The Vulpine Prowess Mature content No. 286 Published January 5th, 2022 6:32am pst read ( words) Past entries "0615, new year's eve 2021. Nearly 2022. Very interesting, eh? Nope. I don't want to do this anymore but something pulls me to the keyboard each day. I guess I'll sit here and repeat some of the shit from yesterday's completed entry and describe the very exciting housework day ahead. What do you think? This is it, right? The end of all things, the line over which I stop trying to be anything different or better and just sit here fading into nothingness. Right? Obscurity. Fuck it... I'm already off the web, might as well be off my rocker, too. The scrape yesterday depressed the shit out of me. I knew I'd end up a bit upset for a while, but this time it really carried through the day. My head was so screwed up that going to the store had me with eyes down just in case. Nothing was causing problems over there. No idea why returning put me in a bad fucking mood, but at least it lifted somewhat before the evening. Cara is going to be all over the screen soon. I'd like to... Oy, never mind. My words don't matter anymore. My thoughts don't matter anymore. Hmm... Maybe I am still pretty rankled. Anyway, I have played the same song several times heading to the market and back home. It's a recent thing, too, because I only downloaded the tune a few months ago. Ahh... I believe the issue was not the song. I recall seeing a woman walking hastily across the parking lot while loading my car. I craned my neck a bit because I thought she may have resembled some imagery here. Nope. But she did bring to mind the early morning bullshit I had to deal with, and when combined with the power of the music I may have just snapped. Angry in the knowledge that I have sat on my fucking hands too long. Unfortunately, my freed hands still don't know what to do. I keep sitting on them due to having no direction. God damn there she is again. Back to the young girl in the market who reminded me of the other one from years ago. I went around the barn with this in the previous mess. From Jamie to the girl to the other one and then back again. Round and round we go, where we stop nobody knows (cares). Blindness. Coldness. I don't understand what happened with this character. I honestly do not get it. One day she's up there with the rest and the next I am all goo ga whatever the fuck. Maybe more weakness. Or maybe the whole thing is backwards in my head. The woman from the past with the same features came first, as in before I went all nuts over Jamie. Perhaps the screen time of watching this program reminded me of her and my subconscious did the rest. Could that be true? Does that mean I was in love with the woman standing right in front of me and Jamie is merely a link? I can't mention a name, but I will say that working in her kitchen trying to replace a faucet was one of the most distracting and painful situations ever. That was perhaps four or five years ago and she was doing nothing more than being friendly toward us as we worked. My eyes almost fell out of my fucking head that afternoon. I need to think about this a while, because the woman in question -- let's just call her Julia for the time being since that name has had an impact upon my life -- was after the other one with the big, dark eyes and hair over whom I very nearly threw my entire life into the incinerator in a short period of time. There is something more to this, as well, but I can't put my finger on it just yet. Maybe I need to think about one of those fucking memory engrams those freaky people tried to get out of me in the late eighties. For the time being, I'll refer to the overarching theme of those three women as the vulpine prowess. Not just power. Specifically, power over me. Not their fault. And I will try to avoid getting all pissy about the past this time. Mmkay? Mmkay. I remember being on an insane job for Julia's father way up on a hilltop and very isolated. The work went from extremely difficult to complete, relaxing gravy. It really did. Anyway, the point is she helped with some of the painting -- kind of part-time I think -- and I saw her there on a few random days. One of those days she had been outside the front of the house (which overlooked the ocean through huge, square windows) on a ladder and painting trim above. Well, I could not see her face, yet from the shoulders down she was in the big window. Reaching up meant her shirt kept rising and revealing midriff and accentuating her breasts. I didn't think much of it at the time, either. A woman who looked really nice and then I pushed my attention elsewhere out of respect and to avoid any obsessive thoughts entering my head. That was that. Not many occasions, but I did see her up there painting perhaps three times. The first educated me. After? I didn't look at her at all unless she addressed me. Cut to some time later when I saw Julia at the bar. I did not see her at first, so she said hello and asked if I remembered her. Well, I fell down a couple of notches at that very second because when I saw her big, beautiful eyes looking at me I was reminded of the Raven and nearly lost my shit. She asked why I had been so taken aback by seeing her again. Well, I told her of what happened not long before and she expressed sympathy. I then told her that forgetting her face was impossible, but not because of the Raven. Julia was embarrassed at such a compliment. It was the truth, though. Shortly thereafter, I ran into her at the goddess market and nearly fell down. We said hello and made nice and then I exited. I believe that was the last time I saw her. Vanessa is another one. She used to resemble both Jamie and Julia. Basket case. I'm going to leave her out of this one, though. Plenty already. I suppose the idea of considering my feelings for Jamie's character and appearance having stemmed from Julia is not so far-fetched. Either I suppressed and shoved her far away or simply lost track after not seeing her for so long. Then the girl in the market as a reminder. She brought Julia back to my head and soon after I began to picture her there at the bar that day. If the whole thing is backwards, Julia was the point, not the other two. I can see her face right now. Prowess? Not her fault. My weakness. Tiring of this shit yet? I am. You will. I have to put that aside for a little while because the image of her huge eyes looking at me is going to cause more problems than I can handle right now. The morning bullshit, too. So far I'm fine, yet at any moment the issue could flare and then I'm off to a bad fucking start. I can't have that shit today. Focus. I have things to do and probably a trip out this afternoon to watch the big game. Not sure yet, although my brain having experienced a meltdown yesterday will likely push me a bit harder than usual and allow me to leave the house and be near people. 'Those' people. Remember? Anyway, Julia must wait. And don't give me a blast of shit for naming her, either. I have to call her something and her real name must be left out. Any connection... Bad. Maybe the race girl saw nothing and I saw a look because my brain is so fucked up that I am inventing shit which could be interesting. Prowess, and not her fault. Stunning, too. That was initial, and perhaps my desperation drove me to dream of being able to either stare at her sans clothing to see what may have really been there, or turning her into some twisted experiment and devouring that very same clothing. I'm not going to sit here and splay a bunch of bullshit. That will help no one. My head could have manufactured the whole thing because I am a basket case. I don't fucking know anymore. Unlike any woman I've seen since, though. Not a good thing if I'm still thinking about the incident five months later. Not good by a damned sight, people. Weak. The prowess cannot be denied and if you disagree, well... Once again you are a lying sack of shit. Get your head out of your ass and realize what REALLY runs this world. Ugh. 0849. Julia's face is an ethereal, beautiful combination of Vanessa's narrow mouth and Jamie's huge, dark eyes framed by jet-black, wavy hair. The more I picture her sitting there smiling at me with a touch of sympathy, the more I'm thinking my weak, desperate and pathetic 'search' ended that day and I have been pushing it away subconsciously. Not good. Blah, blah, blah wondrousbeautydreamycakes. The new year began seven hours ago. 0657 on the first day of the year. The aptly-named goddess market came into play again yesterday afternoon. There is always something there. I went for a sandwich and waited a few minutes near the cheeses. Well, right across from me was yet another example of my desperate and deranged thinking. Again. Fucking again. Before I place even one word of appreciation here, let me say that the initial reaction served to confirm everything I suspected, and more. I stared, and then I imagined. Not good. Goddess prowess. The power over my existence. I could not believe the fit of her pants and the cut line created by the lower hem of her sweater. As I awaited attention from the deli counter, I found myself helpless, completely unable to look away from her shape for more than a few seconds and then straight back it went as she moved around the hot case before walking out of the area. The seam, radii, everything… And then below the scooping neck? Even more. Disbelief. I lost sight of her, ordered my sandwich, and then exited the market with one more glimpse of her stance just before the doors. Thank Christ her destination was elsewhere and not the fucking bar. Maybe an inch below my height, the most well-defined legs I’d seen in years (there is one other pair exempt from this space), and the gait of dreams. Breasts bouncing, hair all amassed at the top of her head and equally bouncing, and then those stems creating patterns of torment inside me. As I have stated many times here, I shall never look upon her like again. The market carries the word 'goddess' for good reason. I had an inkling something would happen due to the hour and sunny weather. At least the cashier was not on such a level. Upon returning to my seat at the bar, I decided to venture back to the bar itself for a touch of banter with the bartender and ended up making another person laugh. Well, I turned and saw a fucking stunning face and big, bright smile. And then a clink along with a cheers. Back to my little table with her expression unchanged. For the next couple of hours, I noticed she spent a good portion of time looking in my direction. Maybe something was there, or maybe not. I am just weak enough to imagine unreal shit happening around me but I honestly do my best to avoid such things. Her face was VERY pleasant to see and she reacted positively to my silly comments about beer prescription requirements from my 'doctor'. Afterward, I glanced across the room and met eyes several times. And then the gears began to mesh and I felt a sliver of that wonder from the race track. Yep, that again. I bring her up because she created some of the most dire feelings ever. Desperate for some insane magic which probably does not exist. All the way back to Shilo and my head creating everything missing in my life in order to enable me to deal with it. My brain went in such directions yesterday for quite a while before I noticed the legs and rear end of the form in the market had flown south for the Winter. Out of my head, likely because every fucking time the emotion will smack any physical aspects right in the face. The power outweighed by the prowess, meaning my head was desperate for something more critical to survival than everything wrapped in the pants... A pair of eyes again. Not thighs or breasts, but eyes. I am pathetic. Today is going to be very relaxed. Wrapping presents and caring for very few chores. Nothing more. We will be over at the other place for a holiday dinner and then back here soon after. The evening is going to seem very peaceful after the football hoopla yesterday. This is not going to go away. If I can't find a way to cope with what has been taken out of my life, I will no longer see through to reason. In fact, I'm already losing some of it right now. The caring is falling away quickly these days. A prime example of uncaring is the fact that within seconds of seeing that shapely woman in the market I was picturing her in all sorts of positions, just for my benefit. That is not good by any stretch of the word. This morning once again seems dire, as if the world is coming to an end and I am ill-equipped to deal with the change. If I mention desire or other aspects of beauty as they affect me inside, the reasoning is born of weakness. 'By my enemy's hand.' If you are not familiar with the 'enemy', you may as well stop reading and never return here. No skin off my nose. I suppose I'll move along through this day and all the rest (for as long as I last, anyway) and do the same shit over and over until I crack. Or blow up. Or something. Blackpowdercakes. I happen to have knowledge of such things. Very bad situation, this shit. I almost can't think straight sometimes. The previous entry held many good, clear observations in and around all the posturing and threats. Maybe that was all I had and I sit here now bereft of anything else to say that has not been treaded before. The woman at the market is not a part of such thinking, either. That is always going to happen in one way or another if I leave this house. And the eyes in the bar are rarer, yet the same point applies. If I am not there, I see nothing. So those painful occurrences may be avoided. As for the rest? I don't know what the fuck to say. This morning has gone from bad to worse. I'll have to at least try to maintain a positive stance for others, if not myself. Bad fucking situation, now worse than ever. I have no illusions whatsoever. Not anymore. Dreams of one type. Just one. Not those others that seem to keep people going. Other people, not me. Making nice later today only lasts so long before I can be myself and take a fucking breath. I hate everything right now. Attach it to the past, glue it to a possible future, I don't care. Hate. Everything. Aside from the seconds looking at that woman in the market and those precious moments thinking the other one had some magical insight like the race girl, I have been overanalyzing and returning to the same conclusion over and over. This is all there is or will be. Period. I see no reason to try. Motions. Sometimes I feel parts of life are unfair until I swing the keel and realize otherwise. Faltering is going to happened from time to time and there is not really a solution, although keeping in mind all those reasons why I've been fucking heeled over for so long do often feel unfair. I need to correlate the prowess with the past and figure out why I experience such overwhelming loss when something aligned with my mindset comes along and then disappears. I should not be fucking crippled like this. Fair or unfair is a toughie. I don't know. Those terms ride on the heels of believing that pure weakness is more at fault, and you know where I go with that one. Once more, I just don't know but still feel compelled to learn. Crappy morning. At least there is sunshine again. Better