The Lion, the Angels and the Whelp Mature content No. 315 Published read ( words) Past entries "Tuesday, 0649, coffee, flags, cat food, Jolene in her silk pajamas a moment ago. Little too much this early in the morning. There are so many subtle differences between the first and third seasons with regard to her body language and facial expressions that my head is still trying to process an episode viewed more than a year ago. Believe it. Dinner yesterday went fine. I thought there was going to end up a huge debate about the eastern conflict but I helped to defuse and calm the situation prior to any drama. That probably wouldn't have gone far, anyway, so I was not overly concerned. Just a few hours across town and then home again. I was very happy to be back in my little element. Not much took place afterward. No issues. The one lingering issue is something impossible, yet I cannot get it out of my head. A hypothetical situation that could not come to pass in a million years, and one which came up toward the trailing end of the previous entry... The fact that I would be completely worthless, weaker in character than ever in my life, and likely completely dependent upon the mere idea of being near an example of the obsession. It happened some years ago, too, so I know the gravity of the issue. She was the lion and I the whelp... Worthless, bumbling, babbling little animal hung up upon her every word and willing to take the entire world and turn in upside down for five minutes of 'possible' affection. And I did. I proved to the world that I could not be trusted to tell the truth or carry out any promise without the likely disruption of life at a moment's notice. Any time, any possible meeting, or any hint of something I needed as desperately as drawing breath. A weak, worthless product of decades of being disregarded and not taken seriously came to a head and I caused all manner of destruction over a wide theatre of pain. Sitting here right now? I still do not like what I had become, yet the truth is I've learned some. That was the fourth incarnation, but not the last. I learned enough to avoid destruction later on. But the underlying issue is as strong as it ever was and I am weaker than I've been in many years. I should have done just one of any number of things differently, but I didn't. Now I bounce back and forth between the ability to suppress the past enough for daily functioning and the fact that I know I am no different and still have the drive to run after a lion; between wishing to point the finger at the mirror and then turning it upon other people. What I wouldn't give to... I would be no good to anyone. Out of balance, dependent, constantly wondering when anything may take place to satiate the issues in my head. The damaging dream would come to mind and force my hand at times, only to recede later and allow the entire works to play out again. And then again. God damn it anyway. I already know because I've done it... Run from place to place for better reasons, but the real lion knew that I would bow and scrape and yearn and wait as long as was necessary for proof. I wish I could have slaughtered that fucking lion. Eh... No I don't. The bottom line is the topic sentence. I am no longer able to carry on in life as a balanced (even a little) person and someone who can put things into perspective or rationalize a situation. None of that is left in the future because I have become horribly twisted and distorted beyond anything I could have imagined years ago, even before that lion led me around by the short hairs. Splendid. Jolene is wearing blue now. I believe the second lion had different intentions, but underneath any possible reasons still remains the fact that a bit more time and she would have known that I was the perfect person to turn yet another world upside down just for a few minutes of need. Therein lies the rub... And we did not mesh well once I knew that I was slowly becoming nothing more than a bowl of goo. There was a point in which I simply rode along waiting for the inevitable destruction. A few months of waiting and worrying and that was that. All done. One person drowning in absolute worship of another is the road to disaster. Believe me, I know. At this point I am entertaining the possibility that having dealt with such loss and pain over the years means my stance has made me very angry, and that in turn may have alleviated a good portion of the likelihood of me heading into a similar situation. I can see it right there on the road ahead. One example was that girl up the street where we scoped a possible job. I could not believe my eyes and took in as much as possible during the short visit. She reminded me of another woman (very dark and young) and I could already feel that just a few minutes and some pleasant conversation may have cemented the need to understand and learn of what was there. That would have led me to cross about four different lines, none of which are recommended in life. I probably would have gushed and allowed myself to be weakened by beauty all over again. My brain slowly turned from one type of anger to another, from 'why did I have to see her?' to 'fuck that whole encounter.' This is good, and holding on to anger in the future may help me to avoid pitfalls that lead to death and destruction. I will have the house to myself for a few hours today, meaning the pencil-drawn symbol will advance. The LED strips and other electrical parts in the garage mean I have some things to do out there, and hopefully the time will prove enjoyable. I've avoided a huge scrape this morning, too. That type of thing also makes me angry and I cannot control the resulting, damaging thoughts. Jolene is wearing the orange... My favorite. The scrape has once again illuminated the fact that I am not healthy in some ways which I used to take for granted. The subject makes me worry, although another possibility is that my needs have outweighed some things (I can't go into detail) and left me to a situation I cannot work out alone. But that's where I am... No one is fucking listening. Anyway, as I said, hopefully the work in the garage will trim some of the anger and dissatisfaction off the top and leave me a bit calmer so I can enjoy myself. Jesus fuck shit damn God and everything else, the woman is so beautiful and unique that I cannot even begin to understand the way of the world. I can't recall the last time I was in such heat over a person on the television. Maybe that girl in the walnut commercial two years ago. Remember her? By the second occasion of my seeing that little set of movements, I wanted to grab her and shove her into my mouth. This is all so fucking stupid. What would I do with her? Probably just follow along awaiting affection and going out of my way (and my mind) to do whatever she wanted or needed. That's what desperation is... Anything to find satiation. Any fucking thing. A whelp, completely dependent upon another. Nice, huh? Welcome to the way I think. Cindy is here again because I'm having a difficult time of finding appropriate images. I used to have thousands in several folders, yet all these years and tons of essays mean they have all be used. Cindy's big eyes never disappoint, so I don't care. The theme of some woman down the page will probably remain if I can continue to locate some models. Ah... Now do you see all the more reason why I dedicated so much space to the machine? If not, you're a fucking idiot and must return to your sippy cup. Oh, fuck... There is the other beauty I knew would be coming along at some point, and she is looking more stunning than ever. Shit, anyway. 0840 and I have yet to do anything. I'm trying to keep the house quiet this morning. My time will come later, although this has not been the most comfortable session of sitting at the computer. Three days of worry came and went. I did not know what was happening as the rarest type of difficulty gripped me literally for seventy-two hours and then subsided on its own. As I said, I know not why, but if it was simply the past, I'm not worried. Anything else would have me at the doctor's office. That type of thing does not come around much. At least, not for many years. The duration caused concern. Now I am better, yet the shit in my head is not fucking helping today. No doubt... She is a lion I suppose once these feelings turn to anger I can head out to the empire and work on my pencil drawing. Anger helps it to form more clearly. Without it? I don't know... Maybe I would draw roses and bunnies while a stupid grin decorated my face. When the issues become this dire, I need some sort of outlet so I don't lose my fucking mind. The garage may be that outlet. I can only hope, anyway. The routine will not take long this morning. Afterward, it's off to the races... Or something. The anger is swirling right now. One, two, three, four... Remember? I don't give a blue fuck about two anymore because no one is listening, hence I can't get myself to care. One rules my entire existence, three is fucking stupid these days, and four? I don't know. Desperation. 1122, warm weather, alone time for a few hours, and lunch in the oven. Dinner across town is typically timed between lunch and dinner hours here, meaning we don't plan to cook anything after arriving home. That means by the next morning I am pretty damned hungry. Well, the pizza will squash that feeling. After, I'll head to the garage for more drawing as my routine is finished and I have nothing else on the schedule. Two days ago when I began the latest mural, I was in a pissy mood and had the music absolutely blasting out there. I will not be repeating such an atmosphere because I have no wish to draw attention to myself. The afternoon shall be mellow and smooth because I really need to concentrate on the drawing. I used to be able to break out some pretty complex designs many years ago, but now the work does not flow the same. As I said... Mellow. And Jesus fucking God damn am I ever desiring Jolene. So bad. No one is listening. 0643 on Wednesday morning. The usual stuff is done by this point. I have coffee and my friends up there. I finished the symbol yesterday and lighted the canopy. Last night after powering the empire, I didn't really like the way the pencil illustration appeared under varying colors. Nothing really stands out, so I suppose it will sit up there and await further inspiration. At least the design is complete. Jolene is wearing the purple again. Damn does she ever look lovely, condescending or otherwise. But I like when she jams someone with words. I really do. Reminds me of me, although she was much more intelligent. Anyway, the work in my garage was very mellow, unlike the other day when I absolutely blasted the music while drawing. I kept things quiet and played some of my favorite mood music to go along with feeling so lost. Even the music was lost. At least it brought me back to a time when there was still wonder. Perhaps more of that music later today for the same reason. There were moments during the work yesterday when I felt completely absent from any places of enjoyment, even considering lunch and my vastness of free time. I have complete control over the house and atmosphere while caring for everything. One would think after all this time that such a situation could help me, but the truth is sometimes I simply cannot rise. I won't go into detail, however. Too damaging. Eh... No one is listening anyway. I would be a useless, worthless lump of nothingness, focusing upon only those interests over which I have agonized for so very long. In return? Probably some wonderful moments and then a sliced-off future. Nothing could match me to her. I would be a pull upon her senses, a weight upon her shoulders, and completely hanging on every word until finally the knife would cut us in half and leave me pretty much as I am right now. Good for no one, only my own internal workings and their very detailed needs. Maybe too much detail, as it were. Anyway, I used to be like her. Now I am further away than I could ever have imagined. The answers invariably lie in the realms of impossibility. Not just a game anymore. Coffee is waning at 0759 and Jolene has snapped her cap. Yikes. Something different has to happen, or be forced. This daily shit is not working well lately. I believe if there was someone listening, the current period could be eased a bit. Alas... Everything is either undone, unwise, or unfounded. The latter is the key. Maybe I can go back to the other story. I began that long-overdue entry some months ago with the intention of creating something better than the fiction I've already published, yet shortly thereafter I fell on my fucking face and lost my way completely. The essay went by the wayside and is still waiting. The other multi-part story that I began way the hell back in zero three and then decided to continue just a few years ago has also fallen off the edge of the work. I can't seem to generate anything compelling these days, only this same drivel which probably bores the shit out of anyone reading almost as much as it bores the shit out of me. If I can think with some clarity for five fucking minutes without being distracted by errant weakness, perhaps I can pick up the story already in progress and jot down an outline. Right now I just don't fucking know. Jolene is clad in orange again, yet her head is far from being on straight in this episode. Even the stratospheric level of beauty she carries cannot offset the shit behavior, not even in fiction. This is a bad episode which contains a veer outside the canon and into previously uncharted territory. It is not good by any means, but at least I can see the orange outfit and her big eyes. Whatever. As I was saying, the drive to write is still hanging on as it did years ago, yet these days only a few words appear before I begin to question myself and the direction of the story. The creators of this show really fucked up this time, whereas my site cannot bend that way or I will remove everything. I still have a sliver of dignity. I'll have to think on this throughout the day and discover if the stories can continue without becoming clichéd. I did really good with some of that stuff. Now if I could just recall how... Routine soon, I guess. I'm not really in the mood to work in the garage, so later I'll have to force myself to get some things done whether or not I like the idea. Sometimes I sit here with zero motivation and then just jump to the work in order to feel better. I always... Oh, shit... She's wearing silk pajamas now. Holy God, her fucking midsection. What I would give for five seconds of... Fucking hell, anyway. I probably deserve to be so fucked up. Anyway, oh... Fuck it all. I don't know much these days beyond desire, loss and sadness. The distractions are waning. 0854 now. Fifth show still on, although we are amidst a storyline that became serialized -- not a bad thing at all -- with some serious issues. I can let all that go, however, because it's just fiction. Watching the news lately is quite the reverse. Plus, there is that woman up there sometimes who holds more power over my dreams and senses than almost anyone else. Unlike Jamie, who I look upon with a very different type of yearning, Jolene has become the sole representation of fictional obsession fulfillment. I still love all three, yet for very different reasons. Rarely have I seen a form that drove me insane with similar force. Nora's gait is a close second, though. Damn, she is so beautiful. The other one -- Jaime the machine -- would need to be a combination of all three, images of the real 'Jaime' notwithstanding. I can't talk about her anymore. 