exposure is to remain home all of the time. Not a practical situation, that one. Sometimes I must go out in order to maintain the smooth operation of this house. Today's shopping trip was my idea to help. Every time I get the idea to go over there I recall the gray pants moving about the store and the fact that I adjusted my route in order to see as much as possible. What does that make me? I was only looking at a form, not thinking anything more dramatic or questionable. Radii, movements, musculature, and numbers. Phantom numbers, of course, but they were there nonetheless. The girl in the eyeglass store was a completely different story and I'd rather not go into what played out in my mind. Well, you probably know already. Still... I believe at least in part that my thinking is not all bad. The reason is I only THINK and WRITE rather than anything further. I am not a monster, just a severely depressed and lonely individual. If there were laws against that, my sentence would never end. I'll go to the wine merchant, grab what I need, and haul ass back here. If something is there, well... Then something is there. I can't do anything about it. 0904. I'd like to have the routine finished before shopping. I've become worse over the last few years, and can only expect to worsen more in the future. Nothing can be done about how I feel because the dreams continue to swirl inside more and more, and the more days which fly by only cement everything over which I agonize. I can't even imagine how I will think or feel a year or more from now. The desperation is already overwhelming. Reminders are cutting. The past glows more than ever before. Forms appear even more desirable than a mere year back. This is disheartening and fucking ridiculous. Helicopter rotors overhead right now, a la turbine. Maybe one of them will crash on top of my car on the highway. Eh... Just the Coast Guard. A daily thing this close to the ocean. Damn, this situation is not something I could have pictured a decade ago. And I thought the cave period was tough? That was not entirely my fault. There was a carrot. I was the horse. Fuck that whole year, anyway. I hate that I lived it. But I did. What a dumb fuck I was. Big fucking surprise I drink so much. Wine store... Definitely. I've learned nothing. There are 324 essays on the server, only ten of which are not published. Despite all of this, I am worse now than ever in my life. Fuck you. Shut up. 1047 and the routine is finished. I have a load of dry cleaning, but will wait until later if I am working on the empire in order to keep an eye on the dryer. I don't want anything wrinkling. Heh. Third show still on, half a glass of whiskey remaining, cats asleep, and I keep thinking about the trip to the wine store. I'll go, I just don't know when. That place is never busy during business hours on a weekday. The upside is returning home afterward. That always feels really good. I need to be here as much as possible to minimize possible strikes and issues. Exposure, too. Society is a giant machine bent upon entertainment and I have no wish to be in the middle of it for very long. I can count on one hand the number of occasions finding me out to lunch at a bar/restaurant, something for which I used to long. After all this time -- the pandemic notwithstanding -- I am apprehensive, to say the least. Maybe one of these days I will travel to the old stomping ground and sink into the bar atmosphere for a long lunch and thinking session. The absence of the big electronics stores is a huge void in me. Whenever I went across the bridge for lunch, the trip was typically planned around a visit to one of the key locations within the center of my universe. One less reason to drive an hour from home. I miss those stores so badly that nothing has been able to fill the hole. Learned... A word which applies to me as related to only the technical aspects of my brain. And this entry has become long enough. Her." 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Learned Mature content No. 312 Published May 10th, 2022 10:55am pdt read ( words) Past entries "The days are becoming longer and longer as we head toward the solstice. I don't like it, but at least the mercury does not get out of control like in the valleys of the past. 1132. The routine is finished, I went shopping and showered. Laundry is running. There is but one positive right now, yet still a negative state of affairs, and that is the fact that the alcohol has successfully suppressed those oft out of control feelings during the morning. The third show is now into November of 1994, bringing an onslaught of mixed feelings. Not about the show, just the period. Friday morning and the business is finished. I have all the time to myself now. Unfortunately, so much has been said here (albeit very unclear with regard to meaning) that I am going to withdraw from the writing until such time as there is something different to report. The morning is like all others. The day will be like all others. My thinking has not changed. 1054 and my routine plus dry cleaning are finished. I will probably still do some laundry, though. Maybe later. Third show, big glass of vodka (decent vodka, that is), cats asleep. The weather is quite warm today, even with variable cloudiness up there. I don't know what else I will do today besides the laundry. I've been going through older images to include here, leading me to the idea of selling some on Adobe Stock. That could result in nothing or something. Too bad I never had the chance to capture what I REALLY needed. Eh, I don't expect anything good to happen in my life anyway. Whatever. If I join that community I will probably just fall down again. I ordered a second latch for the shelving door because the plywood is so fucking warped that it looks like shit from the side. Ever since I added the lower canopy for lighting and to flatten the door horizontally, the right side saw fit to adjust and warp more than before. Ugh. Well, the lower latch will solve that problem. Kasidy is boring to see and hear, whereas Jennifer is fucking stunning and fascinating. Anyway, this day may go somewhere. I just don't know where or when. I may just relax a while before attempting anything else. Going through the images and digital negatives, seeing folders of files segregated for the photo club, and recalling those reckless, insane days just after I moved to the coast from the valley have me humbled to the nth. My camera was very important to me back then, but now? It's a universe unparalleled in life. Some sadness, some joy back then. I actually miss the person walking next to me eleven years ago. And I miss the freedom. Ooh-fa, I hope the sum of memories and vodka don't send me down the rabbit hole. This period swings from one side of the circle to the other so quickly that I can barely keep up. Ugh. Jennifer is so pretty. All over the place today, my head. The daily torment did not arrive this morning. I wish I knew why those claws remained retracted today. As usual, there are no answers to my questions, only the knowlege that I know of a part of the genesis. Nothing more. The tide of my head moves whichever way and for whatever reasons. There is still no understanding, though. This day has moved along very slowly. The dry cleaning is finished, but I still have not decided if I want to wash a load of clothes. My brain is flip-flopping between so many subjects that I don't know which way to turn. The garage has a couple of items awaiting attention, the inside of the house has a long list of projects sitting idle, and my head continues to run along the side of the road rather than allowing me to grab the wheel and steer the time into production. I just don't know if I can do anything significant today. The shackles of depression have grabbed hold and the key eludes. Oy gawd is Jennifer tall and gorgeous. Just a hint of a smile and I melt inside. That reminds me of yesterday... While sitting here spinning my wheels and trying to remain updated on the eastern conflict, I thought of searching for images from the production of the third show for reasons of loving it but never having done such a thing before. Well, I ran across a huge image of some cast and crew members, leading me to the link from where it originated. I discovered an unexpected video of a retrospective that had been produced just a few years ago, a film previously unknown to me. I now have it saved on one of the streaming channels. The two-hour documentary is fascinating, so I began to watch just after lunch. Within moments of the opening sequence, my eyes began to tear up, and I quickly realized I should savor it and learn a bit first. My love for this show hit a peak just a few episodes back. Damn. And believe me... It's not the fact that it premiered during the late glow. My emotion stems from the series itself and all of the stories and characters. They have joined the big family in my head. This is a very unfortunate situation, for sure. An additional world in my eyes will only push reality further away. 0648 on Saturday morning. I had my garage lit last night for an hour or so. It just seemed like the thing to do because I added an old song from the glow to my phone and played it out there at low volume. Afterward, the lights came up just for added effect. The mood did not last long, however, because I had been watching an excellent two-part episode and needed to finish. I still have more I'd like to do out there, too. The timing doesn't matter due to no holidays or other reasons for a shindig for some months. I'll have to make my own schedule and then light up the night when appropriate. Two occasions are in the future and will probably necessitate creating a mood. Otherwise, I'll keep things in daytime or 'normal' mode. I am always considering the appearance of the garage and anything that can be done for improvement, or at least ways to bring a smile to my face. Not easy, that last one. In a few minutes I need to take care of the morning business, after which I'll probably sit with this for a while longer before the routine. Going through the images yesterday jammed a bunch of memories into my head, and thus forced a dream this morning. I am fairly certain that the image search prompted the dream and landscape within. There was also a character from the vampire show trying to help me in the kitchen of a travel trailer. I cannot explain his presence, though. I'll get to the rest soon enough. Niland, California, 12-18-10 4:04pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 85mm, f8 1/250sec I created a situation which became a problem. I did it knowing full well of the risk, yet the actual damage occurred not within others, but rather inside me. I created the situation and learned quite a bit regardless of the oft-troubling days and weeks involved. The entire shitaree accomplished nothing more than to create a massive, nearly unlivable delay prior to whatever may come next. Dark future. I learned, yet the lesson is now meaningless due to my penchant for reckless behavior and desperate actions when faced with anything even remotely tough. This is not a positive realization by any stretch. I knew what I was doing and why. That is a good portion of the reason for this current, fucking shit situation. And the other one... I know why I did that, too. From one place to another, and for some of the reasoning I thought had been important, soon after falling down and losing all that I had built for eleven years. But I knew what I was doing. Both situations were created -- and don't fool yourself, those are not the only two -- by yours truly, and both turned to shit very quickly. I knew they would. I always know. No one else knew or knows, for sure. They just move along thinking one thing while my brain is recalling the previous scrape just to prepare for another. Scrapes. Situations. Whatever. I don't need to worry about that kind of crap anymore. No one will want to be near me for more than a few seconds. I've done all sorts of stupid things. Don't even get me going with the shit from the eighties that STILL remains a mystery to anyone I've known throughout the last decade. That's a big one, yet in the long run probably doesn't fucking matter... Just like everything else in life. I tried this, I tried that, I spoke to them, I spoke to the others, and in the end I am still nothing more than a frightened pile of shit. Why don't you sit there and compose a nice message to me and explain what I am supposed to do next? Sound reasonable? People always seem to know the right answers because apparently they are wiser than those other people, right? Go for it. I would absolutely LOVE IT if you try. Kasidy has got some fantastic teeth. She may be boring, but the teeth cannot be denied. 