than nothing. A five-eight Greek/Irish something or other, down the page. Dark features supporting my reckless drug addiction which has been flaring since that girl who reminded me of Julia (I wish I could use her real name to avoid confusion, but alas I cannot have anything mapped out and leading back to me). Dark hair, eyes, whatever. No sadness, though. Nicole carried the sadness just like James. The woman here is for decorative purposes. I do not like being pushed, yet I have been shoved in three different directions over the last year, most notably the past two months or so. This has been forcing me to look from a third set of eyes back at myself as I walk through the world, and what I am seeing is bad. Not me, the pushing. Very uncomfortable as the positioning continues to change as I adapt to whatever was there prior to the effort. That means I am always behind the eight ball with regard to the pushing. Clear? I doubt it. That's good. Yesterday I was heading for a wall of shit before deciding to take off and have lunch elsewhere. Had I remained here, some things would have been accomplished (stuff I need to do today) but the mood would definitely have darkened. I can handle some changes, some dissonance, and some pushing, but not all three at the same fucking time. That is when I become defensive and quiet at the same time, leaving others to wonder whether or not I will blow up. Chief among the trouble? Prowess. That fucking uncanny ability for foxes to mold 'anything' into 'anything else' using elements unparalleled in this world or any other. Undeniable, unending prowess and power over every single element on the fucking chart. That wall of shit yesterday may have been a good thing on at least one level, and that is the work. When I am angry I tend to be productive. The pushing came to mind this morning, not yesterday. I've had just about enough of it, too. Unfortunately, I am not the one with the power to do fuck-all about anything. All I can do is type. Hmm... Maybe the wall is still there. Shit morning. Too many of these. I'm fucking sick of everything. Pushed, shoved, misunderstood (partly my fault for being a huge pain in the ass all the time) and then tossed all manner of pleasantries, as if those bullshit moments are going to cut through the mass of shit I keep plowing and make me feel better. There you go... All neat and tied with a bow. The vulpine prowess is destroying my willingness to deal with anyone. Be it that woman by the cheese case I wanted to devour (tremendous power) or the other one who became a striking example of how the eyes can overpower me within seconds and render me primed for suggestion, I honestly feel that such vast levels of influence will be those keys to my vehicle of anger. Driving me along past scenes to which I cannot return. Shit morning? That's what I said. Off the cliff. 0939, as if time matters now. Christmas movie up there right now. I didn't want to see lovely women on the television but I've tired of those other shows for the moment. Now there is a bright-eyed beauty splayed across the screen looking like the opposite of my mood. If yesterday was any indication, my level of weakness continues to increase beyond anyone's control. At least there is no Jamie or reminders of Julia. The latter showed up prior to my feelings for the former developing and spiraling out of control. Hmm... That word. I have control over damned-near nothing these days. Just the house and its contents. That is pretty sad. The prowess on the television only serves to reinforce such knowledge. Splendid. Jesus fuck, another one. Maybe I should find a football game instead. Killin' me. 0658 on the second day of the year. I made it through the traditional dinner and back home last night. This morning's quiet is very much appreciated. Gangsters up there for the moment. I don't know if a Christmas movie would be a good idea right now after all I saw yesterday. The early afternoon and late evening were sprinkled with beauty. The better idea right now is to avoid that stuff because twenty-four hours ago was tragic again. I don't want a repeat. Prowess, the last image down there. Another image of the same model, yet this one was from a distance and, as is fairly obvious, shot in haste resulting in a lack of clarity. It is a candid like many of the others, but this time I cropped and pulled/compressed her to accentuate the expression on her beautiful face. Less makeup, goofy hair, more natural. Especially considering the sheer number of photos to which this woman has been subjected all over the world and the vast amount which are choreographed. The expression just kills me. She has a familiar structure. She also appears very different than in the image above. Prowess from nature. Another genetic fluke from God-knows where, an unreal combination of Greek and Irish, and a model I ran across by accident before really staring and realizing her importance. No gushing or anything like that. Only the same kind of wonder and desperation with many of the other images throughout the last six years. Oh, and if I am being unfair here, by all means take whatever type of thing you are using to read this shit and shove it in your ass. I don't care. The stoicism and direction here will squash other opinions, always. The eyes have it. The prowess lately is much different than it was at the outset of the obsessive analysis. I see everything the same at times, yet when I see differently is the time that my world runs aslant, like the oft-mentioned race blonde fluke thing goddess life-altering gorgeous situational doe-eyed analysis I'll never leave out of this fucking content. Read that again. It makes my eyes water. There was softness in her expression unlike anything I'd seen in some time, yet still the power and prowess were an inch away from causing me to fall to the ground while asking God why such things come to pass. The eyes again. Always with the eyes. The one at the store who reminded me of the other one. Big, dark eyes, but more there... Not the young girl who served to bring up the whole subject, the other one that I knew. Her face was a dramatic, stirring wonderland that afternoon at the bar. No sooner did I explain myself when she stared with just enough emotion and understanding to cause me years of difficulty and heartache. Her eyes demonstrated the rarest power in existence. The race girl did the same thing, although I knew nothing of her. I've gone over the possibility that it's all my doing, too. As in me being SO fucking desperate and needy that my head is creating the appearance of that for which I have searched and will always find it somewhere regardless of who I may run across. I certainly hope not, but the possibility cannot be removed from this or I am an idiot. The image below being a candid and having caught her in a moment otherwise left out of print or electronic media has captured a very natural, neutral state in which her mind may be doing nothing more than realizing a camera is pointed at her even before the expression reacts and changes. It is fucking amazing. She looks more beautiful below than in any other shot, makeup or otherwise. The expression and the eyes. Back to the girl at the store carrying the power to send me into the past and see something even more important and beautiful, and then forward again to realize it's all fucking gone forever, leaving me bereft and hurt. This may become the norm here very soon. From anger to sadness. The beauty never makes me angry. Have I gone on about that enough yet? I've left out three key terms which cannot shine here or I'll fall off the edge of the world and never return. I can't have that. I can't have people thinking in those missing terms. The situation is such that if by some miraculous stretch there is a reader out there who can connect the dots or is already aware of the secret words, I will simple remove references. The whole fucking thing is embarrassing, honestly. The race girl? What... Eighteen or nineteen years old? She reconfigured much of my life on this planet in the space of perhaps two minutes? How can that happen unless the subject is weakened to the point of yearning for something? Too much bullshit. So... They have power and prowess, right? Could the shift be my lack of both instead of an excess on their part? I don't even want to think about it now. The idea arose just now because I'll be at the goddess market in less than two hours for a cup of coffee, and the thought brought those pants back to mind. When I stood there waiting to place my sandwich order, the entire universe went sideways and I felt actual physical pain because I was unable to look more. I needed to see details so badly that my brain actually caused my body to become uncomfortable. Do you believe this shit? I've been tormented before, plenty. Especially on a few occasions in the city a few years ago. But this woman was fifteen feet away and had a couple of lines pushed a tad further than I had expected, and then as she moved around I saw one more little clue which pushed me over the edge and I blew up inside. That exact moment was a turn not far from me. Just a turn. A blank expression. Chest defying the clothing. The lines... And one line I've rarely seen at all, anywhere. That was that. Torment, pain, my head questioning the nature of the universe over and over until I had to shove it away and leave the store. Oh, but that decision was not good enough because there she was again with hair everywhere like a wild Mustang in need of a curry comb. I passed no one heading two doors down toward the bar and that is a good thing. I am fairly certain the expression on my face would have caused a stir. Now I ask... Was all that shit my fault? Maybe these last two entries were not such a good idea after all. I can see certain pairs of eyes perusing and analyzing, but I can also see other eyes looking at this and believing me to be nothing more than some flavor of 'hound' looking to pounce on something shapely. I see both sides of that, and considering some of my sordid and insane history laid out in the archive, none of that thinking would surprise me. I don't feel that way very often, but my stance will not change. 0841 on the first Monday of the year. Finally alone in the quiet with my friends and some hot coffee. I have half the routine finished, as well, due to the delayed morning. There is not much to do today. I'm planning to sit right fucking here for as long as is necessary for clearing part of my head. Pause. For fuck's sake, more demands upon my time. All done now, finally. Jesus. 0912. I dreamed of another woman. Actually there were several, along with some guys who were in a club of sorts, possibly stemmed from school. The scene felt like one of the fairs we used to attend before the shit hit the fan a couple of years back. Costuming, really. The woman caught my eye and shared features with those I have described here (big surprise) along with similarities to the one frightening yet fucking stunning woman I've known for the last several years. Well, I began to attempt to pursue the girl and her coworkers/friends were trying to protect her and interrogate me to ensure I would not be a bad influence. I kept seeing little tidbits of her face and subsequently falling on mine because the compulsion to be close became overwhelming. I felt as if I was willing to give up everything in the world just to see her right before my eyes and have the time to speak together. None of it went anywhere. I spoke to the guys (they knew all the friends of my focal point) and then watched some kind of dance display which took her away from me again. I was yearning and then awakened. Upon thinking clearly just moments later, I felt a stinging sensation as I realized the woman in the dream was based upon the one at the market. The girl who works there. That is frightening. Very young. When I see her -- as I did walking in yesterday for a coffee -- I wave hello and then look away. Every fucking time, the same thing. Wave and disappear. She appeared frightened on one occasion and that was that. I cannot have anyone frightened of me, least of all so much younger than myself. Those beautiful doe eyes broke my heart once due to me speaking with her. Now I can barely look at them. Anyway, it was only a dream and likely formed from everything I did yesterday. She is one of two with zero power and zero prowess. Believe it and don't fucking ask me to explain. The rest run my life from afar. Well, I received a call just now from my buddy. Might have to run out the door to troubleshoot a water heater at a restaurant. I have everything ready and most of the house locked up, just in case. He is going to call the manufacturer to solve the issue, but if that goes bad I'll take off to help. Historically I've been pretty effective at figuring a way to make them work. Time will tell. For now, I can sit here and work through some shit (maybe). 0950. Normally I would be pouring a cocktail about now. If I go help, my head must remain clear. Perhaps the prowess exists because I invented it slowly and throughout the course of years. I've been obsessing for so long that I can't even begin to define a catalyst. Maybe several. I know Juliette allowed me carte blanche, as did Ashley, Michelle and Andrea, so there is the possibility that I became accustomed to those personalities and qualities, later leaving me in an emotional hole due to the loss. The kitten, too. For some reason, she read me quite a bit and understood. I still don't get it unless I fell asleep eighteen-plus years ago and dreamed of them right up to the middle of eleven. I did not think of those souls as having any sort of power over me, though. The idea could have grown after being forced to swallow the loss and then amplifying whatever I felt which had been missing. Good God, Edie's fucking hair and outfit in this scene... Damn. Anyway, the prowess could all be in my head and not even exist in reality due to my being this weak for such a long time. Like the power, I gave it to them out of the sheer need to compensate for all that is missing. I can't be certain, though. Just an idea. The market the other day was a prime example of my falling off a cliff because the obsession stood right before me as I felt shackled. There was nothing I could do, and believe me the draw was overwhelming. For those moments in that store, everything I have inside was completely under her control and she will never even have a clue. She never looked in my direction, and that is a clear-cut case of being the carrier of every fucking issue. Hmm... I was correct. The forms hold nothing. My head develops problems because I am so desperate and needy. Splendid. I think the weather is gearing up again. Rain, wind, the whole shitaree. I have everything in order, though. Being comfortable inside the house is difficult if there are loose ends out there. Right now I am not worried. Good order and lots of time to think. Still angry. This is a bad time. Garbage trucks out there. Nice. Nothing helps. The quiet mornings are good, but no matter what I do here at some point my head will descend into the void. It already has, in fact, just a few minutes ago. I rose, though. This time. Not every time, but often. This is a cycle which