December 26th, 2022 7:47am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. The Recognizer II read ( words) "0913. Ugh. Ashley is on the television and my brain is saturated with her beauty. Jesus, her sculpted face is unreal. What I wouldn’t give to wrap that woman in a seamstress’ tape. Well, I tried that one time and it went very badly. Maybe my dreams really are completely unrealistic. They seem reasonable to me, though. Have I become that fucking far out of balance? Too many years have passed since the failing fantasy, I guess. Holy God is Ashley ever unique. I want to lick her nose. Lyndsy is on the other channel in a different movie, but I saved that one just in case I need to see her beautiful lines again. Basket case. I am a train wreck, more than ever. I had thought my condition was harsh four years ago when I first uttered that phrase, but alas time and circumstance continue to destroy me. I think Ashley has surpassed Brooke and the others in my mind. Holy Jesus fucking hell is she ever something to see. Two more tools for the keepsake set arrived yesterday. They are not completely new, meaning I had to do some cleaning of the vinyl sleeves to ensure they are up to my standards. The five main, colorful tools are in the case. I don’t care if it takes years to complete that set. I’m doing it anyway. During the carnage of late eleven, I sold the complete set in its case and didn’t really care because my head was so far gone that very few things in life mattered. I was desperate to rid myself of as many valuable possessions as possible in order to keep the apartment for as long as I could. The process included the Breitling and my big camera, too. The tool set should have fucking stayed. Some of those items are extremely rare and quite expensive these days. That was a huge mistake. I’ll have to move away from this very soon and begin to take care of my chores. My office plan took shape the other day when I decided to wrap and store additional items from the bookcase in the hopes of replacing it with something nicer in the future. Fuck me in a bra cup... There is the same girl I’ve seen many times in the commercial with that facial feature I still cannot explain. She is at the top of the heap regarding the lower structure of which I seem to have an enormous fascination. There is something attached to such a feeling, as well. Something important. Pause. 1231. The routine is finished and the garbage is mostly out. I have lunch in the oven and the gangsters on the televisions. I had to switch off the Christmas movie because staring at Ashley was causing major fucking problems. She is quite the dream. From here forward I do not have many plans. After lunch I will probably sweep the patio and garage so the detritus can go into the green can, and then maybe work in the office. My team played on Thursday so there is no critical game this afternoon. That means I can keep some of my friends in the background for comfort. I may also run a load of laundry to have a head start on the coming week. Oy, Tony honking the horn relentlessly drives me up the wall. I can’t stand when a person is awaiting someone and continuously honks rather than going to the door. Car horns should be used for avoiding accidents and nothing more. Monday morning. The second show is on because none of my favorite actors are in the current Christmas movies. Too bad, but also good. I had plenty of that crap yesterday, not to mention the processes inside me that flare whenever I feel alone. Some are pretty fucking difficult. I think Ashley was the tipping point yesterday, and then later in the evening there was a preview to a movie coming next month that drove me insane. I could not believe the incredible shape on the screen, nor could I think straight after the commercial ended. I just sat there waiting for it to come around again. Her legs and pants reminded me of one of the smiling faces. Such an occurrence is never good in any way. My mood has changed from comfortable on what is typically a nice, quiet Monday morning to very angry due to some news from a friend. Now I am pissed off and can’t do anything about it, although I can try to help later when we revisit the same stupid job from last week. Any thoughts of the dreams, lines, whatever... Gone. I can barely concentrate on the story playing out right now. I need to cool off before heading to the jobsite in order to avoid coming across in a negative state to the homeowner and general contractor. There was supposed to be one more day of work sometime this week but I believe it will be delayed due to what happened this morning. That may be my last venture within the trade. I am completely nonplussed by the news. 1016. I have just half of the routine out of the way because a friend was going to stop by. I paused everything in order to help him when he arrived, but a little while ago the plan was postponed to another day. Now I have the remainder of this day to myself. Very good. The gangsters are gracing my big television for posterity and comfort. I know them well. Today may be the day I head over the hill to inquire about desktop systems. Perhaps I can pick up some stocking stuffers while out. Right now I have a fat, modified White Russian on the table, meaning I won’t be going anywhere until it is gone. I’ve been very adroit with the morning booze and what it provides. Curious, I am still writing even though there is little chance that any of this will be read by another pair of eyes. Wow... I must have poured more orange vodka than I had intended. My head has already loosened quite a bit from the drink. I actually feel pretty good. Heh. Here I sit at one of my favorite cozy spots for lunch. I haven't been here for ages. The restaurant is nice and warm, unlike outside. My intention was to visit my friend and help with whatever I can. That is a no for the morning, unfortunately, but I am on the other side of the hill which means I can branch out and look around for a change. Not bad. Sometimes it takes a miracle to get me over here no matter what needs to be accomplished. Most days I have a hard time leaving the house. I guess the motivation requires some odd circumstances. Today fits the bill. I ventured to the garage and blasted three songs, during which I was informed that the meeting was not to happen. Considering the mood, I took off anyway. There seemed no avenue toward improvement at home, so out the door I went. I'll be home later to resume a typical afternoon. A strange afternoon it will be, no doubt. After a delicious lunch, my options are wide open. The time is now 1253 and soon I'll leave this cozy bar and head toward whatever seems best. If I return home, the hammer shall swing until I run out of energy. If I go shopping, the hammer will wait. Either way, I'm going to lash at the world in the only way I know how. This morning’s development has just plain fucked up my attitude toward society. This is the fourth such occasion. Not good. Second beer, but just a pint. My schedule is my own. I still can't decide whether or not to look at computers. I've had the idea built up inside for days, too. Perhaps when I feel the push to branch out, my better judgment keeps me in line. Way back when I began those off-Friday lunch excursions, the booze loosened me to the point of being reckless while shopping. My tongue was reckless, too. I can't even begin to tally the number of compliments that were tossed every which way back then. Oy. My tongue was looser than the morals of a twenties-era burlesque dancer. I was quite the train wreck, even then. Surprising? Nope. In fact, I cannot recall an era when I was not weak and desperate. Thank Christ no one is nearby right now. Regardless of the cozy lunch, my mass of suppressed shit continues to nag. I believe I'll be heading straight home when my drink is gone. Nothing good can come of such a situation. Not here, anyway. I'll have to make nice for a while and then haul ass. The house will feel welcoming. The jewel of living Oh boy, there is Julie Benz and her stunning face. Damn. Right out of the gate this morning, too. She was forty-three when this movie was filmed and does not look a day past thirty. So flippin’ cute. Today is Tuesday and I plan to take it easy for the duration. After lunch yesterday, I decided to meet up with my friend and it turned into a seven hour journey. Yikes. Jesus fuck, Julie is gorgeous. There is always a little bit of ‘devilish’ in her eyes when she smiles. I don’t know what it means, but I will say that on some other women the appearance is fucking frightening. The same feature on Julie is fucking adorable and makes me want to kiss her. And now there is Lacey’s co-star (for a short while, anyway) with a face for the ages. She looks like the Raven somewhat, but also another person. I can’t put my finger on it. She is so beautiful that even Lacey’s mass of cuteness can’t hold a candle. The other day I was reading about one of the movies and a person stated that Lacey is perpetually twelve. Funny. She really does have a very young-looking face. 0805 and my morning business is out of the way. I have much on my mind but nothing will come of any of it. I don’t like this situation. There was a smiling face in a dream early this morning, too. Just more crap on the pile. I don’t know who she was, as usual. The rare dream carries the face I know. This morning was different. Either way... Knowing her or not, the difficulty still abounds. I am sitting here right now as a product of that other essay, still. Worse. This day is not going to go anywhere significant. I can already feel the need to take it easy all day long. I do need to visit the market later, but that’s it. Nothing else. After yesterday’s mood flares, I don’t want to see or speak to anyone. I have to remain indoors as much as possible in order to recover from being so pissed off. This morning the whole world seems to add up to nothing but shit. I need that to change. Sixth-season Jamie all over my brain. Jesus. And there is the wedding sequence. Sonuvabitch. Oh, and not only her stunning eyes all over the screen in this episode, but there is a Christmas movie starring the very same goddess airing in less than two hours. Unbelievable. 1328. I took care of almost everything, including a trip to two stores. I am more comfortable now due to the shopping being out of the way. The evening is quiet. I am all by myself for a while due to a holiday dinner. I just switched from the gangsters to a Christmas movie. Basically, from Jamie and Cara to Taylor and her exquisite facial features. This day has been very difficult thanks to being out last night. I went against my better judgment by spending time in the fold of other people, but the importance of visiting my friend outweighed other concerns. I will feel more energetic tomorrow, no doubt. Sometimes relaxing is not entirely a bad thing. The house is warm and comfortable. I may cruise through tomorrow like this, too. Eh... I need to pick up a few items at the goddess market for two upcoming dinners. Rats. Well, I’ll head over there early and then rejoice in arriving back home to my cocoon. Once the business is finished, I plan to take it easy again. I’ll find a few movies or a different series to watch. Hopefully, there is not a repeat of this morning after the early business. I know part of why there was difficulty, too. Part, but not all. My mind often wanders during mornings and I equate some of the visions inside to past dreams, most of which are either impossible in reality or so far back that they seem born of a different lifetime. This morning was tough because something transpired in my mind while sleeping and I could not push it to the surface. I knew it was similar to one of the most stirring stories I have ever dreamed. No matter how hard I tried, the information would not come forth. All that thinking left me completely empty and void of hope for a long while. I have no control over dreams, though. Wait and see is the only option. I really need tomorrow to be much more comfortable than today. Again... Wait and see. 0652 on Wednesday morning, and boy am I looking forward to the quiet in less than an hour. I have to take care of some business first, but then the day is completely under my control. I don’t know how I will feel coming out the other side. Maybe if I can avoid yesterday’s pitfall, the evening will be less taxing. 