0825 and my mood has gone to shit. I don't care, honestly, because I'm alone. And nothing ever changes as a result of my mood, anyway. Consistency, always. What the fuck matters here? Yes, I learned some things, however the massive and unrelenting pull upon my psyche has completely disallowed any improvement. Some is my fault (weakness) while the rest is not (trauma). I suppose the idea that I've been engaged in a fruitless search dating all the way back to the mid-nineties is not far off the mark. I cannot deny that first impulse when I was working for the fruit market in the Midwest. I really have no saving throw against such a thought. That period was up and down, mostly due to fear. The search existed long before seeing Marci or any other example of the obsession, partly because of a need I cannot spell out here, unfortunately. That goes along with the shit from the eighties of which no one is aware. But I still learned. Stability suffered, trust went up in flames, yet I learned. The next segment of my life would demonstrate that the impulse many years earlier could repeat given the proper circumstances. None of this will make sense to anyone aside from myself. I believe my difficulty in engaging in anything productive lately is directly related to -- or possibly solely caused by -- those actions and decisions I carried out coming back and haunting me. Sometimes getting up and moving around is so difficult that I cannot help but see those ghosts at fault. A good portion of my ruin is born of my own actions. And yes, before you draw a conclusion, I do feel a ton of remorse. Happy? My mood is heading south even while sipping the last of the coffee. This is unusual and has not been the result of the writing. The dream this morning was a situation in which three of us were in the desert due to fleeing the metropolitan areas in order to survive something. We were out there planning and preparing, all the while running some sort of campsite we had set up. A very strange individual showed up and began cooking and asking me to assist in preparing food for all of us. He was weird enough to keep me away, so I headed into a travel trailer to help with our own meal. Terry was there -- likely the result of years of watching him in the kitchen on the vampire show -- giving me instruction on cooking some chicken. The trailer was surreal and nothing was clear at all, not even his face, yet I knew the person. We had weapons and materials for remaining safe and away from society for a long time, possibly even months. The dream may have grown from reading news of the conflict in the east. My head sometimes goes over the possibility of war expanding into NATO and forcing us to escalate preparations for a very bad situation. This is contributing to my diminishing mood lately, not just the other, more personal issues. The combination makes it difficult for me to smile or laugh these days. I am still learning. 'The day we stop learning is the day we die.' You may have heard that same sentiment employing the word 'looking', but I am not going to comment on something which has already ruined my life. 0922 and time to work. 1024 and the routine is finished. I have an idea to relocate the main switched power for the garage color to the back of my table. That will make any future additions much easier to implement. In addition, I'll be able to monitor the power consumption more closely just in case it begins to get out of control. So far, and with eleven different points of connection and everything lit, the draw is no more than an ordinary sixty-watt incandescent light bulb. Heh. The technology has opened doors beyond belief. Anyway, I'll have to visit the hardware for some staples, but nothing crazy. Just a few items. I already have more than enough flex to expand the system quite a bit. Nice. By summer the garage should appear insane. Susanna is one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes upon. The more I see her, the more such a fact is cemented. Even as the arch nemesis of every race in the galaxy, she is fucking stunning. The episode which just aired is the ideal example of her eyes moving close to the head of the line (just behind Jamie, of course). Even Jolene's huge eyes are but third in the order. I've seen Susanna on screen for many years, and as time passes I find more appreciation for her face. Unbelievable, really. Just fucking unreal. But I digress, like always. I have more fucking love for this show than I have for actual people. Believe it. My own universe in which no one else is allowed, and not a soul on the planet knows why. Shut up. Let me be who I need. Vodka again. Good vodka. Not a day has gone by in the last year without me having a drink mid-morning. Do I have a problem? I don't feel as such, but allow me to relay part of a conversation with my doctor some time ago... Angelina: 'Do you drink alcohol?' Me: 'Every day.' Angelina: 'How much?' Me: 'Likely whatever is recommended for the average person over a week's time.' Angelina: 'Are you an alcoholic?' Me: 'Probably.' At the time, I had exhibited surprise that my blood pressure was normal. When asked why, I replied with the word 'alcohol' before the nurse suggested salt was a cause for elevated readings. Oops. I should have kept my mouth shut, but whatever. She recorded the information for my doctor, hence the conversation. I made sure Angelina understood that recommending I cease the few parts of life I actually enjoy was not a good idea. She resigned herself to the fact that I was not to be reasoned with, no matter what health effects she could describe. That was the end of that. Want to hear something nuts? I had the hots for that gorgeous woman. Surprised? Shut up. All I learned from her was that I had been living in a very reckless manner. In fact, after having blood drawn that same morning on an empty stomach (and passing out), she instructed me to eat something. Well, I drove nearly the hour back toward home and slid into one of my favorite restaurant/bar combinations where I proceeded to consume one salad and three cocktails. Such is me. Powell St. Station, San Francisco, California, 6-25-11 5:24pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f3.5 1/10sec 0700 on Sunday morning. This is becoming one of my favorite days of the week. I don't know why, but perhaps the schedule of my usual routine combined with the garbage has something to do with it. Maybe. I actually enjoy maintaining some order while dealing with the garbage. Is it control? Probably, but in more than one manner. The cans are dealt with my own way, just like the organization of the garage. Hmm... Control has to be it, but at least I know this. I suppose at this point in my life, anything over which I can hold control is helpful. During those days when I feel small, the controlling nature of my routine and other projects helps to bring a sense of order, and through such a feeling can come power. Not much, but some. Same with what has been developing in the garage. It's my small slice of the world and a clear demonstration of my disgust with society. If all of that boils down to the idea that I enjoy the Sunday schedule, so be it. Anything, these days. I've learned that the time spent alone and in control of the house can keep me balanced until the evening comes along. During the documentary yesterday afternoon I saw one of the cast members on stage at a convention. I believe it was some years ago judging by the ages. Well, the instinct and torment kicked in as soon as the camera swung around her end of the stage. She is petite, much like the girl at the store more than a week ago. Same legs, too. The woman on stage stood there with feet together and the entire image was lined just like those dramatic examples of mathematical convolution from the past which always sent me into a tailspin. Some forms are quite overwhelming while others are less so, and on the stage was a woman heading toward the highest order. During the few seconds while her shape was visible, my head traveled from the very emotional state of watching such a good retrospective all the way across the spectrum to where I live on a daily basis... A dark, desperate, depressive cavern stuffed with memories of everything permanently absent in my world. Once again, I became angry for a short time before regaining my composure and moving on with the evening. Soon enough, the booze was gone and I went to lie down, hopefully without thoughts of legs or anything else. Well, mostly, I suppose. There is always something going wrong. This morning I'm still a bit angry, though. I can push it back until my alone time and then react accordingly. Her shape while standing on that stage was a reminder, nothing more. And believe me, I recall every detail of everyone. My cabinet latch arrived yesterday. I'll probably slap it into the door later today when everything is in full swing. The wood being so warped is very irritating, especially considering the amount of effort I've put into the door and both canopies. Soon, though, nice and flat. I'd also like to shore up some areas where the storage has been lacking. Nothing crazy. While out there I'll try to maximize the garbage. Sunday is also the day I go through the refrigerator and remove any possible science experiments hiding toward the back or in the drawers. Once the routine begins, I generally work on the fridge and the rest of the kitchen at the same time. I like to make sure whatever needs to go away ends up at the curb by evening. This is all so very exciting. Third show again, and the subject of the documentary yesterday. It was very good, too. Emotional, mostly due to my feelings for the franchise and the fact that the world has lost many of those talents after all these years. I wish I could tell them what they've done for me. Anyway, I'll be watching this through to its conclusion and then switch to something else, as always. Ugh, the shit in my head. What was there, all I left behind, and those parts of life eluding me still. I keep thinking of the smiling faces and those fucking closet doors, too. That was so