begins in my head, translates and spreads into the realm of the physical, the shit from the past comes to mind and then the thinking takes over again. A circle, just as many other aspects of my life these days. Mornings are pretty much the deciding factor in the direction of a given day. So far? I don't fucking know what to think. Jamie was only seventeen when this episode was filmed, meaning I can't sit here and gush about how FUCKING STUNNING HER FACE IS. Good thing no one gives an orange fuck in the wind what shows up on this site. Heh. Back to this morning, and I'm happy to report the water heater issue was mostly alleviated by a call to their technical support. The guy was an idiot, solving a short-term lighting problem but leaving out a long-term solution. Dumb fuck anyway, and not the first time. The morning has me at sixes and sevens going around and around the fucking circle of depressive thinking, massive loss, and the future appearing about as bright as the sky on fucking Saturn. This is turning to shit much more quickly than I had predicted months ago. I may have to take steps if I can look around and find some kind of strength. I seem to have misplaced it all. More angry. People are all lined up on the edge of something very unpleasant and I am waiting. The bad time just worsened in the last hour. This is very rough on my head, perhaps the most difficult situation in years. I had been accustomed to this on a daily basis, yet while working so much I did not have the free time for it to really sink in and leave me sitting here bereft of an appropriate solution. I honestly do not know what is going to develop in the future if this continues, but the one guaranteed result is my mood will not improve no matter the comfort or anything else. The last thing I need is to speak to someone about what has been happening and then listen to a pile of empty bullshit. The main thought right now is pretty fucking reckless. Unfortunately, this will quickly degrade into an impossible conundrum. Of all the shit I've spewed toward the same ending being illuminated, nothing has been enough. Now? The past is worse and so am I. The television, some lunch, little chores here and there... All of these are shrinking and barely enough to keep me afloat. There are tiny details I've made worse, yet the bulk of the problem is way the fuck back in the eighties. Moreover, the lack of help grinds me to a halt several times in the space of one hour. There is nothing for me now. Nothing. Prowess. Heh. What a fucking joke. The title has gone astray. I just don't give a shit. Maybe look at the model and her features instead of focusing upon this mass of words going in circles. I still have to work on the kitchen and prepare some stuff to go into dinner later. Working in there always reminds me of the fifth series because of all the days spent with that family in the background. Oh, of course I'll see Jolene in all her unique splendor, but for fuck's sake I have to watch something. Whatever goes up there on two televisions is going to carry fucking problems, so I may as well have a dream to appreciate while feeling like complete shit. Better than nothing. I have the protein defrosting right now. It will be ready for a nice, hot dinner to offset this cold weather. The main plot of this episode is a soccer coach who had a physical relationship with a student. Underage, that is. Disgusting. I mentioned how beautiful Jamie was at that age, but there is a massive gradient between my words of appreciation and the subject matter. I am harmless other than this crap. Needless to say, the guys have options for dealing with the predator. Tough story, for sure. My attempts would probably fail if I was in a similar situation. I can't seem to do anything about anything. Nothing else can be said, though, because the entire shitaree harks back to John's character and the image I can't extract from my head. Fuck it all, anyway. Junior's image was smeared and several people came close to losing their lives. Think about that. 1133 and very windy. I was going to pick up the last of the leaves to toss into the green can yesterday but the entire day went to shit. I don't even know why I do anything these days. No matter how upset or angry I become over a given subject, the bottom line is I am just one tiny person sitting here with nary an effect upon the grinding of society. And believe me, being a nobody is not what brings the shitty moods. There is so much more than I wouldn't even know where to begin. Good thing I have that familiar crutch next to me. The images and words continue to float in circles. Prowess? The meaning is fading now. Or maybe I had a point to make and lost it. Another possibility is I already know nothing is going to change and am beginning to give up. Give me a reason to care. Go for it. Even this episode is reinforcing the idea of the image coupled with the right face, just like John. No getting around it. Pervasive imagery. Pervasive standards. On the heels? Emptiness. Loss of power, if it was even there in the first place. Ah shit, there is Jeannie again. I could fuck her voice. Don't get me started on the rest of that dark beauty. I've already painted an entire series of pictures in my head involving her on all fours. Eh, fuck. Who cares? What the fuck am I, anyway? Someone of note? A person? Do my problems equate to anything more than grains of sand on the world's beaches? I didn't think so. Today is a loss. Yesterday was a loss. Tomorrow I have to drive her two hours up the road for another exam, meaning I'll end up at the same restaurant's bar wallowing and typing into my phone. There will probably be some kind of beauty nearby to derail me and my dreams, more bourbon, a bunch of stupid words, and then we will return home and I will be a bit worse. Images and words, beauty and loss, weakness and desperation. I almost can't look at others anymore. I see everything I am not. 1212. Even the clock hurts me. Ok. No more prowess. I've had it with that fucking shit. No one fucking cares anyway. Shove it in your stupid ass, people. Stupid. Ass. Shove. Enjoy. Repeat. Fuck. You. Ah, there it is for the millionth time this week. I am so fucking sick of hearing it. And then people fucking laugh it off as if the subject matters for naught. Well, it matters to me, assholes. Take all your pathetic terms, write them on a thousand sheets of paper, tape them all over your being and then light everything on fire. Think of me as you burn to death. All meaning is lost, all closeness was never there, all words are knives, all thought is unreal. Even yesterday during a relaxing afternoon and some pleasant conversation, one woman brought to light her insensitivity and uncaring nature, effectively announcing it to the group. The result? Nothing. No one gave a shit, not even the recipient of her words. I could have sliced her to fucking bloody ribbons right then and there. Do you think someone would have noticed the mess? She tossed the line out there, twice, and the atmosphere remained unchanged because every fucking person is exactly the same and does not give a cold fuck about anyone else. Selfish. If I only had power... Years ago the same thing took place, yet from a different woman who carries more beauty than ten pageant contestants combined. Holy God in a tin cup, she is unreal on the outside and probably one of the most striking beauties I have ever seen. When the words, threats and actions came forth? All her beauty was reduced like a red wine sauce left on the stove of life for a million years. Gone... All of it. From that point forward I made a concerted effort to stay away. Prowess? Nope. Goddess? Yep. Person? Not even close. Fuck her and the mindset ingrained by those who were likely even worse. On and on it rolls, right over the rest of us. Eh... That last sentiment seems to imply someone else feels as I do. No fucking way. I should have said 'me'. The category is ever-expanding. I have known for a very long time that sincerity is subjective and often completely false. Fake. Agendas drive far too much for a person to actually be fully sincere. But knowing is impossible because lying keeps society afloat. Honesty destroys. Keep it inside. Lie all the time. Put up your curtains, close your doors. Roll right on over those people and make them believe you really understand because that is the path you were fucking born to tread. Falsefucks. Assholes. I knew them, know them. Do I seem angry? 0626 on the examination morning. In about an hour we have to hit the road just like in November, although this trip will not include spending the night. Too bad, because I do like to be away from home for short trips that include dinner out somewhere. I'll be killing around three hours up there just like the last trip, too. Maybe back to the second restaurant I visited where I did some writing and went goo goo over the little morsel of a hostess. A little time sitting alone in the bar atmosphere will be nice for a while. Hopefully we will be back home by early afternoon. After being out of my element for hours I'll probably need some time here again. And the thought of tomorrow being all mine is very enticing, like a reward for taking care of some important business and making it through without issue. I'll be driving my car, too. Nice and dark, like my thoughts. And the restaurant... Comfortable, time to think while being alone yet near other people, the space to collect my musings and place them in a file. I don't know what the draw is about being 'portable', but the feeling of being out there in the wild reminds me of moving into the trailer twenty years ago. Holy Jesus God is Edie ever awe-inspiring and incredible. She should have an extra Emmy just for the season two facial expressions. Anyway... Portable. The need to remain very organized and safe, like taking a plane trip. Reduced to a few things which must take up less space, keeping everything close at hand while in the airport, and maintaining a secure stance while around unknown people. Whatever the feeling, I have a bit of it this morning because of the trip. There are other aspects and connections with films, but they should remain set aside for another entry if I keep doing this stupid shit. 0644, almost time to get ready for the road trip. No more listening, no more helping. I fucking give up. I'm going to sit here and repeat my stupid, meaningless shit and eat pizza until some force out there rams a heart attack up my ass. Just like Tony's mother, while being rolled through the hospital on a gurney, I'll be smiling. Fuck me, fuck her, fuck you... Nothing is ever enough. Helpless and roiling. Boiling over. Nothing I can do. Nothing. Hmm... The vulpine prowess now seems pretty fucking minimal. Oh, there is Bruce. I want to jump his wife until we are both dead. And the closing shot... Just her eyelashes make me want to dive into the television and turn the woman into a plaything. This may be over. I've said it on more than one occasion, but something compelling always came along to keep the words flowing. And now I see the flow is merely sludge from a broken sewer main, otherwise known as my brain. Exaptera. Frontal... Five on the left a, exaptera. A... Four. Bore. Dreams again." 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The Vulpine Prowess Mature content No. 286 Published January 5th, 2022 6:32am pst read ( words) Past entries "0615, new year's eve 2021. Nearly 2022. Very interesting, eh? Nope. I don't want to do this anymore but something pulls me to the keyboard each day. I guess I'll sit here and repeat some of the shit from yesterday's completed entry and describe the very exciting housework day ahead. What do you think? This is it, right? The end of all things, the line over which I stop trying to be anything different or better and just sit here fading into nothingness. Right? Obscurity. Fuck it... I'm already off the web, might as well be off my rocker, too. The scrape yesterday depressed the shit out of me. I knew I'd end up a bit upset for a while, but this time it really carried through the day. My head was so screwed up that going to the store had me with eyes down just in case. Nothing was causing problems over there. No idea why returning put me in a bad fucking mood, but at least it lifted somewhat before the evening. Cara is going to be all over the screen soon. I'd like to... Oy, never mind. My words don't matter anymore. My thoughts don't matter anymore. Hmm... Maybe I am still pretty rankled. Anyway, I have played the same song several times heading to the market and back home. It's a recent thing, too, because I only downloaded the tune a few months ago. Ahh... I believe the issue was not the song. I recall seeing a woman walking hastily across the parking lot while loading my car. I craned my neck a bit because I thought she may have resembled some imagery here. Nope. But she did bring to mind the early morning bullshit I had to deal with, and when combined with the power of the music I may have just snapped. Angry in the knowledge that I have sat on my fucking hands too long. Unfortunately, my freed hands still don't know what to do. I keep sitting on them due to having no direction. God damn there she is again. Back to the young girl in the market who reminded me of the other one from years ago. I went around the barn with this in the previous mess. From Jamie to the girl to the other one and then back again. Round and round we go, where we stop nobody knows (cares). Blindness. Coldness. I don't understand what happened with this character. I honestly do not get it. One day she's up there with the rest and the next I am all goo ga whatever the fuck. Maybe more weakness. Or maybe the whole thing is backwards in my head. The woman from the past with the same features came first, as in before I went all nuts over Jamie. Perhaps the screen time of watching this program reminded me of her and my subconscious did the rest. Could that be true? Does that mean I was in love with the woman standing right in front of me and Jamie is merely a link? I can't mention a name, but I will say that working in her kitchen trying to replace a faucet was one of the most distracting and painful situations ever. That was perhaps four or five years ago and she was doing nothing more than being friendly toward us as we worked. My eyes almost fell out of my fucking head that afternoon. I need to think about this a while, because the woman in question -- let's just call her Julia for the time being since that name has had an impact upon my life -- was after the other one with the big, dark eyes and hair over whom I very nearly threw my entire life into the incinerator in a short period of time. There is something more to this, as well, but I can't put my finger on it just yet. Maybe I need to think about one of those fucking memory engrams those freaky people tried to get out of me in the late eighties. For the time being, I'll refer to the overarching theme of those three women as the vulpine prowess. Not just power. Specifically, power over me. Not their fault. And I will try to avoid getting all pissy about the past this time. Mmkay? Mmkay. I remember being on an insane job for Julia's father way up on a hilltop and very isolated. The work went from