0823 and here I am in the quiet once again; just what I needed this morning. Unfortunately, there is imagery in my head from both the past and some dreams that will not leave. I have to work hard to get this shit out of my head or the day will turn into a loss. I am really sick of being plagued at random times throughout each week. Some visions and situations simply will not leave me alone, and believe me... I know why. Ideas for how to keep busy today abound, so perhaps I can squash this shit before becoming angry. A bad mood is a bad start to any day and it happens too often. Something is going to break soon... At my fucking hands. Jamie is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Period. Everything wonderful is impossible. Her character is an impossibility. My feelings for her character are ridiculous, yet somehow understandable due to that fucking essay from five-plus years ago. My emotional state used to be depressing, but now I have to define it as dangerous. All I can do is look at her on the television from almost twenty years ago and recall the dream in which the two of us were together and all the bad stuff went away. She helped me, cared for me, and I loved her for it. I also knew inside that to care for her perpetually could never be enough, but she understood all of it. Everything. I saw my life in her eyes. That vision is now gone. She is not real. I feel pain every fucking day because of that fact. My head is ‘Napoleon Blownaparte’. I will stare at her for the rest of my life because I love her. I am pathetic. This is completely fucked up. 1139. I finished the routine and went to the market. I still have laundry and dry cleaning to accomplish sometime this afternoon. Prior to the market, I began wrapping and storing some things from the office in order to free the bookcase of so much stuff. I’d like to get that piece of furniture as organized as possible so it can be replaced with something nicer and more solid. In and around my laundry work, I plan to get into one of the hall closets and clean things out. There are lots of expired medications and such. I always say that the storage in this house is overwhelming, but then I become surprised when I dig into the space and find that it can be improved. I haven’t worked in the closets for a while and should take advantage while I’m feeling productive. Work can often smash the negative emotions. And it did. The time is now 1425 and I am sitting in the office with the entire setup operating. Speakers; second monitor; everything. I have the laptop extended to one of the big monitors, the subwoofer is below the table, and all components are functioning well. This is a big push toward the eventual desktop system. If I decide to leave the laptop in the office, I can remove the batteries and run it off line voltage. In the meantime, I have video entertainment or music as I may choose. This is very good. In and around the laundry and dry cleaning, I tended to one closet and the bookcase. As I had hoped, all this effort shoved the shit away rather than a typical day when I feel like I’m doing nothing more than shoving shit against the tide. And I guess this machine is still capable of exhibiting power. I have the browser, IDE and live server link running on this display along with streaming high-definition video on the second display. No hiccups. Once I have the new computer up and operational, I may need to adjust everything for use with my glasses. Otherwise, the setup is excellent. Julianne 0657 on Thursday morning. This is the first occasion in nearly four years in which I am in the office rather than the living room. Very different. I have the show on the right-hand monitor just like I used to years ago. Well, five or so years back I used to don the MDRs first thing on a Saturday morning and get the laundry rolling. I’d sit here with music and the editor to put down some thoughts from the work week. That was also the time when I wrote about the past. I am sitting in the same position as when I wrote ‘The Chair...’. Very interesting. Once moving the older table into the ‘new office’ (gone), I figured I wouldn’t be in here at any time in the future. Well, the garage is inhospitable for some of the year and I began to miss this office and the place where so many difficult stories were crafted. Wow... I looked back at the beginning of that period and the first installment – aside from my ‘manuscript’ of the trip to the Salton Sea – was in the spring of eighteen. Not quite four years, but a long time, anyway. I was reminded of that adventure while working in the city due to daydreaming of being freed from such an uncomfortable environment, and once the words began to form in my head, I ran around the fucking world with it. Those days while working, I used to wish for a way to break out and run away to some errant comfort. Every single day... I dreamed and yearned to be the hell out of there. Well, here I sit. This is not the same, but at least I am relaxing here at the desk with the freedom to spew my thoughts at the world, much like during sixteen and seventeen. This used to feel like power. Now? I don’t know anymore, although no one can shut me down. Anyway, the time is 0834. I have coffee and gangsters. I don’t believe there is any need for me to leave the house today. I can continue where I left off yesterday. The afternoon was productive because there was an image inside my head that didn’t want to let go of me. I am talking about a bad one, something so fucked up that I can’t mention it here. Not even a word. The point is I pushed as hard as I could to keep working on organization and such because that type of daydreaming is going to fucking kill me. I have to remain upright through this shit, too. If I fall down and move in any direction other than away from such deviant thinking, all will be lost, including the life of yours truly. After yesterday’s stark, very dire imagery spinning circles inside, I need to rise and fucking stay up. My mood will have to be forced. I plugged the new K740 into this machine for a little test. Wow, what a fantastic feeling to have this keyboard again. Smooth as glass, I tell you. Plus, it is illuminated just like the standard keyboard on the laptop, something that works to my advantage when I need the room dark. That kind of atmosphere was not so easy to achieve in the living room. I am already feeling the desire to remain here at some point each day and reflect upon the very beginning of this current period which began more than ten years ago. Ooh-fa. I am reminded of first switching to the active server pages and have read recently that they are outdated, believe it or not. I didn’t realize that ten years have passed since I built this framework. Unreal. The routine awaits, but I can’t seem to move away from this desk right now. The keyboard is so fantastic that I’d rather sit here and type than do anything else. Eh, this feeling will pass and I’ll move on at some point. I really don’t have much work today unless I continue with the organization from yesterday. I am pleased with the state of the office. I still need to move some items from the living and dining rooms into this space so those rooms look better. This office is such a nice place now; very comfortable thanks to the chair and huge table. There is room for everything I’d like to have nearby. 1046. I have the routine finished and wound up back in the office with my morning glass of angry depressant. Prior to returning to this chair, I shut down the laptop and removed the batteries. THe machine is now running on line voltage as I mentioned yesterday. The feeling of sitting here after all these years is amazing. I fucking love this keyboard. The only rub right now is that the laptop is in front of the K740, meaning I don’t have the freedom of resting my forearms on the table. I have to use the arms of this chair instead. The positioning will probably force me into grabbing a desktop computer sooner than I had planned because I need the ergonomic setup to be comfortable. Years ago I may not have paid this much attention to comfort, but I am not getting any younger. And wow are some of the sixth-season dancers easy on the eyes. Ugh... A number of them in the first and second seasons are very hard to take. Just saying. Oh, God... Jamie. I need her to hold me so bad that I might just lose my shit today. I have to figure out a way to live inside her big, beautiful eyes. Maybe I will seek a huge poster so everyone thinks I’m off my rocker. Well, they don’t know because I’ve been clammed up for years. No one knows. I have a plan for tomorrow before shopping. We are going to take a look at a job across the Golden Gate – very unusual for us to travel such a distance for work – and then shop on the return trip. I am looking forward to seeing the house in question, too. It should prove well worth the drive. The imagery is trying to shoehorn its way into my brain right now. I may have to swing the hammer after lunch. The current scene crammed a thought into my head, one I cannot describe here at all. Sometimes I believe the desperate thinking that comes along so often is the result of too many years of dreaming. Not only that, but what I began to picture was completely out of balance. I don’t like being this way. Others are responsible, however. They truly are. The earlier image that came to mind is related and drove me insane. It stemmed from the damaging dreams – two of them in particular – and would not leave me no matter what I was doing. This is going to continue, as well, because there is nothing I can do about the dreams or where they may lead. I keep seeing her over and over and the shit enters my mind every fucking day regardless of my intentions or within whatever I may be involved at the time. Something reminds me of a random image and then my mind runs with it. I guess the fact that I want her so badly doesn’t help. More than anything, honestly. I have recently created fantasies of us being beyond the reach of anyone and buried deep in the type of comfortable atmosphere that I need almost as badly as her body all over me. I CAN’T FUCKING HELP IT ANYMORE. This will kill me, sure as hell. 1551. I love this keyboard. I finished everything I set out to do today and now have the comfort of the office, and I learned something wonderful. When I capture an image of the screen, the entirety of both displays is included, meaning I can freeze Jamie and edit a much larger image than every other attempt to grab her beauty from the video. Since everything I want and need is impossible anyway, I may as well stare at images of a fictional character from fourteen or fifteen years ago. Why not? Is there another way? 0619 on Friday morning. I have to leave soon to pick up my friend and then look at a job nearly an hour up the road. On the return will probably be the shopping. Oh, there is Emily. I’d like to... Never mind. My head has been influenced by yet another dream and I think the only way to extricate the desperate thoughts is leaving this morning. Nothing really helps, though. Heading out the door is akin to a temporary distraction. That girl is tattooed to my fucking brain. 1204. Well then, we traveled to the nice house, went over the remodel details with the general and homeowners, and then made a beeline back across the bridge to do some Christmas shopping. I was back home shortly after ten. Very nice. I took care of the routine and stocking goodies immediately thereafter, and now I have my quiet time in the office with my glass of medicine. I am going to try to avoid going on at length about the woman in the house this morning. The opportunities to stare at her lines were plentiful and I took advantage. I really don’t want to say any more right now. My head hurts. Moreover, there was Emily again. Fucking hell, anyway. The woman at the house was plenty. I really don’t need more imagery in my already broken head. Julie I know what was going on in there. I know. There was no doubt. I know what she was wearing, too. I know too fucking much. Years of this shit, and my feelings of depression and desperation predate the essay from more than five years ago. They really do. I wish I didn’t know what was taking place inside her clothing. At least I am very professional (but I don’t know how it happens). This office setup is really nice. The rest of the day is open, but I don’t know what to do. I was thinking about making enchiladas early and then throwing them in the oven later, but I don’t know. 1554. I wish I had not looked at her pants. Dinner preparations are finished. Making the meal will be very straightforward. I also put up two strings of icicle lights across the garage and over the porch. A little late, but better than nothing. All other work was put on hold in favor of a trip to the goddess market for a few items. Thankfully, the store did not hold up to such a moniker. The place was busy, too. Two days before Christmas I would expect nothing else. Oona is on the screen here in the office, all dark and soft. Good God, what I wouldn’t give to... Ugh. During this series, she is second only to Jamie herself. Jesus fucking hell, anyway. My world is so out of balance that I can’t believe it sometimes. Thank the maker I am home when I need to be. Anyway, I am