'I am parked between a Mexican restaurant and a FUCKING CHINESE BUFFET!!' Laughter on the other end of the phone that night. Wow, look at the size of those eyes. Not Jolene, but another. Holy crap. I forgot about that scene. I need to get off my ass very soon and care for some chores or my afternoon will be messed up. She's in orange again. Get used to hearing that because the 'hots' has been increasing this week and I'm losing my fucking mind over the fact that I can stare at her all I want, but that is all. Alone, no one listening, nothing on the damned horizon. Orange. Huge eyes. Be still my heart. As for this morning, I'll move along at some point, likely when I tire of sitting here gushing and complaining. I've become nothing more than a wordsmithy bitch after all this time. Oy. I honestly don't know what the fuck else to do. The drawings and paint work in the garage are evocative of my mood lately, feeling disdain for society and using the imagery to lash a bit in the only way I know how. While out there advancing the appearance of my empire, I am often transported to other places -- both my own past and those of dreams -- and then find inspiration in recalling different time periods and living situations, from all the way back during the glow, up to and including this current climate with the world all fucked up and people flipping the fuck out on a weekly basis with gunfire. The design and work out there can be an escape. I have little else left in my life. Jolene and the others fade away fairly quickly, and the only rub is when I see something strolling along the sidewalk in those fucking pants. Sometimes they remain inside a while, other times not so much. The volume of the music can be forced upward when those situations come to pass. And then? Back to the decorations that no one likes. Do images of Cindy even matter anymore? I doubt it. I don't know what else to put here, though. She always looks bright and full of life, so maybe the images are a good idea. I don't fucking know. For some reason, I've been recalling the cat eyes quite a bit lately. That was nearly two years ago and she faded shortly thereafter, yet in recent weeks her face has popped into my head, possibly because of an actor who shares a similar face. I thought of the actor because of running across the same first name. Maybe that caused the whole thing. And then I went further with the thinking... She was a lion, for sure, and with more power than I can possibly describe here. I would have bee a worthless, babbling whelp hanging upon her every word or move. That is not good. It is weak, sure as hell, and grossly off balance. But that is what I've become after so much experience. I'm quite certain the expression on my face when our eyes met was one of extreme fear. I am afraid of too much these days, but that is another story. The fact that I can still see her face is indicative of my mental state having been continuously diminished as the days passed. I don't know where I am going, either. Nowhere good, I suppose. The little morsel with the big battleship eyes more recently was a good example of the speed at which I can regress under the correct circumstances. Blue pajamas now, all silky and scant. Whelp... No power, no strength. Helpless before an endless array of lions. At one point they were foxes, remember? That was different, though. The foxes are individuals in the real world rather than on the television. I've truly known only one lion. Roxann directed this episode. Talk about eyes... Jesus fuck. I suppose I'll get to part of the routine (oh, rather than part of THE MACHINE) just now because sitting here is only reminding me of that fateful period in which I laid myself at the paws of a lion and rolled over, only to later learn that I had been but a piece of a much larger image, and one which resembles the worst issue in memory. More dire threats than I'd imagined prior to the lion... More damaging thought, as well. Too much of everything, and later the situation worsened to the point of driving me inward and remaining in the cave nearly every minute of every day. Closed off, frightened out of my mind, yet still in need of the same comfort which was destroying me. I'm fucking sick of being a slave to the idea. Unfortunately, I can't do a fucking thing about it. Nice. 1023 and half the routine is finished. I still want to keep the house quiet. Whiskey next to me, all chilled and yummy. The medicine of life these days. And... Shut up. Remember the 'Lexus girl'? She was a symptom; an idea. I saw the girl and ran with possibilities despte any of them having been based in reality. I actually saw her thrice, once looking straight at me. The entire Shilo situation came to mind and forced me to realize that the dream world and real world had been overlapping as if I was still eight years old. What a fuckin' whelp. I know the circumstances and situations which have driven me to such lengths, dreaming of unreal developments and then hanging upon the tiniest hope that something was actually taking place in reality rather than my brain manufacturing impossibilities. Fucking pathetic, I know. I suppose one could look at me and read everything, and then conclude that I am exactly the same right this minute as I was more than forty years ago. In between? Too many incidents driving my head into the sand... Many more than can be tallied with any true accuracy. I will take responsibility for some, but not all. The fruits of life have been pulled away. Thrust upon me in contrast? A small space within which resides myself and all manner of fantasy. As much as I can't fucking have this right now, there simply is no other path. I am fucking stuck... Mired, as it were. At least I know it. Ah... I can make some noise now. Time to clean the kitchen with my cocktail keeping me company. 0652 on Thursday morning. I have the local news on for a change. I have to keep current with some issues around the world and at home. Coffee, flags out, cats, blah, blah, blah... Morningcakes. Ah... Yesterday. Not exactly a red-letter type of day, yet not bad. I'm really sick of the feeling that I am helpless for hours on end because I don't know which way to turn much of the time. Every day feels uphill from the completion of the routine to the late afternoon. The type of feeling that has formed took several months to develop from the early part of last year until fall, and then came on strong once this year began. I feel as if I am in the middle of a transition from the old way of life to the new, yet I have not been able to fully embrace the possibilites or a solid schedule or what I hope is more potential. There are aspects of living which have disallowed rising from where I've resided, and I cannot simply turn them off. Two serious issues grip me daily, both of which have been exacerbated by spending so much time alone and having cut myself off from the society of which I was a part. I must become more comfortable with the decisions and more willing to explore other avenues in order to maintain stability. Yesterday was a good example of pretty much falling off not long after lunch and failing to find any direction for the remainder of the day. I can't have that much more or I'll flip my lid. A large portion of feeling helpless has grown out of many years of being treated in such a way so as to leave me sitting here each morning wondering why parts of me and my life have been missing. The lions have had a hand, and this despite the opposite being whispered to me by angels. Yes, I said angels. Three of them have seared a way of thinking onto my brain and it is permanent. The problem is I received such a harsh lesson from the lions that anything positive has become obscured and I've been unable to move forward or utilize such thinking. I am probably disappointing the angels by being so fucking weak, but I really can't get out of this rut. The angels are gone. I remember the 'wrong', the 'questions', and the negative manner in which I had been addressed while seeking answers to my questions, or answers in life. Negative manner, for sure. Platitudes aplenty, the occasional feeling expressions and placating behavior, but the bottom line is too many of those items had been coated in liquid bullshit. I didn't see it at the time, though. My head is easily clouded and blinded by beauty. I do recall all of it. Make no mistake. Only the angels spoke wisdom. Society has none. The lions only have agendas. They may as well be machines. The lions spewed most of the bullshit, honestly, and probably affected me too much for a recovery. I remember everything. From chaotic to neutral, and then on to lawful. You won't understand that statement. Just rest assured you are nowhere near me while I am in this type of mood. Lawful evil is the worst of the three. I'll have to step outside the norm today. I don't know with what activity I can try such an idea, yet I need to do something very different. The feeling of the evening being deserved has become important to me as it relates to the above paragraph about those issues which grip me. The inside of my head has the power to limit ANY fucking aspect of life. Anything, no matter how dire. All those years pile up and then I am unable to move, literally spending several hours just sitting still and reaching for anything as a distraction from knowing I am going nowhere in life. Those distractions are rarely found. I've tried making a list of desirable tasks and using a fixed hour to work on them, but that quickly went by the wayside because I stopped giving a shit almost immediately after the first attempt. Something else... Another avenue or method had better come to light very soon. I need it. That one lion really did a job on me. Part of my resulting anger and loss is my fault for running after shit in the first place. I can't deny that. The lion took it and ran, though. The result was having been left with a very distorted sense of beauty and its effects. I was weakened through the idea that I had been led and allowed it to happen because I reached for something shiny. Ah, but the lion knew everything. I still see the face looking at me and forcing my sense to fly away. Such a beauty. Oh, this is not good. Bad paragraph. I believe when I do accomplish things around the house because I'm angry, and that anger has stemmed from the lions and the past combined with my current shitty situation, the following day allows me to look back and see nothing that I want to see. What I mean to say is that when I'm angry and run around working on things, inside I am not improving. No matter how much I sit here and analyze or try to understand the workings behind my moods, the only thing that happens is I come shooting out the other side no better for the effort. And then I become pissed off and do some work, and then sit here again. What's the point? Toward what point am I working? The analysis may seem to be making progress sometimes, but BELIEVE me... I am worse now than ever. Trust the words from my keyboard. I am definitely weaker and more desperate than ever in my life, and the more time that passes, the more reasons I see for my having moved in directions better left alone. Oh, if I could just spell it out... Readers would crucify me. Anyway, I see no improvement whatsoever through the pissy work or angry cleaning. Nothing. The fact is I am in here all the time, the dreaming almost never stops, and the more days that pass without any of those whispered words coming to me, the further from reality I reside and the darker the future appears. As I said, there are aspects of my desperation rearing their hideous heads and pushing me toward very bad conclusions. Working around this fucking house is not going to change anything. Have I even said anything here? 0753. The angels were the exception, for sure. I have no doubt about that, although considering the true cross section of how many people I've known well, I could be wrong. The angels are few. Um... WERE few. All gone. Those words were echoed twice after Ashley. Twice, no more. I am not going to repeat any of those words here because it should not be necessary. Sometimes I wish I could go back a few decades and grab someone to pull to the present. Then I could show them how fucking stupid society has become with its never-ending reactions and changes every time something takes place with the slightest reference to an individual 'group'. And the guns... People have been shot to hell this year so many times that I can't recall all of the incidents, and then on the heels of the latest fucking asshole idiot shooting the hell out of a school was the one-year anniversary of an employee going on a rampage at his workplace not far from this house. The gun control issues are flaring right now as expected, but I believe the bottom line is just the same as many other issues, and that is the idea that one person cannot change the way another person thinks. If someone is determined to wreak havoc on a person or place, they are going to figure out a way to do it. You may as well try to keep teenagers from exploring sex. Good luck suppressing the strongest urge on earth. The guns being more difficult to acquire will definitely help slow things down or hopefully reduce the number of incidents, but again... The thinking is still there. If a person is full of hatred, there is no way to change that. The news is going back to where it started an hour ago. Time to switch. I am not going to sit here and claim that I can solve anything because most of the time my ideas are viewed as far too harsh or unrealistic. All I can do is express my view of what does not seem to be working. Most of the time I have to avoid speaking my mind regarding world issues, for sure. The conversation eventually goes bad as I leave little room for comment. My philosophy is flawed at times, yet the truth is I don't feel that the political moves, protesting, or society's rampant picking-up of some ridiculous tagline related to a disaster or other bad situation have accomplished a fucking thing in decades. The world is worse off now than ever before, and I believe the decline is destined to continue. There have been so many violent incidents in the past five months than I can recall in such a short period of time in the past. I don't know if they may be related -- meaning one person gets an idea to pull some shit and becomes inspired by a similar event by a different, unrelated asshole -- but one thing for sure is this year will go down in history for terrible reasons. /rant 0829 and the weather is much cooler than yesterday. Just like weeks ago, there was one day in which the mercury shot way the hell up the thermometer and then fell back overnight. I am talking a nearly twenty-degree swing in the space of eighteen hours. Very strange. By the time we had a late dinner last night, the house was still over eighty inside. Yikes. Now? Sixty-six. There is no insulation above my head, so when the sun heats the roof excessively, there is nowhere for the heat to go. Still, I find the weather fascinating and enjoy the way it can take control and force people to feel very small. Heh. I still don't know what to do today because the imagery and memories are holding me down. One example is just a moment ago on the television during a commercial for home improvement, there was a woman taking food off a gas grill and then walking out of frame. In the space of three seconds, my head took in the sight of her jeans and ran with the thought of how they may appear to hold her form in differing positions. Is that too far out of balance? I don't know, however the truth is her beautiful shape derailed my day planning for a time and led me to believe that my condition is worsening. No matter how long I sit here and create a list of chores, something will come along with the power to shift my head to the other side of life. It happens very quickly and leaves me wondering 'why'. Past circumstances put me in this position and everything is affected. I feel the power of the lions, soon after hearing those whispered words from the angels. My head is between the two. Perhaps the 'power' is not as strong as I feel, instead I may just be really fucking weak. There is a difference. The next few hours will dictate whether or not I can rise today. Right now I have no idea. Again... A commercial with a fucking stunning woman in the background, purple dress and knees together, looking like dessert. And again... My thinking processes were stymied for a few moments. And I typed it. Nice, huh? Desperation is a very bad condition. I see EVERYTHING, and I don't fucking like it. I suppose I'll begin the short routine very soon. Beyond that is still an unknown, though. There is always something to improve, clean, or work with, yet the above paragraph illustrates my deep-seated deviant thinking and how it can take over my consciousness in a cold second and leave me at the mercy of beauty rather than being productive. No wonder I drink hard alcohol by ten in the morning, seven days a week. And... Shut up. One possibility I see heading in my direction is similar to two years ago when I became angry enough to cease the social media out of feeling disdain for people and their stupid fucking shit, afterward moving along much more productive. I may hit a wall soon and hop to a renewed sense of working. Wow, this woman being interviewed on the screen has gorgous eyes and a little, upturned nose I'd like to suck. Jesus God, her eyes are amazing beyond words. Wait a minute... Wait for it... HER NAME IS JAMIE. I am pathetic. Well, more than pathetic. I already found a lovely image of her face. Holy shit, she is so beautiful. Ah... A wedding band... Some lucky fuck out there. One more time: Shut up. This is who and what I am. You wanna talk about being derailed quickly? Read this paragraph again. I was trying to speak of when I became all pissed off two years ago and began working in the garage. That was just after the gentleman began to store his motorcycle here, too. I had been motivated to organize for his storage needs, and then the idea of the vodka bottle lighting project came to mind. Well, the pissy mood was much worst than I am describing here, but the point is I went out there and hit the work pretty hard in order to clear the shit from my head... Yes, the shit planted and growing due to the ridiculous and damaging nature of what I saw on social media. I do not blame the platform, ever. I blame people, naturally. I became so fed up that I permanently deleted everything and cracked a beer before breaking out the power tools. I then built a lighted platform for the bottles (it is one of the objects which glows to this very day when I power on the empire) and began to transform the space into what it is today. The bad mood enabled me to push. That's what I was trying to say up there when that fucking goddess of all time appeared on the television. Seeing her makes me angry, too, but it's not her fault. Half lions and half society, with a sprinkle of my own actions and inactions. Shit mood can equal improved house. Let's leave it at that. This day had better prove fruitful or I'm going to fucking lose my shit. One interruption after another, and during a fucking news broadcast. What IS that? I see everything. Another beauty in a commercial. I have to turn off the live television immediately. And... Done. I can't keep seeing those forms or I'll never get anywhere today. Yep, that's how fucking weak I've become. I wish I could speak to that fucking lion right now. There are a few key phrases in mind. 0639 and Friday morning. The usual... Coffee, flags out, fifth show. This machine is fully charged as of last night. Very good. Yesterday went a bit better than expected, thanks to a trip to the hardware and market. Naturally, there was something to see at the hardware (I've often found more beauty in that store than others for whatever reason) and I noticed immediately upon entering. The sight was gone within seconds and the remainder of the shopping trip was uneventful. The best part is that we were out quite a while right in the middle of the afternoon. The day was broken up. I haven't split an afternoon like that in a long time and by doing so I was much more comfortable as the evening approached. I finished all my typical chores, too. The angels did what they did and affected me permanently. I still believe all of it. I still hear all of it, yet deep inside I know nothing like any of those situations will ever come to pass again. The truth is I have no reason to believe good will happen in any form. I always speak of the little enjoyments. Well, they are still working to help me each day. Unfortunately, underneath whatever can bring me a few moments' peace is a trio of deafening roars behind soft whispers. They are gone for good, just like all the rest. I am to be the sole custodian. I only wish I knew how. The angels... Damn it anyway. The day has already been a downer in the worst possible way, although since the 'down' is early, I may be able to salvage some hours later after the sun is warm. IF the sun is warm. Two days ago I was sweltering and the house remained very warm late into the night, and then yesterday the fog and wind got together and had a baby named 'freezing my ass off'. Ugh, it was cold. The neighbor and I watched the basketball game in my garage with one door closed to keep the breeze down. I even had to pull the flags down early because of the gusting. Damn, from one day to the next, I know not what to expect. Right now the hills are visible but just above them is the gray blanket of fog. The shitty beginning to this day will have to be forcibly shoved aside so I can embrace those little things that still bring a slight smile. Sometimes I don't know what to do in the morning when my head is blown wide open by the past. One of the angels changed mornings. There is no going back now. Thinking is the key, too. Thinking, of all things. Believe it. I've been told thrice. 