long ago. The snow falling outside and me believing those days had become some sort of line dividing where I wanted to be from where I had been. I don't know, really, but the thoughts do not stop sometimes. Days like this are contributing to my diminishing sense of reality and the near-constant requiem looping in my head. I can't fucking help it because I waited and waited for so long. Now here I sit with nothing more than disjointed images... Everything is lacking. Everything. Torment leads to desperation, and that in turn sends me sideways in the extreme. Perhaps today being Sunday can help, though, because I'll have the space and time (plus sunshine, it would appear) to blast my feelings while working. I have to say that what is going on inside has become much worse than anything I can describe here. Just fucking believe me, okay? Bad. Very bad. I thought I learned a lesson some years back, but the fact is after reading some older material this morning I decided that what I wrote years ago is actually hurting me more due to the stark reminders. Yep, another part of life torn away and burning to ash. Ah... There is the guy who appears and carries himself as the diametric opposide of me. Splendid. All the respect in the world for his work, yet now I feel small enough to go outside without opening the fucking door. Didn't need that shit today. I learned much from the universe playing out on the television every day, but I never said all of it was good. Sometimes it cripples me, yet I keep watching regardless of the pain. Memories of all that cannot return. Maybe I deserve such. Smiling faces. More of them than ever before, and I know precisely why. Like ghosts in a mirror, all fuzzy and transparent, they stare back and remind me of those times, the long and short past, in which I felt good while magical situations played out beyond my ability to understand. Now long gone, the ghosts pay no mind. Torment, nearly all of the time. The tiniest detail can unleash a tide of engrams, literally stopping any forward motion in life and forcing me to focus on all that is missing. I end up standing still in the house and staring at the decorations and furniture, bereft of ambition and hope. There may be nothing I can do now or in the future in order to remain upright in any fashion. This is all so very bad. Sometimes I feel I am right where I should be, while other times I simply don't understand why the bad has overtaken my entire life. It's just shit. Monday morning. 0645, cats fed, flags out, third show, coffee. I started the fourth symbol in the garage yesterday, a representation which shall replace the framed poster on the chimney. The drawing was rather a pain in the ass because I had to scale it up, meaning a grid, precision measurements, and eventually the flexible template since I don't have a French curve anymore. After the drawing, I cut out the shape and painstakingly attached it to one side and then the other, translating the pattern to the plywood. So far, all I've accomplished is in pencil. At some point a decision must be made regarding the outer circle, as in whether or not I can place my coded lettering inside and expect it to come out legible. No one ever knew the five words around the circle. Years ago I made my own alphbet in order to display thoughts only I could read, and eventually that language worked its way into my apartment. All that is gone now, yet the legacy has been carrying on and building inside the garage lately. I suppose I'll continue later today if the weather permits. So far, lots of sunshine. 0734 and the morning stuff is out of the way. I am in the quiet with my friends up there. I don't know what may be on tap for the remainder of this day, however. The morning has been peaceful, mostly, yet back there somewhere in my head are the thoughts I wish did not occur so often. Not torment. That one is sporadic. The difficulty lies in the daydreaming and recalling those times when I was actually happy for a while. The morning has been ruined. All I can do now is try to lift myself through housework and the peaceful nature of the atmosphere during the typical weekday when I am alone. I do not like failures, yet my control over those feelings falters every now and again. There seems to be nothing I can do about this situation. Recalling better days is not helping. Soon I'll rise and care for the routine. For now, however, I am stuck here due to the failure driving another nail into my sorry head. There are so many that my brain is beginning to rust during humid mornings. This is not good at all, and I'm sick of it. Unfortunately, my feelings do not matter any longer. No one is listening, and I am beginning to learn that the ears may be gone forever. Nike Missile Site SF-88L, Mill Valley, California, 8-6-11 2:00pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 300mm, f5.6 1/80sec I need to write an entry about battleship eyes, and soon. Yesterday was more positive. All my garbage work went very well, I cleaned out the refrigerator, cared for the routine, and then moved into the garage with wide enough eyes to begin the big drawing. The garage is starting to feel like one big rebellion against all my issues. It is the one place over which I hold absolute control and enjoy complete freedom to do as I please. The darkening mood out there began with the shelving door and then moved right to the area where Emily has been for the last few years. One by one all of the female imagery has disappeared to make room for my shitty mood. The occasions for lighting everything and spending time out there during the evenings are few and far between, partly due to the late sunset this time of year and partly due to the weather. The occasions will return, though, and by that time -- possibly the fourth of July -- the space will appear very intimidating and mysterious. Not since the cave period have I embraced such imagery and worked so much to create that type of mood. The apartment had restrictions, however, and the garage has but one, and that is the fact that we need access to the appliances, pantry, and laundry area. Those are all kept clear these days. My work can continue as I see fit. No one else can hold sway over what I do out there. No one. Hopefully the coming days and nights will demonstrate my penchant for raising questions which are then left unanswered. I'll just smile and wordsmith my way around anything coming out of another person's maw. And if I don't want to hear it, the massive audio system shall respond in kind. I'm glad I made the decision to remove the framed picture and create another symbol no one can understand. Yesterday was only the beginning. 0827 and I still feel weak and crappy. My head is not on straight these days. The girl in the store weeks ago was nothing more than a representation of how weak I've become, not to mention being so desperate that I felt if I could not see more of her I would not survive the day. She had the battleship eyes. Just a person, though. She was a person above all other things and the fault of me needing so badly to look at her is partly mine, yet none of hers. Just a person. I've been driven to this through years of the world being far enough out of balance for me to disregard other people as if they are nothing more than sporadic rocks to be avoided on a dirt path leading nowhere. The diminishing respect I have for people is a part of the reason I watch nearly nothing aside from fictional media. Out of balance, to the nth. This morning I can see her walking across the carpet unknowing of the hellish torment developing inside me and leading to one failure after another. I'll have to step away from this crap very soon. Circles. I am going in circles again. I took a short break from the typing but still feel the same... Broken, empty, depressed. I don't think the routine or anything else will be a problem today, though. There is nothing wrong with having work to do. Anything keeping me busy can be helpful, no doubt. As of yet, I have not pushed the trouble away. I keep seeing the bright eyes and thinking that this is all I have left for the rest of my life. Ambition to tackle anything beyond little projects and my typical work is gone. I just can't get myself to care anymore. Advertisements splayed across my news source keep showing me that decades of careers had the potential to put me in a better, more comfortable situation in life, yet my shit decisions and chasing the most elusive of joy have left me with nearly nothing. By this point in age, the average person is thinking about and working toward a retirement. Me? Nope. There is not one avenue open to me anymore. Oh, I have all the free time in the world and am supported in the same, but the truth is I feel like a needle which began at zero, moved up the scale, and then lost power and dropped back to the stop pin on the left. The needle is now disconnected. The bright eyes force me to think of when I felt the same, so many years ago and during the glow. And then I ruined that, afterward building again into a better place with a future. And then I ruined that, tossed everything into the wind, and ran after temporary bliss. Now? There is no longer bliss. Just the routine, an occasional enjoyable lunch, and whatever I can do in the garage to put people off. I am what time and circumstances have made me. Blame no longer matters. And some people I used to associate with wondered why I drink hard alcohol in the morning. Yeah, okay... Keep wondering. Or just read the last hundred entries, dumb fucks. And that reminds me that I have been disconnected from the bar social circle for more than two months now. I don't feel that I have been missing anything, however, because those people all live and work within a sphere to which they can all relate, have similar interests, and know what to expect from each other, whereas I would sit there losing interest in the conversations and scanning the windows and door for something which may strike me upside the fucking head. Sometimes it happened, other times it did not. But I sat there being a fucking fake artist and wondering why I was so damned different and severely depressed. Well, I put that shit to bed, and the work, too. I was messaged some days ago with a request to inform my old boss if I felt like getting out of the house for a while to help with work. Nope. Nada. I cannot go there at this point in time. I just can't. I have to remain here where I am both safe and alone. Those bar patrons are just fine without me. They were during the first dry spell, anyway. I don't believe my life impacts anything enough for them to be concerned beyond a slight curiosity, honestly. I really don't. Sitting here right now makes me think that being in that circle was too much work and I don't need it anymore. There is already plenty keeping my head busy. And God forbid I have some sort of breakdown and lash out at people who do not deserve it. Not good. Alone is the only way. 'What are you doing on the phone?' 'I'm writing a story.' 'Are you a writer?' 'No... I am a plumber.' That was a few years ago when I used the Documents application on my phone to jot down thoughts while trying to recall my adventures in Nevada and Florida. A friend of mine saw me fervently typing and became curious. He then laughed at my answer. That was pretty funny at the time. Little did I know that the writing would soon take over half of my life, the other half having been reserved for torment and desperation. That part is not funny. 