looking forward to lighting the icicles in a little while. Those decorations look silly during the day but it all changes at night. I recognized everything. I knew what was there. Nothing could be seen, but her motions confirmed my deviant suspicions. Five-seven, perhaps, and the gait benefited greatly from long legs and their mechanical relationship with her waist. Even after all these years I still find it amazing the sheer amount of information I can record in the space of twenty minutes. Unfortunately, such a recording has been filed away with the rest. Her image is now nothing more than fuel. I recognize the effects. I’ve been here before. Almost time for the evening mood lighting. Another ornament arrived today, one with both lights and sound. It is on the tree with the other ships. Eight in total now, I think. One more will be coming next week. I am reminded of the glow when I look at three of them. The glow was apparent while attaching them to the strings, too. This part of the year is when I miss the glow the most. And those big family gatherings of which I have spoken at length? I miss them to the same degree. Some of the Christmas movies involve characters that have no family, and I have found that they are easier on my head than those full of family. There are good and bad points to both, although I believe sometimes the lines take everything and shove it aside. They did just that today, for example, and the vision of them was powerful. It immediately reminded me of the damaging dreams and their trail smoke which continues to this very second. I do not need any more of that. When I say ‘damaging’, I mean the worst sort of daggers plunging deep into my brain. I still don’t understand their origin, yet the correlations between the first dream and incidents in reality have been numerous. Maybe I was destined to feel this way. I do not have the emotional education to warrant a guess. The current situation is worsening by the day. My thoughts have become derailed so many times – much like today when I gazed at an amazing example of just how skewed I have become – that to sit here and attempt articulation of my thoughts is now more of a battle than it was five years ago when first addressing the barren nature of my life. You want verisimilitude? Go back to the beginning in seventeen and re-read all two million words. Thank Christ this office setup is proving to be wondrous and comfortable. Everything else is just shit. I have become the recognizer, all gray and distorted. 0719 on Saturday morning. Christmas Eve, actually. This is the first Christmas in years in which I am all set up for tomorrow in advance. There will be no running around. Well, I may have to grab a lemon or two at the little market. Other than that possibility, I am here for the duration. My game is on just after one, as well. This is one of those long mornings when I can truly relax and think, and then later I’ll have some hours to myself and then I can carry on through to another morning just like this one. Hours. I am in the office with the vampires and the wired MDRs for posterity. The long morning is therapeutic, and sitting here as I did all those years ago helps me to consider all those periods staring out windows in different locations and dreaming of being ‘somebody’. Plus, we have some inclement weather coming toward this area during the next few days which will put a smile on my face and further reinforce the past Fridays at our computer while looking east toward the hills. The only difference between that locale and my present home is three stories of building. The apartment was on the top floor – the ‘fringe’ of the complex – and the big glass door faced the Altamont. Rain or shine... I was there looking for something inspiring. Now? I have a window in front of me for the second time that faces out toward the hills. I’m not going to go into the in-between period when I had a view of the ocean. That was without a doubt sixteen months of the most ridiculous, reckless and ill-advised behavior I could ever imagine, and I sit here at this very moment ashamed of myself for having lived it. This window dates to the time of my mighty desktop environment and the beginning of the site change nearly eight years ago. That led to much more of the same – changes and adjustments to the way I considered and interacted with people – and some of the most cutting ideas ever. This morning I am beginning to feel the return of that mass of disdain and disgust with the world. I recognized the voice and the words. Her inflection is always the same and about as adorable and stirring as one voice can be. I recognized it immediately and fell down on the inside. She is amazing to see and hear. I need more. Unfortunately, I have no control over any of it, nor can I do as I please. All I have is the time to wait until something else happens – be it in my dreams or in reality – and then sit here in my little world and write the words that no one will understand. As soon as I heard that voice my heart leaped and I did not know what to do for a time. I was fairly busy yesterday, but there is nothing in the world with the ability or power to hold my attention when I think of that voice or the incredibly adorable person attached. I am going to lose my shit later. I know it. The issue was nothing more than a single fucking word, too. One word. The way it sounds lights a fire inside me and I cannot extinguish it for hours, if at all. I could recognize her voice in a crowd of a thousand or more. I am enamored with more than her physical appearance, believe me. This is currently the largest issue being pulled by the locomotive. I heard that one word and flipped the fuck out for a few minutes. All of the imagery that I could recall from those three dreams returned to my head as if they were jacketed and shot into me by a .220 Swift. I pictured a large number of situations in a very short time period and had to shove it all away in order to continue with my evening stuff. There is not a single detail of ANY of this shit that I can put here on the site, the mature content warning notwithstanding. Not a word. Believe me, I would be gazed upon much differently than I probably already am. I have to stop typing about that voice and the dreams. The feeling with which I am so pleased is not necessarily hours in the morning, but just the idea that I can move along at my own pace and think about everything as needed. Right now, for example, I can care for whatever I need without interruption or distraction (unless I hear that adorable voice) and return to this machine as necessary for furthering this analysis. I recognized the feeling from years ago when I only had two days per week to sit here during the morning. No sooner did I hit the power on this computer once everything was in place and I was immediately reminded of those quiet, downtrodden periods after tough weeks of work; the only time I could actually put things into perspective. Now I am in near-complete control of my time and fully intend to exert whatever force may be necessary in order to maintain this important atmosphere. Jaw-dropping Honestly, the only true way to keep my thoughts locked up is just that... Don’t speak to anyone, don’t write anything on paper or on the computer, and never let loose a single syllable that could connect me with anything on the other side of the front door. I speak about those on television and must continue within the same vein, or else. The actors are all well-known and what I think doesn’t matter anyway. When it comes to those in reality, the story is very different. I am in a precarious position but remain closed off. This is the only way. I do not wish to be recognized. Ugh. I can already see that an hour or so in this chair and I will need to stretch and move around. I had thought the interval might be two, but honestly sitting here for too long (or anyone who works on these machines daily) is not a good idea for more reasons than the one I mentioned. This will help me to balance my time. The sofa was never a good thing. In the beginning, though, I found much comfort there during the early mornings with my friends on the television. Now, however, the office brings back too much from the past. This will become the status quo once the new machine is in place, hopefully soon. Within that long entry – the last to be published for the foreseeable future – I stated that I want her very badly most of the time. I am not speaking of ‘her’, but her. Well, a movie the other night reinforced such desire and sent me straight to the browser in order to seek images of the girl in question. Damn, this is not something I envisioned in the past, but I do know how it happened. Those fucking dreams derailed whatever had been foremost on my mind at the time and created an entire world within which I felt more strongly than for even the gorgeous actors of which I speak so often. That sentence is convoluted. I can’t fix it. Anyway, splayed across the big screen was another example of what took place upon awakening after the first damaging dreams. I saw lines unlike any other woman in years of watching Christmas movies. Should I still be viewing them? Probably not. Unfortunately, that image is now burned into me and caused yet another search for things I still do not understand. I will keep looking and deal with whatever mass of fallout results from such a weak-minded endeavor. Splendid. I have been forced into this overwhelmingly desperate situation by circumstances far beyond my control, and situations that will likely resonate for years to come. Nothing will happen, of course, because I have become a master of hiding everything, even when struck by something right before my eyes. I recognized her voice. Such a fact is not so unusual, I believe, as people know others’ voices by heart much of the time. In me? The beautiful sound shot arrows into my heart and conjured images from the dreams for the umpteenth time. Oh, and images that have not and will not happen in reality. Boy do I need them, though. Bad. I am fucked up. Remember the smiling faces? I need her to smile in the same way. What a fucking dream. Nothing else in the world, nor anything that will come along in the future, will compare. 0927 and I am still sitting here. I took two breaks and realized my suspicion of moving around roughly once per hour will help nicely. Returning to the chair and my friends on the second display feels equally rewarding. Had I known months ago that this setup was going to be so wondrous, perhaps I would have accepted work earlier in the year and procured everything sooner. Well, this is not bad. The desktop will happen in the next two months or so, and then my office will once again become a place of exploration and wonder (and tons of shit). My hands are cold despite the furnace keeping the house warm. Maybe a shower will help. Dishes, too. Soon. Looking out at the hills from that top-floor apartment brought a sense of adventure almost every time I sat there. Dreams of the forest were a daily occurrence. My nephew and I had a connection through music, one which brought forth pictures of a radically different, ancient lifestyle; a world unlike anything in existence. The forest was key back then, and I told him that once two aspects of the apartment disappeared, I would equally vanish. The first was the phone (landline). We needed the house phone because it enabled visitors to contact us to open the gate of the parking area. During one of our gatherings near the pool and within the fantastic outdoor kitchen and barbecue area, I strolled into the leasing office – and yes, there was Michelle with her huge eyes and equally oversized chest all round and yummy – and asked if the gate contact could be changed to my cellular phone. Yep. I was told the gate connection could be attached to any local phone number, landline or otherwise. Once I made the switch, our house phone was turned off and eliminated. That was step one toward the forest. The real forest, that is. Step two was my deep need for a big television screen combined with high definition programming. I made it clear to my nephew that once the cable television and Internet went away, so would I. The cancellation of our cable account never took place while living in the apartment, nor was it shut off at any time in the house once we moved there. I never had a plan in the first place because the very idea – wondrous and enticing as it was – became too much of a change considering the sheer level of physical comfort surrounded by my favorite technology. I’ve gone over that fact in the past. The point of all that was the chair and my ability to look across the horizon from three floors above the ground. Three may not sound like much, but the view was sprawling in that town due to a lack of tall buildings. I would sit and