extremely difficult to complete, relaxing gravy. It really did. Anyway, the point is she helped with some of the painting -- kind of part-time I think -- and I saw her there on a few random days. One of those days she had been outside the front of the house (which overlooked the ocean through huge, square windows) on a ladder and painting trim above. Well, I could not see her face, yet from the shoulders down she was in the big window. Reaching up meant her shirt kept rising and revealing midriff and accentuating her breasts. I didn't think much of it at the time, either. A woman who looked really nice and then I pushed my attention elsewhere out of respect and to avoid any obsessive thoughts entering my head. That was that. Not many occasions, but I did see her up there painting perhaps three times. The first educated me. After? I didn't look at her at all unless she addressed me. Cut to some time later when I saw Julia at the bar. I did not see her at first, so she said hello and asked if I remembered her. Well, I fell down a couple of notches at that very second because when I saw her big, beautiful eyes looking at me I was reminded of the Raven and nearly lost my shit. She asked why I had been so taken aback by seeing her again. Well, I told her of what happened not long before and she expressed sympathy. I then told her that forgetting her face was impossible, but not because of the Raven. Julia was embarrassed at such a compliment. It was the truth, though. Shortly thereafter, I ran into her at the goddess market and nearly fell down. We said hello and made nice and then I exited. I believe that was the last time I saw her. Vanessa is another one. She used to resemble both Jamie and Julia. Basket case. I'm going to leave her out of this one, though. Plenty already. I suppose the idea of considering my feelings for Jamie's character and appearance having stemmed from Julia is not so far-fetched. Either I suppressed and shoved her far away or simply lost track after not seeing her for so long. Then the girl in the market as a reminder. She brought Julia back to my head and soon after I began to picture her there at the bar that day. If the whole thing is backwards, Julia was the point, not the other two. I can see her face right now. Prowess? Not her fault. My weakness. Tiring of this shit yet? I am. You will. I have to put that aside for a little while because the image of her huge eyes looking at me is going to cause more problems than I can handle right now. The morning bullshit, too. So far I'm fine, yet at any moment the issue could flare and then I'm off to a bad fucking start. I can't have that shit today. Focus. I have things to do and probably a trip out this afternoon to watch the big game. Not sure yet, although my brain having experienced a meltdown yesterday will likely push me a bit harder than usual and allow me to leave the house and be near people. 'Those' people. Remember? Anyway, Julia must wait. And don't give me a blast of shit for naming her, either. I have to call her something and her real name must be left out. Any connection... Bad. Maybe the race girl saw nothing and I saw a look because my brain is so fucked up that I am inventing shit which could be interesting. Prowess, and not her fault. Stunning, too. That was initial, and perhaps my desperation drove me to dream of being able to either stare at her sans clothing to see what may have really been there, or turning her into some twisted experiment and devouring that very same clothing. I'm not going to sit here and splay a bunch of bullshit. That will help no one. My head could have manufactured the whole thing because I am a basket case. I don't fucking know anymore. Unlike any woman I've seen since, though. Not a good thing if I'm still thinking about the incident five months later. Not good by a damned sight, people. Weak. The prowess cannot be denied and if you disagree, well... Once again you are a lying sack of shit. Get your head out of your ass and realize what REALLY runs this world. Ugh. 0849. Julia's face is an ethereal, beautiful combination of Vanessa's narrow mouth and Jamie's huge, dark eyes framed by jet-black, wavy hair. The more I picture her sitting there smiling at me with a touch of sympathy, the more I'm thinking my weak, desperate and pathetic 'search' ended that day and I have been pushing it away subconsciously. Not good. Blah, blah, blah wondrousbeautydreamycakes. The new year began seven hours ago. 0657 on the first day of the year. The aptly-named goddess market came into play again yesterday afternoon. There is always something there. I went for a sandwich and waited a few minutes near the cheeses. Well, right across from me was yet another example of my desperate and deranged thinking. Again. Fucking again. Before I place even one word of appreciation here, let me say that the initial reaction served to confirm everything I suspected, and more. I stared, and then I imagined. Not good. Goddess prowess. The power over my existence. I could not believe the fit of her pants and the cut line created by the lower hem of her sweater. As I awaited attention from the deli counter, I found myself helpless, completely unable to look away from her shape for more than a few seconds and then straight back it went as she moved around the hot case before walking out of the area. The seam, radii, everything… And then below the scooping neck? Even more. Disbelief. I lost sight of her, ordered my sandwich, and then exited the market with one more glimpse of her stance just before the doors. Thank Christ her destination was elsewhere and not the fucking bar. Maybe an inch below my height, the most well-defined legs I’d seen in years (there is one other pair exempt from this space), and the gait of dreams. Breasts bouncing, hair all amassed at the top of her head and equally bouncing, and then those stems creating patterns of torment inside me. As I have stated many times here, I shall never look upon her like again. The market carries the word 'goddess' for good reason. I had an inkling something would happen due to the hour and sunny weather. At least the cashier was not on such a level. Upon returning to my seat at the bar, I decided to venture back to the bar itself for a touch of banter with the bartender and ended up making another person laugh. Well, I turned and saw a fucking stunning face and big, bright smile. And then a clink along with a cheers. Back to my little table with her expression unchanged. For the next couple of hours, I noticed she spent a good portion of time looking in my direction. Maybe something was there, or maybe not. I am just weak enough to imagine unreal shit happening around me but I honestly do my best to avoid such things. Her face was VERY pleasant to see and she reacted positively to my silly comments about beer prescription requirements from my 'doctor'. Afterward, I glanced across the room and met eyes several times. And then the gears began to mesh and I felt a sliver of that wonder from the race track. Yep, that again. I bring her up because she created some of the most dire feelings ever. Desperate for some insane magic which probably does not exist. All the way back to Shilo and my head creating everything missing in my life in order to enable me to deal with it. My brain went in such directions yesterday for quite a while before I noticed the legs and rear end of the form in the market had flown south for the Winter. Out of my head, likely because every fucking time the emotion will smack any physical aspects right in the face. The power outweighed by the prowess, meaning my head was desperate for something more critical to survival than everything wrapped in the pants... A pair of eyes again. Not thighs or breasts, but eyes. I am pathetic. Today is going to be very relaxed. Wrapping presents and caring for very few chores. Nothing more. We will be over at the other place for a holiday dinner and then back here soon after. The evening is going to seem very peaceful after the football hoopla yesterday. This is not going to go away. If I can't find a way to cope with what has been taken out of my life, I will no longer see through to reason. In fact, I'm already losing some of it right now. The caring is falling away quickly these days. A prime example of uncaring is the fact that within seconds of seeing that shapely woman in the market I was picturing her in all sorts of positions, just for my benefit. That is not good by any stretch of the word. This morning once again seems dire, as if the world is coming to an end and I am ill-equipped to deal with the change. If I mention desire or other aspects of beauty as they affect me inside, the reasoning is born of weakness. 'By my enemy's hand.' If you are not familiar with the 'enemy', you may as well stop reading and never return here. No skin off my nose. I suppose I'll move along through this day and all the rest (for as long as I last, anyway) and do the same shit over and over until I crack. Or blow up. Or something. Blackpowdercakes. I happen to have knowledge of such things. Very bad situation, this shit. I almost can't think straight sometimes. The previous entry held many good, clear observations in and around all the posturing and threats. Maybe that was all I had and I sit here now bereft of anything else to say that has not been treaded before. The woman at the market is not a part of such thinking, either. That is always going to happen in one way or another if I leave this house. And the eyes in the bar are rarer, yet the same point applies. If I am not there, I see nothing. So those painful occurrences may be avoided. As for the rest? I don't know what the fuck to say. This morning has gone from bad to worse. I'll have to at least try to maintain a positive stance for others, if not myself. Bad fucking situation, now worse than ever. I have no illusions whatsoever. Not anymore. Dreams of one type. Just one. Not those others that seem to keep people going. Other people, not me. Making nice later today only lasts so long before I can be myself and take a fucking breath. I hate everything right now. Attach it to the past, glue it to a possible future, I don't care. Hate. Everything. Aside from the seconds looking at that woman in the market and those precious moments thinking the other one had some magical insight like the race girl, I have been overanalyzing and returning to the same conclusion over and over. This is all there is or will be. Period. I see no reason to try. Motions. Sometimes I feel parts of life are unfair until I swing the keel and realize otherwise. Faltering is going to happened from time to time and there is not really a solution, although keeping in mind all those reasons why I've been fucking heeled over for so long do often feel unfair. I need to correlate the prowess with the past and figure out why I experience such overwhelming loss when something aligned with my mindset comes along and then disappears. I should not be fucking crippled like this. Fair or unfair is a toughie. I don't know. Those terms ride on the heels of believing that pure weakness is more at fault, and you know where I go with that one. Once more, I just don't know but still feel compelled to learn. Crappy morning. At least there is sunshine again. Better than nothing. A five-eight Greek/Irish something or other, down the page. Dark features supporting my reckless drug addiction which has been flaring since that girl who reminded me of Julia (I wish I could use her real name to avoid confusion, but alas I cannot have anything mapped out and leading back to me). Dark hair, eyes, whatever. No sadness, though. Nicole carried the sadness just like James. The woman here is for decorative purposes. I do not like being pushed, yet I have been shoved in three different directions over the last year, most notably the past two months or so. This has been forcing me to look from a third set of eyes back at myself as I walk through the world, and what I am seeing is bad. Not me, the pushing. Very uncomfortable as the positioning continues to change as I adapt to whatever was there prior to the effort. That means I am always behind the eight ball with regard to the pushing. Clear? I doubt it. That's good. Yesterday I was heading for a wall of shit before deciding to take off and have lunch elsewhere. Had I remained here, some things would have been accomplished (stuff I need to do today) but the mood would definitely have darkened. I can handle some changes, some dissonance, and some pushing, but not all three at the same fucking time. That is when I become defensive and quiet at the same time, leaving others to wonder whether or not I will blow up. Chief among the trouble? Prowess. That fucking uncanny ability for foxes to mold 'anything' into 'anything else' using elements unparalleled in this world or any other. Undeniable, unending prowess and power over every single element on the fucking chart. That wall of shit yesterday may have been a good thing on at least one level, and that is the work. When I am angry I tend to be productive. The pushing came to mind this morning, not yesterday. I've had just about enough of it, too. Unfortunately, I am not the one with the power to do fuck-all about anything. All I can do is type. Hmm... Maybe the wall is still there. Shit morning. Too many of these. I'm fucking sick of everything. Pushed, shoved, misunderstood (partly my fault for being a huge pain in the ass all the time) and then tossed all manner of pleasantries, as if those bullshit moments are going to cut through the mass of shit I keep plowing and make me feel better. There you go... All neat and tied with a bow. The vulpine prowess is destroying my willingness to deal with anyone. Be it that woman by the cheese case I wanted to devour (tremendous power) or the other one who became a striking example of how the eyes can overpower me within seconds and render me primed for suggestion, I honestly feel that such vast levels of influence will be those keys to my vehicle of anger. Driving me along past scenes to which I cannot return. Shit morning? That's what I said. Off the cliff. 