0936 and I have yet to do anything else. Doesn't matter. My schedule is my own. Whatever. I'll get to it. Yesterday I was very productive early in the day due to the garbage work, but today I have no reason to be in a hurry. Third show, still (my extended family and a place I have wanted to live for many years). Tiny bit of coffee left. Alcohol, and soon. 1050. Booze a'flowin. The routine is finished. I don't know whether to sit with this for a while or work in my new 'empire', otherwise known as the garage. And again with the background beauty on the show, damn it all. There is always something to see. Good thing the morning went to shit not long after my quiet time commenced, otherwise the beauty would be more troubling. The process of temporarily erasing the torment causes other problems, though. Shit problems. I never needed a machine more than right fucking now. No one is listening. Maybe I'll sit on this sofa all day with whiskey and chocolate. By close of business I'll be a wreck, but I may not care. Heh. Another lost title. What have I learned? Facts and figures, nothing more. No solutions other than escaping into a dream world (ever expanding, too) and leaving all of reality behind, or at least as much as I have been able. I should buy something enjoyable. Waiting for a parcel to arrive is always exciting. Whiskey and chocolate. I believe I will go out to the empire and work on the drawing, possibly performing some painting, too. There is little reason to remain inside this morning. I have the essential work finished and everything else can wait until such time as my head is righted -- if that is even possible anymore. Mostly righted, I suppose. The empire can be relaxing at times, like yesterday. Oh, the scaling was a pain in the ass, and just when I had paper spread all over my table and work bench, a massive gust of wind came along and relocated everything. I had thought the scaling would be the tough part, yet Mother Nature is not a figure to be trifled. Heh. Anyway, I believe heading out there in a bit will be good for me. I'll report back, likely tomorrow morning. The female shapeshifter is a fucking cunt, yet a great character. Capri Rd., Desert Shores, California, 12-14-10 4:05pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f13 1/640sec Ah... The trip from ten still stirs me enough to include images here. The one above was shot the day we arrived at the Sea and less than a week after I procured the camera, lens and bag. The more time that passes, the more I feel love for that period, believe it or not. We had problems -- mostly my doing, of course -- but the driving and feeling of being all the way in the lens were unreal and unlike anything I had experienced to that point in life. Not a day goes by without some part of me wishing to spin the clock backward all the way to our arrival at my timeshare in Indio. Returning four years ago was amazing, and even the more recent trip appears magical now. I may have to go there a third time just for the nostalgia. Damn. Friday morning, 0702. Flags, cats, coffee, show, whatever. Same things every morning. I try to remain caught up with the conflict in the east and anything else which may affect this house. The early business will be in roughly half an hour, after which I will be in my little world. Yesterday I finised drawing the shield on the back of the chimney and then painted the entire symbol. It looks decent, but needs more. The shield's main component is inside a large circle and is positioned slightly lower than center, meaning there is room above to the left and right for additional symbolism to confound passers by. I will also add a lower canopy to make the lighting more dramatic. Yesterday I also mentioned that the garage will heretofore be known as the 'empire'. I believe the moniker fits. Naming the space now dictates that I must go into slightly more detail when out there working. Each facet of the garage must be gone over again. I don't want anything half-assed. Today's work shall include some planning. For some reason I am really looking forward to the alone time today. I don't feel the morning issues, nor do I see the day as overwhelming, like those times when I look around and see far too much to handle. All I have to do is tackle one item at a time, little more if I feel the need. Mostly I am here to maintain everything and keep the living space and daily life operating smoothly, not necessarily constant home improvement. The projects should be in order of importance, honestly, but sometimes prioritizing takes a back seat to enjoyment, and then things get backed up or out of control. I can't have that these days. There is already enough shit pressing on me. The battleship eyes should have been addressed at the beginning of this entry rather than in their own. Eh... I don't know. They kill me inside sometimes. Almost time for morning business. Afterward I'll probably try to get a head start on the routine so sitting here with the remaining coffee is more comfortable. Not that I ever feel guilty over taking it easy in the morning, it's just that I like to care for some things earlier rather than later, sort of like having lunch into the second half of a workday instead of earlier. More work before lunch and then less after. It's just pushing the reward further out in order to ease the afternoon. No big deal. Also today I need to address a few little nags that I see around the house, like the floor or whatever. Walking by the same problem for days because it is not pressing is not a crime, just kind of lazy. I've been trying to hit some of those recently to feel accomplished. So far, it's working a little. 0802. Alone for the duration. The day is wide open. For a few minutes while I cared for the morning responsibilities, there was an inkling of thought and worry, thankfully only for a short period. I do not understand such occurrences, even after years of fucking analysis. It's gone now, but I honestly have no clue as to from where the thinking stemmed, nor why. This is the type of shit that irritates me to no end. A regular morning -- and one in which I feel decent and the time seems wide-open to whatever I wish to do -- and then all of a sudden the unexpected feelings surface right out of the clear, blue fucking sky. Thank Christ it disappeared soon after or I would be in a much worse mood right now. I can't have a repeat of yesterday. No good. Looks like I have to drive to the big wine store later. Ugh. I usually go to the pet supply next door while making such a trip, but this time I don't need anything. One stop, I guess, and hopefully there are no pants. While in the garage painting, the disturbing dream and related imagery came up in my mind due to a pair of legs walking by on the other side of the street. This is beginning to worry me, honestly. I can't describe what took place in the dream, nor the processes in my head. Some feelings simply MUST be left out of this content or the backlash could be severe. I've caught enough shit in the past to know better. I suppose that is a positive, yet the truth is the feelings are there and the dream took place. It was bad. I knew immediately after awakening. Yesterday the legs dredged up the dream and forced me to really concentrate on the work. The store represents a massive lack of control on my part because it is a public place and anyone may enter to shop. The only saving throw versus exposure is to remain home all of the time. Not a practical situation, that one. Sometimes I must go out in order to maintain the smooth operation of this house. Today's shopping trip was my idea to help. Every time I get the idea to go over there I recall the gray pants moving about the store and the fact that I adjusted my route in order to see as much as possible. What does that make me? I was only looking at a form, not thinking anything more dramatic or questionable. Radii, movements, musculature, and numbers. Phantom numbers, of course, but they were there nonetheless. The girl in the eyeglass store was a completely different story and I'd rather not go into what played out in my mind. Well, you probably know already. Still... I believe at least in part that my thinking is not all bad. The reason is I only THINK and WRITE rather than anything further. I am not a monster, just a severely depressed and lonely individual. If there were laws against that, my sentence would never end. I'll go to the wine merchant, grab what I need, and haul ass back here. If something is there, well... Then something is there. I can't do anything about it. 0904. I'd like to have the routine finished before shopping. I've become worse over the last few years, and can only expect to worsen more in the future. Nothing can be done about how I feel because the dreams continue to swirl inside more and more, and the more days which fly by only cement everything over which I agonize. I can't even imagine how I will think or feel a year or more from now. The desperation is already overwhelming. Reminders are cutting. The past glows more than ever before. Forms appear even more desirable than a mere year back. This is disheartening and fucking ridiculous. Helicopter rotors overhead right now, a la turbine. Maybe one of them will crash on top of my car on the highway. Eh... Just the Coast Guard. A daily thing this close to the ocean. Damn, this situation is not something I could have pictured a decade ago. And I thought the cave period was tough? That was not entirely my fault. There was a carrot. I was the horse. Fuck that whole year, anyway. I hate that I lived it. But I did. What a dumb fuck I was. Big fucking surprise I drink so much. Wine store... Definitely. I've learned nothing. There are 324 essays on the server, only ten of which are not published. Despite all of this, I am worse now than ever in my life. Fuck you. Shut up. 1047 and the routine is finished. I have a load of dry cleaning, but will wait until later if I am working on the empire in order to keep an eye on the dryer. I don't want anything wrinkling. Heh. Third show still on, half a glass of whiskey remaining, cats asleep, and I keep thinking about the trip to the wine store. I'll go, I just don't know when. That place is never busy during business hours on a weekday. The upside is returning home afterward. That always feels really good. I need to be here as much as possible to minimize possible strikes and issues. Exposure, too. Society is a giant machine bent upon entertainment and I have no wish to be in the middle of it for very long. I can count on one hand the number of occasions finding me out to lunch at a bar/restaurant, something for which I used to long. After all this time -- the pandemic notwithstanding -- I am apprehensive, to say the least. Maybe one of these days I will travel to the old stomping ground and sink into the bar atmosphere for a long lunch and thinking session. The absence of the big electronics stores is a huge void in me. Whenever I went across the bridge for lunch, the trip was typically planned around a visit to one of the key locations within the center of my universe. One less reason to drive an hour from home. I miss those stores so badly that nothing has been able to fill the hole. Learned... A word which applies to me as related to only the technical aspects of my brain. And this entry has become long enough. Her."