write about disgust with society and its inherent and unending apathy, all the while dreaming of separating myself from the herd and living in a location where other people simply would not attempt to reside, ever. That feeling deep inside has returned somewhat, and I suspect it will grow for two key reasons. One, the dream of being the hell away from society had only been suppressed rather than alleviated, and two, my feelings of late have been strongly influenced by the damaging dreams and will only worsen if I remain here for many years. I recognize the need to be somewhere I cannot, as well as lavishing within a situation that is completely impossible. The only difference between my present dreaming and that which took place from the apartment on that top floor is the deviant desire which has recently grown out of fucking control. I mentioned a correlation between the woman with whom I spoke some weeks ago and someone else who resides in my heart. There is actually another, believe it or not, and the second is in my garage; a woman I stood next to and exchanged a number of words with a few years ago. I am going to scan her beautiful image and work with it here. Perhaps the quality of the scan will allow me to include her unreal and unique beauty in an essay. Hopefully, anyway. I will not name either of the two, however. I can’t. 0732 on Christmas Day. I am glad that yesterday came to an end because it was one of the toughest in memory. Just... Shit everywhere. On the sidewalk in front of my house, all over the television programming and commercials, and during the game. Oh, and in my brain. I was fed up with this shit more than five years ago and probably shouldn’t be sitting here right now. At least I am glad that the calendar changed to Sunday. I don’t need a repeat of what I saw and dreamed about yesterday. It was all too much, honestly. No smiling faces, either. Just some other visions that would not let go of me. And some of the biggest eyes I have ever seen on the television combined with tons of dark hair and beautiful lips. That caught me off guard, I tell you. I have rarely seen the likes of that woman. The movie last night had me dreaming of the glow and all that shit from the nineties again. My family, too. The big gatherings on the television reminded me of my own experiences and how they helped to shape my perception of the holidays. End of line." This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
December 26th, 2022 7:47am pst If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning. The Recognizer II read ( words) "0913. Ugh. Ashley is on the television and my brain is saturated with her beauty. Jesus, her sculpted face is unreal. What I wouldn’t give to wrap that woman in a seamstress’ tape. Well, I tried that one time and it went very badly. Maybe my dreams really are completely unrealistic. They seem reasonable to me, though. Have I become that fucking far out of balance? Too many years have passed since the failing fantasy, I guess. Holy God is Ashley ever unique. I want to lick her nose. Lyndsy is on the other channel in a different movie, but I saved that one just in case I need to see her beautiful lines again. Basket case. I am a train wreck, more than ever. I had thought my condition was harsh four years ago when I first uttered that phrase, but alas time and circumstance continue to destroy me. I think Ashley has surpassed Brooke and the others in my mind. Holy Jesus fucking hell is she ever something to see. Two more tools for the keepsake set arrived yesterday. They are not completely new, meaning I had to do some cleaning of the vinyl sleeves to ensure they are up to my standards. The five main, colorful tools are in the case. I don’t care if it takes years to complete that set. I’m doing it anyway. During the carnage of late eleven, I sold the complete set in its case and didn’t really care because my head was so far gone that very few things in life mattered. I was desperate to rid myself of as many valuable possessions as possible in order to keep the apartment for as long as I could. The process included the Breitling and my big camera, too. The tool set should have fucking stayed. Some of those items are extremely rare and quite expensive these days. That was a huge mistake. I’ll have to move away from this very soon and begin to take care of my chores. My office plan took shape the other day when I decided to wrap and store additional items from the bookcase in the hopes of replacing it with something nicer in the future. Fuck me in a bra cup... There is the same girl I’ve seen many times in the commercial with that facial feature I still cannot explain. She is at the top of the heap regarding the lower structure of which I seem to have an enormous fascination. There is something attached to such a feeling, as well. Something important. Pause. 1231. The routine is finished and the garbage is mostly out. I have lunch in the oven and the gangsters on the televisions. I had to switch off the Christmas movie because staring at Ashley was causing major fucking problems. She is quite the dream. From here forward I do not have many plans. After lunch I will probably sweep the patio and garage so the detritus can go into the green can, and then maybe work in the office. My team played on Thursday so there is no critical game this afternoon. That means I can keep some of my friends in the background for comfort. I may also run a load of laundry to have a head start on the coming week. Oy, Tony honking the horn relentlessly drives me up the wall. I can’t stand when a person is awaiting someone and continuously honks rather than going to the door. Car horns should be used for avoiding accidents and nothing more. Monday morning. The second show is on because none of my favorite actors are in the current Christmas movies. Too bad, but also good. I had plenty of that crap yesterday, not to mention the processes inside me that flare whenever I feel alone. Some are pretty fucking difficult. I think Ashley was the tipping point yesterday, and then later in the evening there was a preview to a movie coming next month that drove me insane. I could not believe the incredible shape on the screen, nor could I think straight after the commercial ended. I just sat there waiting for it to come around again. Her legs and pants reminded me of one of the smiling faces. Such an occurrence is never good in any way. My mood has changed from comfortable on what is typically a nice, quiet Monday morning to very angry due to some news from a friend. Now I am pissed off and can’t do anything about it, although I can try to help later when we revisit the same stupid job from last week. Any thoughts of the dreams, lines, whatever... Gone. I can barely concentrate on the story playing out right now. I need to cool off before heading to the jobsite in order to avoid coming across in a negative state to the homeowner and general contractor. There was supposed to be one more day of work sometime this week but I believe it will be delayed due to what happened this morning. That may be my last venture within the trade. I am completely nonplussed by the news. 1016. I have just half of the routine out of the way because a friend was going to stop by. I paused everything in order to help him when he arrived, but a little while ago the plan was postponed to another day. Now I have the remainder of this day to myself. Very good. The gangsters are gracing my big television for posterity and comfort. I know them well. Today may be the day I head over the hill to inquire about desktop systems. Perhaps I can pick up some stocking stuffers while out. Right now I have a fat, modified White Russian on the table, meaning I won’t be going anywhere until it is gone. I’ve been very adroit with the morning booze and what it provides. Curious, I am still writing even though there is little chance that any of this will be read by another pair of eyes. Wow... I must have poured more orange vodka than I had intended. My head has already loosened quite a bit from the drink. I actually feel pretty good. Heh. Here I sit at one of my favorite cozy spots for lunch. I haven't been here for ages. The restaurant is nice and warm, unlike outside. My intention was to visit my friend and help with whatever I can. That is a no for the morning, unfortunately, but I am on the other side of the hill which means I can branch out and look around for a change. Not bad. Sometimes it takes a miracle to get me over here no matter what needs to be accomplished. Most days I have a hard time leaving the house. I guess the motivation requires some odd circumstances. Today fits the bill. I ventured to the garage and blasted three songs, during which I was informed that the meeting was not to happen. Considering the mood, I took off anyway. There seemed no avenue toward improvement at home, so out the door I went. I'll be home later to resume a typical afternoon. A strange afternoon it will be, no doubt. After a delicious lunch, my options are wide open. The time is now 1253 and soon I'll leave this cozy bar and head toward whatever seems best. If I return home, the hammer shall swing until I run out of energy. If I go shopping, the hammer will wait. Either way, I'm going to lash at the world in the only way I know how. This morning’s development has just plain fucked up my attitude toward society. This is the fourth such occasion. Not good. Second beer, but just a pint. My schedule is my own. I still can't decide whether or not to look at computers. I've had the idea built up inside for days, too. Perhaps when I feel the push to branch out, my better judgment keeps me in line. Way back when I began those off-Friday lunch excursions, the booze loosened me to the point of being reckless while shopping. My tongue was reckless, too. I can't even begin to tally the number of compliments that were tossed every which way back then. Oy. My tongue was looser than the morals of a twenties-era burlesque dancer. I was quite the train wreck, even then. Surprising? Nope. In fact, I cannot recall an era when I was not weak and desperate. Thank Christ no one is nearby right now. Regardless of the cozy lunch, my mass of suppressed shit continues to nag. I believe I'll be heading straight home when my drink is gone. Nothing good can come of such a situation. Not here, anyway. I'll have to make nice for a while and then haul ass. The house will feel welcoming. The jewel of living Oh boy, there is Julie Benz and her stunning face. Damn. Right out of the gate this morning, too. She was forty-three when this movie was filmed and does not look a day past thirty. So flippin’ cute. Today is Tuesday and I plan to take it easy for the duration. After lunch yesterday, I decided to meet up with my friend and it turned into a seven hour journey. Yikes. Jesus fuck, Julie is gorgeous. There is always a little bit of ‘devilish’ in her eyes when she smiles. I don’t know what it means, but I will say that on some other women the appearance is fucking frightening. The same feature on Julie is fucking adorable and makes me want to kiss her. And now there is Lacey’s co-star (for a short while, anyway) with a face for the ages. She looks like the Raven somewhat, but also another person. I can’t put my finger on it. She is so beautiful that even Lacey’s mass of cuteness can’t hold a candle. The other day I was reading about one of the movies and a person stated that Lacey is perpetually twelve. Funny. She really does have a very young-looking face. 0805 and my morning business is out of the way. I have much on my mind but nothing will come of any of it. I don’t like this situation. There was a smiling face in a dream early this morning, too. Just more crap on the pile. I don’t know who she was, as usual. The rare dream carries the face I know. This morning was different. Either way... Knowing her or not, the difficulty still abounds. I am sitting here right now as a product of that other essay, still. Worse. This day is not going to go anywhere significant. I can already feel the need to take it easy all day long. I do need to visit the market later, but that’s it. Nothing else. After yesterday’s mood flares, I don’t want to see or speak to anyone. I have to remain indoors as much as possible in order to recover from being so pissed off. This morning the whole world seems to add up to nothing but shit. I need that to change. Sixth-season Jamie all over my brain. Jesus. And there is the wedding sequence. Sonuvabitch. Oh, and not only her stunning eyes all over the screen in this episode, but there is a Christmas movie starring the very same goddess airing in less than two hours. Unbelievable. 