0813. I laid myself down and followed along. I shaped myself. The paws held me. The lion paid only 'some' mind at that time, and we did what we did here and there for entertainment and comfort, all the while my brain yearned for those moments which had been hinted over and over. I followed like a proper whelp and did whatever I felt would help me. In the end, I was destroyed. I was over there, and then over there, and then wanted to be in the ground to avoid thinking about everything. Destroyed. And then the whispers came to me... The moments came, too. Now I sit here day after day knowing the whispers are gone and the moments are impossible. I have to deal with the fallout from my bad fucking decisions and the idea that I fed myself to a lion and knew exactly what I was doing. A conscious decision, to be sure. Conscious. I did it. The gradient is now far beyond anything which can be drawn or visualized. The steepest fucking grade imaginable, and more. Hellish. Even recalling the whispers and feelings of those angels cannot pull me up far enough to feel solace or balance. I cannot fix this anymore, nor can I say what I mean. Everything still has to remain ambiguous. Believe me, whatever you may be gleaning is wrong. Opposite thinking. Switch. The more I read and hear about the conflict in the east, the smaller my issues become, believe it or not. There have been 188 entries (including this one) since the pandemic, and every single one of them has referenced at least one of the four main problems in my brain. I am in bad shape, for sure, yet I cannot place my own difficulty above that of the entire world, even considering the massive enmity and disdain for this fucking society. I can't fucking do that because in the grand scheme of the planet I am but one individual among billions, and the sheer number of affected souls is overwhelming. The cost and potential food distribution problems alone are far beyond the scope of what I deal with on a daily basis. One individual with plenty going on, however millions are in greater danger of much more. I cannot honestly make a comparison, and when I consider the world events, my little shit is greatly diminished. There is no denying this. I have no wish to give the impression that what I am going through is more important than ANYTHING else on this planet. The shit over there makes many people angry because there is no easy solution, nor any clear steps that are guaranteed to improve the livelihood of innocent people. I feel hatred toward the cause. I do not feel hatred toward myself. Most of the time when I am working here on the site, I have the news being updated within the browser and have not commented much. That is because I do not know what to say. Just know that my heart goes out to those being affected and I realize that my problematic existence cannot hold a fucking candle to such a crisis. Even now... The tragedy in Texas is being featured on the local news and it breaks my heart. Something must happen, I know, yet I still believe that changing the way people think is impossible. There seem to be no solutions to all the shit going on around the world. Yesterday while watching the game in the garage, we briefly discussed the conflict and agreed that we have to look out for each other should the issue come to our soil. We've had a partial plan for a very long time and seem to think in similar terms, as well. At the closure of the conversation when we went back to focusing upon the game, I felt a deep sense of comfort at being in this house most of the time. I feel safe here, whereas on the other side of the world, there may be no safe place for multitudes of people. This is very sad, and part of the reason for my comments being only slight. And now the images of physical beauty seem fucking stupid. Eh... Whatever. Switch back. The time is 0915 and I will hop to some of the routine very soon. I have the typical set of chores plus some laundry. After that? I don't know. Projects, maybe. My parents purchased a 'La Machine' back in the late seventies. A food processor. I've probably mentioned it before, possibly within the entry bearing the same name. Well, I need my own version of that machine. Something with the ability and power to remove everything in my head. The only thing, for sure. Bad situation. I would have never fell prey to a lion. Allie's big, beautiful eyes again. I still have the news on the television. I may focus upon the inside of the house today. There is always something to do. Yesterday I went through the refrigerator a bit and organized because we brought home more produce. That was a good step. I don't usually do that until garbage day, so perhaps my work this Sunday will be eased a bit. I also want to grab my tool case from the chest and see about outfitting it with what I have. That project began years ago and was to be a replacement for the mobile tool set I sold during the carnage of late eleven. It had been the finest and most capable portable outfit I ever owned, yet I sold it off due to a long series of bad decisions and financial stupidity. That was when I sold the first big camera, too. I have since replaced the camera and tripod, yet the tool case just sits there because rebuilding is both very expensive and has not been much of a priority over the rest of my projects. I don't really need to be portable anymore because I don't go anywhere, but I already have the case, pallets and a shitload of good tools, so filling the case with tools I have may be very enjoyable, whereas filling it with the original Snap-On tools would be cost prohibitive. Maybe in and around my laundry work I can check it out. The project might make me smile. Saturday morning. I rolled through to the end of the fifth show last night. Now I don't know what to do. I have the local news on like yesterday. Good or bad. I'll probably not see some of the same faces as on a weekday, though. Good or bad. Good and bad? Allie was yesterday. No one today. There was enough last night as the show came to a close. I was thinking of how far away all those feelings can be, or how far away I am from any semblance of the happiness involved therein. I dreamed of being in a place where everything is possible, and then awakened to realize that was the first occasion of dreaming of such a place. I was there with two of my friends from the third show and the entire scene seemed perfectly natural. They went from being my fictional friends on the screen to being real friends right there next to me. We were in an area in which I have often daydreamed about living. Honestly. I could see it sometimes. And the location, setting, and technology involved would mean the end of issues. I believe due to this morning's dream, my stance today will be mellow. The experience crushed me and forced me to withdraw everything I would normally be waiting to throw at the world. This morning is different than those in recent memory. Part of the reason for the mellow mood is due to watching the show end last night and lamenting my position, plus the realization that given the correct circumstances, I would be no different than in the past. Three examples should be enough to know that I will not change, and in fact the passage of time has only worsened my desperation. That means the slightest draw and I will be at the mercy of more power than I can put into words. Nothing will change. I'll be the same weak, worthless presence that I've been in the past. I keep thinking that the angels' words were there to save me, but the truth is they were not crafted in such a way. The words were meant for something else... A different facet of life and one I consider daily. The angels saved me, not the words. Unfortunately, the last two decades have not followed suit, nor have they allowed me to embrace the beliefs of those three. Either I have failed, or I have been failed. I am worse off now than I was during each of those three periods when I had the good fortune to spend time with them. I believe the memories are causing me to see the vast differences between where I am in life and where I had been when those trips took place. Everything is different, my whole world has shifted halfway, yet I still know myself on the inside and know those key parts of me which drove the reckless decisions still exist and would kick in at a moment's notice. Out the other side? I would probably not survive at all. All this shit came together a little while ago due to the dreaming. I am where I am because of my own decisions, yet the rest of the world I've lived through has affected me, too. Dreaming is simply a product of experience and/or wishes, perhaps more than I can describe. The period afterward becomes an exercise in patience and calming thought due to life being such a fucking mess in comparison. Those worlds have been in my head longer than the obsession. The largest hand in dreaming of being there is the beauty. Yep. No getting around that one. I sit here and daydream, I see things go by on the television or somewhere outside the house, and then the dire thinking takes over and I know full well of what I am. Nothing will ever work because the possibility of 'balance' has disappeared completely. There can be no balance any longer. Zero. I am too far gone for that. Last night's episodes proved the point, along with already knowing that I am too weak for proper interaction with another person. All that shit swirls and mixes, and then I hear the whispering again and everything feels even worse. The last lion was many years ago, but I am still scarred. I dove and allowed myself to be somewhat shaped, and then simply laid down for the experience I so badly needed. The lion exacerbated all the dreaming of impossible situations. Not long after I moved away from the lion, the third voice hit me and I knew my time with the cat had affected me in a very bad way. I no longer saw a positive future. I no longer saw promise. Ruined. That was the largest shift in power, and my last opportunity to wield whatever I had left. Nope. I am not articulating this very well. Nothing is going to make sense. I have no sense left, anyway, so what's the difference? Is all this for other people, or myself? 0747 and the sky is very gray. I have not put out the flags due to precipitation. Everything I do today will be in the interest of 'earning' the comfortable evening. I have no reason to think that my accomplishments are taking place for their own sake. No way. I am simply trying to get through each day and come out the other side feeling like I can relax. Reconciliation of the wasted time continues to be pushed away, somewhere into the future and a time when I can hopefully deal with it like a normal person. Work today shall commence very soon. I have to keep the house quiet, but I can still care for some things without issue. I may leave the garage closed and then work out there with one of the shows in the background. That way I can further a couple of projects and maintain quiet at the same time. Part of me needs to get into some project in order to avoid recollections of being in the dream world earlier this morning. The dream is only going to make me sad and angry at the same time. I'm trying to avoid the wording that comes to mind as a result of this shitty mood. No one needs that crap. I believe the narrow parts of life have taken over to the point of pushing the 'simple doing of things' so far away that nothing seems appealing anymore. There are so many different facets of living that I can't even begin to list them, yet for me only a few have survived and outshined the rest by a wide enough margin to leave me bereft of hope for the future. In the last few months alone, my desire to care for this house and the ambition to actually carry out the simplest, daily task have diminished more than I had though possible. I believe the depressive state of my head is slowly removing those little enjoyments, one at a time. This is not good. The narrow items have disappeared. Maybe I should disappear. I don't know. And now we get to the harsh part of the subject... A lion led me around. I followed because the lion knew I was powerless. The lion MANIPULATED me using more force than I had EVER seen before, and believe me... I have seen force. Again, I followed because what I was feeling took away my sense and ability to think clearly about decisions. The lion knew PRECISELY what it was doing. The lion knew, and the angels flew away. Vobiscum... 'Her'." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
The Lion, the Angels and the Whelp Mature content No. 315 Published read ( words) Past entries "Tuesday, 0649, coffee, flags, cat food, Jolene in her silk pajamas a moment ago. Little too much this early in the morning. There are so many subtle differences between the first and third seasons with regard to her body language and facial expressions that my head is still trying to process an episode viewed more than a year ago. Believe it. Dinner yesterday went fine. I thought there was going to end up a huge debate about the eastern conflict but I helped to defuse and calm the situation prior to any drama. That probably wouldn't have gone far, anyway, so I was not overly concerned. Just a few hours across town and then home again. I was very happy to be back in my little element. Not much took place afterward. No issues. The one lingering issue is something impossible, yet I cannot get it out of my head. A hypothetical situation that could not come to pass in a million years, and one which came up toward the trailing end of the previous entry... The fact that I would be completely worthless, weaker in character than ever in my life, and likely completely dependent upon the mere idea of being near an example of the obsession. It happened some years ago, too, so I know the gravity of the issue. She was the lion and I the whelp... Worthless, bumbling, babbling little animal hung up upon her every word and willing to take the entire world and turn in upside down for five minutes of 'possible' affection. And I did. I proved to the world that I could not be trusted to tell the truth or carry out any promise without the likely disruption of life at a moment's notice. Any time, any possible meeting, or any hint of something I needed as desperately as drawing breath. A weak, worthless product of decades of being disregarded and not taken seriously came to a head and I caused all manner of destruction over a wide theatre of pain. Sitting here right now? I still do not like what I had become, yet the truth is I've learned some. That was the fourth incarnation, but not the last. I learned enough to avoid destruction later on. But the underlying issue is as strong as it ever was and I am weaker than I've been in many years. I should have done just one of any number of things differently, but I didn't. Now I bounce back and forth between the ability to suppress the past enough for daily functioning and the fact that I know I am no different and still have the drive to run after a lion; between wishing to point the finger at the mirror and then turning it upon other people. What I wouldn't give to... I would be no good to anyone. Out of balance, dependent, constantly wondering when anything may take place to satiate the issues in my head. The damaging dream would come to mind and force my hand at times, only to recede later and allow the entire works to play out again. And then again. God damn it anyway. I already know because I've done it... Run from place to place for better reasons, but the real lion knew that I would bow and scrape and yearn and wait as long as was necessary for proof. I wish I could have slaughtered that fucking lion. Eh... No I don't. The bottom line is the topic sentence. I am no longer able to carry on in life as a balanced (even a little) person and someone who can put things into perspective or rationalize a situation. None of that is left in the future because I have become horribly twisted and distorted beyond anything I could have imagined years ago, even before that lion led me around by the short hairs. Splendid. Jolene is wearing blue now. I believe the second lion had different intentions, but underneath any possible reasons still remains the fact that a bit more time and she would have known that I was the perfect person to turn yet another world upside down just for a few minutes of need. Therein lies the rub... And we did not mesh well once I knew that I was slowly becoming nothing more than a bowl of goo. There was a point in which I simply rode along waiting for the inevitable destruction. A few months of waiting and worrying and that was that. All