Learned
Mature content No. 312 Published May 10th, 2022 10:55am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"The days are becoming longer and longer as we head toward the solstice. I don't like it, but at least the mercury does not get out of control like in the valleys of the past. 1132. The routine is finished, I went shopping and showered. Laundry is running. There is but one positive right now, yet still a negative state of affairs, and that is the fact that the alcohol has successfully suppressed those oft out of control feelings during the morning. The third show is now into November of 1994, bringing an onslaught of mixed feelings. Not about the show, just the period. Friday morning and the business is finished. I have all the time to myself now. Unfortunately, so much has been said here (albeit very unclear with regard to meaning) that I am going to withdraw from the writing until such time as there is something different to report. The morning is like all others. The day will be like all others. My thinking has not changed. 1054 and my routine plus dry cleaning are finished. I will probably still do some laundry, though. Maybe later. Third show, big glass of vodka (decent vodka, that is), cats asleep. The weather is quite warm today, even with variable cloudiness up there. I don't know what else I will do today besides the laundry. I've been going through older images to include here, leading me to the idea of selling some on Adobe Stock. That could result in nothing or something. Too bad I never had the chance to capture what I REALLY needed. Eh, I don't expect anything good to happen in my life anyway. Whatever. If I join that community I will probably just fall down again. I ordered a second latch for the shelving door because the plywood is so fucking warped that it looks like shit from the side. Ever since I added the lower canopy for lighting and to flatten the door horizontally, the right side saw fit to adjust and warp more than before. Ugh. Well, the lower latch will solve that problem. Kasidy is boring to see and hear, whereas Jennifer is fucking stunning and fascinating. Anyway, this day may go somewhere. I just don't know where or when. I may just relax a while before attempting anything else. Going through the images and digital negatives, seeing folders of files segregated for the photo club, and recalling those reckless, insane days just after I moved to the coast from the valley have me humbled to the nth. My camera was very important to me back then, but now? It's a universe unparalleled in life. Some sadness, some joy back then. I actually miss the person walking next to me eleven years ago. And I miss the freedom. Ooh-fa, I hope the sum of memories and vodka don't send me down the rabbit hole. This period swings from one side of the circle to the other so quickly that I can barely keep up. Ugh. Jennifer is so pretty. All over the place today, my head. The daily torment did not arrive this morning. I wish I knew why those claws remained retracted today. As usual, there are no answers to my questions, only the knowlege that I know of a part of the genesis. Nothing more. The tide of my head moves whichever way and for whatever reasons. There is still no understanding, though. This day has moved along very slowly. The dry cleaning is finished, but I still have not decided if I want to wash a load of clothes. My brain is flip-flopping between so many subjects that I don't know which way to turn. The garage has a couple of items awaiting attention, the inside of the house has a long list of projects sitting idle, and my head continues to run along the side of the road rather than allowing me to grab the wheel and steer the time into production. I just don't know if I can do anything significant today. The shackles of depression have grabbed hold and the key eludes. Oy gawd is Jennifer tall and gorgeous. Just a hint of a smile and I melt inside. That reminds me of yesterday... While sitting here spinning my wheels and trying to remain updated on the eastern conflict, I thought of searching for images from the production of the third show for reasons of loving it but never having done such a thing before. Well, I ran across a huge image of some cast and crew members, leading me to the link from where it originated. I discovered an unexpected video of a retrospective that had been produced just a few years ago, a film previously unknown to me. I now have it saved on one of the streaming channels. The two-hour documentary is fascinating, so I began to watch just after lunch. Within moments of the opening sequence, my eyes began to tear up, and I quickly realized I should savor it and learn a bit first. My love for this show hit a peak just a few episodes back. Damn. And believe me... It's not the fact that it premiered during the late glow. My emotion stems from the series itself and all of the stories and characters. They have joined the big family in my head. This is a very unfortunate situation, for sure. An additional world in my eyes will only push reality further away. 0648 on Saturday morning. I had my garage lit last night for an hour or so. It just seemed like the thing to do because I added an old song from the glow to my phone and played it out there at low volume. Afterward, the lights came up just for added effect. The mood did not last long, however, because I had been watching an excellent two-part episode and needed to finish. I still have more I'd like to do out there, too. The timing doesn't matter due to no holidays or other reasons for a shindig for some months. I'll have to make my own schedule and then light up the night when appropriate. Two occasions are in the future and will probably necessitate creating a mood. Otherwise, I'll keep things in daytime or 'normal' mode. I am always considering the appearance of the garage and anything that can be done for improvement, or at least ways to bring a smile to my face. Not easy, that last one. In a few minutes I need to take care of the morning business, after which I'll probably sit with this for a while longer before the routine. Going through the images yesterday jammed a bunch of memories into my head, and thus forced a dream this morning. I am fairly certain that the image search prompted the dream and landscape within. There was also a character from the vampire show trying to help me in the kitchen of a travel trailer. I cannot explain his presence, though. I'll get to the rest soon enough.