0939, as if time matters now. Christmas movie up there right now. I didn't want to see lovely women on the television but I've tired of those other shows for the moment. Now there is a bright-eyed beauty splayed across the screen looking like the opposite of my mood. If yesterday was any indication, my level of weakness continues to increase beyond anyone's control. At least there is no Jamie or reminders of Julia. The latter showed up prior to my feelings for the former developing and spiraling out of control. Hmm... That word. I have control over damned-near nothing these days. Just the house and its contents. That is pretty sad. The prowess on the television only serves to reinforce such knowledge. Splendid. Jesus fuck, another one. Maybe I should find a football game instead. Killin' me. 0658 on the second day of the year. I made it through the traditional dinner and back home last night. This morning's quiet is very much appreciated. Gangsters up there for the moment. I don't know if a Christmas movie would be a good idea right now after all I saw yesterday. The early afternoon and late evening were sprinkled with beauty. The better idea right now is to avoid that stuff because twenty-four hours ago was tragic again. I don't want a repeat. Prowess, the last image down there. Another image of the same model, yet this one was from a distance and, as is fairly obvious, shot in haste resulting in a lack of clarity. It is a candid like many of the others, but this time I cropped and pulled/compressed her to accentuate the expression on her beautiful face. Less makeup, goofy hair, more natural. Especially considering the sheer number of photos to which this woman has been subjected all over the world and the vast amount which are choreographed. The expression just kills me. She has a familiar structure. She also appears very different than in the image above. Prowess from nature. Another genetic fluke from God-knows where, an unreal combination of Greek and Irish, and a model I ran across by accident before really staring and realizing her importance. No gushing or anything like that. Only the same kind of wonder and desperation with many of the other images throughout the last six years. Oh, and if I am being unfair here, by all means take whatever type of thing you are using to read this shit and shove it in your ass. I don't care. The stoicism and direction here will squash other opinions, always. The eyes have it. The prowess lately is much different than it was at the outset of the obsessive analysis. I see everything the same at times, yet when I see differently is the time that my world runs aslant, like the oft-mentioned race blonde fluke thing goddess life-altering gorgeous situational doe-eyed analysis I'll never leave out of this fucking content. Read that again. It makes my eyes water. There was softness in her expression unlike anything I'd seen in some time, yet still the power and prowess were an inch away from causing me to fall to the ground while asking God why such things come to pass. The eyes again. Always with the eyes. The one at the store who reminded me of the other one. Big, dark eyes, but more there... Not the young girl who served to bring up the whole subject, the other one that I knew. Her face was a dramatic, stirring wonderland that afternoon at the bar. No sooner did I explain myself when she stared with just enough emotion and understanding to cause me years of difficulty and heartache. Her eyes demonstrated the rarest power in existence. The race girl did the same thing, although I knew nothing of her. I've gone over the possibility that it's all my doing, too. As in me being SO fucking desperate and needy that my head is creating the appearance of that for which I have searched and will always find it somewhere regardless of who I may run across. I certainly hope not, but the possibility cannot be removed from this or I am an idiot. The image below being a candid and having caught her in a moment otherwise left out of print or electronic media has captured a very natural, neutral state in which her mind may be doing nothing more than realizing a camera is pointed at her even before the expression reacts and changes. It is fucking amazing. She looks more beautiful below than in any other shot, makeup or otherwise. The expression and the eyes. Back to the girl at the store carrying the power to send me into the past and see something even more important and beautiful, and then forward again to realize it's all fucking gone forever, leaving me bereft and hurt. This may become the norm here very soon. From anger to sadness. The beauty never makes me angry. Have I gone on about that enough yet? I've left out three key terms which cannot shine here or I'll fall off the edge of the world and never return. I can't have that. I can't have people thinking in those missing terms. The situation is such that if by some miraculous stretch there is a reader out there who can connect the dots or is already aware of the secret words, I will simple remove references. The whole fucking thing is embarrassing, honestly. The race girl? What... Eighteen or nineteen years old? She reconfigured much of my life on this planet in the space of perhaps two minutes? How can that happen unless the subject is weakened to the point of yearning for something? Too much bullshit. So... They have power and prowess, right? Could the shift be my lack of both instead of an excess on their part? I don't even want to think about it now. The idea arose just now because I'll be at the goddess market in less than two hours for a cup of coffee, and the thought brought those pants back to mind. When I stood there waiting to place my sandwich order, the entire universe went sideways and I felt actual physical pain because I was unable to look more. I needed to see details so badly that my brain actually caused my body to become uncomfortable. Do you believe this shit? I've been tormented before, plenty. Especially on a few occasions in the city a few years ago. But this woman was fifteen feet away and had a couple of lines pushed a tad further than I had expected, and then as she moved around I saw one more little clue which pushed me over the edge and I blew up inside. That exact moment was a turn not far from me. Just a turn. A blank expression. Chest defying the clothing. The lines... And one line I've rarely seen at all, anywhere. That was that. Torment, pain, my head questioning the nature of the universe over and over until I had to shove it away and leave the store. Oh, but that decision was not good enough because there she was again with hair everywhere like a wild Mustang in need of a curry comb. I passed no one heading two doors down toward the bar and that is a good thing. I am fairly certain the expression on my face would have caused a stir. Now I ask... Was all that shit my fault? Maybe these last two entries were not such a good idea after all. I can see certain pairs of eyes perusing and analyzing, but I can also see other eyes looking at this and believing me to be nothing more than some flavor of 'hound' looking to pounce on something shapely. I see both sides of that, and considering some of my sordid and insane history laid out in the archive, none of that thinking would surprise me. I don't feel that way very often, but my stance will not change. 0841 on the first Monday of the year. Finally alone in the quiet with my friends and some hot coffee. I have half the routine finished, as well, due to the delayed morning. There is not much to do today. I'm planning to sit right fucking here for as long as is necessary for clearing part of my head. Pause. For fuck's sake, more demands upon my time. All done now, finally. Jesus. 0912. I dreamed of another woman. Actually there were several, along with some guys who were in a club of sorts, possibly stemmed from school. The scene felt like one of the fairs we used to attend before the shit hit the fan a couple of years back. Costuming, really. The woman caught my eye and shared features with those I have described here (big surprise) along with similarities to the one frightening yet fucking stunning woman I've known for the last several years. Well, I began to attempt to pursue the girl and her coworkers/friends were trying to protect her and interrogate me to ensure I would not be a bad influence. I kept seeing little tidbits of her face and subsequently falling on mine because the compulsion to be close became overwhelming. I felt as if I was willing to give up everything in the world just to see her right before my eyes and have the time to speak together. None of it went anywhere. I spoke to the guys (they knew all the friends of my focal point) and then watched some kind of dance display which took her away from me again. I was yearning and then awakened. Upon thinking clearly just moments later, I felt a stinging sensation as I realized the woman in the dream was based upon the one at the market. The girl who works there. That is frightening. Very young. When I see her -- as I did walking in yesterday for a coffee -- I wave hello and then look away. Every fucking time, the same thing. Wave and disappear. She appeared frightened on one occasion and that was that. I cannot have anyone frightened of me, least of all so much younger than myself. Those beautiful doe eyes broke my heart once due to me speaking with her. Now I can barely look at them. Anyway, it was only a dream and likely formed from everything I did yesterday. She is one of two with zero power and zero prowess. Believe it and don't fucking ask me to explain. The rest run my life from afar. Well, I received a call just now from my buddy. Might have to run out the door to troubleshoot a water heater at a restaurant. I have everything ready and most of the house locked up, just in case. He is going to call the manufacturer to solve the issue, but if that goes bad I'll take off to help. Historically I've been pretty effective at figuring a way to make them work. Time will tell. For now, I can sit here and work through some shit (maybe). 0950. Normally I would be pouring a cocktail about now. If I go help, my head must remain clear. Perhaps the prowess exists because I invented it slowly and throughout the course of years. I've been obsessing for so long that I can't even begin to define a catalyst. Maybe several. I know Juliette allowed me carte blanche, as did Ashley, Michelle and Andrea, so there is the possibility that I became accustomed to those personalities and qualities, later leaving me in an emotional hole due to the loss. The kitten, too. For some reason, she read me quite a bit and understood. I still don't get it unless I fell asleep eighteen-plus years ago and dreamed of them right up to the middle of eleven. I did not think of those souls as having any sort of power over me, though. The idea could have grown after being forced to swallow the loss and then amplifying whatever I felt which had been missing. Good God, Edie's fucking hair and outfit in this scene... Damn. Anyway, the prowess could all be in my head and not even exist in reality due to my being this weak for such a long time. Like the power, I gave it to them out of the sheer need to compensate for all that is missing. I can't be certain, though. Just an idea. The market the other day was a prime example of my falling off a cliff because the obsession stood right before me as I felt shackled. There was nothing I could do, and believe me the draw was overwhelming. For those moments in that store, everything I have inside was completely under her control and she will never even have a clue. She never looked in my direction, and that is a clear-cut case of being the carrier of every fucking issue. Hmm... I was correct. The forms hold nothing. My head develops problems because I am so desperate and needy. Splendid. I think the weather is gearing up again. Rain, wind, the whole shitaree. I have everything in order, though. Being comfortable inside the house is difficult if there are loose ends out there. Right now I am not worried. Good order and lots of time to think. Still angry. This is a bad time. Garbage trucks out there. Nice. Nothing helps. The quiet mornings are good, but no matter what I do here at some point my head will descend into the void. It already has, in fact, just a few minutes ago. I rose, though. This time. Not every time, but often. This is a cycle which begins in my head, translates and spreads into the realm of the physical, the shit from the past comes to mind and then the thinking takes over again. A circle, just as many other aspects of my life these days. Mornings are pretty much the deciding factor in the direction of a given day. So far? I don't fucking know what to think. Jamie was only seventeen when this episode was filmed, meaning I can't sit here and gush about how FUCKING STUNNING HER FACE IS. Good thing no one gives an orange fuck in the wind what shows up on this site. Heh. Back to this morning, and I'm happy to report the water heater issue was mostly alleviated by a call to their technical support. The guy was an idiot, solving a short-term lighting problem but leaving out a long-term solution. Dumb fuck anyway, and not the first time. The morning has me at sixes and sevens going around and around the fucking circle of depressive thinking, massive loss, and the future appearing about as bright as the sky on fucking Saturn. This is turning to shit much more quickly than I had predicted months ago. I may have to take steps if I can look around and find some kind of strength. I seem to have misplaced it all. More angry. People are all lined up on the edge of something very unpleasant and I am waiting. The bad time just worsened in the last hour. This is very rough on my head, perhaps the most difficult situation in years. I had been accustomed to this on a daily basis, yet while working so much I did not have the free time for it to really sink in and leave me sitting here bereft of an appropriate solution. I honestly do not know what is going to develop in the future if this continues, but the one guaranteed result is my mood will not improve no matter the comfort or anything else. The last thing I need is to speak to someone about what has been happening and then listen to a pile of empty bullshit. The main thought right now is pretty fucking reckless. Unfortunately, this will quickly degrade into an impossible conundrum. Of all the shit I've spewed toward the same ending being illuminated, nothing has been enough. Now? The past is worse and so am I. The television, some lunch, little chores here and there... All of these are shrinking and barely enough to keep me afloat. There are tiny details I've made worse, yet the bulk of the problem is way the fuck back in the eighties. Moreover, the lack of help grinds me to a halt several times in the space of one hour. There is nothing for me now. Nothing. Prowess. Heh. What a fucking joke. The title has gone astray. I just don't give a shit. Maybe look at the model and her features instead of focusing upon this mass of words going in circles. I still have to work on the kitchen and prepare some stuff to go into dinner later. Working in there always reminds me of the fifth series because of all the days spent with that family in the background. Oh, of course I'll see Jolene in all her unique splendor, but for fuck's sake I have to watch something. Whatever goes up there on two televisions is going to carry fucking problems, so I may as well have a dream to appreciate while feeling like complete shit. Better than nothing. I have the protein defrosting right now. It will be ready for a nice, hot dinner to offset this cold weather. The main plot of this episode is a soccer coach who had a physical relationship with a student. Underage, that is. Disgusting. I mentioned how beautiful Jamie was at that age, but there is a massive gradient between my words of appreciation and the subject matter. I am harmless other than this crap. Needless to say, the guys have options for dealing with the predator. Tough story, for sure. My attempts would probably fail if I was in a similar situation. I can't seem to do anything about anything. Nothing else can be said, though, because the entire shitaree harks back to John's character and the image I can't extract from my head. Fuck it all, anyway. Junior's image was smeared and several people