done. One person drowning in absolute worship of another is the road to disaster. Believe me, I know. At this point I am entertaining the possibility that having dealt with such loss and pain over the years means my stance has made me very angry, and that in turn may have alleviated a good portion of the likelihood of me heading into a similar situation. I can see it right there on the road ahead. One example was that girl up the street where we scoped a possible job. I could not believe my eyes and took in as much as possible during the short visit. She reminded me of another woman (very dark and young) and I could already feel that just a few minutes and some pleasant conversation may have cemented the need to understand and learn of what was there. That would have led me to cross about four different lines, none of which are recommended in life. I probably would have gushed and allowed myself to be weakened by beauty all over again. My brain slowly turned from one type of anger to another, from 'why did I have to see her?' to 'fuck that whole encounter.' This is good, and holding on to anger in the future may help me to avoid pitfalls that lead to death and destruction. I will have the house to myself for a few hours today, meaning the pencil-drawn symbol will advance. The LED strips and other electrical parts in the garage mean I have some things to do out there, and hopefully the time will prove enjoyable. I've avoided a huge scrape this morning, too. That type of thing also makes me angry and I cannot control the resulting, damaging thoughts. Jolene is wearing the orange... My favorite. The scrape has once again illuminated the fact that I am not healthy in some ways which I used to take for granted. The subject makes me worry, although another possibility is that my needs have outweighed some things (I can't go into detail) and left me to a situation I cannot work out alone. But that's where I am... No one is fucking listening. Anyway, as I said, hopefully the work in the garage will trim some of the anger and dissatisfaction off the top and leave me a bit calmer so I can enjoy myself. Jesus fuck shit damn God and everything else, the woman is so beautiful and unique that I cannot even begin to understand the way of the world. I can't recall the last time I was in such heat over a person on the television. Maybe that girl in the walnut commercial two years ago. Remember her? By the second occasion of my seeing that little set of movements, I wanted to grab her and shove her into my mouth. This is all so fucking stupid. What would I do with her? Probably just follow along awaiting affection and going out of my way (and my mind) to do whatever she wanted or needed. That's what desperation is... Anything to find satiation. Any fucking thing. A whelp, completely dependent upon another. Nice, huh? Welcome to the way I think. Cindy is here again because I'm having a difficult time of finding appropriate images. I used to have thousands in several folders, yet all these years and tons of essays mean they have all be used. Cindy's big eyes never disappoint, so I don't care. The theme of some woman down the page will probably remain if I can continue to locate some models. Ah... Now do you see all the more reason why I dedicated so much space to the machine? If not, you're a fucking idiot and must return to your sippy cup. Oh, fuck... There is the other beauty I knew would be coming along at some point, and she is looking more stunning than ever. Shit, anyway. 0840 and I have yet to do anything. I'm trying to keep the house quiet this morning. My time will come later, although this has not been the most comfortable session of sitting at the computer. Three days of worry came and went. I did not know what was happening as the rarest type of difficulty gripped me literally for seventy-two hours and then subsided on its own. As I said, I know not why, but if it was simply the past, I'm not worried. Anything else would have me at the doctor's office. That type of thing does not come around much. At least, not for many years. The duration caused concern. Now I am better, yet the shit in my head is not fucking helping today. No doubt... She is a lion I suppose once these feelings turn to anger I can head out to the empire and work on my pencil drawing. Anger helps it to form more clearly. Without it? I don't know... Maybe I would draw roses and bunnies while a stupid grin decorated my face. When the issues become this dire, I need some sort of outlet so I don't lose my fucking mind. The garage may be that outlet. I can only hope, anyway. The routine will not take long this morning. Afterward, it's off to the races... Or something. The anger is swirling right now. One, two, three, four... Remember? I don't give a blue fuck about two anymore because no one is listening, hence I can't get myself to care. One rules my entire existence, three is fucking stupid these days, and four? I don't know. Desperation. 1122, warm weather, alone time for a few hours, and lunch in the oven. Dinner across town is typically timed between lunch and dinner hours here, meaning we don't plan to cook anything after arriving home. That means by the next morning I am pretty damned hungry. Well, the pizza will squash that feeling. After, I'll head to the garage for more drawing as my routine is finished and I have nothing else on the schedule. Two days ago when I began the latest mural, I was in a pissy mood and had the music absolutely blasting out there. I will not be repeating such an atmosphere because I have no wish to draw attention to myself. The afternoon shall be mellow and smooth because I really need to concentrate on the drawing. I used to be able to break out some pretty complex designs many years ago, but now the work does not flow the same. As I said... Mellow. And Jesus fucking God damn am I ever desiring Jolene. So bad. No one is listening. 0643 on Wednesday morning. The usual stuff is done by this point. I have coffee and my friends up there. I finished the symbol yesterday and lighted the canopy. Last night after powering the empire, I didn't really like the way the pencil illustration appeared under varying colors. Nothing really stands out, so I suppose it will sit up there and await further inspiration. At least the design is complete. Jolene is wearing the purple again. Damn does she ever look lovely, condescending or otherwise. But I like when she jams someone with words. I really do. Reminds me of me, although she was much more intelligent. Anyway, the work in my garage was very mellow, unlike the other day when I absolutely blasted the music while drawing. I kept things quiet and played some of my favorite mood music to go along with feeling so lost. Even the music was lost. At least it brought me back to a time when there was still wonder. Perhaps more of that music later today for the same reason. There were moments during the work yesterday when I felt completely absent from any places of enjoyment, even considering lunch and my vastness of free time. I have complete control over the house and atmosphere while caring for everything. One would think after all this time that such a situation could help me, but the truth is sometimes I simply cannot rise. I won't go into detail, however. Too damaging. Eh... No one is listening anyway. I would be a useless, worthless lump of nothingness, focusing upon only those interests over which I have agonized for so very long. In return? Probably some wonderful moments and then a sliced-off future. Nothing could match me to her. I would be a pull upon her senses, a weight upon her shoulders, and completely hanging on every word until finally the knife would cut us in half and leave me pretty much as I am right now. Good for no one, only my own internal workings and their very detailed needs. Maybe too much detail, as it were. Anyway, I used to be like her. Now I am further away than I could ever have imagined. The answers invariably lie in the realms of impossibility. Not just a game anymore. Coffee is waning at 0759 and Jolene has snapped her cap. Yikes. Something different has to happen, or be forced. This daily shit is not working well lately. I believe if there was someone listening, the current period could be eased a bit. Alas... Everything is either undone, unwise, or unfounded. The latter is the key. Maybe I can go back to the other story. I began that long-overdue entry some months ago with the intention of creating something better than the fiction I've already published, yet shortly thereafter I fell on my fucking face and lost my way completely. The essay went by the wayside and is still waiting. The other multi-part story that I began way the hell back in zero three and then decided to continue just a few years ago has also fallen off the edge of the work. I can't seem to generate anything compelling these days, only this same drivel which probably bores the shit out of anyone reading almost as much as it bores the shit out of me. If I can think with some clarity for five fucking minutes without being distracted by errant weakness, perhaps I can pick up the story already in progress and jot down an outline. Right now I just don't fucking know. Jolene is clad in orange again, yet her head is far from being on straight in this episode. Even the stratospheric level of beauty she carries cannot offset the shit behavior, not even in fiction. This is a bad episode which contains a veer outside the canon and into previously uncharted territory. It is not good by any means, but at least I can see the orange outfit and her big eyes. Whatever. As I was saying, the drive to write is still hanging on as it did years ago, yet these days only a few words appear before I begin to question myself and the direction of the story. The creators of this show really fucked up this time, whereas my site cannot bend that way or I will remove everything. I still have a sliver of dignity. I'll have to think on this throughout the day and discover if the stories can continue without becoming clichéd. I did really good with some of that stuff. Now if I could just recall how... Routine soon, I guess. I'm not really in the mood to work in the garage, so later I'll have to force myself to get some things done whether or not I like the idea. Sometimes I sit here with zero motivation and then just jump to the work in order to feel better. I always... Oh, shit... She's wearing silk pajamas now. Holy God, her fucking midsection. What I would give for five seconds of... Fucking hell, anyway. I probably deserve to be so fucked up. Anyway, oh... Fuck it all. I don't know much these days beyond desire, loss and sadness. The distractions are waning. 0854 now. Fifth show still on, although we are amidst a storyline that became serialized -- not a bad thing at all -- with some serious issues. I can let all that go, however, because it's just fiction. Watching the news lately is quite the reverse. Plus, there is that woman up there sometimes who holds more power over my dreams and senses than almost anyone else. Unlike Jamie, who I look upon with a very different type of yearning, Jolene has become the sole representation of fictional obsession fulfillment. I still love all three, yet for very different reasons. Rarely have I seen a form that drove me insane with similar force. Nora's gait is a close second, though. Damn, she is so beautiful. The other one -- Jaime the machine -- would need to be a combination of all three, images of the real 'Jaime' notwithstanding. I can't talk about her anymore. 'I am parked between a Mexican restaurant and a FUCKING CHINESE BUFFET!!' Laughter on the other end of the phone that night. Wow, look at the size of those eyes. Not Jolene, but another. Holy crap. I forgot about that scene. I need to get off my ass very soon and care for some chores or my afternoon will be messed up. She's in orange again. Get used to hearing that because the 'hots' has been increasing this week and I'm losing my fucking mind over the fact that I can stare at her all I want, but that is all. Alone, no one listening, nothing on the damned horizon. Orange. Huge eyes. Be still my heart. As for this morning, I'll move along at some point, likely when I tire of sitting here gushing and complaining. I've become nothing more than a wordsmithy bitch after all this time. Oy. I honestly don't know what the fuck else to do. The drawings and paint work in the garage are evocative of my mood lately, feeling disdain for society and using the imagery to lash a bit in the only way I know how. While out there advancing the appearance of my empire, I am often transported to other places -- both my own past and those of dreams -- and then find inspiration in recalling different time periods and living situations, from all the way back during the glow, up to and including this current climate with the world all fucked up and people flipping the fuck out on a weekly basis with gunfire. The design and work out there can be an escape. I have little else left in my life. Jolene and the others fade away fairly quickly, and the only rub is when I see something strolling along the sidewalk in those fucking pants. Sometimes they remain inside a while, other times not so much. The volume of the music can be forced upward when those situations come to pass. And then? Back to the decorations that no one likes. Do images of Cindy even matter anymore? I doubt it. I don't know what else to put here, though. She always looks bright and full of life, so maybe the images are a good idea. I don't fucking know. For some reason, I've been recalling the cat eyes quite a bit lately. That was nearly two years ago and she faded shortly thereafter, yet in recent weeks her face has popped into my head, possibly because of an actor who shares a similar face. I thought of the actor because of running across the same first name. Maybe that caused the whole thing. And then I went further with the thinking... She was a lion, for sure, and with more power than I can possibly describe here. I would have bee a worthless, babbling whelp hanging upon her every word or move. That is not good. It is weak, sure as hell, and grossly off balance. But that is what I've become after so much experience. I'm quite certain the expression on my face when our eyes met was one of extreme fear. I am afraid of too much these days, but that is another story. The fact that I can still see her face is indicative of my mental state having been continuously diminished as the days passed. I don't know where I am going, either. Nowhere good, I suppose. The little morsel with the big battleship eyes more recently was a good example of the speed at which I can regress under the correct circumstances. Blue pajamas now, all silky and scant. Whelp... No power, no strength. Helpless before an endless array of lions. At one point they were foxes, remember? That was different, though. The foxes are individuals in the real world rather than on the television. I've truly known only one lion. Roxann directed this episode. Talk about eyes... Jesus fuck. I suppose I'll get to part of the routine (oh, rather than part of THE MACHINE) just now because sitting here is only reminding me of that fateful period in which I laid myself at the paws of a lion and rolled over, only to later learn that I had been but a piece of a much larger image, and one which resembles the worst issue in memory. More dire threats than I'd imagined prior to the lion... More damaging thought, as well. Too much of everything, and later the situation worsened to the point of driving me inward and remaining in the cave nearly every minute of every day. Closed off, frightened out of my mind, yet still in need of the same comfort which was destroying me. I'm fucking sick of being a slave to the idea. Unfortunately, I can't do a fucking thing about it. Nice. 1023 and half the routine is finished. I still want to keep the house quiet. Whiskey next to me, all chilled and yummy. The medicine of life these days. And... Shut up. Remember the 'Lexus girl'? She was a symptom; an idea. I saw the girl and ran with possibilities despte any of them having been based in reality. I actually saw her thrice, once looking straight at me. The entire Shilo situation came to mind and forced me to realize that the dream world and real world had been overlapping as if I was still eight years old. What a fuckin' whelp. I know the circumstances and situations which have driven me to such lengths, dreaming of unreal developments and then hanging upon the tiniest hope that something was actually taking place in reality rather than my brain manufacturing impossibilities. Fucking pathetic, I know. I suppose one could look at me and read everything, and then conclude that I am exactly the same right this minute as I was more than forty years ago. In between? Too many incidents driving my head into the sand... Many more than can be tallied with any true accuracy. I will take responsibility for some, but not all. The fruits of life have been pulled away. Thrust upon me in contrast? A small space within which resides myself and all manner of fantasy. As much as I can't fucking have this right now, there simply is no other path. I am fucking stuck... Mired, as it were. At least I know it. Ah... I can make some noise now. Time to clean the kitchen with my cocktail keeping me company. 