1328. I took care of almost everything, including a trip to two stores. I am more comfortable now due to the shopping being out of the way. The evening is quiet. I am all by myself for a while due to a holiday dinner. I just switched from the gangsters to a Christmas movie. Basically, from Jamie and Cara to Taylor and her exquisite facial features. This day has been very difficult thanks to being out last night. I went against my better judgment by spending time in the fold of other people, but the importance of visiting my friend outweighed other concerns. I will feel more energetic tomorrow, no doubt. Sometimes relaxing is not entirely a bad thing. The house is warm and comfortable. I may cruise through tomorrow like this, too. Eh... I need to pick up a few items at the goddess market for two upcoming dinners. Rats. Well, I’ll head over there early and then rejoice in arriving back home to my cocoon. Once the business is finished, I plan to take it easy again. I’ll find a few movies or a different series to watch. Hopefully, there is not a repeat of this morning after the early business. I know part of why there was difficulty, too. Part, but not all. My mind often wanders during mornings and I equate some of the visions inside to past dreams, most of which are either impossible in reality or so far back that they seem born of a different lifetime. This morning was tough because something transpired in my mind while sleeping and I could not push it to the surface. I knew it was similar to one of the most stirring stories I have ever dreamed. No matter how hard I tried, the information would not come forth. All that thinking left me completely empty and void of hope for a long while. I have no control over dreams, though. Wait and see is the only option. I really need tomorrow to be much more comfortable than today. Again... Wait and see. 0652 on Wednesday morning, and boy am I looking forward to the quiet in less than an hour. I have to take care of some business first, but then the day is completely under my control. I don’t know how I will feel coming out the other side. Maybe if I can avoid yesterday’s pitfall, the evening will be less taxing. 0823 and here I am in the quiet once again; just what I needed this morning. Unfortunately, there is imagery in my head from both the past and some dreams that will not leave. I have to work hard to get this shit out of my head or the day will turn into a loss. I am really sick of being plagued at random times throughout each week. Some visions and situations simply will not leave me alone, and believe me... I know why. Ideas for how to keep busy today abound, so perhaps I can squash this shit before becoming angry. A bad mood is a bad start to any day and it happens too often. Something is going to break soon... At my fucking hands. Jamie is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Period. Everything wonderful is impossible. Her character is an impossibility. My feelings for her character are ridiculous, yet somehow understandable due to that fucking essay from five-plus years ago. My emotional state used to be depressing, but now I have to define it as dangerous. All I can do is look at her on the television from almost twenty years ago and recall the dream in which the two of us were together and all the bad stuff went away. She helped me, cared for me, and I loved her for it. I also knew inside that to care for her perpetually could never be enough, but she understood all of it. Everything. I saw my life in her eyes. That vision is now gone. She is not real. I feel pain every fucking day because of that fact. My head is ‘Napoleon Blownaparte’. I will stare at her for the rest of my life because I love her. I am pathetic. This is completely fucked up. 1139. I finished the routine and went to the market. I still have laundry and dry cleaning to accomplish sometime this afternoon. Prior to the market, I began wrapping and storing some things from the office in order to free the bookcase of so much stuff. I’d like to get that piece of furniture as organized as possible so it can be replaced with something nicer and more solid. In and around my laundry work, I plan to get into one of the hall closets and clean things out. There are lots of expired medications and such. I always say that the storage in this house is overwhelming, but then I become surprised when I dig into the space and find that it can be improved. I haven’t worked in the closets for a while and should take advantage while I’m feeling productive. Work can often smash the negative emotions. And it did. The time is now 1425 and I am sitting in the office with the entire setup operating. Speakers; second monitor; everything. I have the laptop extended to one of the big monitors, the subwoofer is below the table, and all components are functioning well. This is a big push toward the eventual desktop system. If I decide to leave the laptop in the office, I can remove the batteries and run it off line voltage. In the meantime, I have video entertainment or music as I may choose. This is very good. In and around the laundry and dry cleaning, I tended to one closet and the bookcase. As I had hoped, all this effort shoved the shit away rather than a typical day when I feel like I’m doing nothing more than shoving shit against the tide. And I guess this machine is still capable of exhibiting power. I have the browser, IDE and live server link running on this display along with streaming high-definition video on the second display. No hiccups. Once I have the new computer up and operational, I may need to adjust everything for use with my glasses. Otherwise, the setup is excellent. Julianne 0657 on Thursday morning. This is the first occasion in nearly four years in which I am in the office rather than the living room. Very different. I have the show on the right-hand monitor just like I used to years ago. Well, five or so years back I used to don the MDRs first thing on a Saturday morning and get the laundry rolling. I’d sit here with music and the editor to put down some thoughts from the work week. That was also the time when I wrote about the past. I am sitting in the same position as when I wrote ‘The Chair...’. Very interesting. Once moving the older table into the ‘new office’ (gone), I figured I wouldn’t be in here at any time in the future. Well, the garage is inhospitable for some of the year and I began to miss this office and the place where so many difficult stories were crafted. Wow... I looked back at the beginning of that period and the first installment – aside from my ‘manuscript’ of the trip to the Salton Sea – was in the spring of eighteen. Not quite four years, but a long time, anyway. I was reminded of that adventure while working in the city due to daydreaming of being freed from such an uncomfortable environment, and once the words began to form in my head, I ran around the fucking world with it. Those days while working, I used to wish for a way to break out and run away to some errant comfort. Every single day... I dreamed and yearned to be the hell out of there. Well, here I sit. This is not the same, but at least I am relaxing here at the desk with the freedom to spew my thoughts at the world, much like during sixteen and seventeen. This used to feel like power. Now? I don’t know anymore, although no one can shut me down. Anyway, the time is 0834. I have coffee and gangsters. I don’t believe there is any need for me to leave the house today. I can continue where I left off yesterday. The afternoon was productive because there was an image inside my head that didn’t want to let go of me. I am talking about a bad one, something so fucked up that I can’t mention it here. Not even a word. The point is I pushed as hard as I could to keep working on organization and such because that type of daydreaming is going to fucking kill me. I have to remain upright through this shit, too. If I fall down and move in any direction other than away from such deviant thinking, all will be lost, including the life of yours truly. After yesterday’s stark, very dire imagery spinning circles inside, I need to rise and fucking stay up. My mood will have to be forced. I plugged the new K740 into this machine for a little test. Wow, what a fantastic feeling to have this keyboard again. Smooth as glass, I tell you. Plus, it is illuminated just like the standard keyboard on the laptop, something that works to my advantage when I need the room dark. That kind of atmosphere was not so easy to achieve in the living room. I am already feeling the desire to remain here at some point each day and reflect upon the very beginning of this current period which began more than ten years ago. Ooh-fa. I am reminded of first switching to the active server pages and have read recently that they are outdated, believe it or not. I didn’t realize that ten years have passed since I built this framework. Unreal. The routine awaits, but I can’t seem to move away from this desk right now. The keyboard is so fantastic that I’d rather sit here and type than do anything else. Eh, this feeling will pass and I’ll move on at some point. I really don’t have much work today unless I continue with the organization from yesterday. I am pleased with the state of the office. I still need to move some items from the living and dining rooms into this space so those rooms look better. This office is such a nice place now; very comfortable thanks to the chair and huge table. There is room for everything I’d like to have nearby. 1046. I have the routine finished and wound up back in the office with my morning glass of angry depressant. Prior to returning to this chair, I shut down the laptop and removed the batteries. THe machine is now running on line voltage as I mentioned yesterday. The feeling of sitting here after all these years is amazing. I fucking love this keyboard. The only rub right now is that the laptop is in front of the K740, meaning I don’t have the freedom of resting my forearms on the table. I have to use the arms of this chair instead. The positioning will probably force me into grabbing a desktop computer sooner than I had planned because I need the ergonomic setup to be comfortable. Years ago I may not have paid this much attention to comfort, but I am not getting any younger. And wow are some of the sixth-season dancers easy on the eyes. Ugh... A number of them in the first and second seasons are very hard to take. Just saying. Oh, God... Jamie. I need her to hold me so bad that I might just lose my shit today. I have to figure out a way to live inside her big, beautiful eyes. Maybe I will seek a huge poster so everyone thinks I’m off my rocker. Well, they don’t know because I’ve been clammed up for years. No one knows. I have a plan for tomorrow before shopping. We are going to take a look at a job across the Golden Gate – very unusual for us to travel such a distance for work – and then shop on the return trip. I am looking forward to seeing the house in question, too. It should prove well worth the drive. The imagery is trying to shoehorn its way into my brain right now. I may have to swing the hammer after lunch. The current scene crammed a thought into my head, one I cannot describe here at all. Sometimes I believe the desperate thinking that comes along so often is the result of too many years of dreaming. Not only that, but what I began to picture was completely out of balance. I don’t like being this way. Others are responsible, however. They truly are. The earlier image that came to mind is related and drove me insane. It stemmed from the damaging dreams – two of them in particular – and would not leave me no matter what I was doing. This is going to continue, as well, because there is nothing I can do about the dreams or where they may lead. I keep seeing her over and over and the shit enters my mind every fucking day regardless of my intentions or within whatever I may be involved at the time. Something reminds me of a random image and then my mind runs with it. I guess the fact that I want her so badly doesn’t help. More than anything, honestly. I have recently created fantasies of us being beyond the reach of anyone and buried deep in the type of comfortable atmosphere that I need almost as badly as her body all over me. I CAN’T FUCKING HELP IT ANYMORE. This will kill me, sure as hell. 1551. I love this keyboard. I finished everything I set out to do today and now have the comfort of the office, and I learned something wonderful. When I capture an image of the screen, the entirety of both displays is included, meaning I can freeze Jamie and edit a much larger image than every other attempt to grab her beauty from the video. Since everything I want and need is impossible anyway, I may as well stare at images of a fictional character from fourteen or fifteen years ago. Why not? Is there another way? 0619 on Friday morning. I have to leave soon to pick up my friend and then look at a job nearly an hour up the road. On the return will probably be the shopping. Oh, there is Emily. I’d like to... Never mind. My head has been influenced by yet another dream and I think the only way to extricate the desperate thoughts is leaving this morning. Nothing really helps, though. Heading out the door is akin to a temporary distraction. That girl is tattooed to my fucking brain. 