Niland, California, 12-18-10 4:04pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 85mm, f8 1/250sec
I created a situation which became a problem. I did it knowing full well of the risk, yet the actual damage occurred not within others, but rather inside me. I created the situation and learned quite a bit regardless of the oft-troubling days and weeks involved. The entire shitaree accomplished nothing more than to create a massive, nearly unlivable delay prior to whatever may come next. Dark future. I learned, yet the lesson is now meaningless due to my penchant for reckless behavior and desperate actions when faced with anything even remotely tough. This is not a positive realization by any stretch. I knew what I was doing and why. That is a good portion of the reason for this current, fucking shit situation. And the other one... I know why I did that, too. From one place to another, and for some of the reasoning I thought had been important, soon after falling down and losing all that I had built for eleven years. But I knew what I was doing. Both situations were created -- and don't fool yourself, those are not the only two -- by yours truly, and both turned to shit very quickly. I knew they would. I always know. No one else knew or knows, for sure. They just move along thinking one thing while my brain is recalling the previous scrape just to prepare for another. Scrapes. Situations. Whatever. I don't need to worry about that kind of crap anymore. No one will want to be near me for more than a few seconds. I've done all sorts of stupid things. Don't even get me going with the shit from the eighties that STILL remains a mystery to anyone I've known throughout the last decade. That's a big one, yet in the long run probably doesn't fucking matter... Just like everything else in life. I tried this, I tried that, I spoke to them, I spoke to the others, and in the end I am still nothing more than a frightened pile of shit. Why don't you sit there and compose a nice message to me and explain what I am supposed to do next? Sound reasonable? People always seem to know the right answers because apparently they are wiser than those other people, right? Go for it. I would absolutely LOVE IT if you try. Kasidy has got some fantastic teeth. She may be boring, but the teeth cannot be denied. 0825 and my mood has gone to shit. I don't care, honestly, because I'm alone. And nothing ever changes as a result of my mood, anyway. Consistency, always. What the fuck matters here? Yes, I learned some things, however the massive and unrelenting pull upon my psyche has completely disallowed any improvement. Some is my fault (weakness) while the rest is not (trauma). I suppose the idea that I've been engaged in a fruitless search dating all the way back to the mid-nineties is not far off the mark. I cannot deny that first impulse when I was working for the fruit market in the Midwest. I really have no saving throw against such a thought. That period was up and down, mostly due to fear. The search existed long before seeing Marci or any other example of the obsession, partly because of a need I cannot spell out here, unfortunately. That goes along with the shit from the eighties of which no one is aware. But I still learned. Stability suffered, trust went up in flames, yet I learned. The next segment of my life would demonstrate that the impulse many years earlier could repeat given the proper circumstances. None of this will make sense to anyone aside from myself. I believe my difficulty in engaging in anything productive lately is directly related to -- or possibly solely caused by -- those actions and decisions I carried out coming back and haunting me. Sometimes getting up and moving around is so difficult that I cannot help but see those ghosts at fault. A good portion of my ruin is born of my own actions. And yes, before you draw a conclusion, I do feel a ton of remorse. Happy? My mood is heading south even while sipping the last of the coffee. This is unusual and has not been the result of the writing. The dream this morning was a situation in which three of us were in the desert due to fleeing the metropolitan areas in order to survive something. We were out there planning and preparing, all the while running some sort of campsite we had set up. A very strange individual showed up and began cooking and asking me to assist in preparing food for all of us. He was weird enough to keep me away, so I headed into a travel trailer to help with our own meal. Terry was there -- likely the result of years of watching him in the kitchen on the vampire show -- giving me instruction on cooking some chicken. The trailer was surreal and nothing was clear at all, not even his face, yet I knew the person. We had weapons and materials for remaining safe and away from society for a long time, possibly even months. The dream may have grown from reading news of the conflict in the east. My head sometimes goes over the possibility of war expanding into NATO and forcing us to escalate preparations for a very bad situation. This is contributing to my diminishing mood lately, not just the other, more personal issues. The combination makes it difficult for me to smile or laugh these days. I am still learning. 'The day we stop learning is the day we die.' You may have heard that same sentiment employing the word 'looking', but I am not going to comment on something which has already ruined my life. 0922 and time to work. 1024 and the routine is finished. I have an idea to relocate the main switched power for the garage color to the back of my table. That will make any future additions much easier to implement. In addition, I'll be able to monitor the power consumption more closely just in case it begins to get out of control. So far, and with eleven different points of connection and everything lit, the draw is no more than an ordinary sixty-watt incandescent light bulb. Heh. The technology has opened doors beyond belief. Anyway, I'll have to visit the hardware for some staples, but nothing crazy. Just a few items. I already have more than enough flex to expand the system quite a bit. Nice. By summer the garage should appear insane. Susanna is one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes upon. The more I see her, the more such a fact is cemented. Even as the arch nemesis of every race in the galaxy, she is fucking stunning. The episode which just aired is the ideal example of her eyes moving close to the head of the line (just behind Jamie, of course). Even Jolene's huge eyes are but third in the order. I've seen Susanna on screen for many years, and as time passes I find more appreciation for her face. Unbelievable, really. Just fucking unreal. But I digress, like always. I have more fucking love for this show than I have for actual people. Believe it. My own universe in which no one else is allowed, and not a soul on the planet knows why. Shut up. Let me be who I need. Vodka again. Good vodka. Not a day has gone by in the last year without me having a drink mid-morning. Do I have a problem? I don't feel as such, but allow me to relay part of a conversation with my doctor some time ago... Angelina: 'Do you drink alcohol?' Me: 'Every day.' Angelina: 'How much?' Me: 'Likely whatever is recommended for the average person over a week's time.' Angelina: 'Are you an alcoholic?' Me: 'Probably.' At the time, I had exhibited surprise that my blood pressure was normal. When asked why, I replied with the word 'alcohol' before the nurse suggested salt was a cause for elevated readings. Oops. I should have kept my mouth shut, but whatever. She recorded the information for my doctor, hence the conversation. I made sure Angelina understood that recommending I cease the few parts of life I actually enjoy was not a good idea. She resigned herself to the fact that I was not to be reasoned with, no matter what health effects she could describe. That was the end of that. Want to hear something nuts? I had the hots for that gorgeous woman. Surprised? Shut up. All I learned from her was that I had been living in a very reckless manner. In fact, after having blood drawn that same morning on an empty stomach (and passing out), she instructed me to eat something. Well, I drove nearly the hour back toward home and slid into one of my favorite restaurant/bar combinations where I proceeded to consume one salad and three cocktails. Such is me.
Powell St. Station, San Francisco, California, 6-25-11 5:24pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f3.5 1/10sec
0700 on Sunday morning. This is becoming one of my favorite days of the week. I don't know why, but perhaps the schedule of my usual routine combined with the garbage has something to do with it. Maybe. I actually enjoy maintaining some order while dealing with the garbage. Is it control? Probably, but in more than one manner. The cans are dealt with my own way, just like the organization of the garage. Hmm... Control has to be it, but at least I know this. I suppose at this point in my life, anything over which I can hold control is helpful. During those days when I feel small, the controlling nature of my routine and other projects helps to bring a sense of order, and through such a feeling can come power. Not much, but some. Same with what has been developing in the garage. It's my small slice of the world and a clear demonstration of my disgust with society. If all of that boils down to the idea that I enjoy the Sunday schedule, so be it. Anything, these days. I've learned that the time spent alone and in control of the house can keep me balanced until the evening comes along. During the documentary yesterday afternoon I saw one of the cast members on stage at a convention. I believe it was some years ago judging by the ages. Well, the instinct and torment kicked in as soon as the camera swung around her end of the stage. She is petite, much like the girl at the store more than a week ago. Same legs, too. The woman on stage stood there with feet together and the entire image was lined just like those dramatic examples of mathematical convolution from the past which always sent me into a tailspin. Some forms are quite overwhelming while others are less so, and on the stage was a woman heading toward the highest order. During the few seconds while her shape was visible, my head traveled from the very emotional state of watching such a good retrospective all the way across the spectrum to where I live on a daily basis... A dark, desperate, depressive cavern stuffed with memories of everything permanently absent in my world. Once again, I became angry for a short time before regaining my composure and moving on with the evening. Soon enough, the booze was gone and I went to lie down, hopefully without thoughts of legs or anything else. Well, mostly, I suppose. There is always something going wrong. This morning I'm still a bit angry, though. I can push it back until my alone time and then react accordingly. Her shape while standing on that stage was a reminder, nothing more. And believe me, I recall every detail of everyone. My cabinet latch arrived yesterday. I'll probably slap it into the door later today when everything is in full swing. The wood being so warped is very irritating, especially considering the amount of effort I've put into the door and both canopies. Soon, though, nice and flat. I'd also like to shore up some areas where the storage has been lacking. Nothing crazy. While out there I'll try to maximize the garbage. Sunday is also the day I go through the refrigerator and remove any possible science experiments hiding toward the back or in the drawers. Once the routine begins, I generally work on the fridge and the rest of the kitchen at the same time. I like to make sure whatever needs to go away ends up at the curb by evening. This is all so very exciting. Third show again, and the subject of the documentary yesterday. It was very good, too. Emotional, mostly due to my feelings for the franchise and the fact that the world has lost many of those talents after all these years. I wish I could tell them what they've done for me. Anyway, I'll be watching this through to its conclusion and then switch to something else, as always. Ugh, the shit in my head. What was there, all I left behind, and those parts of life eluding me still. I keep thinking of the smiling faces and those fucking closet doors, too. That was so long ago. The snow falling outside and me believing those days had become some sort of line dividing where I wanted to be from where I had been. I don't know, really, but the thoughts do not stop sometimes. Days like this are contributing to my diminishing sense of reality and the near-constant requiem looping in my head. I can't fucking help it because I waited and waited for so long. Now here I sit with nothing more than disjointed images... Everything is lacking. Everything. Torment leads to desperation, and that in turn sends me sideways in the extreme. Perhaps today being Sunday can help, though, because I'll have the space and time (plus sunshine, it would appear) to blast my feelings while working. I have to say that what is going on inside has become much worse than anything I can describe here. Just fucking believe me, okay? Bad. Very bad. I thought I learned a lesson some years back, but the fact is after reading some older material this morning I decided that what I wrote years ago is actually hurting me more due to the stark reminders. Yep, another part of life torn away and burning to ash. Ah... There is the guy who appears and carries himself as the diametric opposide of me. Splendid. All the respect in the world for his work, yet now I feel small enough to go outside without opening the fucking door. Didn't need that shit today. I learned much from the universe playing out on the television every day, but I never said all of it was good. Sometimes it cripples me, yet I keep watching regardless of the pain. Memories of all that cannot return. Maybe I deserve such. Smiling faces. More of them than ever before, and I know precisely why. Like ghosts in a mirror, all fuzzy and transparent, they stare back and remind me of those times, the long and short past, in which I felt good while magical situations played out beyond my ability to understand. Now long gone, the ghosts pay no mind. Torment, nearly all of the time. The tiniest detail can unleash a tide of engrams, literally stopping any forward motion in life and forcing me to focus on all that is missing. I end up standing still in the house and staring at the decorations and furniture, bereft of ambition and hope. There may be nothing I can do now or in the future in order to remain upright in any fashion. This is all so very bad. Sometimes I feel I am right where I should be, while other times I simply don't understand why the bad has overtaken my entire life. It's just shit. Monday morning. 