0652 on Thursday morning. I have the local news on for a change. I have to keep current with some issues around the world and at home. Coffee, flags out, cats, blah, blah, blah... Morningcakes. Ah... Yesterday. Not exactly a red-letter type of day, yet not bad. I'm really sick of the feeling that I am helpless for hours on end because I don't know which way to turn much of the time. Every day feels uphill from the completion of the routine to the late afternoon. The type of feeling that has formed took several months to develop from the early part of last year until fall, and then came on strong once this year began. I feel as if I am in the middle of a transition from the old way of life to the new, yet I have not been able to fully embrace the possibilites or a solid schedule or what I hope is more potential. There are aspects of living which have disallowed rising from where I've resided, and I cannot simply turn them off. Two serious issues grip me daily, both of which have been exacerbated by spending so much time alone and having cut myself off from the society of which I was a part. I must become more comfortable with the decisions and more willing to explore other avenues in order to maintain stability. Yesterday was a good example of pretty much falling off not long after lunch and failing to find any direction for the remainder of the day. I can't have that much more or I'll flip my lid. A large portion of feeling helpless has grown out of many years of being treated in such a way so as to leave me sitting here each morning wondering why parts of me and my life have been missing. The lions have had a hand, and this despite the opposite being whispered to me by angels. Yes, I said angels. Three of them have seared a way of thinking onto my brain and it is permanent. The problem is I received such a harsh lesson from the lions that anything positive has become obscured and I've been unable to move forward or utilize such thinking. I am probably disappointing the angels by being so fucking weak, but I really can't get out of this rut. The angels are gone. I remember the 'wrong', the 'questions', and the negative manner in which I had been addressed while seeking answers to my questions, or answers in life. Negative manner, for sure. Platitudes aplenty, the occasional feeling expressions and placating behavior, but the bottom line is too many of those items had been coated in liquid bullshit. I didn't see it at the time, though. My head is easily clouded and blinded by beauty. I do recall all of it. Make no mistake. Only the angels spoke wisdom. Society has none. The lions only have agendas. They may as well be machines. The lions spewed most of the bullshit, honestly, and probably affected me too much for a recovery. I remember everything. From chaotic to neutral, and then on to lawful. You won't understand that statement. Just rest assured you are nowhere near me while I am in this type of mood. Lawful evil is the worst of the three. I'll have to step outside the norm today. I don't know with what activity I can try such an idea, yet I need to do something very different. The feeling of the evening being deserved has become important to me as it relates to the above paragraph about those issues which grip me. The inside of my head has the power to limit ANY fucking aspect of life. Anything, no matter how dire. All those years pile up and then I am unable to move, literally spending several hours just sitting still and reaching for anything as a distraction from knowing I am going nowhere in life. Those distractions are rarely found. I've tried making a list of desirable tasks and using a fixed hour to work on them, but that quickly went by the wayside because I stopped giving a shit almost immediately after the first attempt. Something else... Another avenue or method had better come to light very soon. I need it. That one lion really did a job on me. Part of my resulting anger and loss is my fault for running after shit in the first place. I can't deny that. The lion took it and ran, though. The result was having been left with a very distorted sense of beauty and its effects. I was weakened through the idea that I had been led and allowed it to happen because I reached for something shiny. Ah, but the lion knew everything. I still see the face looking at me and forcing my sense to fly away. Such a beauty. Oh, this is not good. Bad paragraph. I believe when I do accomplish things around the house because I'm angry, and that anger has stemmed from the lions and the past combined with my current shitty situation, the following day allows me to look back and see nothing that I want to see. What I mean to say is that when I'm angry and run around working on things, inside I am not improving. No matter how much I sit here and analyze or try to understand the workings behind my moods, the only thing that happens is I come shooting out the other side no better for the effort. And then I become pissed off and do some work, and then sit here again. What's the point? Toward what point am I working? The analysis may seem to be making progress sometimes, but BELIEVE me... I am worse now than ever. Trust the words from my keyboard. I am definitely weaker and more desperate than ever in my life, and the more time that passes, the more reasons I see for my having moved in directions better left alone. Oh, if I could just spell it out... Readers would crucify me. Anyway, I see no improvement whatsoever through the pissy work or angry cleaning. Nothing. The fact is I am in here all the time, the dreaming almost never stops, and the more days that pass without any of those whispered words coming to me, the further from reality I reside and the darker the future appears. As I said, there are aspects of my desperation rearing their hideous heads and pushing me toward very bad conclusions. Working around this fucking house is not going to change anything. Have I even said anything here? 0753. The angels were the exception, for sure. I have no doubt about that, although considering the true cross section of how many people I've known well, I could be wrong. The angels are few. Um... WERE few. All gone. Those words were echoed twice after Ashley. Twice, no more. I am not going to repeat any of those words here because it should not be necessary. Sometimes I wish I could go back a few decades and grab someone to pull to the present. Then I could show them how fucking stupid society has become with its never-ending reactions and changes every time something takes place with the slightest reference to an individual 'group'. And the guns... People have been shot to hell this year so many times that I can't recall all of the incidents, and then on the heels of the latest fucking asshole idiot shooting the hell out of a school was the one-year anniversary of an employee going on a rampage at his workplace not far from this house. The gun control issues are flaring right now as expected, but I believe the bottom line is just the same as many other issues, and that is the idea that one person cannot change the way another person thinks. If someone is determined to wreak havoc on a person or place, they are going to figure out a way to do it. You may as well try to keep teenagers from exploring sex. Good luck suppressing the strongest urge on earth. The guns being more difficult to acquire will definitely help slow things down or hopefully reduce the number of incidents, but again... The thinking is still there. If a person is full of hatred, there is no way to change that. The news is going back to where it started an hour ago. Time to switch. I am not going to sit here and claim that I can solve anything because most of the time my ideas are viewed as far too harsh or unrealistic. All I can do is express my view of what does not seem to be working. Most of the time I have to avoid speaking my mind regarding world issues, for sure. The conversation eventually goes bad as I leave little room for comment. My philosophy is flawed at times, yet the truth is I don't feel that the political moves, protesting, or society's rampant picking-up of some ridiculous tagline related to a disaster or other bad situation have accomplished a fucking thing in decades. The world is worse off now than ever before, and I believe the decline is destined to continue. There have been so many violent incidents in the past five months than I can recall in such a short period of time in the past. I don't know if they may be related -- meaning one person gets an idea to pull some shit and becomes inspired by a similar event by a different, unrelated asshole -- but one thing for sure is this year will go down in history for terrible reasons. /rant 0829 and the weather is much cooler than yesterday. Just like weeks ago, there was one day in which the mercury shot way the hell up the thermometer and then fell back overnight. I am talking a nearly twenty-degree swing in the space of eighteen hours. Very strange. By the time we had a late dinner last night, the house was still over eighty inside. Yikes. Now? Sixty-six. There is no insulation above my head, so when the sun heats the roof excessively, there is nowhere for the heat to go. Still, I find the weather fascinating and enjoy the way it can take control and force people to feel very small. Heh. I still don't know what to do today because the imagery and memories are holding me down. One example is just a moment ago on the television during a commercial for home improvement, there was a woman taking food off a gas grill and then walking out of frame. In the space of three seconds, my head took in the sight of her jeans and ran with the thought of how they may appear to hold her form in differing positions. Is that too far out of balance? I don't know, however the truth is her beautiful shape derailed my day planning for a time and led me to believe that my condition is worsening. No matter how long I sit here and create a list of chores, something will come along with the power to shift my head to the other side of life. It happens very quickly and leaves me wondering 'why'. Past circumstances put me in this position and everything is affected. I feel the power of the lions, soon after hearing those whispered words from the angels. My head is between the two. Perhaps the 'power' is not as strong as I feel, instead I may just be really fucking weak. There is a difference. The next few hours will dictate whether or not I can rise today. Right now I have no idea. Again... A commercial with a fucking stunning woman in the background, purple dress and knees together, looking like dessert. And again... My thinking processes were stymied for a few moments. And I typed it. Nice, huh? Desperation is a very bad condition. I see EVERYTHING, and I don't fucking like it. I suppose I'll begin the short routine very soon. Beyond that is still an unknown, though. There is always something to improve, clean, or work with, yet the above paragraph illustrates my deep-seated deviant thinking and how it can take over my consciousness in a cold second and leave me at the mercy of beauty rather than being productive. No wonder I drink hard alcohol by ten in the morning, seven days a week. And... Shut up. One possibility I see heading in my direction is similar to two years ago when I became angry enough to cease the social media out of feeling disdain for people and their stupid fucking shit, afterward moving along much more productive. I may hit a wall soon and hop to a renewed sense of working. Wow, this woman being interviewed on the screen has gorgous eyes and a little, upturned nose I'd like to suck. Jesus God, her eyes are amazing beyond words. Wait a minute... Wait for it... HER NAME IS JAMIE. I am pathetic. Well, more than pathetic. I already found a lovely image of her face. Holy shit, she is so beautiful. Ah... A wedding band... Some lucky fuck out there. One more time: Shut up. This is who and what I am. You wanna talk about being derailed quickly? Read this paragraph again. I was trying to speak of when I became all pissed off two years ago and began working in the garage. That was just after the gentleman began to store his motorcycle here, too. I had been motivated to organize for his storage needs, and then the idea of the vodka bottle lighting project came to mind. Well, the pissy mood was much worst than I am describing here, but the point is I went out there and hit the work pretty hard in order to clear the shit from my head... Yes, the shit planted and growing due to the ridiculous and damaging nature of what I saw on social media. I do not blame the platform, ever. I blame people, naturally. I became so fed up that I permanently deleted everything and cracked a beer before breaking out the power tools. I then built a lighted platform for the bottles (it is one of the objects which glows to this very day when I power on the empire) and began to transform the space into what it is today. The bad mood enabled me to push. That's what I was trying to say up there when that fucking goddess of all time appeared on the television. Seeing her makes me angry, too, but it's not her fault. Half lions and half society, with a sprinkle of my own actions and inactions. Shit mood can equal improved house. Let's leave it at that. This day had better prove fruitful or I'm going to fucking lose my shit. One interruption after another, and during a fucking news broadcast. What IS that? I see everything. Another beauty in a commercial. I have to turn off the live television immediately. And... Done. I can't keep seeing those forms or I'll never get anywhere today. Yep, that's how fucking weak I've become. I wish I could speak to that fucking lion right now. There are a few key phrases in mind. 0639 and Friday morning. The usual... Coffee, flags out, fifth show. This machine is fully charged as of last night. Very good. Yesterday went a bit better than expected, thanks to a trip to the hardware and market. Naturally, there was something to see at the hardware (I've often found more beauty in that store than others for whatever reason) and I noticed immediately upon entering. The sight was gone within seconds and the remainder of the shopping trip was uneventful. The best part is that we were out quite a while right in the middle of the afternoon. The day was broken up. I haven't split an afternoon like that in a long time and by doing so I was much more comfortable as the evening approached. I finished all my typical chores, too. The angels did what they did and affected me permanently. I still believe all of it. I still hear all of it, yet deep inside I know nothing like any of those situations will ever come to pass again. The truth is I have no reason to believe good will happen in any form. I always speak of the little enjoyments. Well, they are still working to help me each day. Unfortunately, underneath whatever can bring me a few moments' peace is a trio of deafening roars behind soft whispers. They are gone for good, just like all the rest. I am to be the sole custodian. I only wish I knew how. The angels... Damn it anyway. The day has already been a downer in the worst possible way, although since the 'down' is early, I may be able to salvage some hours later after the sun is warm. IF the sun is warm. Two days ago I was sweltering and the house remained very warm late into the night, and then yesterday the fog and wind got together and had a baby named 'freezing my ass off'. Ugh, it was cold. The neighbor and I watched the basketball game in my garage with one door closed to keep the breeze down. I even had to pull the flags down early because of the gusting. Damn, from one day to the next, I know not what to expect. Right now the hills are visible but just above them is the gray blanket of fog. The shitty beginning to this day will have to be forcibly shoved aside so I can embrace those little things that still bring a slight smile. Sometimes I don't know what to do in the morning when my head is blown wide open by the past. One of the angels changed mornings. There is no going back now. Thinking is the key, too. Thinking, of all things. Believe it. I've been told thrice. 