1204. Well then, we traveled to the nice house, went over the remodel details with the general and homeowners, and then made a beeline back across the bridge to do some Christmas shopping. I was back home shortly after ten. Very nice. I took care of the routine and stocking goodies immediately thereafter, and now I have my quiet time in the office with my glass of medicine. I am going to try to avoid going on at length about the woman in the house this morning. The opportunities to stare at her lines were plentiful and I took advantage. I really don’t want to say any more right now. My head hurts. Moreover, there was Emily again. Fucking hell, anyway. The woman at the house was plenty. I really don’t need more imagery in my already broken head. Julie I know what was going on in there. I know. There was no doubt. I know what she was wearing, too. I know too fucking much. Years of this shit, and my feelings of depression and desperation predate the essay from more than five years ago. They really do. I wish I didn’t know what was taking place inside her clothing. At least I am very professional (but I don’t know how it happens). This office setup is really nice. The rest of the day is open, but I don’t know what to do. I was thinking about making enchiladas early and then throwing them in the oven later, but I don’t know. 1554. I wish I had not looked at her pants. Dinner preparations are finished. Making the meal will be very straightforward. I also put up two strings of icicle lights across the garage and over the porch. A little late, but better than nothing. All other work was put on hold in favor of a trip to the goddess market for a few items. Thankfully, the store did not hold up to such a moniker. The place was busy, too. Two days before Christmas I would expect nothing else. Oona is on the screen here in the office, all dark and soft. Good God, what I wouldn’t give to... Ugh. During this series, she is second only to Jamie herself. Jesus fucking hell, anyway. My world is so out of balance that I can’t believe it sometimes. Thank the maker I am home when I need to be. Anyway, I am looking forward to lighting the icicles in a little while. Those decorations look silly during the day but it all changes at night. I recognized everything. I knew what was there. Nothing could be seen, but her motions confirmed my deviant suspicions. Five-seven, perhaps, and the gait benefited greatly from long legs and their mechanical relationship with her waist. Even after all these years I still find it amazing the sheer amount of information I can record in the space of twenty minutes. Unfortunately, such a recording has been filed away with the rest. Her image is now nothing more than fuel. I recognize the effects. I’ve been here before. Almost time for the evening mood lighting. Another ornament arrived today, one with both lights and sound. It is on the tree with the other ships. Eight in total now, I think. One more will be coming next week. I am reminded of the glow when I look at three of them. The glow was apparent while attaching them to the strings, too. This part of the year is when I miss the glow the most. And those big family gatherings of which I have spoken at length? I miss them to the same degree. Some of the Christmas movies involve characters that have no family, and I have found that they are easier on my head than those full of family. There are good and bad points to both, although I believe sometimes the lines take everything and shove it aside. They did just that today, for example, and the vision of them was powerful. It immediately reminded me of the damaging dreams and their trail smoke which continues to this very second. I do not need any more of that. When I say ‘damaging’, I mean the worst sort of daggers plunging deep into my brain. I still don’t understand their origin, yet the correlations between the first dream and incidents in reality have been numerous. Maybe I was destined to feel this way. I do not have the emotional education to warrant a guess. The current situation is worsening by the day. My thoughts have become derailed so many times – much like today when I gazed at an amazing example of just how skewed I have become – that to sit here and attempt articulation of my thoughts is now more of a battle than it was five years ago when first addressing the barren nature of my life. You want verisimilitude? Go back to the beginning in seventeen and re-read all two million words. Thank Christ this office setup is proving to be wondrous and comfortable. Everything else is just shit. I have become the recognizer, all gray and distorted. 0719 on Saturday morning. Christmas Eve, actually. This is the first Christmas in years in which I am all set up for tomorrow in advance. There will be no running around. Well, I may have to grab a lemon or two at the little market. Other than that possibility, I am here for the duration. My game is on just after one, as well. This is one of those long mornings when I can truly relax and think, and then later I’ll have some hours to myself and then I can carry on through to another morning just like this one. Hours. I am in the office with the vampires and the wired MDRs for posterity. The long morning is therapeutic, and sitting here as I did all those years ago helps me to consider all those periods staring out windows in different locations and dreaming of being ‘somebody’. Plus, we have some inclement weather coming toward this area during the next few days which will put a smile on my face and further reinforce the past Fridays at our computer while looking east toward the hills. The only difference between that locale and my present home is three stories of building. The apartment was on the top floor – the ‘fringe’ of the complex – and the big glass door faced the Altamont. Rain or shine... I was there looking for something inspiring. Now? I have a window in front of me for the second time that faces out toward the hills. I’m not going to go into the in-between period when I had a view of the ocean. That was without a doubt sixteen months of the most ridiculous, reckless and ill-advised behavior I could ever imagine, and I sit here at this very moment ashamed of myself for having lived it. This window dates to the time of my mighty desktop environment and the beginning of the site change nearly eight years ago. That led to much more of the same – changes and adjustments to the way I considered and interacted with people – and some of the most cutting ideas ever. This morning I am beginning to feel the return of that mass of disdain and disgust with the world. I recognized the voice and the words. Her inflection is always the same and about as adorable and stirring as one voice can be. I recognized it immediately and fell down on the inside. She is amazing to see and hear. I need more. Unfortunately, I have no control over any of it, nor can I do as I please. All I have is the time to wait until something else happens – be it in my dreams or in reality – and then sit here in my little world and write the words that no one will understand. As soon as I heard that voice my heart leaped and I did not know what to do for a time. I was fairly busy yesterday, but there is nothing in the world with the ability or power to hold my attention when I think of that voice or the incredibly adorable person attached. I am going to lose my shit later. I know it. The issue was nothing more than a single fucking word, too. One word. The way it sounds lights a fire inside me and I cannot extinguish it for hours, if at all. I could recognize her voice in a crowd of a thousand or more. I am enamored with more than her physical appearance, believe me. This is currently the largest issue being pulled by the locomotive. I heard that one word and flipped the fuck out for a few minutes. All of the imagery that I could recall from those three dreams returned to my head as if they were jacketed and shot into me by a .220 Swift. I pictured a large number of situations in a very short time period and had to shove it all away in order to continue with my evening stuff. There is not a single detail of ANY of this shit that I can put here on the site, the mature content warning notwithstanding. Not a word. Believe me, I would be gazed upon much differently than I probably already am. I have to stop typing about that voice and the dreams. The feeling with which I am so pleased is not necessarily hours in the morning, but just the idea that I can move along at my own pace and think about everything as needed. Right now, for example, I can care for whatever I need without interruption or distraction (unless I hear that adorable voice) and return to this machine as necessary for furthering this analysis. I recognized the feeling from years ago when I only had two days per week to sit here during the morning. No sooner did I hit the power on this computer once everything was in place and I was immediately reminded of those quiet, downtrodden periods after tough weeks of work; the only time I could actually put things into perspective. Now I am in near-complete control of my time and fully intend to exert whatever force may be necessary in order to maintain this important atmosphere. Jaw-dropping Honestly, the only true way to keep my thoughts locked up is just that... Don’t speak to anyone, don’t write anything on paper or on the computer, and never let loose a single syllable that could connect me with anything on the other side of the front door. I speak about those on television and must continue within the same vein, or else. The actors are all well-known and what I think doesn’t matter anyway. When it comes to those in reality, the story is very different. I am in a precarious position but remain closed off. This is the only way. I do not wish to be recognized. Ugh. I can already see that an hour or so in this chair and I will need to stretch and move around. I had thought the interval might be two, but honestly sitting here for too long (or anyone who works on these machines daily) is not a good idea for more reasons than the one I mentioned. This will help me to balance my time. The sofa was never a good thing. In the beginning, though, I found much comfort there during the early mornings with my friends on the television. Now, however, the office brings back too much from the past. This will become the status quo once the new machine is in place, hopefully soon. Within that long entry – the last to be published for the foreseeable future – I stated that I want her very badly most of the time. I am not speaking of ‘her’, but her. Well, a movie the other night reinforced such desire and sent me straight to the browser in order to seek images of the girl in question. Damn, this is not something I envisioned in the past, but I do know how it happened. Those fucking dreams derailed whatever had been foremost on my mind at the time and created an entire world within which I felt more strongly than for even the gorgeous actors of which I speak so often. That sentence is convoluted. I can’t fix it. Anyway, splayed across the big screen was another example of what took place upon awakening after the first damaging dreams. I saw lines unlike any other woman in years of watching Christmas movies. Should I still be viewing them? Probably not. Unfortunately, that image is now burned into me and caused yet another search for things I still do not understand. I will keep looking and deal with whatever mass of fallout results from such a weak-minded endeavor. Splendid. I have been forced into this overwhelmingly desperate situation by circumstances far beyond my control, and situations that will likely resonate for years to come. Nothing will happen, of course, because I have become a master of hiding everything, even when struck by something right before my eyes. I recognized her voice. Such a fact is not so unusual, I believe, as people know others’ voices by heart much of the time. In me? The beautiful sound shot arrows into my heart and conjured images from the dreams for the umpteenth time. Oh, and images that have not and will not happen in reality. Boy do I need them, though. Bad. I am fucked up. Remember the smiling faces? I need her to smile in the same way. What a fucking dream. Nothing else in the world, nor anything that will come along in the future, will compare. 