came close to losing their lives. Think about that. 1133 and very windy. I was going to pick up the last of the leaves to toss into the green can yesterday but the entire day went to shit. I don't even know why I do anything these days. No matter how upset or angry I become over a given subject, the bottom line is I am just one tiny person sitting here with nary an effect upon the grinding of society. And believe me, being a nobody is not what brings the shitty moods. There is so much more than I wouldn't even know where to begin. Good thing I have that familiar crutch next to me. The images and words continue to float in circles. Prowess? The meaning is fading now. Or maybe I had a point to make and lost it. Another possibility is I already know nothing is going to change and am beginning to give up. Give me a reason to care. Go for it. Even this episode is reinforcing the idea of the image coupled with the right face, just like John. No getting around it. Pervasive imagery. Pervasive standards. On the heels? Emptiness. Loss of power, if it was even there in the first place. Ah shit, there is Jeannie again. I could fuck her voice. Don't get me started on the rest of that dark beauty. I've already painted an entire series of pictures in my head involving her on all fours. Eh, fuck. Who cares? What the fuck am I, anyway? Someone of note? A person? Do my problems equate to anything more than grains of sand on the world's beaches? I didn't think so. Today is a loss. Yesterday was a loss. Tomorrow I have to drive her two hours up the road for another exam, meaning I'll end up at the same restaurant's bar wallowing and typing into my phone. There will probably be some kind of beauty nearby to derail me and my dreams, more bourbon, a bunch of stupid words, and then we will return home and I will be a bit worse. Images and words, beauty and loss, weakness and desperation. I almost can't look at others anymore. I see everything I am not. 1212. Even the clock hurts me. Ok. No more prowess. I've had it with that fucking shit. No one fucking cares anyway. Shove it in your stupid ass, people. Stupid. Ass. Shove. Enjoy. Repeat. Fuck. You. Ah, there it is for the millionth time this week. I am so fucking sick of hearing it. And then people fucking laugh it off as if the subject matters for naught. Well, it matters to me, assholes. Take all your pathetic terms, write them on a thousand sheets of paper, tape them all over your being and then light everything on fire. Think of me as you burn to death. All meaning is lost, all closeness was never there, all words are knives, all thought is unreal. Even yesterday during a relaxing afternoon and some pleasant conversation, one woman brought to light her insensitivity and uncaring nature, effectively announcing it to the group. The result? Nothing. No one gave a shit, not even the recipient of her words. I could have sliced her to fucking bloody ribbons right then and there. Do you think someone would have noticed the mess? She tossed the line out there, twice, and the atmosphere remained unchanged because every fucking person is exactly the same and does not give a cold fuck about anyone else. Selfish. If I only had power... Years ago the same thing took place, yet from a different woman who carries more beauty than ten pageant contestants combined. Holy God in a tin cup, she is unreal on the outside and probably one of the most striking beauties I have ever seen. When the words, threats and actions came forth? All her beauty was reduced like a red wine sauce left on the stove of life for a million years. Gone... All of it. From that point forward I made a concerted effort to stay away. Prowess? Nope. Goddess? Yep. Person? Not even close. Fuck her and the mindset ingrained by those who were likely even worse. On and on it rolls, right over the rest of us. Eh... That last sentiment seems to imply someone else feels as I do. No fucking way. I should have said 'me'. The category is ever-expanding. I have known for a very long time that sincerity is subjective and often completely false. Fake. Agendas drive far too much for a person to actually be fully sincere. But knowing is impossible because lying keeps society afloat. Honesty destroys. Keep it inside. Lie all the time. Put up your curtains, close your doors. Roll right on over those people and make them believe you really understand because that is the path you were fucking born to tread. Falsefucks. Assholes. I knew them, know them. Do I seem angry? 0626 on the examination morning. In about an hour we have to hit the road just like in November, although this trip will not include spending the night. Too bad, because I do like to be away from home for short trips that include dinner out somewhere. I'll be killing around three hours up there just like the last trip, too. Maybe back to the second restaurant I visited where I did some writing and went goo goo over the little morsel of a hostess. A little time sitting alone in the bar atmosphere will be nice for a while. Hopefully we will be back home by early afternoon. After being out of my element for hours I'll probably need some time here again. And the thought of tomorrow being all mine is very enticing, like a reward for taking care of some important business and making it through without issue. I'll be driving my car, too. Nice and dark, like my thoughts. And the restaurant... Comfortable, time to think while being alone yet near other people, the space to collect my musings and place them in a file. I don't know what the draw is about being 'portable', but the feeling of being out there in the wild reminds me of moving into the trailer twenty years ago. Holy Jesus God is Edie ever awe-inspiring and incredible. She should have an extra Emmy just for the season two facial expressions. Anyway... Portable. The need to remain very organized and safe, like taking a plane trip. Reduced to a few things which must take up less space, keeping everything close at hand while in the airport, and maintaining a secure stance while around unknown people. Whatever the feeling, I have a bit of it this morning because of the trip. There are other aspects and connections with films, but they should remain set aside for another entry if I keep doing this stupid shit. 0644, almost time to get ready for the road trip. No more listening, no more helping. I fucking give up. I'm going to sit here and repeat my stupid, meaningless shit and eat pizza until some force out there rams a heart attack up my ass. Just like Tony's mother, while being rolled through the hospital on a gurney, I'll be smiling. Fuck me, fuck her, fuck you... Nothing is ever enough. Helpless and roiling. Boiling over. Nothing I can do. Nothing. Hmm... The vulpine prowess now seems pretty fucking minimal. Oh, there is Bruce. I want to jump his wife until we are both dead. And the closing shot... Just her eyelashes make me want to dive into the television and turn the woman into a plaything. This may be over. I've said it on more than one occasion, but something compelling always came along to keep the words flowing. And now I see the flow is merely sludge from a broken sewer main, otherwise known as my brain. Exaptera. Frontal... Five on the left a, exaptera. A... Four. Bore. Dreams again."
The Vulpine Prowess
Mature content No. 286 Published January 5th, 2022 6:32am pst read ( words) Past entries
"0615, new year's eve 2021. Nearly 2022. Very interesting, eh? Nope. I don't want to do this anymore but something pulls me to the keyboard each day. I guess I'll sit here and repeat some of the shit from yesterday's completed entry and describe the very exciting housework day ahead. What do you think? This is it, right? The end of all things, the line over which I stop trying to be anything different or better and just sit here fading into nothingness. Right? Obscurity. Fuck it... I'm already off the web, might as well be off my rocker, too. The scrape yesterday depressed the shit out of me. I knew I'd end up a bit upset for a while, but this time it really carried through the day. My head was so screwed up that going to the store had me with eyes down just in case. Nothing was causing problems over there. No idea why returning put me in a bad fucking mood, but at least it lifted somewhat before the evening. Cara is going to be all over the screen soon. I'd like to... Oy, never mind. My words don't matter anymore. My thoughts don't matter anymore. Hmm... Maybe I am still pretty rankled. Anyway, I have played the same song several times heading to the market and back home. It's a recent thing, too, because I only downloaded the tune a few months ago. Ahh... I believe the issue was not the song. I recall seeing a woman walking hastily across the parking lot while loading my car. I craned my neck a bit because I thought she may have resembled some imagery here. Nope. But she did bring to mind the early morning bullshit I had to deal with, and when combined with the power of the music I may have just snapped. Angry in the knowledge that I have sat on my fucking hands too long. Unfortunately, my freed hands still don't know what to do. I keep sitting on them due to having no direction. God damn there she is again. Back to the young girl in the market who reminded me of the other one from years ago. I went around the barn with this in the previous mess. From Jamie to the girl to the other one and then back again. Round and round we go, where we stop nobody knows (cares). Blindness. Coldness. I don't understand what happened with this character. I honestly do not get it. One day she's up there with the rest and the next I am all goo ga whatever the fuck. Maybe more weakness. Or maybe the whole thing is backwards in my head. The woman from the past with the same features came first, as in before I went all nuts over Jamie. Perhaps the screen time of watching this program reminded me of her and my subconscious did the rest. Could that be true? Does that mean I was in love with the woman standing right in front of me and Jamie is merely a link? I can't mention a name, but I will say that working in her kitchen trying to replace a faucet was one of the most distracting and painful situations ever. That was perhaps four or five years ago and she was doing nothing more than being friendly toward us as we worked. My eyes almost fell out of my fucking head that afternoon. I need to think about this a while, because the woman in question -- let's just call her Julia for the time being since that name has had an impact upon my life -- was after the other one with the big, dark eyes and hair over whom I very nearly threw my entire life into the incinerator in a short period of time. There is something more to this, as well, but I can't put my finger on it just yet. Maybe I need to think about one of those fucking memory engrams those freaky people tried to get out of me in the late eighties. For the time being, I'll refer to the overarching theme of those three women as the vulpine prowess. Not just power. Specifically, power over me. Not their fault. And I will try to avoid getting all pissy about the past this time. Mmkay? Mmkay. I remember being on an insane job for Julia's father way up on a hilltop and very isolated. The work went from extremely difficult to complete, relaxing gravy. It really did. Anyway, the point is she helped with some of the painting -- kind of part-time I think -- and I saw her there on a few random days. One of those days she had been outside the front of the house (which overlooked the ocean through huge, square windows) on a ladder and painting trim above. Well, I could not see her face, yet from the shoulders down she was in the big window. Reaching up meant her shirt kept rising and revealing midriff and accentuating her breasts. I didn't think much of it at the time, either. A woman who looked really nice and then I pushed my attention elsewhere out of respect and to avoid any obsessive thoughts entering my head. That was that. Not many occasions, but I did see her up there painting perhaps three times. The first educated me. After? I didn't look at her at all unless she addressed me. Cut to some time later when I saw Julia at the bar. I did not see her at first, so she said hello and asked if I remembered her. Well, I fell down a couple of notches at that very second because when I saw her big, beautiful eyes looking at me I was reminded of the Raven and nearly lost my shit. She asked why I had been so taken aback by seeing her again. Well, I told her of what happened not long before and she expressed sympathy. I then told her that forgetting her face was impossible, but not because of the Raven. Julia was embarrassed at such a compliment. It was the truth, though. Shortly thereafter, I ran into her at the goddess market and nearly fell down. We said hello and made nice and then I exited. I believe that was the last time I saw her. Vanessa is another one. She used to resemble both Jamie and Julia. Basket case. I'm going to leave her out of this one, though. Plenty already. I suppose the idea of considering my feelings for Jamie's character and appearance having stemmed from Julia is not so far-fetched. Either I suppressed and shoved her far away or simply lost track after not seeing her for so long. Then the girl in the market as a reminder. She brought Julia back to my head and soon after I began to picture her there at the bar that day. If the whole thing is backwards, Julia was the point, not the other two. I can see her face right now. Prowess? Not her fault. My weakness. Tiring of this shit yet? I am. You will. I have to put that aside for a little while because the image of her huge eyes looking at me is going to cause more problems than I can handle right now. The morning bullshit, too. So far I'm fine, yet at any moment the issue could flare and then I'm off to a bad fucking start. I can't have that shit today. Focus. I have things to do and probably a trip out this afternoon to watch the big game. Not sure yet, although my brain having experienced a meltdown yesterday will likely push me a bit harder than usual and allow me to leave the house and be near people. 'Those' people. Remember? Anyway, Julia must wait. And don't give me a blast of shit for naming her, either. I have to call her something and her real name must be left out. Any connection... Bad. Maybe the race girl saw nothing and I saw a look because my brain is so fucked up that I am inventing shit which could be interesting. Prowess, and not her fault. Stunning, too. That was initial, and perhaps my desperation drove me to dream of being able to either stare at her sans clothing to see what may have really been there, or turning her into some twisted experiment and devouring that very same clothing. I'm not going to sit here and splay a bunch of bullshit. That will help no one. My head could have manufactured the whole thing because I am a basket case. I don't fucking know anymore. Unlike any woman I've seen since, though. Not a good thing if I'm still thinking about the incident five months later. Not good by a damned sight, people. Weak. The prowess cannot be denied and if you disagree, well... Once again you are a lying sack of shit. Get your head out of your ass and realize what REALLY runs this world. Ugh.