0813. I laid myself down and followed along. I shaped myself. The paws held me. The lion paid only 'some' mind at that time, and we did what we did here and there for entertainment and comfort, all the while my brain yearned for those moments which had been hinted over and over. I followed like a proper whelp and did whatever I felt would help me. In the end, I was destroyed. I was over there, and then over there, and then wanted to be in the ground to avoid thinking about everything. Destroyed. And then the whispers came to me... The moments came, too. Now I sit here day after day knowing the whispers are gone and the moments are impossible. I have to deal with the fallout from my bad fucking decisions and the idea that I fed myself to a lion and knew exactly what I was doing. A conscious decision, to be sure. Conscious. I did it. The gradient is now far beyond anything which can be drawn or visualized. The steepest fucking grade imaginable, and more. Hellish. Even recalling the whispers and feelings of those angels cannot pull me up far enough to feel solace or balance. I cannot fix this anymore, nor can I say what I mean. Everything still has to remain ambiguous. Believe me, whatever you may be gleaning is wrong. Opposite thinking. Switch. The more I read and hear about the conflict in the east, the smaller my issues become, believe it or not. There have been 188 entries (including this one) since the pandemic, and every single one of them has referenced at least one of the four main problems in my brain. I am in bad shape, for sure, yet I cannot place my own difficulty above that of the entire world, even considering the massive enmity and disdain for this fucking society. I can't fucking do that because in the grand scheme of the planet I am but one individual among billions, and the sheer number of affected souls is overwhelming. The cost and potential food distribution problems alone are far beyond the scope of what I deal with on a daily basis. One individual with plenty going on, however millions are in greater danger of much more. I cannot honestly make a comparison, and when I consider the world events, my little shit is greatly diminished. There is no denying this. I have no wish to give the impression that what I am going through is more important than ANYTHING else on this planet. The shit over there makes many people angry because there is no easy solution, nor any clear steps that are guaranteed to improve the livelihood of innocent people. I feel hatred toward the cause. I do not feel hatred toward myself. Most of the time when I am working here on the site, I have the news being updated within the browser and have not commented much. That is because I do not know what to say. Just know that my heart goes out to those being affected and I realize that my problematic existence cannot hold a fucking candle to such a crisis. Even now... The tragedy in Texas is being featured on the local news and it breaks my heart. Something must happen, I know, yet I still believe that changing the way people think is impossible. There seem to be no solutions to all the shit going on around the world. Yesterday while watching the game in the garage, we briefly discussed the conflict and agreed that we have to look out for each other should the issue come to our soil. We've had a partial plan for a very long time and seem to think in similar terms, as well. At the closure of the conversation when we went back to focusing upon the game, I felt a deep sense of comfort at being in this house most of the time. I feel safe here, whereas on the other side of the world, there may be no safe place for multitudes of people. This is very sad, and part of the reason for my comments being only slight. And now the images of physical beauty seem fucking stupid. Eh... Whatever. Switch back. The time is 0915 and I will hop to some of the routine very soon. I have the typical set of chores plus some laundry. After that? I don't know. Projects, maybe. My parents purchased a 'La Machine' back in the late seventies. A food processor. I've probably mentioned it before, possibly within the entry bearing the same name. Well, I need my own version of that machine. Something with the ability and power to remove everything in my head. The only thing, for sure. Bad situation. I would have never fell prey to a lion. Allie's big, beautiful eyes again. I still have the news on the television. I may focus upon the inside of the house today. There is always something to do. Yesterday I went through the refrigerator a bit and organized because we brought home more produce. That was a good step. I don't usually do that until garbage day, so perhaps my work this Sunday will be eased a bit. I also want to grab my tool case from the chest and see about outfitting it with what I have. That project began years ago and was to be a replacement for the mobile tool set I sold during the carnage of late eleven. It had been the finest and most capable portable outfit I ever owned, yet I sold it off due to a long series of bad decisions and financial stupidity. That was when I sold the first big camera, too. I have since replaced the camera and tripod, yet the tool case just sits there because rebuilding is both very expensive and has not been much of a priority over the rest of my projects. I don't really need to be portable anymore because I don't go anywhere, but I already have the case, pallets and a shitload of good tools, so filling the case with tools I have may be very enjoyable, whereas filling it with the original Snap-On tools would be cost prohibitive. Maybe in and around my laundry work I can check it out. The project might make me smile. Saturday morning. I rolled through to the end of the fifth show last night. Now I don't know what to do. I have the local news on like yesterday. Good or bad. I'll probably not see some of the same faces as on a weekday, though. Good or bad. Good and bad? Allie was yesterday. No one today. There was enough last night as the show came to a close. I was thinking of how far away all those feelings can be, or how far away I am from any semblance of the happiness involved therein. I dreamed of being in a place where everything is possible, and then awakened to realize that was the first occasion of dreaming of such a place. I was there with two of my friends from the third show and the entire scene seemed perfectly natural. They went from being my fictional friends on the screen to being real friends right there next to me. We were in an area in which I have often daydreamed about living. Honestly. I could see it sometimes. And the location, setting, and technology involved would mean the end of issues. I believe due to this morning's dream, my stance today will be mellow. The experience crushed me and forced me to withdraw everything I would normally be waiting to throw at the world. This morning is different than those in recent memory. Part of the reason for the mellow mood is due to watching the show end last night and lamenting my position, plus the realization that given the correct circumstances, I would be no different than in the past. Three examples should be enough to know that I will not change, and in fact the passage of time has only worsened my desperation. That means the slightest draw and I will be at the mercy of more power than I can put into words. Nothing will change. I'll be the same weak, worthless presence that I've been in the past. I keep thinking that the angels' words were there to save me, but the truth is they were not crafted in such a way. The words were meant for something else... A different facet of life and one I consider daily. The angels saved me, not the words. Unfortunately, the last two decades have not followed suit, nor have they allowed me to embrace the beliefs of those three. Either I have failed, or I have been failed. I am worse off now than I was during each of those three periods when I had the good fortune to spend time with them. I believe the memories are causing me to see the vast differences between where I am in life and where I had been when those trips took place. Everything is different, my whole world has shifted halfway, yet I still know myself on the inside and know those key parts of me which drove the reckless decisions still exist and would kick in at a moment's notice. Out the other side? I would probably not survive at all. All this shit came together a little while ago due to the dreaming. I am where I am because of my own decisions, yet the rest of the world I've lived through has affected me, too. Dreaming is simply a product of experience and/or wishes, perhaps more than I can describe. The period afterward becomes an exercise in patience and calming thought due to life being such a fucking mess in comparison. Those worlds have been in my head longer than the obsession. The largest hand in dreaming of being there is the beauty. Yep. No getting around that one. I sit here and daydream, I see things go by on the television or somewhere outside the house, and then the dire thinking takes over and I know full well of what I am. Nothing will ever work because the possibility of 'balance' has disappeared completely. There can be no balance any longer. Zero. I am too far gone for that. Last night's episodes proved the point, along with already knowing that I am too weak for proper interaction with another person. All that shit swirls and mixes, and then I hear the whispering again and everything feels even worse. The last lion was many years ago, but I am still scarred. I dove and allowed myself to be somewhat shaped, and then simply laid down for the experience I so badly needed. The lion exacerbated all the dreaming of impossible situations. Not long after I moved away from the lion, the third voice hit me and I knew my time with the cat had affected me in a very bad way. I no longer saw a positive future. I no longer saw promise. Ruined. That was the largest shift in power, and my last opportunity to wield whatever I had left. Nope. I am not articulating this very well. Nothing is going to make sense. I have no sense left, anyway, so what's the difference? Is all this for other people, or myself? 0747 and the sky is very gray. I have not put out the flags due to precipitation. Everything I do today will be in the interest of 'earning' the comfortable evening. I have no reason to think that my accomplishments are taking place for their own sake. No way. I am simply trying to get through each day and come out the other side feeling like I can relax. Reconciliation of the wasted time continues to be pushed away, somewhere into the future and a time when I can hopefully deal with it like a normal person. Work today shall commence very soon. I have to keep the house quiet, but I can still care for some things without issue. I may leave the garage closed and then work out there with one of the shows in the background. That way I can further a couple of projects and maintain quiet at the same time. Part of me needs to get into some project in order to avoid recollections of being in the dream world earlier this morning. The dream is only going to make me sad and angry at the same time. I'm trying to avoid the wording that comes to mind as a result of this shitty mood. No one needs that crap. I believe the narrow parts of life have taken over to the point of pushing the 'simple doing of things' so far away that nothing seems appealing anymore. There are so many different facets of living that I can't even begin to list them, yet for me only a few have survived and outshined the rest by a wide enough margin to leave me bereft of hope for the future. In the last few months alone, my desire to care for this house and the ambition to actually carry out the simplest, daily task have diminished more than I had though possible. I believe the depressive state of my head is slowly removing those little enjoyments, one at a time. This is not good. The narrow items have disappeared. Maybe I should disappear. I don't know. And now we get to the harsh part of the subject... A lion led me around. I followed because the lion knew I was powerless. The lion MANIPULATED me using more force than I had EVER seen before, and believe me... I have seen force. Again, I followed because what I was feeling took away my sense and ability to think clearly about decisions. The lion knew PRECISELY what it was doing. The lion knew, and the angels flew away. Vobiscum... 'Her'."
The Lion, the Angels and the Whelp
Mature content No. 315 Published read ( words) Past entries
"Tuesday, 0649, coffee, flags, cat food, Jolene in her silk pajamas a moment ago. Little too much this early in the morning. There are so many subtle differences between the first and third seasons with regard to her body language and facial expressions that my head is still trying to process an episode viewed more than a year ago. Believe it. Dinner yesterday went fine. I thought there was going to end up a huge debate about the eastern conflict but I helped to defuse and calm the situation prior to any drama. That probably wouldn't have gone far, anyway, so I was not overly concerned. Just a few hours across town and then home again. I was very happy to be back in my little element. Not much took place afterward. No issues. The one lingering issue is something impossible, yet I cannot get it out of my head. A hypothetical situation that could not come to pass in a million years, and one which came up toward the trailing end of the previous entry... The fact that I would be completely worthless, weaker in character than ever in my life, and likely completely dependent upon the mere idea of being near an example of the obsession. It happened some years ago, too, so I know the gravity of the issue. She was the lion and I the whelp... Worthless, bumbling, babbling little animal hung up upon her every word and willing to take the entire world and turn in upside down for five minutes of 'possible' affection. And I did. I proved to the world that I could not be trusted to tell the truth or carry out any promise without the likely disruption of life at a moment's notice. Any time, any possible meeting, or any hint of something I needed as desperately as drawing breath. A weak, worthless product of decades of being disregarded and not taken seriously came to a head and I caused all manner of destruction over a wide theatre of pain. Sitting here right now? I still do not like what I had become, yet the truth is I've learned some. That was the fourth incarnation, but not the last. I learned enough to avoid destruction later on. But the underlying issue is as strong as it ever was and I am weaker than I've been in many years. I should have done just one of any number of things differently, but I didn't. Now I bounce back and forth between the ability to suppress the past enough for daily functioning and the fact that I know I am no different and still have the drive to run after a lion; between wishing to point the finger at the mirror and then turning it upon other people. What I wouldn't give to... I would be no good to anyone. Out of balance, dependent, constantly wondering when anything may take place to satiate the issues in my head. The damaging dream would come to mind and force my hand at times, only to recede later and allow the entire works to play out again. And then again. God damn it anyway. I already know because I've done it... Run from place to place for better reasons, but the real lion knew that I would bow and scrape and yearn and wait as long as was necessary for proof. I wish I could have slaughtered that fucking lion. Eh... No I don't. The bottom line is the topic sentence. I am no longer able to carry on in life as a balanced (even a little) person and someone who can put things into perspective or rationalize a situation. None of that is left in the future because I have become horribly twisted and distorted beyond anything I could have imagined years ago, even before that lion led me around by the short hairs. Splendid. Jolene is wearing blue now. I believe the second lion had different intentions, but underneath any possible reasons still remains the fact that a bit more time and she would have known that I was the perfect person to turn yet another world upside down just for a few minutes of need. Therein lies the rub... And we did not mesh well once I knew that I was slowly becoming nothing more than a bowl of goo. There was a point in which I simply rode along waiting for the inevitable destruction. A few months of waiting and worrying and that was that. All done. One person drowning in absolute worship of another is the road to disaster. Believe me, I know. At this point I am entertaining the possibility that having dealt with such loss and pain over the years means my stance has made me very angry, and that in turn may have alleviated a good portion of the likelihood of me heading into a similar situation. I can see it right there on the road ahead. One example was that girl up the street where we scoped a possible job. I could not believe my eyes and took in as much as possible during the short visit. She reminded me of another woman (very dark and young) and I could already feel that just a few minutes and some pleasant conversation may have cemented the need to understand and learn of what was there. That would have led me to cross about four different lines, none of which are recommended in life. I probably would have gushed and allowed myself to be weakened by beauty all over again. My brain slowly turned from one type of anger to another, from 'why did I have to see her?' to 'fuck that whole encounter.' This is good, and holding on to anger in the future may help me to avoid pitfalls that lead to death and destruction. I will have the house to myself for a few hours today, meaning the pencil-drawn symbol will advance. The LED strips and other electrical parts in the garage mean I have some things to do out there, and hopefully the time will prove enjoyable. I've avoided a huge scrape this morning, too. That type of thing also makes me angry and I cannot control the resulting, damaging thoughts. Jolene is wearing the orange... My favorite. The scrape has once again illuminated the fact that I am not healthy in some ways which I used to take for granted. The subject makes me worry, although another possibility is that my needs have outweighed some things (I can't go into detail) and left me to a situation I cannot work out alone. But that's where I am... No one is fucking listening. Anyway, as I said, hopefully the work in the garage will trim some of the anger and dissatisfaction off the top and leave me a bit calmer so I can enjoy myself. Jesus fuck shit damn God and everything else, the woman is so beautiful and unique that I cannot even begin to understand the way of the world. I can't recall the last time I was in such heat over a person on the television. Maybe that girl in the walnut commercial two years ago. Remember her? By the second occasion of my seeing that little set of movements, I wanted to grab her and shove her into my mouth. This is all so fucking stupid. What would I do with her? Probably just follow along awaiting affection and going out of my way (and my mind) to do whatever she wanted or needed. That's what desperation is... Anything to find satiation. Any fucking thing. A whelp, completely dependent upon another. Nice, huh? Welcome to the way I think. Cindy is here again because I'm having a difficult time of finding appropriate images. I used to have thousands in several folders, yet all these years and tons of essays mean they have all be used. Cindy's big eyes never disappoint, so I don't care. The theme of some woman down the page will probably remain if I can continue to locate some models. Ah... Now do you see all the more reason why I dedicated so much space to the machine? If not, you're a fucking idiot and must return to your sippy cup. Oh, fuck... There is the other beauty I knew would be coming along at some point, and she is looking more stunning than ever. Shit, anyway. 0840 and I have yet to do anything. I'm trying to keep the house quiet this morning. My time will come later, although this has not been the most comfortable session of sitting at the computer. Three days of worry came and went. I did not know what was happening as the rarest type of difficulty gripped me literally for seventy-two hours and then subsided on its own. As I said, I know not why, but if it was simply the past, I'm not worried. Anything else would have me at the doctor's office. That type of thing does not come around much. At least, not for many years. The duration caused concern. Now I am better, yet the shit in my head is not fucking helping today.