0927 and I am still sitting here. I took two breaks and realized my suspicion of moving around roughly once per hour will help nicely. Returning to the chair and my friends on the second display feels equally rewarding. Had I known months ago that this setup was going to be so wondrous, perhaps I would have accepted work earlier in the year and procured everything sooner. Well, this is not bad. The desktop will happen in the next two months or so, and then my office will once again become a place of exploration and wonder (and tons of shit). My hands are cold despite the furnace keeping the house warm. Maybe a shower will help. Dishes, too. Soon. Looking out at the hills from that top-floor apartment brought a sense of adventure almost every time I sat there. Dreams of the forest were a daily occurrence. My nephew and I had a connection through music, one which brought forth pictures of a radically different, ancient lifestyle; a world unlike anything in existence. The forest was key back then, and I told him that once two aspects of the apartment disappeared, I would equally vanish. The first was the phone (landline). We needed the house phone because it enabled visitors to contact us to open the gate of the parking area. During one of our gatherings near the pool and within the fantastic outdoor kitchen and barbecue area, I strolled into the leasing office – and yes, there was Michelle with her huge eyes and equally oversized chest all round and yummy – and asked if the gate contact could be changed to my cellular phone. Yep. I was told the gate connection could be attached to any local phone number, landline or otherwise. Once I made the switch, our house phone was turned off and eliminated. That was step one toward the forest. The real forest, that is. Step two was my deep need for a big television screen combined with high definition programming. I made it clear to my nephew that once the cable television and Internet went away, so would I. The cancellation of our cable account never took place while living in the apartment, nor was it shut off at any time in the house once we moved there. I never had a plan in the first place because the very idea – wondrous and enticing as it was – became too much of a change considering the sheer level of physical comfort surrounded by my favorite technology. I’ve gone over that fact in the past. The point of all that was the chair and my ability to look across the horizon from three floors above the ground. Three may not sound like much, but the view was sprawling in that town due to a lack of tall buildings. I would sit and write about disgust with society and its inherent and unending apathy, all the while dreaming of separating myself from the herd and living in a location where other people simply would not attempt to reside, ever. That feeling deep inside has returned somewhat, and I suspect it will grow for two key reasons. One, the dream of being the hell away from society had only been suppressed rather than alleviated, and two, my feelings of late have been strongly influenced by the damaging dreams and will only worsen if I remain here for many years. I recognize the need to be somewhere I cannot, as well as lavishing within a situation that is completely impossible. The only difference between my present dreaming and that which took place from the apartment on that top floor is the deviant desire which has recently grown out of fucking control. I mentioned a correlation between the woman with whom I spoke some weeks ago and someone else who resides in my heart. There is actually another, believe it or not, and the second is in my garage; a woman I stood next to and exchanged a number of words with a few years ago. I am going to scan her beautiful image and work with it here. Perhaps the quality of the scan will allow me to include her unreal and unique beauty in an essay. Hopefully, anyway. I will not name either of the two, however. I can’t. 0732 on Christmas Day. I am glad that yesterday came to an end because it was one of the toughest in memory. Just... Shit everywhere. On the sidewalk in front of my house, all over the television programming and commercials, and during the game. Oh, and in my brain. I was fed up with this shit more than five years ago and probably shouldn’t be sitting here right now. At least I am glad that the calendar changed to Sunday. I don’t need a repeat of what I saw and dreamed about yesterday. It was all too much, honestly. No smiling faces, either. Just some other visions that would not let go of me. And some of the biggest eyes I have ever seen on the television combined with tons of dark hair and beautiful lips. That caught me off guard, I tell you. I have rarely seen the likes of that woman. The movie last night had me dreaming of the glow and all that shit from the nineties again. My family, too. The big gatherings on the television reminded me of my own experiences and how they helped to shape my perception of the holidays. End of line."
December 26th, 2022 7:47am pst
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.
The Recognizer II
read ( words)
"0913. Ugh. Ashley is on the television and my brain is saturated with her beauty. Jesus, her sculpted face is unreal. What I wouldn’t give to wrap that woman in a seamstress’ tape. Well, I tried that one time and it went very badly. Maybe my dreams really are completely unrealistic. They seem reasonable to me, though. Have I become that fucking far out of balance? Too many years have passed since the failing fantasy, I guess. Holy God is Ashley ever unique. I want to lick her nose. Lyndsy is on the other channel in a different movie, but I saved that one just in case I need to see her beautiful lines again. Basket case. I am a train wreck, more than ever. I had thought my condition was harsh four years ago when I first uttered that phrase, but alas time and circumstance continue to destroy me. I think Ashley has surpassed Brooke and the others in my mind. Holy Jesus fucking hell is she ever something to see. Two more tools for the keepsake set arrived yesterday. They are not completely new, meaning I had to do some cleaning of the vinyl sleeves to ensure they are up to my standards. The five main, colorful tools are in the case. I don’t care if it takes years to complete that set. I’m doing it anyway. During the carnage of late eleven, I sold the complete set in its case and didn’t really care because my head was so far gone that very few things in life mattered. I was desperate to rid myself of as many valuable possessions as possible in order to keep the apartment for as long as I could. The process included the Breitling and my big camera, too. The tool set should have fucking stayed. Some of those items are extremely rare and quite expensive these days. That was a huge mistake. I’ll have to move away from this very soon and begin to take care of my chores. My office plan took shape the other day when I decided to wrap and store additional items from the bookcase in the hopes of replacing it with something nicer in the future. Fuck me in a bra cup... There is the same girl I’ve seen many times in the commercial with that facial feature I still cannot explain. She is at the top of the heap regarding the lower structure of which I seem to have an enormous fascination. There is something attached to such a feeling, as well. Something important. Pause. 1231. The routine is finished and the garbage is mostly out. I have lunch in the oven and the gangsters on the televisions. I had to switch off the Christmas movie because staring at Ashley was causing major fucking problems. She is quite the dream. From here forward I do not have many plans. After lunch I will probably sweep the patio and garage so the detritus can go into the green can, and then maybe work in the office. My team played on Thursday so there is no critical game this afternoon. That means I can keep some of my friends in the background for comfort. I may also run a load of laundry to have a head start on the coming week. Oy, Tony honking the horn relentlessly drives me up the wall. I can’t stand when a person is awaiting someone and continuously honks rather than going to the door. Car horns should be used for avoiding accidents and nothing more. Monday morning. The second show is on because none of my favorite actors are in the current Christmas movies. Too bad, but also good. I had plenty of that crap yesterday, not to mention the processes inside me that flare whenever I feel alone. Some are pretty fucking difficult. I think Ashley was the tipping point yesterday, and then later in the evening there was a preview to a movie coming next month that drove me insane. I could not believe the incredible shape on the screen, nor could I think straight after the commercial ended. I just sat there waiting for it to come around again. Her legs and pants reminded me of one of the smiling faces. Such an occurrence is never good in any way. My mood has changed from comfortable on what is typically a nice, quiet Monday morning to very angry due to some news from a friend. Now I am pissed off and can’t do anything about it, although I can try to help later when we revisit the same stupid job from last week. Any thoughts of the dreams, lines, whatever... Gone. I can barely concentrate on the story playing out right now. I need to cool off before heading to the jobsite in order to avoid coming across in a negative state to the homeowner and general contractor. There was supposed to be one more day of work sometime this week but I believe it will be delayed due to what happened this morning. That may be my last venture within the trade. I am completely nonplussed by the news. 1016. I have just half of the routine out of the way because a friend was going to stop by. I paused everything in order to help him when he arrived, but a little while ago the plan was postponed to another day. Now I have the remainder of this day to myself. Very good. The gangsters are gracing my big television for posterity and comfort. I know them well. Today may be the day I head over the hill to inquire about desktop systems. Perhaps I can pick up some stocking stuffers while out. Right now I have a fat, modified White Russian on the table, meaning I won’t be going anywhere until it is gone. I’ve been very adroit with the morning booze and what it provides. Curious, I am still writing even though there is little chance that any of this will be read by another pair of eyes. Wow... I must have poured more orange vodka than I had intended. My head has already loosened quite a bit from the drink. I actually feel pretty good. Heh. Here I sit at one of my favorite cozy spots for lunch. I haven't been here for ages. The restaurant is nice and warm, unlike outside. My intention was to visit my friend and help with whatever I can. That is a no for the morning, unfortunately, but I am on the other side of the hill which means I can branch out and look around for a change. Not bad. Sometimes it takes a miracle to get me over here no matter what needs to be accomplished. Most days I have a hard time leaving the house. I guess the motivation requires some odd circumstances. Today fits the bill. I ventured to the garage and blasted three songs, during which I was informed that the meeting was not to happen. Considering the mood, I took off anyway. There seemed no avenue toward improvement at home, so out the door I went. I'll be home later to resume a typical afternoon. A strange afternoon it will be, no doubt. After a delicious lunch, my options are wide open. The time is now 1253 and soon I'll leave this cozy bar and head toward whatever seems best. If I return home, the hammer shall swing until I run out of energy. If I go shopping, the hammer will wait. Either way, I'm going to lash at the world in the only way I know how. This morning’s development has just plain fucked up my attitude toward society. This is the fourth such occasion. Not good. Second beer, but just a pint. My schedule is my own. I still can't decide whether or not to look at computers. I've had the idea built up inside for days, too. Perhaps when I feel the push to branch out, my better judgment keeps me in line. Way back when I began those off-Friday lunch excursions, the booze loosened me to the point of being reckless while shopping. My tongue was reckless, too. I can't even begin to tally the number of compliments that were tossed every which way back then. Oy. My tongue was looser than the morals of a twenties-era burlesque dancer. I was quite the train wreck, even then. Surprising? Nope. In fact, I cannot recall an era when I was not weak and desperate. Thank Christ no one is nearby right now. Regardless of the cozy lunch, my mass of suppressed shit continues to nag. I believe I'll be heading straight home when my drink is gone. Nothing good can come of such a situation. Not here, anyway. I'll have to make nice for a while and then haul ass. The house will feel welcoming.