0645, cats fed, flags out, third show, coffee. I started the fourth symbol in the garage yesterday, a representation which shall replace the framed poster on the chimney. The drawing was rather a pain in the ass because I had to scale it up, meaning a grid, precision measurements, and eventually the flexible template since I don't have a French curve anymore. After the drawing, I cut out the shape and painstakingly attached it to one side and then the other, translating the pattern to the plywood. So far, all I've accomplished is in pencil. At some point a decision must be made regarding the outer circle, as in whether or not I can place my coded lettering inside and expect it to come out legible. No one ever knew the five words around the circle. Years ago I made my own alphbet in order to display thoughts only I could read, and eventually that language worked its way into my apartment. All that is gone now, yet the legacy has been carrying on and building inside the garage lately. I suppose I'll continue later today if the weather permits. So far, lots of sunshine. 0734 and the morning stuff is out of the way. I am in the quiet with my friends up there. I don't know what may be on tap for the remainder of this day, however. The morning has been peaceful, mostly, yet back there somewhere in my head are the thoughts I wish did not occur so often. Not torment. That one is sporadic. The difficulty lies in the daydreaming and recalling those times when I was actually happy for a while. The morning has been ruined. All I can do now is try to lift myself through housework and the peaceful nature of the atmosphere during the typical weekday when I am alone. I do not like failures, yet my control over those feelings falters every now and again. There seems to be nothing I can do about this situation. Recalling better days is not helping. Soon I'll rise and care for the routine. For now, however, I am stuck here due to the failure driving another nail into my sorry head. There are so many that my brain is beginning to rust during humid mornings. This is not good at all, and I'm sick of it. Unfortunately, my feelings do not matter any longer. No one is listening, and I am beginning to learn that the ears may be gone forever.
Nike Missile Site SF-88L, Mill Valley, California, 8-6-11 2:00pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 300mm, f5.6 1/80sec
I need to write an entry about battleship eyes, and soon. Yesterday was more positive. All my garbage work went very well, I cleaned out the refrigerator, cared for the routine, and then moved into the garage with wide enough eyes to begin the big drawing. The garage is starting to feel like one big rebellion against all my issues. It is the one place over which I hold absolute control and enjoy complete freedom to do as I please. The darkening mood out there began with the shelving door and then moved right to the area where Emily has been for the last few years. One by one all of the female imagery has disappeared to make room for my shitty mood. The occasions for lighting everything and spending time out there during the evenings are few and far between, partly due to the late sunset this time of year and partly due to the weather. The occasions will return, though, and by that time -- possibly the fourth of July -- the space will appear very intimidating and mysterious. Not since the cave period have I embraced such imagery and worked so much to create that type of mood. The apartment had restrictions, however, and the garage has but one, and that is the fact that we need access to the appliances, pantry, and laundry area. Those are all kept clear these days. My work can continue as I see fit. No one else can hold sway over what I do out there. No one. Hopefully the coming days and nights will demonstrate my penchant for raising questions which are then left unanswered. I'll just smile and wordsmith my way around anything coming out of another person's maw. And if I don't want to hear it, the massive audio system shall respond in kind. I'm glad I made the decision to remove the framed picture and create another symbol no one can understand. Yesterday was only the beginning. 0827 and I still feel weak and crappy. My head is not on straight these days. The girl in the store weeks ago was nothing more than a representation of how weak I've become, not to mention being so desperate that I felt if I could not see more of her I would not survive the day. She had the battleship eyes. Just a person, though. She was a person above all other things and the fault of me needing so badly to look at her is partly mine, yet none of hers. Just a person. I've been driven to this through years of the world being far enough out of balance for me to disregard other people as if they are nothing more than sporadic rocks to be avoided on a dirt path leading nowhere. The diminishing respect I have for people is a part of the reason I watch nearly nothing aside from fictional media. Out of balance, to the nth. This morning I can see her walking across the carpet unknowing of the hellish torment developing inside me and leading to one failure after another. I'll have to step away from this crap very soon. Circles. I am going in circles again. I took a short break from the typing but still feel the same... Broken, empty, depressed. I don't think the routine or anything else will be a problem today, though. There is nothing wrong with having work to do. Anything keeping me busy can be helpful, no doubt. As of yet, I have not pushed the trouble away. I keep seeing the bright eyes and thinking that this is all I have left for the rest of my life. Ambition to tackle anything beyond little projects and my typical work is gone. I just can't get myself to care anymore. Advertisements splayed across my news source keep showing me that decades of careers had the potential to put me in a better, more comfortable situation in life, yet my shit decisions and chasing the most elusive of joy have left me with nearly nothing. By this point in age, the average person is thinking about and working toward a retirement. Me? Nope. There is not one avenue open to me anymore. Oh, I have all the free time in the world and am supported in the same, but the truth is I feel like a needle which began at zero, moved up the scale, and then lost power and dropped back to the stop pin on the left. The needle is now disconnected. The bright eyes force me to think of when I felt the same, so many years ago and during the glow. And then I ruined that, afterward building again into a better place with a future. And then I ruined that, tossed everything into the wind, and ran after temporary bliss. Now? There is no longer bliss. Just the routine, an occasional enjoyable lunch, and whatever I can do in the garage to put people off. I am what time and circumstances have made me. Blame no longer matters. And some people I used to associate with wondered why I drink hard alcohol in the morning. Yeah, okay... Keep wondering. Or just read the last hundred entries, dumb fucks. And that reminds me that I have been disconnected from the bar social circle for more than two months now. I don't feel that I have been missing anything, however, because those people all live and work within a sphere to which they can all relate, have similar interests, and know what to expect from each other, whereas I would sit there losing interest in the conversations and scanning the windows and door for something which may strike me upside the fucking head. Sometimes it happened, other times it did not. But I sat there being a fucking fake artist and wondering why I was so damned different and severely depressed. Well, I put that shit to bed, and the work, too. I was messaged some days ago with a request to inform my old boss if I felt like getting out of the house for a while to help with work. Nope. Nada. I cannot go there at this point in time. I just can't. I have to remain here where I am both safe and alone. Those bar patrons are just fine without me. They were during the first dry spell, anyway. I don't believe my life impacts anything enough for them to be concerned beyond a slight curiosity, honestly. I really don't. Sitting here right now makes me think that being in that circle was too much work and I don't need it anymore. There is already plenty keeping my head busy. And God forbid I have some sort of breakdown and lash out at people who do not deserve it. Not good. Alone is the only way. 'What are you doing on the phone?' 'I'm writing a story.' 'Are you a writer?' 'No... I am a plumber.' That was a few years ago when I used the Documents application on my phone to jot down thoughts while trying to recall my adventures in Nevada and Florida. A friend of mine saw me fervently typing and became curious. He then laughed at my answer. That was pretty funny at the time. Little did I know that the writing would soon take over half of my life, the other half having been reserved for torment and desperation. That part is not funny. 0936 and I have yet to do anything else. Doesn't matter. My schedule is my own. Whatever. I'll get to it. Yesterday I was very productive early in the day due to the garbage work, but today I have no reason to be in a hurry. Third show, still (my extended family and a place I have wanted to live for many years). Tiny bit of coffee left. Alcohol, and soon. 1050. Booze a'flowin. The routine is finished. I don't know whether to sit with this for a while or work in my new 'empire', otherwise known as the garage. And again with the background beauty on the show, damn it all. There is always something to see. Good thing the morning went to shit not long after my quiet time commenced, otherwise the beauty would be more troubling. The process of temporarily erasing the torment causes other problems, though. Shit problems. I never needed a machine more than right fucking now. No one is listening. Maybe I'll sit on this sofa all day with whiskey and chocolate. By close of business I'll be a wreck, but I may not care. Heh. Another lost title. What have I learned? Facts and figures, nothing more. No solutions other than escaping into a dream world (ever expanding, too) and leaving all of reality behind, or at least as much as I have been able. I should buy something enjoyable. Waiting for a parcel to arrive is always exciting. Whiskey and chocolate. I believe I will go out to the empire and work on the drawing, possibly performing some painting, too. There is little reason to remain inside this morning. I have the essential work finished and everything else can wait until such time as my head is righted -- if that is even possible anymore. Mostly righted, I suppose. The empire can be relaxing at times, like yesterday. Oh, the scaling was a pain in the ass, and just when I had paper spread all over my table and work bench, a massive gust of wind came along and relocated everything. I had thought the scaling would be the tough part, yet Mother Nature is not a figure to be trifled. Heh. Anyway, I believe heading out there in a bit will be good for me. I'll report back, likely tomorrow morning. The female shapeshifter is a fucking cunt, yet a great character.