No doubt... She is a lion
I suppose once these feelings turn to anger I can head out to the empire and work on my pencil drawing. Anger helps it to form more clearly. Without it? I don't know... Maybe I would draw roses and bunnies while a stupid grin decorated my face. When the issues become this dire, I need some sort of outlet so I don't lose my fucking mind. The garage may be that outlet. I can only hope, anyway. The routine will not take long this morning. Afterward, it's off to the races... Or something. The anger is swirling right now. One, two, three, four... Remember? I don't give a blue fuck about two anymore because no one is listening, hence I can't get myself to care. One rules my entire existence, three is fucking stupid these days, and four? I don't know. Desperation. 1122, warm weather, alone time for a few hours, and lunch in the oven. Dinner across town is typically timed between lunch and dinner hours here, meaning we don't plan to cook anything after arriving home. That means by the next morning I am pretty damned hungry. Well, the pizza will squash that feeling. After, I'll head to the garage for more drawing as my routine is finished and I have nothing else on the schedule. Two days ago when I began the latest mural, I was in a pissy mood and had the music absolutely blasting out there. I will not be repeating such an atmosphere because I have no wish to draw attention to myself. The afternoon shall be mellow and smooth because I really need to concentrate on the drawing. I used to be able to break out some pretty complex designs many years ago, but now the work does not flow the same. As I said... Mellow. And Jesus fucking God damn am I ever desiring Jolene. So bad. No one is listening. 0643 on Wednesday morning. The usual stuff is done by this point. I have coffee and my friends up there. I finished the symbol yesterday and lighted the canopy. Last night after powering the empire, I didn't really like the way the pencil illustration appeared under varying colors. Nothing really stands out, so I suppose it will sit up there and await further inspiration. At least the design is complete. Jolene is wearing the purple again. Damn does she ever look lovely, condescending or otherwise. But I like when she jams someone with words. I really do. Reminds me of me, although she was much more intelligent. Anyway, the work in my garage was very mellow, unlike the other day when I absolutely blasted the music while drawing. I kept things quiet and played some of my favorite mood music to go along with feeling so lost. Even the music was lost. At least it brought me back to a time when there was still wonder. Perhaps more of that music later today for the same reason. There were moments during the work yesterday when I felt completely absent from any places of enjoyment, even considering lunch and my vastness of free time. I have complete control over the house and atmosphere while caring for everything. One would think after all this time that such a situation could help me, but the truth is sometimes I simply cannot rise. I won't go into detail, however. Too damaging. Eh... No one is listening anyway. I would be a useless, worthless lump of nothingness, focusing upon only those interests over which I have agonized for so very long. In return? Probably some wonderful moments and then a sliced-off future. Nothing could match me to her. I would be a pull upon her senses, a weight upon her shoulders, and completely hanging on every word until finally the knife would cut us in half and leave me pretty much as I am right now. Good for no one, only my own internal workings and their very detailed needs. Maybe too much detail, as it were. Anyway, I used to be like her. Now I am further away than I could ever have imagined. The answers invariably lie in the realms of impossibility. Not just a game anymore. Coffee is waning at 0759 and Jolene has snapped her cap. Yikes. Something different has to happen, or be forced. This daily shit is not working well lately. I believe if there was someone listening, the current period could be eased a bit. Alas... Everything is either undone, unwise, or unfounded. The latter is the key. Maybe I can go back to the other story. I began that long-overdue entry some months ago with the intention of creating something better than the fiction I've already published, yet shortly thereafter I fell on my fucking face and lost my way completely. The essay went by the wayside and is still waiting. The other multi-part story that I began way the hell back in zero three and then decided to continue just a few years ago has also fallen off the edge of the work. I can't seem to generate anything compelling these days, only this same drivel which probably bores the shit out of anyone reading almost as much as it bores the shit out of me. If I can think with some clarity for five fucking minutes without being distracted by errant weakness, perhaps I can pick up the story already in progress and jot down an outline. Right now I just don't fucking know. Jolene is clad in orange again, yet her head is far from being on straight in this episode. Even the stratospheric level of beauty she carries cannot offset the shit behavior, not even in fiction. This is a bad episode which contains a veer outside the canon and into previously uncharted territory. It is not good by any means, but at least I can see the orange outfit and her big eyes. Whatever. As I was saying, the drive to write is still hanging on as it did years ago, yet these days only a few words appear before I begin to question myself and the direction of the story. The creators of this show really fucked up this time, whereas my site cannot bend that way or I will remove everything. I still have a sliver of dignity. I'll have to think on this throughout the day and discover if the stories can continue without becoming clichéd. I did really good with some of that stuff. Now if I could just recall how... Routine soon, I guess. I'm not really in the mood to work in the garage, so later I'll have to force myself to get some things done whether or not I like the idea. Sometimes I sit here with zero motivation and then just jump to the work in order to feel better. I always... Oh, shit... She's wearing silk pajamas now. Holy God, her fucking midsection. What I would give for five seconds of... Fucking hell, anyway. I probably deserve to be so fucked up. Anyway, oh... Fuck it all. I don't know much these days beyond desire, loss and sadness. The distractions are waning. 0854 now. Fifth show still on, although we are amidst a storyline that became serialized -- not a bad thing at all -- with some serious issues. I can let all that go, however, because it's just fiction. Watching the news lately is quite the reverse. Plus, there is that woman up there sometimes who holds more power over my dreams and senses than almost anyone else. Unlike Jamie, who I look upon with a very different type of yearning, Jolene has become the sole representation of fictional obsession fulfillment. I still love all three, yet for very different reasons. Rarely have I seen a form that drove me insane with similar force. Nora's gait is a close second, though. Damn, she is so beautiful. The other one -- Jaime the machine -- would need to be a combination of all three, images of the real 'Jaime' notwithstanding. I can't talk about her anymore. 'I am parked between a Mexican restaurant and a FUCKING CHINESE BUFFET!!' Laughter on the other end of the phone that night. Wow, look at the size of those eyes. Not Jolene, but another. Holy crap. I forgot about that scene. I need to get off my ass very soon and care for some chores or my afternoon will be messed up. She's in orange again. Get used to hearing that because the 'hots' has been increasing this week and I'm losing my fucking mind over the fact that I can stare at her all I want, but that is all. Alone, no one listening, nothing on the damned horizon. Orange. Huge eyes. Be still my heart. As for this morning, I'll move along at some point, likely when I tire of sitting here gushing and complaining. I've become nothing more than a wordsmithy bitch after all this time. Oy. I honestly don't know what the fuck else to do. The drawings and paint work in the garage are evocative of my mood lately, feeling disdain for society and using the imagery to lash a bit in the only way I know how. While out there advancing the appearance of my empire, I am often transported to other places -- both my own past and those of dreams -- and then find inspiration in recalling different time periods and living situations, from all the way back during the glow, up to and including this current climate with the world all fucked up and people flipping the fuck out on a weekly basis with gunfire. The design and work out there can be an escape. I have little else left in my life. Jolene and the others fade away fairly quickly, and the only rub is when I see something strolling along the sidewalk in those fucking pants. Sometimes they remain inside a while, other times not so much. The volume of the music can be forced upward when those situations come to pass. And then? Back to the decorations that no one likes.
Do images of Cindy even matter anymore? I doubt it. I don't know what else to put here, though. She always looks bright and full of life, so maybe the images are a good idea. I don't fucking know. For some reason, I've been recalling the cat eyes quite a bit lately. That was nearly two years ago and she faded shortly thereafter, yet in recent weeks her face has popped into my head, possibly because of an actor who shares a similar face. I thought of the actor because of running across the same first name. Maybe that caused the whole thing. And then I went further with the thinking... She was a lion, for sure, and with more power than I can possibly describe here. I would have bee a worthless, babbling whelp hanging upon her every word or move. That is not good. It is weak, sure as hell, and grossly off balance. But that is what I've become after so much experience. I'm quite certain the expression on my face when our eyes met was one of extreme fear. I am afraid of too much these days, but that is another story. The fact that I can still see her face is indicative of my mental state having been continuously diminished as the days passed. I don't know where I am going, either. Nowhere good, I suppose. The little morsel with the big battleship eyes more recently was a good example of the speed at which I can regress under the correct circumstances. Blue pajamas now, all silky and scant. Whelp... No power, no strength. Helpless before an endless array of lions. At one point they were foxes, remember? That was different, though. The foxes are individuals in the real world rather than on the television. I've truly known only one lion. Roxann directed this episode. Talk about eyes... Jesus fuck. I suppose I'll get to part of the routine (oh, rather than part of THE MACHINE) just now because sitting here is only reminding me of that fateful period in which I laid myself at the paws of a lion and rolled over, only to later learn that I had been but a piece of a much larger image, and one which resembles the worst issue in memory. More dire threats than I'd imagined prior to the lion... More damaging thought, as well. Too much of everything, and later the situation worsened to the point of driving me inward and remaining in the cave nearly every minute of every day. Closed off, frightened out of my mind, yet still in need of the same comfort which was destroying me. I'm fucking sick of being a slave to the idea. Unfortunately, I can't do a fucking thing about it. Nice. 1023 and half the routine is finished. I still want to keep the house quiet. Whiskey next to me, all chilled and yummy. The medicine of life these days. And... Shut up. Remember the 'Lexus girl'? She was a symptom; an idea. I saw the girl and ran with possibilities despte any of them having been based in reality. I actually saw her thrice, once looking straight at me. The entire Shilo situation came to mind and forced me to realize that the dream world and real world had been overlapping as if I was still eight years old. What a fuckin' whelp. I know the circumstances and situations which have driven me to such lengths, dreaming of unreal developments and then hanging upon the tiniest hope that something was actually taking place in reality rather than my brain manufacturing impossibilities. Fucking pathetic, I know. I suppose one could look at me and read everything, and then conclude that I am exactly the same right this minute as I was more than forty years ago. In between? Too many incidents driving my head into the sand... Many more than can be tallied with any true accuracy. I will take responsibility for some, but not all. The fruits of life have been pulled away. Thrust upon me in contrast? A small space within which resides myself and all manner of fantasy. As much as I can't fucking have this right now, there simply is no other path. I am fucking stuck... Mired, as it were. At least I know it. Ah... I can make some noise now. Time to clean the kitchen with my cocktail keeping me company. 0652 on Thursday morning. I have the local news on for a change. I have to keep current with some issues around the world and at home. Coffee, flags out, cats, blah, blah, blah... Morningcakes. Ah... Yesterday. Not exactly a red-letter type of day, yet not bad. I'm really sick of the feeling that I am helpless for hours on end because I don't know which way to turn much of the time. Every day feels uphill from the completion of the routine to the late afternoon. The type of feeling that has formed took several months to develop from the early part of last year until fall, and then came on strong once this year began. I feel as if I am in the middle of a transition from the old way of life to the new, yet I have not been able to fully embrace the possibilites or a solid schedule or what I hope is more potential. There are aspects of living which have disallowed rising from where I've resided, and I cannot simply turn them off. Two serious issues grip me daily, both of which have been exacerbated by spending so much time alone and having cut myself off from the society of which I was a part. I must become more comfortable with the decisions and more willing to explore other avenues in order to maintain stability. Yesterday was a good example of pretty much falling off not long after lunch and failing to find any direction for the remainder of the day. I can't have that much more or I'll flip my lid. A large portion of feeling helpless has grown out of many years of being treated in such a way so as to leave me sitting here each morning wondering why parts of me and my life have been missing. The lions have had a hand, and this despite the opposite being whispered to me by angels. Yes, I said angels. Three of them have seared a way of thinking onto my brain and it is permanent. The problem is I received such a harsh lesson from the lions that anything positive has become obscured and I've been unable to move forward or utilize such thinking. I am probably disappointing the angels by being so fucking weak, but I really can't get out of this rut. The angels are gone. I remember the 'wrong', the 'questions', and the negative manner in which I had been addressed while seeking answers to my questions, or answers in life. Negative manner, for sure. Platitudes aplenty, the occasional feeling expressions and placating behavior, but the bottom line is too many of those items had been coated in liquid bullshit. I didn't see it at the time, though. My head is easily clouded and blinded by beauty. I do recall all of it. Make no mistake. Only the angels spoke wisdom. Society has none. The lions only have agendas. They may as well be machines. The lions spewed most of the bullshit, honestly, and probably affected me too much for a recovery. I remember everything. From chaotic to neutral, and then on to lawful. You won't understand that statement. Just rest assured you are nowhere near me while I am in this type of mood. Lawful evil is the worst of the three. I'll have to step outside the norm today. I don't know with what activity I can try such an idea, yet I need to do something very different. The feeling of the evening being deserved has become important to me as it relates to the above paragraph about those issues which grip me. The inside of my head has the power to limit ANY fucking aspect of life. Anything, no matter how dire. All those years pile up and then I am unable to move, literally spending several hours just sitting still and reaching for anything as a distraction from knowing I am going nowhere in life. Those distractions are rarely found. I've tried making a list of desirable tasks and using a fixed hour to work on them, but that quickly went by the wayside because I stopped giving a shit almost immediately after the first attempt. Something else... Another avenue or method had better come to light very soon. I need it.
That one lion really did a job on me. Part of my resulting anger and loss is my fault for running after shit in the first place. I can't deny that. The lion took it and ran, though. The result was having been left with a very distorted sense of beauty and its effects. I was weakened through the idea that I had been led and allowed it to happen because I reached for something shiny. Ah, but the lion knew everything. I still see the face looking at me and forcing my sense to fly away. Such a beauty. Oh, this is not good. Bad paragraph. I believe when I do accomplish things around the house because I'm angry, and that anger has stemmed from the lions and the past combined with my current shitty situation, the following day allows me to look back and see nothing that I want to see. What I mean to say is that when I'm angry and run around working on things, inside I am not improving. No matter how much I sit here and analyze or try to understand the workings behind my moods, the only thing that happens is I come shooting out the other side no better for the effort. And then I become pissed off and do some work, and then sit here again. What's the point? Toward what point am I working? The analysis may seem to be making progress sometimes, but BELIEVE me... I am worse now than ever. Trust the words from my keyboard. I am definitely weaker and more desperate than ever in my life, and the more time that passes, the more reasons I see for my having moved in directions better left alone. Oh, if I could just spell it out... Readers would crucify me. Anyway, I see no improvement whatsoever through the pissy work or angry cleaning. Nothing. The fact is I am in here all the time, the dreaming almost never stops, and the more days that pass without any of those whispered words coming to me, the further from reality I reside and the darker the future appears. As I said, there are aspects of my desperation rearing their hideous heads and pushing me toward very bad conclusions. Working around this fucking house is not going to change anything. Have I even said anything here? 0753. The angels were the exception, for sure. I have no doubt about that, although considering the true cross section of how many people I've known well, I could be wrong. The angels are few. Um... WERE few. All gone. Those words were echoed twice after Ashley. Twice, no more. I am not going to repeat any of those words here because it should not be necessary. Sometimes I wish I could go back a few decades and grab someone to pull to the present. Then I could show them how fucking stupid society has become with its never-ending reactions and changes every time something takes place with the slightest reference to an individual 'group'. And the guns... People have been shot to hell this year so many times that I can't recall all of the incidents, and then on the heels of the latest fucking asshole idiot shooting the hell out of a school was the one-year anniversary of an employee going on a rampage at his workplace not far from this house. The gun control issues are flaring right now as expected, but I believe the bottom line is just the same as many other issues, and that is the idea that one person cannot change the way another person thinks. If someone is determined to wreak havoc on a person or place, they are going to figure out a way to do it. You may as well try to keep teenagers from exploring sex. Good luck suppressing the strongest urge on earth. The guns being more difficult to acquire will definitely help slow things down or hopefully reduce the number of incidents, but again... The thinking is still there. If a person is full of hatred, there is no way to change that. The news is going back to where it started an hour ago. Time to switch. I am not going to sit here and claim that I can solve anything because most of the time my ideas are viewed as far too harsh or unrealistic. All I can do is express my view of what does not seem to be working. Most of the time I have to avoid speaking my mind regarding world issues, for sure. The conversation eventually goes bad as I leave little room for comment. My philosophy is flawed at times, yet the truth is I don't feel that the political moves, protesting, or society's rampant picking-up of some ridiculous tagline related to a disaster or other bad situation have accomplished a fucking thing in decades. The world is worse off now than ever before, and I believe the decline is destined to continue. There have been so many violent incidents in the past five months than I can recall in such a short period of time in the past. I don't know if they may be related -- meaning one person gets an idea to pull some shit and becomes inspired by a similar event by a different, unrelated asshole -- but one thing for sure is this year will go down in history for terrible reasons. /rant 0829 and the weather is much cooler than yesterday. Just like weeks ago, there was one day in which the mercury shot way the hell up the thermometer and then fell back overnight. I am talking a nearly twenty-degree swing in the space of eighteen hours. Very strange. By the time we had a late dinner last night, the house was still over eighty inside. Yikes. Now? Sixty-six. There is no insulation above my head, so when the sun heats the roof excessively, there is nowhere for the heat to go. Still, I find the weather fascinating and enjoy the way it can take control and force people to feel very small. Heh. I still don't know what to do today because the imagery and memories are holding me down. One example is just a moment ago on the television during a commercial for home improvement, there was a woman taking food off a gas grill and then walking out of frame. In the space of three seconds, my head took in the sight of her jeans and ran with the thought of how they may appear to hold her form in differing positions. Is that too far out of balance? I don't know, however the truth is her beautiful shape derailed my day planning for a time and led me to believe that my condition is worsening. No matter how long I sit here and create a list of chores, something will come along with the power to shift my head to the other side of life. It happens very quickly and leaves me wondering 'why'. Past circumstances put me in this position and everything is affected. I feel the power of the lions, soon after hearing those whispered words from the angels. My head is between the two. Perhaps the 'power' is not as strong as I feel, instead I may just be really fucking weak. There is a difference. The next few hours will dictate whether or not I can rise today. Right now I have no idea. Again... A commercial with a fucking stunning woman in the background, purple dress and knees together, looking like dessert. And again... My thinking processes were stymied for a few moments. And I typed it. Nice, huh? Desperation is a very bad condition. I see EVERYTHING, and I don't fucking like it. I suppose I'll begin the short routine very soon. Beyond that is still an unknown, though. There is always something to improve, clean, or work with, yet the above paragraph illustrates my deep-seated deviant thinking and how it can take over my consciousness in a cold second and leave me at the mercy of beauty rather than being productive. No wonder I drink hard alcohol by ten in the morning, seven days a week. And... Shut up. One possibility I see heading in my direction is similar to two years ago when I became angry enough to cease the social media out of feeling disdain for people and their stupid fucking shit, afterward moving along much more productive. I may hit a wall soon and hop to a renewed sense of working. Wow, this woman being interviewed on the screen has gorgous eyes and a little, upturned nose I'd like to suck. Jesus God, her eyes are amazing beyond words. Wait a minute... Wait for it... HER NAME IS JAMIE. I am pathetic. Well, more than pathetic. I already found a lovely image of her face. Holy shit, she is so beautiful. Ah... A wedding band... Some lucky fuck out there. One more time: Shut up. This is who and what I am. You wanna talk about being derailed quickly? Read this paragraph again.