0849. Julia's face is an ethereal, beautiful combination of Vanessa's narrow mouth and Jamie's huge, dark eyes framed by jet-black, wavy hair. The more I picture her sitting there smiling at me with a touch of sympathy, the more I'm thinking my weak, desperate and pathetic 'search' ended that day and I have been pushing it away subconsciously. Not good. Blah, blah, blah wondrousbeautydreamycakes. The new year began seven hours ago. 0657 on the first day of the year. The aptly-named goddess market came into play again yesterday afternoon. There is always something there. I went for a sandwich and waited a few minutes near the cheeses. Well, right across from me was yet another example of my desperate and deranged thinking. Again. Fucking again. Before I place even one word of appreciation here, let me say that the initial reaction served to confirm everything I suspected, and more. I stared, and then I imagined. Not good. Goddess prowess. The power over my existence. I could not believe the fit of her pants and the cut line created by the lower hem of her sweater. As I awaited attention from the deli counter, I found myself helpless, completely unable to look away from her shape for more than a few seconds and then straight back it went as she moved around the hot case before walking out of the area. The seam, radii, everything… And then below the scooping neck? Even more. Disbelief. I lost sight of her, ordered my sandwich, and then exited the market with one more glimpse of her stance just before the doors. Thank Christ her destination was elsewhere and not the fucking bar. Maybe an inch below my height, the most well-defined legs I’d seen in years (there is one other pair exempt from this space), and the gait of dreams. Breasts bouncing, hair all amassed at the top of her head and equally bouncing, and then those stems creating patterns of torment inside me. As I have stated many times here, I shall never look upon her like again. The market carries the word 'goddess' for good reason. I had an inkling something would happen due to the hour and sunny weather. At least the cashier was not on such a level. Upon returning to my seat at the bar, I decided to venture back to the bar itself for a touch of banter with the bartender and ended up making another person laugh. Well, I turned and saw a fucking stunning face and big, bright smile. And then a clink along with a cheers. Back to my little table with her expression unchanged. For the next couple of hours, I noticed she spent a good portion of time looking in my direction. Maybe something was there, or maybe not. I am just weak enough to imagine unreal shit happening around me but I honestly do my best to avoid such things. Her face was VERY pleasant to see and she reacted positively to my silly comments about beer prescription requirements from my 'doctor'. Afterward, I glanced across the room and met eyes several times. And then the gears began to mesh and I felt a sliver of that wonder from the race track. Yep, that again. I bring her up because she created some of the most dire feelings ever. Desperate for some insane magic which probably does not exist. All the way back to Shilo and my head creating everything missing in my life in order to enable me to deal with it. My brain went in such directions yesterday for quite a while before I noticed the legs and rear end of the form in the market had flown south for the Winter. Out of my head, likely because every fucking time the emotion will smack any physical aspects right in the face. The power outweighed by the prowess, meaning my head was desperate for something more critical to survival than everything wrapped in the pants... A pair of eyes again. Not thighs or breasts, but eyes. I am pathetic. Today is going to be very relaxed. Wrapping presents and caring for very few chores. Nothing more. We will be over at the other place for a holiday dinner and then back here soon after. The evening is going to seem very peaceful after the football hoopla yesterday. This is not going to go away. If I can't find a way to cope with what has been taken out of my life, I will no longer see through to reason. In fact, I'm already losing some of it right now. The caring is falling away quickly these days. A prime example of uncaring is the fact that within seconds of seeing that shapely woman in the market I was picturing her in all sorts of positions, just for my benefit. That is not good by any stretch of the word. This morning once again seems dire, as if the world is coming to an end and I am ill-equipped to deal with the change. If I mention desire or other aspects of beauty as they affect me inside, the reasoning is born of weakness. 'By my enemy's hand.' If you are not familiar with the 'enemy', you may as well stop reading and never return here. No skin off my nose. I suppose I'll move along through this day and all the rest (for as long as I last, anyway) and do the same shit over and over until I crack. Or blow up. Or something. Blackpowdercakes. I happen to have knowledge of such things. Very bad situation, this shit. I almost can't think straight sometimes. The previous entry held many good, clear observations in and around all the posturing and threats. Maybe that was all I had and I sit here now bereft of anything else to say that has not been treaded before. The woman at the market is not a part of such thinking, either. That is always going to happen in one way or another if I leave this house. And the eyes in the bar are rarer, yet the same point applies. If I am not there, I see nothing. So those painful occurrences may be avoided. As for the rest? I don't know what the fuck to say. This morning has gone from bad to worse. I'll have to at least try to maintain a positive stance for others, if not myself. Bad fucking situation, now worse than ever. I have no illusions whatsoever. Not anymore. Dreams of one type. Just one. Not those others that seem to keep people going. Other people, not me. Making nice later today only lasts so long before I can be myself and take a fucking breath. I hate everything right now. Attach it to the past, glue it to a possible future, I don't care. Hate. Everything. Aside from the seconds looking at that woman in the market and those precious moments thinking the other one had some magical insight like the race girl, I have been overanalyzing and returning to the same conclusion over and over. This is all there is or will be. Period. I see no reason to try. Motions. Sometimes I feel parts of life are unfair until I swing the keel and realize otherwise. Faltering is going to happened from time to time and there is not really a solution, although keeping in mind all those reasons why I've been fucking heeled over for so long do often feel unfair. I need to correlate the prowess with the past and figure out why I experience such overwhelming loss when something aligned with my mindset comes along and then disappears. I should not be fucking crippled like this. Fair or unfair is a toughie. I don't know. Those terms ride on the heels of believing that pure weakness is more at fault, and you know where I go with that one. Once more, I just don't know but still feel compelled to learn. Crappy morning. At least there is sunshine again. Better than nothing. A five-eight Greek/Irish something or other, down the page. Dark features supporting my reckless drug addiction which has been flaring since that girl who reminded me of Julia (I wish I could use her real name to avoid confusion, but alas I cannot have anything mapped out and leading back to me). Dark hair, eyes, whatever. No sadness, though. Nicole carried the sadness just like James. The woman here is for decorative purposes. I do not like being pushed, yet I have been shoved in three different directions over the last year, most notably the past two months or so. This has been forcing me to look from a third set of eyes back at myself as I walk through the world, and what I am seeing is bad. Not me, the pushing. Very uncomfortable as the positioning continues to change as I adapt to whatever was there prior to the effort. That means I am always behind the eight ball with regard to the pushing. Clear? I doubt it. That's good.
Yesterday I was heading for a wall of shit before deciding to take off and have lunch elsewhere. Had I remained here, some things would have been accomplished (stuff I need to do today) but the mood would definitely have darkened. I can handle some changes, some dissonance, and some pushing, but not all three at the same fucking time. That is when I become defensive and quiet at the same time, leaving others to wonder whether or not I will blow up. Chief among the trouble? Prowess. That fucking uncanny ability for foxes to mold 'anything' into 'anything else' using elements unparalleled in this world or any other. Undeniable, unending prowess and power over every single element on the fucking chart. That wall of shit yesterday may have been a good thing on at least one level, and that is the work. When I am angry I tend to be productive. The pushing came to mind this morning, not yesterday. I've had just about enough of it, too. Unfortunately, I am not the one with the power to do fuck-all about anything. All I can do is type. Hmm... Maybe the wall is still there. Shit morning. Too many of these. I'm fucking sick of everything. Pushed, shoved, misunderstood (partly my fault for being a huge pain in the ass all the time) and then tossed all manner of pleasantries, as if those bullshit moments are going to cut through the mass of shit I keep plowing and make me feel better. There you go... All neat and tied with a bow. The vulpine prowess is destroying my willingness to deal with anyone. Be it that woman by the cheese case I wanted to devour (tremendous power) or the other one who became a striking example of how the eyes can overpower me within seconds and render me primed for suggestion, I honestly feel that such vast levels of influence will be those keys to my vehicle of anger. Driving me along past scenes to which I cannot return. Shit morning? That's what I said. Off the cliff. 0939, as if time matters now. Christmas movie up there right now. I didn't want to see lovely women on the television but I've tired of those other shows for the moment. Now there is a bright-eyed beauty splayed across the screen looking like the opposite of my mood. If yesterday was any indication, my level of weakness continues to increase beyond anyone's control. At least there is no Jamie or reminders of Julia. The latter showed up prior to my feelings for the former developing and spiraling out of control. Hmm... That word. I have control over damned-near nothing these days. Just the house and its contents. That is pretty sad. The prowess on the television only serves to reinforce such knowledge. Splendid. Jesus fuck, another one. Maybe I should find a football game instead. Killin' me. 0658 on the second day of the year. I made it through the traditional dinner and back home last night. This morning's quiet is very much appreciated. Gangsters up there for the moment. I don't know if a Christmas movie would be a good idea right now after all I saw yesterday. The early afternoon and late evening were sprinkled with beauty. The better idea right now is to avoid that stuff because twenty-four hours ago was tragic again. I don't want a repeat. Prowess, the last image down there. Another image of the same model, yet this one was from a distance and, as is fairly obvious, shot in haste resulting in a lack of clarity. It is a candid like many of the others, but this time I cropped and pulled/compressed her to accentuate the expression on her beautiful face. Less makeup, goofy hair, more natural. Especially considering the sheer number of photos to which this woman has been subjected all over the world and the vast amount which are choreographed. The expression just kills me. She has a familiar structure. She also appears very different than in the image above. Prowess from nature. Another genetic fluke from God-knows where, an unreal combination of Greek and Irish, and a model I ran across by accident before really staring and realizing her importance. No gushing or anything like that. Only the same kind of wonder and desperation with many of the other images throughout the last six years. Oh, and if I am being unfair here, by all means take whatever type of thing you are using to read this shit and shove it in your ass. I don't care. The stoicism and direction here will squash other opinions, always. The eyes have it. The prowess lately is much different than it was at the outset of the obsessive analysis. I see everything the same at times, yet when I see differently is the time that my world runs aslant, like the oft-mentioned race blonde fluke thing goddess life-altering gorgeous situational doe-eyed analysis I'll never leave out of this fucking content. Read that again. It makes my eyes water. There was softness in her expression unlike anything I'd seen in some time, yet still the power and prowess were an inch away from causing me to fall to the ground while asking God why such things come to pass. The eyes again. Always with the eyes. The one at the store who reminded me of the other one. Big, dark eyes, but more there... Not the young girl who served to bring up the whole subject, the other one that I knew. Her face was a dramatic, stirring wonderland that afternoon at the bar. No sooner did I explain myself when she stared with just enough emotion and understanding to cause me years of difficulty and heartache. Her eyes demonstrated the rarest power in existence. The race girl did the same thing, although I knew nothing of her. I've gone over the possibility that it's all my doing, too. As in me being SO fucking desperate and needy that my head is creating the appearance of that for which I have searched and will always find it somewhere regardless of who I may run across. I certainly hope not, but the possibility cannot be removed from this or I am an idiot. The image below being a candid and having caught her in a moment otherwise left out of print or electronic media has captured a very natural, neutral state in which her mind may be doing nothing more than realizing a camera is pointed at her even before the expression reacts and changes. It is fucking amazing. She looks more beautiful below than in any other shot, makeup or otherwise. The expression and the eyes. Back to the girl at the store carrying the power to send me into the past and see something even more important and beautiful, and then forward again to realize it's all fucking gone forever, leaving me bereft and hurt. This may become the norm here very soon. From anger to sadness. The beauty never makes me angry. Have I gone on about that enough yet? I've left out three key terms which cannot shine here or I'll fall off the edge of the world and never return. I can't have that. I can't have people thinking in those missing terms. The situation is such that if by some miraculous stretch there is a reader out there who can connect the dots or is already aware of the secret words, I will simple remove references. The whole fucking thing is embarrassing, honestly. The race girl? What... Eighteen or nineteen years old? She reconfigured much of my life on this planet in the space of perhaps two minutes? How can that happen unless the subject is weakened to the point of yearning for something? Too much bullshit. So... They have power and prowess, right? Could the shift be my lack of both instead of an excess on their part? I don't even want to think about it now. The idea arose just now because I'll be at the goddess market in less than two hours for a cup of coffee, and the thought brought those pants back to mind. When I stood there waiting to place my sandwich order, the entire universe went sideways and I felt actual physical pain because I was unable to look more. I needed to see details so badly that my brain actually caused my body to become uncomfortable. Do you believe this shit? I've been tormented before, plenty. Especially on a few occasions in the city a few years ago. But this woman was fifteen feet away and had a couple of lines pushed a tad further than I had expected, and then as she moved around I saw one more little clue which pushed me over the edge and I blew up inside. That exact moment was a turn not far from me. Just a turn. A blank expression. Chest defying the clothing. The lines... And one line I've rarely seen at all, anywhere. That was that. Torment, pain, my head questioning the nature of the universe over and over until I had to shove it away and leave the store. Oh, but that decision was not good enough because there she was again with hair everywhere like a wild Mustang in need of a curry comb. I passed no one heading two doors down toward the bar and that is a good thing. I am fairly certain the expression on my face would have caused a stir. Now I ask... Was all that shit my fault?