Capri Rd., Desert Shores, California, 12-14-10 4:05pm Nikon D700 + 28-300 at 28mm, f13 1/640sec
Ah... The trip from ten still stirs me enough to include images here. The one above was shot the day we arrived at the Sea and less than a week after I procured the camera, lens and bag. The more time that passes, the more I feel love for that period, believe it or not. We had problems -- mostly my doing, of course -- but the driving and feeling of being all the way in the lens were unreal and unlike anything I had experienced to that point in life. Not a day goes by without some part of me wishing to spin the clock backward all the way to our arrival at my timeshare in Indio. Returning four years ago was amazing, and even the more recent trip appears magical now. I may have to go there a third time just for the nostalgia. Damn. Friday morning, 0702. Flags, cats, coffee, show, whatever. Same things every morning. I try to remain caught up with the conflict in the east and anything else which may affect this house. The early business will be in roughly half an hour, after which I will be in my little world. Yesterday I finised drawing the shield on the back of the chimney and then painted the entire symbol. It looks decent, but needs more. The shield's main component is inside a large circle and is positioned slightly lower than center, meaning there is room above to the left and right for additional symbolism to confound passers by. I will also add a lower canopy to make the lighting more dramatic. Yesterday I also mentioned that the garage will heretofore be known as the 'empire'. I believe the moniker fits. Naming the space now dictates that I must go into slightly more detail when out there working. Each facet of the garage must be gone over again. I don't want anything half-assed. Today's work shall include some planning. For some reason I am really looking forward to the alone time today. I don't feel the morning issues, nor do I see the day as overwhelming, like those times when I look around and see far too much to handle. All I have to do is tackle one item at a time, little more if I feel the need. Mostly I am here to maintain everything and keep the living space and daily life operating smoothly, not necessarily constant home improvement. The projects should be in order of importance, honestly, but sometimes prioritizing takes a back seat to enjoyment, and then things get backed up or out of control. I can't have that these days. There is already enough shit pressing on me. The battleship eyes should have been addressed at the beginning of this entry rather than in their own. Eh... I don't know. They kill me inside sometimes. Almost time for morning business. Afterward I'll probably try to get a head start on the routine so sitting here with the remaining coffee is more comfortable. Not that I ever feel guilty over taking it easy in the morning, it's just that I like to care for some things earlier rather than later, sort of like having lunch into the second half of a workday instead of earlier. More work before lunch and then less after. It's just pushing the reward further out in order to ease the afternoon. No big deal. Also today I need to address a few little nags that I see around the house, like the floor or whatever. Walking by the same problem for days because it is not pressing is not a crime, just kind of lazy. I've been trying to hit some of those recently to feel accomplished. So far, it's working a little. 0802. Alone for the duration. The day is wide open. For a few minutes while I cared for the morning responsibilities, there was an inkling of thought and worry, thankfully only for a short period. I do not understand such occurrences, even after years of fucking analysis. It's gone now, but I honestly have no clue as to from where the thinking stemmed, nor why. This is the type of shit that irritates me to no end. A regular morning -- and one in which I feel decent and the time seems wide-open to whatever I wish to do -- and then all of a sudden the unexpected feelings surface right out of the clear, blue fucking sky. Thank Christ it disappeared soon after or I would be in a much worse mood right now. I can't have a repeat of yesterday. No good. Looks like I have to drive to the big wine store later. Ugh. I usually go to the pet supply next door while making such a trip, but this time I don't need anything. One stop, I guess, and hopefully there are no pants. While in the garage painting, the disturbing dream and related imagery came up in my mind due to a pair of legs walking by on the other side of the street. This is beginning to worry me, honestly. I can't describe what took place in the dream, nor the processes in my head. Some feelings simply MUST be left out of this content or the backlash could be severe. I've caught enough shit in the past to know better. I suppose that is a positive, yet the truth is the feelings are there and the dream took place. It was bad. I knew immediately after awakening. Yesterday the legs dredged up the dream and forced me to really concentrate on the work. The store represents a massive lack of control on my part because it is a public place and anyone may enter to shop. The only saving throw versus exposure is to remain home all of the time. Not a practical situation, that one. Sometimes I must go out in order to maintain the smooth operation of this house. Today's shopping trip was my idea to help. Every time I get the idea to go over there I recall the gray pants moving about the store and the fact that I adjusted my route in order to see as much as possible. What does that make me? I was only looking at a form, not thinking anything more dramatic or questionable. Radii, movements, musculature, and numbers. Phantom numbers, of course, but they were there nonetheless. The girl in the eyeglass store was a completely different story and I'd rather not go into what played out in my mind. Well, you probably know already. Still... I believe at least in part that my thinking is not all bad. The reason is I only THINK and WRITE rather than anything further. I am not a monster, just a severely depressed and lonely individual. If there were laws against that, my sentence would never end. I'll go to the wine merchant, grab what I need, and haul ass back here. If something is there, well... Then something is there. I can't do anything about it. 0904. I'd like to have the routine finished before shopping. I've become worse over the last few years, and can only expect to worsen more in the future. Nothing can be done about how I feel because the dreams continue to swirl inside more and more, and the more days which fly by only cement everything over which I agonize. I can't even imagine how I will think or feel a year or more from now. The desperation is already overwhelming. Reminders are cutting. The past glows more than ever before. Forms appear even more desirable than a mere year back. This is disheartening and fucking ridiculous. Helicopter rotors overhead right now, a la turbine. Maybe one of them will crash on top of my car on the highway. Eh... Just the Coast Guard. A daily thing this close to the ocean. Damn, this situation is not something I could have pictured a decade ago. And I thought the cave period was tough? That was not entirely my fault. There was a carrot. I was the horse. Fuck that whole year, anyway. I hate that I lived it. But I did. What a dumb fuck I was. Big fucking surprise I drink so much. Wine store... Definitely. I've learned nothing. There are 324 essays on the server, only ten of which are not published. Despite all of this, I am worse now than ever in my life. Fuck you. Shut up. 1047 and the routine is finished. I have a load of dry cleaning, but will wait until later if I am working on the empire in order to keep an eye on the dryer. I don't want anything wrinkling. Heh. Third show still on, half a glass of whiskey remaining, cats asleep, and I keep thinking about the trip to the wine store. I'll go, I just don't know when. That place is never busy during business hours on a weekday. The upside is returning home afterward. That always feels really good. I need to be here as much as possible to minimize possible strikes and issues. Exposure, too. Society is a giant machine bent upon entertainment and I have no wish to be in the middle of it for very long. I can count on one hand the number of occasions finding me out to lunch at a bar/restaurant, something for which I used to long. After all this time -- the pandemic notwithstanding -- I am apprehensive, to say the least. Maybe one of these days I will travel to the old stomping ground and sink into the bar atmosphere for a long lunch and thinking session. The absence of the big electronics stores is a huge void in me. Whenever I went across the bridge for lunch, the trip was typically planned around a visit to one of the key locations within the center of my universe. One less reason to drive an hour from home. I miss those stores so badly that nothing has been able to fill the hole. Learned... A word which applies to me as related to only the technical aspects of my brain. And this entry has become long enough. Her."
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