I was trying to speak of when I became all pissed off two years ago and began working in the garage. That was just after the gentleman began to store his motorcycle here, too. I had been motivated to organize for his storage needs, and then the idea of the vodka bottle lighting project came to mind. Well, the pissy mood was much worst than I am describing here, but the point is I went out there and hit the work pretty hard in order to clear the shit from my head... Yes, the shit planted and growing due to the ridiculous and damaging nature of what I saw on social media. I do not blame the platform, ever. I blame people, naturally. I became so fed up that I permanently deleted everything and cracked a beer before breaking out the power tools. I then built a lighted platform for the bottles (it is one of the objects which glows to this very day when I power on the empire) and began to transform the space into what it is today. The bad mood enabled me to push. That's what I was trying to say up there when that fucking goddess of all time appeared on the television. Seeing her makes me angry, too, but it's not her fault. Half lions and half society, with a sprinkle of my own actions and inactions. Shit mood can equal improved house. Let's leave it at that. This day had better prove fruitful or I'm going to fucking lose my shit. One interruption after another, and during a fucking news broadcast. What IS that? I see everything. Another beauty in a commercial. I have to turn off the live television immediately. And... Done. I can't keep seeing those forms or I'll never get anywhere today. Yep, that's how fucking weak I've become. I wish I could speak to that fucking lion right now. There are a few key phrases in mind. 0639 and Friday morning. The usual... Coffee, flags out, fifth show. This machine is fully charged as of last night. Very good. Yesterday went a bit better than expected, thanks to a trip to the hardware and market. Naturally, there was something to see at the hardware (I've often found more beauty in that store than others for whatever reason) and I noticed immediately upon entering. The sight was gone within seconds and the remainder of the shopping trip was uneventful. The best part is that we were out quite a while right in the middle of the afternoon. The day was broken up. I haven't split an afternoon like that in a long time and by doing so I was much more comfortable as the evening approached. I finished all my typical chores, too. The angels did what they did and affected me permanently. I still believe all of it. I still hear all of it, yet deep inside I know nothing like any of those situations will ever come to pass again. The truth is I have no reason to believe good will happen in any form. I always speak of the little enjoyments. Well, they are still working to help me each day. Unfortunately, underneath whatever can bring me a few moments' peace is a trio of deafening roars behind soft whispers. They are gone for good, just like all the rest. I am to be the sole custodian. I only wish I knew how. The angels... Damn it anyway. The day has already been a downer in the worst possible way, although since the 'down' is early, I may be able to salvage some hours later after the sun is warm. IF the sun is warm. Two days ago I was sweltering and the house remained very warm late into the night, and then yesterday the fog and wind got together and had a baby named 'freezing my ass off'. Ugh, it was cold. The neighbor and I watched the basketball game in my garage with one door closed to keep the breeze down. I even had to pull the flags down early because of the gusting. Damn, from one day to the next, I know not what to expect. Right now the hills are visible but just above them is the gray blanket of fog. The shitty beginning to this day will have to be forcibly shoved aside so I can embrace those little things that still bring a slight smile. Sometimes I don't know what to do in the morning when my head is blown wide open by the past. One of the angels changed mornings. There is no going back now. Thinking is the key, too. Thinking, of all things. Believe it. I've been told thrice. 0813. I laid myself down and followed along. I shaped myself. The paws held me. The lion paid only 'some' mind at that time, and we did what we did here and there for entertainment and comfort, all the while my brain yearned for those moments which had been hinted over and over. I followed like a proper whelp and did whatever I felt would help me. In the end, I was destroyed. I was over there, and then over there, and then wanted to be in the ground to avoid thinking about everything. Destroyed. And then the whispers came to me... The moments came, too. Now I sit here day after day knowing the whispers are gone and the moments are impossible. I have to deal with the fallout from my bad fucking decisions and the idea that I fed myself to a lion and knew exactly what I was doing. A conscious decision, to be sure. Conscious. I did it. The gradient is now far beyond anything which can be drawn or visualized. The steepest fucking grade imaginable, and more. Hellish. Even recalling the whispers and feelings of those angels cannot pull me up far enough to feel solace or balance. I cannot fix this anymore, nor can I say what I mean. Everything still has to remain ambiguous. Believe me, whatever you may be gleaning is wrong. Opposite thinking. Switch. The more I read and hear about the conflict in the east, the smaller my issues become, believe it or not. There have been 188 entries (including this one) since the pandemic, and every single one of them has referenced at least one of the four main problems in my brain. I am in bad shape, for sure, yet I cannot place my own difficulty above that of the entire world, even considering the massive enmity and disdain for this fucking society. I can't fucking do that because in the grand scheme of the planet I am but one individual among billions, and the sheer number of affected souls is overwhelming. The cost and potential food distribution problems alone are far beyond the scope of what I deal with on a daily basis. One individual with plenty going on, however millions are in greater danger of much more. I cannot honestly make a comparison, and when I consider the world events, my little shit is greatly diminished. There is no denying this. I have no wish to give the impression that what I am going through is more important than ANYTHING else on this planet. The shit over there makes many people angry because there is no easy solution, nor any clear steps that are guaranteed to improve the livelihood of innocent people. I feel hatred toward the cause. I do not feel hatred toward myself. Most of the time when I am working here on the site, I have the news being updated within the browser and have not commented much. That is because I do not know what to say. Just know that my heart goes out to those being affected and I realize that my problematic existence cannot hold a fucking candle to such a crisis. Even now... The tragedy in Texas is being featured on the local news and it breaks my heart. Something must happen, I know, yet I still believe that changing the way people think is impossible. There seem to be no solutions to all the shit going on around the world. Yesterday while watching the game in the garage, we briefly discussed the conflict and agreed that we have to look out for each other should the issue come to our soil. We've had a partial plan for a very long time and seem to think in similar terms, as well. At the closure of the conversation when we went back to focusing upon the game, I felt a deep sense of comfort at being in this house most of the time. I feel safe here, whereas on the other side of the world, there may be no safe place for multitudes of people. This is very sad, and part of the reason for my comments being only slight. And now the images of physical beauty seem fucking stupid. Eh... Whatever. Switch back. The time is 0915 and I will hop to some of the routine very soon. I have the typical set of chores plus some laundry. After that? I don't know. Projects, maybe.
My parents purchased a 'La Machine' back in the late seventies. A food processor. I've probably mentioned it before, possibly within the entry bearing the same name. Well, I need my own version of that machine. Something with the ability and power to remove everything in my head. The only thing, for sure. Bad situation. I would have never fell prey to a lion. Allie's big, beautiful eyes again. I still have the news on the television. I may focus upon the inside of the house today. There is always something to do. Yesterday I went through the refrigerator a bit and organized because we brought home more produce. That was a good step. I don't usually do that until garbage day, so perhaps my work this Sunday will be eased a bit. I also want to grab my tool case from the chest and see about outfitting it with what I have. That project began years ago and was to be a replacement for the mobile tool set I sold during the carnage of late eleven. It had been the finest and most capable portable outfit I ever owned, yet I sold it off due to a long series of bad decisions and financial stupidity. That was when I sold the first big camera, too. I have since replaced the camera and tripod, yet the tool case just sits there because rebuilding is both very expensive and has not been much of a priority over the rest of my projects. I don't really need to be portable anymore because I don't go anywhere, but I already have the case, pallets and a shitload of good tools, so filling the case with tools I have may be very enjoyable, whereas filling it with the original Snap-On tools would be cost prohibitive. Maybe in and around my laundry work I can check it out. The project might make me smile. Saturday morning. I rolled through to the end of the fifth show last night. Now I don't know what to do. I have the local news on like yesterday. Good or bad. I'll probably not see some of the same faces as on a weekday, though. Good or bad. Good and bad? Allie was yesterday. No one today. There was enough last night as the show came to a close. I was thinking of how far away all those feelings can be, or how far away I am from any semblance of the happiness involved therein. I dreamed of being in a place where everything is possible, and then awakened to realize that was the first occasion of dreaming of such a place. I was there with two of my friends from the third show and the entire scene seemed perfectly natural. They went from being my fictional friends on the screen to being real friends right there next to me. We were in an area in which I have often daydreamed about living. Honestly. I could see it sometimes. And the location, setting, and technology involved would mean the end of issues. I believe due to this morning's dream, my stance today will be mellow. The experience crushed me and forced me to withdraw everything I would normally be waiting to throw at the world. This morning is different than those in recent memory. Part of the reason for the mellow mood is due to watching the show end last night and lamenting my position, plus the realization that given the correct circumstances, I would be no different than in the past. Three examples should be enough to know that I will not change, and in fact the passage of time has only worsened my desperation. That means the slightest draw and I will be at the mercy of more power than I can put into words. Nothing will change. I'll be the same weak, worthless presence that I've been in the past. I keep thinking that the angels' words were there to save me, but the truth is they were not crafted in such a way. The words were meant for something else... A different facet of life and one I consider daily. The angels saved me, not the words. Unfortunately, the last two decades have not followed suit, nor have they allowed me to embrace the beliefs of those three. Either I have failed, or I have been failed. I am worse off now than I was during each of those three periods when I had the good fortune to spend time with them. I believe the memories are causing me to see the vast differences between where I am in life and where I had been when those trips took place. Everything is different, my whole world has shifted halfway, yet I still know myself on the inside and know those key parts of me which drove the reckless decisions still exist and would kick in at a moment's notice. Out the other side? I would probably not survive at all. All this shit came together a little while ago due to the dreaming. I am where I am because of my own decisions, yet the rest of the world I've lived through has affected me, too. Dreaming is simply a product of experience and/or wishes, perhaps more than I can describe. The period afterward becomes an exercise in patience and calming thought due to life being such a fucking mess in comparison. Those worlds have been in my head longer than the obsession. The largest hand in dreaming of being there is the beauty. Yep. No getting around that one. I sit here and daydream, I see things go by on the television or somewhere outside the house, and then the dire thinking takes over and I know full well of what I am. Nothing will ever work because the possibility of 'balance' has disappeared completely. There can be no balance any longer. Zero. I am too far gone for that. Last night's episodes proved the point, along with already knowing that I am too weak for proper interaction with another person. All that shit swirls and mixes, and then I hear the whispering again and everything feels even worse. The last lion was many years ago, but I am still scarred. I dove and allowed myself to be somewhat shaped, and then simply laid down for the experience I so badly needed. The lion exacerbated all the dreaming of impossible situations. Not long after I moved away from the lion, the third voice hit me and I knew my time with the cat had affected me in a very bad way. I no longer saw a positive future. I no longer saw promise. Ruined. That was the largest shift in power, and my last opportunity to wield whatever I had left. Nope. I am not articulating this very well. Nothing is going to make sense. I have no sense left, anyway, so what's the difference? Is all this for other people, or myself? 0747 and the sky is very gray. I have not put out the flags due to precipitation. Everything I do today will be in the interest of 'earning' the comfortable evening. I have no reason to think that my accomplishments are taking place for their own sake. No way. I am simply trying to get through each day and come out the other side feeling like I can relax. Reconciliation of the wasted time continues to be pushed away, somewhere into the future and a time when I can hopefully deal with it like a normal person. Work today shall commence very soon. I have to keep the house quiet, but I can still care for some things without issue. I may leave the garage closed and then work out there with one of the shows in the background. That way I can further a couple of projects and maintain quiet at the same time. Part of me needs to get into some project in order to avoid recollections of being in the dream world earlier this morning. The dream is only going to make me sad and angry at the same time. I'm trying to avoid the wording that comes to mind as a result of this shitty mood. No one needs that crap. I believe the narrow parts of life have taken over to the point of pushing the 'simple doing of things' so far away that nothing seems appealing anymore. There are so many different facets of living that I can't even begin to list them, yet for me only a few have survived and outshined the rest by a wide enough margin to leave me bereft of hope for the future. In the last few months alone, my desire to care for this house and the ambition to actually carry out the simplest, daily task have diminished more than I had though possible. I believe the depressive state of my head is slowly removing those little enjoyments, one at a time. This is not good. The narrow items have disappeared. Maybe I should disappear. I don't know. And now we get to the harsh part of the subject... A lion led me around. I followed because the lion knew I was powerless. The lion MANIPULATED me using more force than I had EVER seen before, and believe me... I have seen force. Again, I followed because what I was feeling took away my sense and ability to think clearly about decisions. The lion knew PRECISELY what it was doing. The lion knew, and the angels flew away. Vobiscum... 'Her'."
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