Maybe these last two entries were not such a good idea after all. I can see certain pairs of eyes perusing and analyzing, but I can also see other eyes looking at this and believing me to be nothing more than some flavor of 'hound' looking to pounce on something shapely. I see both sides of that, and considering some of my sordid and insane history laid out in the archive, none of that thinking would surprise me. I don't feel that way very often, but my stance will not change. 0841 on the first Monday of the year. Finally alone in the quiet with my friends and some hot coffee. I have half the routine finished, as well, due to the delayed morning. There is not much to do today. I'm planning to sit right fucking here for as long as is necessary for clearing part of my head. Pause. For fuck's sake, more demands upon my time. All done now, finally. Jesus. 0912. I dreamed of another woman. Actually there were several, along with some guys who were in a club of sorts, possibly stemmed from school. The scene felt like one of the fairs we used to attend before the shit hit the fan a couple of years back. Costuming, really. The woman caught my eye and shared features with those I have described here (big surprise) along with similarities to the one frightening yet fucking stunning woman I've known for the last several years. Well, I began to attempt to pursue the girl and her coworkers/friends were trying to protect her and interrogate me to ensure I would not be a bad influence. I kept seeing little tidbits of her face and subsequently falling on mine because the compulsion to be close became overwhelming. I felt as if I was willing to give up everything in the world just to see her right before my eyes and have the time to speak together. None of it went anywhere. I spoke to the guys (they knew all the friends of my focal point) and then watched some kind of dance display which took her away from me again. I was yearning and then awakened. Upon thinking clearly just moments later, I felt a stinging sensation as I realized the woman in the dream was based upon the one at the market. The girl who works there. That is frightening. Very young. When I see her -- as I did walking in yesterday for a coffee -- I wave hello and then look away. Every fucking time, the same thing. Wave and disappear. She appeared frightened on one occasion and that was that. I cannot have anyone frightened of me, least of all so much younger than myself. Those beautiful doe eyes broke my heart once due to me speaking with her. Now I can barely look at them. Anyway, it was only a dream and likely formed from everything I did yesterday. She is one of two with zero power and zero prowess. Believe it and don't fucking ask me to explain. The rest run my life from afar. Well, I received a call just now from my buddy. Might have to run out the door to troubleshoot a water heater at a restaurant. I have everything ready and most of the house locked up, just in case. He is going to call the manufacturer to solve the issue, but if that goes bad I'll take off to help. Historically I've been pretty effective at figuring a way to make them work. Time will tell. For now, I can sit here and work through some shit (maybe). 0950. Normally I would be pouring a cocktail about now. If I go help, my head must remain clear. Perhaps the prowess exists because I invented it slowly and throughout the course of years. I've been obsessing for so long that I can't even begin to define a catalyst. Maybe several. I know Juliette allowed me carte blanche, as did Ashley, Michelle and Andrea, so there is the possibility that I became accustomed to those personalities and qualities, later leaving me in an emotional hole due to the loss. The kitten, too. For some reason, she read me quite a bit and understood. I still don't get it unless I fell asleep eighteen-plus years ago and dreamed of them right up to the middle of eleven. I did not think of those souls as having any sort of power over me, though. The idea could have grown after being forced to swallow the loss and then amplifying whatever I felt which had been missing. Good God, Edie's fucking hair and outfit in this scene... Damn. Anyway, the prowess could all be in my head and not even exist in reality due to my being this weak for such a long time. Like the power, I gave it to them out of the sheer need to compensate for all that is missing. I can't be certain, though. Just an idea. The market the other day was a prime example of my falling off a cliff because the obsession stood right before me as I felt shackled. There was nothing I could do, and believe me the draw was overwhelming. For those moments in that store, everything I have inside was completely under her control and she will never even have a clue. She never looked in my direction, and that is a clear-cut case of being the carrier of every fucking issue. Hmm... I was correct. The forms hold nothing. My head develops problems because I am so desperate and needy. Splendid. I think the weather is gearing up again. Rain, wind, the whole shitaree. I have everything in order, though. Being comfortable inside the house is difficult if there are loose ends out there. Right now I am not worried. Good order and lots of time to think. Still angry. This is a bad time. Garbage trucks out there. Nice. Nothing helps. The quiet mornings are good, but no matter what I do here at some point my head will descend into the void. It already has, in fact, just a few minutes ago. I rose, though. This time. Not every time, but often. This is a cycle which begins in my head, translates and spreads into the realm of the physical, the shit from the past comes to mind and then the thinking takes over again. A circle, just as many other aspects of my life these days. Mornings are pretty much the deciding factor in the direction of a given day. So far? I don't fucking know what to think. Jamie was only seventeen when this episode was filmed, meaning I can't sit here and gush about how FUCKING STUNNING HER FACE IS. Good thing no one gives an orange fuck in the wind what shows up on this site. Heh. Back to this morning, and I'm happy to report the water heater issue was mostly alleviated by a call to their technical support. The guy was an idiot, solving a short-term lighting problem but leaving out a long-term solution. Dumb fuck anyway, and not the first time. The morning has me at sixes and sevens going around and around the fucking circle of depressive thinking, massive loss, and the future appearing about as bright as the sky on fucking Saturn. This is turning to shit much more quickly than I had predicted months ago. I may have to take steps if I can look around and find some kind of strength. I seem to have misplaced it all. More angry. People are all lined up on the edge of something very unpleasant and I am waiting. The bad time just worsened in the last hour. This is very rough on my head, perhaps the most difficult situation in years. I had been accustomed to this on a daily basis, yet while working so much I did not have the free time for it to really sink in and leave me sitting here bereft of an appropriate solution. I honestly do not know what is going to develop in the future if this continues, but the one guaranteed result is my mood will not improve no matter the comfort or anything else. The last thing I need is to speak to someone about what has been happening and then listen to a pile of empty bullshit. The main thought right now is pretty fucking reckless. Unfortunately, this will quickly degrade into an impossible conundrum. Of all the shit I've spewed toward the same ending being illuminated, nothing has been enough. Now? The past is worse and so am I. The television, some lunch, little chores here and there... All of these are shrinking and barely enough to keep me afloat. There are tiny details I've made worse, yet the bulk of the problem is way the fuck back in the eighties. Moreover, the lack of help grinds me to a halt several times in the space of one hour. There is nothing for me now. Nothing. Prowess. Heh. What a fucking joke. The title has gone astray. I just don't give a shit. Maybe look at the model and her features instead of focusing upon this mass of words going in circles.
I still have to work on the kitchen and prepare some stuff to go into dinner later. Working in there always reminds me of the fifth series because of all the days spent with that family in the background. Oh, of course I'll see Jolene in all her unique splendor, but for fuck's sake I have to watch something. Whatever goes up there on two televisions is going to carry fucking problems, so I may as well have a dream to appreciate while feeling like complete shit. Better than nothing. I have the protein defrosting right now. It will be ready for a nice, hot dinner to offset this cold weather. The main plot of this episode is a soccer coach who had a physical relationship with a student. Underage, that is. Disgusting. I mentioned how beautiful Jamie was at that age, but there is a massive gradient between my words of appreciation and the subject matter. I am harmless other than this crap. Needless to say, the guys have options for dealing with the predator. Tough story, for sure. My attempts would probably fail if I was in a similar situation. I can't seem to do anything about anything. Nothing else can be said, though, because the entire shitaree harks back to John's character and the image I can't extract from my head. Fuck it all, anyway. Junior's image was smeared and several people came close to losing their lives. Think about that. 1133 and very windy. I was going to pick up the last of the leaves to toss into the green can yesterday but the entire day went to shit. I don't even know why I do anything these days. No matter how upset or angry I become over a given subject, the bottom line is I am just one tiny person sitting here with nary an effect upon the grinding of society. And believe me, being a nobody is not what brings the shitty moods. There is so much more than I wouldn't even know where to begin. Good thing I have that familiar crutch next to me. The images and words continue to float in circles. Prowess? The meaning is fading now. Or maybe I had a point to make and lost it. Another possibility is I already know nothing is going to change and am beginning to give up. Give me a reason to care. Go for it. Even this episode is reinforcing the idea of the image coupled with the right face, just like John. No getting around it. Pervasive imagery. Pervasive standards. On the heels? Emptiness. Loss of power, if it was even there in the first place. Ah shit, there is Jeannie again. I could fuck her voice. Don't get me started on the rest of that dark beauty. I've already painted an entire series of pictures in my head involving her on all fours. Eh, fuck. Who cares? What the fuck am I, anyway? Someone of note? A person? Do my problems equate to anything more than grains of sand on the world's beaches? I didn't think so. Today is a loss. Yesterday was a loss. Tomorrow I have to drive her two hours up the road for another exam, meaning I'll end up at the same restaurant's bar wallowing and typing into my phone. There will probably be some kind of beauty nearby to derail me and my dreams, more bourbon, a bunch of stupid words, and then we will return home and I will be a bit worse. Images and words, beauty and loss, weakness and desperation. I almost can't look at others anymore. I see everything I am not. 1212. Even the clock hurts me. Ok. No more prowess. I've had it with that fucking shit. No one fucking cares anyway. Shove it in your stupid ass, people. Stupid. Ass. Shove. Enjoy. Repeat. Fuck. You. Ah, there it is for the millionth time this week. I am so fucking sick of hearing it. And then people fucking laugh it off as if the subject matters for naught. Well, it matters to me, assholes. Take all your pathetic terms, write them on a thousand sheets of paper, tape them all over your being and then light everything on fire. Think of me as you burn to death. All meaning is lost, all closeness was never there, all words are knives, all thought is unreal. Even yesterday during a relaxing afternoon and some pleasant conversation, one woman brought to light her insensitivity and uncaring nature, effectively announcing it to the group. The result? Nothing. No one gave a shit, not even the recipient of her words. I could have sliced her to fucking bloody ribbons right then and there. Do you think someone would have noticed the mess? She tossed the line out there, twice, and the atmosphere remained unchanged because every fucking person is exactly the same and does not give a cold fuck about anyone else. Selfish. If I only had power... Years ago the same thing took place, yet from a different woman who carries more beauty than ten pageant contestants combined. Holy God in a tin cup, she is unreal on the outside and probably one of the most striking beauties I have ever seen. When the words, threats and actions came forth? All her beauty was reduced like a red wine sauce left on the stove of life for a million years. Gone... All of it. From that point forward I made a concerted effort to stay away. Prowess? Nope. Goddess? Yep. Person? Not even close. Fuck her and the mindset ingrained by those who were likely even worse. On and on it rolls, right over the rest of us. Eh... That last sentiment seems to imply someone else feels as I do. No fucking way. I should have said 'me'. The category is ever-expanding. I have known for a very long time that sincerity is subjective and often completely false. Fake. Agendas drive far too much for a person to actually be fully sincere. But knowing is impossible because lying keeps society afloat. Honesty destroys. Keep it inside. Lie all the time. Put up your curtains, close your doors. Roll right on over those people and make them believe you really understand because that is the path you were fucking born to tread. Falsefucks. Assholes. I knew them, know them. Do I seem angry? 0626 on the examination morning. In about an hour we have to hit the road just like in November, although this trip will not include spending the night. Too bad, because I do like to be away from home for short trips that include dinner out somewhere. I'll be killing around three hours up there just like the last trip, too. Maybe back to the second restaurant I visited where I did some writing and went goo goo over the little morsel of a hostess. A little time sitting alone in the bar atmosphere will be nice for a while. Hopefully we will be back home by early afternoon. After being out of my element for hours I'll probably need some time here again. And the thought of tomorrow being all mine is very enticing, like a reward for taking care of some important business and making it through without issue. I'll be driving my car, too. Nice and dark, like my thoughts. And the restaurant... Comfortable, time to think while being alone yet near other people, the space to collect my musings and place them in a file. I don't know what the draw is about being 'portable', but the feeling of being out there in the wild reminds me of moving into the trailer twenty years ago. Holy Jesus God is Edie ever awe-inspiring and incredible. She should have an extra Emmy just for the season two facial expressions. Anyway... Portable. The need to remain very organized and safe, like taking a plane trip. Reduced to a few things which must take up less space, keeping everything close at hand while in the airport, and maintaining a secure stance while around unknown people. Whatever the feeling, I have a bit of it this morning because of the trip. There are other aspects and connections with films, but they should remain set aside for another entry if I keep doing this stupid shit. 0644, almost time to get ready for the road trip. No more listening, no more helping. I fucking give up. I'm going to sit here and repeat my stupid, meaningless shit and eat pizza until some force out there rams a heart attack up my ass. Just like Tony's mother, while being rolled through the hospital on a gurney, I'll be smiling. Fuck me, fuck her, fuck you... Nothing is ever enough. Helpless and roiling. Boiling over. Nothing I can do. Nothing. Hmm... The vulpine prowess now seems pretty fucking minimal. Oh, there is Bruce. I want to jump his wife until we are both dead. And the closing shot... Just her eyelashes make me want to dive into the television and turn the woman into a plaything. This may be over. I've said it on more than one occasion, but something compelling always came along to keep the words flowing. And now I see the flow is merely sludge from a broken sewer main, otherwise known as my brain. Exaptera. Frontal... Five on the left a, exaptera. A... Four. Bore. Dreams again."
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