The jewel of living
Oh boy, there is Julie Benz and her stunning face. Damn. Right out of the gate this morning, too. She was forty-three when this movie was filmed and does not look a day past thirty. So flippin’ cute. Today is Tuesday and I plan to take it easy for the duration. After lunch yesterday, I decided to meet up with my friend and it turned into a seven hour journey. Yikes. Jesus fuck, Julie is gorgeous. There is always a little bit of ‘devilish’ in her eyes when she smiles. I don’t know what it means, but I will say that on some other women the appearance is fucking frightening. The same feature on Julie is fucking adorable and makes me want to kiss her. And now there is Lacey’s co-star (for a short while, anyway) with a face for the ages. She looks like the Raven somewhat, but also another person. I can’t put my finger on it. She is so beautiful that even Lacey’s mass of cuteness can’t hold a candle. The other day I was reading about one of the movies and a person stated that Lacey is perpetually twelve. Funny. She really does have a very young-looking face. 0805 and my morning business is out of the way. I have much on my mind but nothing will come of any of it. I don’t like this situation. There was a smiling face in a dream early this morning, too. Just more crap on the pile. I don’t know who she was, as usual. The rare dream carries the face I know. This morning was different. Either way... Knowing her or not, the difficulty still abounds. I am sitting here right now as a product of that other essay, still. Worse. This day is not going to go anywhere significant. I can already feel the need to take it easy all day long. I do need to visit the market later, but that’s it. Nothing else. After yesterday’s mood flares, I don’t want to see or speak to anyone. I have to remain indoors as much as possible in order to recover from being so pissed off. This morning the whole world seems to add up to nothing but shit. I need that to change. Sixth-season Jamie all over my brain. Jesus. And there is the wedding sequence. Sonuvabitch. Oh, and not only her stunning eyes all over the screen in this episode, but there is a Christmas movie starring the very same goddess airing in less than two hours. Unbelievable. 1328. I took care of almost everything, including a trip to two stores. I am more comfortable now due to the shopping being out of the way. The evening is quiet. I am all by myself for a while due to a holiday dinner. I just switched from the gangsters to a Christmas movie. Basically, from Jamie and Cara to Taylor and her exquisite facial features. This day has been very difficult thanks to being out last night. I went against my better judgment by spending time in the fold of other people, but the importance of visiting my friend outweighed other concerns. I will feel more energetic tomorrow, no doubt. Sometimes relaxing is not entirely a bad thing. The house is warm and comfortable. I may cruise through tomorrow like this, too. Eh... I need to pick up a few items at the goddess market for two upcoming dinners. Rats. Well, I’ll head over there early and then rejoice in arriving back home to my cocoon. Once the business is finished, I plan to take it easy again. I’ll find a few movies or a different series to watch. Hopefully, there is not a repeat of this morning after the early business. I know part of why there was difficulty, too. Part, but not all. My mind often wanders during mornings and I equate some of the visions inside to past dreams, most of which are either impossible in reality or so far back that they seem born of a different lifetime. This morning was tough because something transpired in my mind while sleeping and I could not push it to the surface. I knew it was similar to one of the most stirring stories I have ever dreamed. No matter how hard I tried, the information would not come forth. All that thinking left me completely empty and void of hope for a long while. I have no control over dreams, though. Wait and see is the only option. I really need tomorrow to be much more comfortable than today. Again... Wait and see. 0652 on Wednesday morning, and boy am I looking forward to the quiet in less than an hour. I have to take care of some business first, but then the day is completely under my control. I don’t know how I will feel coming out the other side. Maybe if I can avoid yesterday’s pitfall, the evening will be less taxing. 0823 and here I am in the quiet once again; just what I needed this morning. Unfortunately, there is imagery in my head from both the past and some dreams that will not leave. I have to work hard to get this shit out of my head or the day will turn into a loss. I am really sick of being plagued at random times throughout each week. Some visions and situations simply will not leave me alone, and believe me... I know why. Ideas for how to keep busy today abound, so perhaps I can squash this shit before becoming angry. A bad mood is a bad start to any day and it happens too often. Something is going to break soon... At my fucking hands. Jamie is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Period. Everything wonderful is impossible. Her character is an impossibility. My feelings for her character are ridiculous, yet somehow understandable due to that fucking essay from five-plus years ago. My emotional state used to be depressing, but now I have to define it as dangerous. All I can do is look at her on the television from almost twenty years ago and recall the dream in which the two of us were together and all the bad stuff went away. She helped me, cared for me, and I loved her for it. I also knew inside that to care for her perpetually could never be enough, but she understood all of it. Everything. I saw my life in her eyes. That vision is now gone. She is not real. I feel pain every fucking day because of that fact. My head is ‘Napoleon Blownaparte’. I will stare at her for the rest of my life because I love her. I am pathetic. This is completely fucked up. 1139. I finished the routine and went to the market. I still have laundry and dry cleaning to accomplish sometime this afternoon. Prior to the market, I began wrapping and storing some things from the office in order to free the bookcase of so much stuff. I’d like to get that piece of furniture as organized as possible so it can be replaced with something nicer and more solid. In and around my laundry work, I plan to get into one of the hall closets and clean things out. There are lots of expired medications and such. I always say that the storage in this house is overwhelming, but then I become surprised when I dig into the space and find that it can be improved. I haven’t worked in the closets for a while and should take advantage while I’m feeling productive. Work can often smash the negative emotions. And it did. The time is now 1425 and I am sitting in the office with the entire setup operating. Speakers; second monitor; everything. I have the laptop extended to one of the big monitors, the subwoofer is below the table, and all components are functioning well. This is a big push toward the eventual desktop system. If I decide to leave the laptop in the office, I can remove the batteries and run it off line voltage. In the meantime, I have video entertainment or music as I may choose. This is very good. In and around the laundry and dry cleaning, I tended to one closet and the bookcase. As I had hoped, all this effort shoved the shit away rather than a typical day when I feel like I’m doing nothing more than shoving shit against the tide. And I guess this machine is still capable of exhibiting power. I have the browser, IDE and live server link running on this display along with streaming high-definition video on the second display. No hiccups. Once I have the new computer up and operational, I may need to adjust everything for use with my glasses. Otherwise, the setup is excellent.
Julianne
0657 on Thursday morning. This is the first occasion in nearly four years in which I am in the office rather than the living room. Very different. I have the show on the right-hand monitor just like I used to years ago. Well, five or so years back I used to don the MDRs first thing on a Saturday morning and get the laundry rolling. I’d sit here with music and the editor to put down some thoughts from the work week. That was also the time when I wrote about the past. I am sitting in the same position as when I wrote ‘The Chair...’. Very interesting. Once moving the older table into the ‘new office’ (gone), I figured I wouldn’t be in here at any time in the future. Well, the garage is inhospitable for some of the year and I began to miss this office and the place where so many difficult stories were crafted. Wow... I looked back at the beginning of that period and the first installment – aside from my ‘manuscript’ of the trip to the Salton Sea – was in the spring of eighteen. Not quite four years, but a long time, anyway. I was reminded of that adventure while working in the city due to daydreaming of being freed from such an uncomfortable environment, and once the words began to form in my head, I ran around the fucking world with it. Those days while working, I used to wish for a way to break out and run away to some errant comfort. Every single day... I dreamed and yearned to be the hell out of there. Well, here I sit. This is not the same, but at least I am relaxing here at the desk with the freedom to spew my thoughts at the world, much like during sixteen and seventeen. This used to feel like power. Now? I don’t know anymore, although no one can shut me down. Anyway, the time is 0834. I have coffee and gangsters. I don’t believe there is any need for me to leave the house today. I can continue where I left off yesterday. The afternoon was productive because there was an image inside my head that didn’t want to let go of me. I am talking about a bad one, something so fucked up that I can’t mention it here. Not even a word. The point is I pushed as hard as I could to keep working on organization and such because that type of daydreaming is going to fucking kill me. I have to remain upright through this shit, too. If I fall down and move in any direction other than away from such deviant thinking, all will be lost, including the life of yours truly. After yesterday’s stark, very dire imagery spinning circles inside, I need to rise and fucking stay up. My mood will have to be forced. I plugged the new K740 into this machine for a little test. Wow, what a fantastic feeling to have this keyboard again. Smooth as glass, I tell you. Plus, it is illuminated just like the standard keyboard on the laptop, something that works to my advantage when I need the room dark. That kind of atmosphere was not so easy to achieve in the living room. I am already feeling the desire to remain here at some point each day and reflect upon the very beginning of this current period which began more than ten years ago. Ooh-fa. I am reminded of first switching to the active server pages and have read recently that they are outdated, believe it or not. I didn’t realize that ten years have passed since I built this framework. Unreal. The routine awaits, but I can’t seem to move away from this desk right now. The keyboard is so fantastic that I’d rather sit here and type than do anything else. Eh, this feeling will pass and I’ll move on at some point. I really don’t have much work today unless I continue with the organization from yesterday. I am pleased with the state of the office. I still need to move some items from the living and dining rooms into this space so those rooms look better. This office is such a nice place now; very comfortable thanks to the chair and huge table. There is room for everything I’d like to have nearby. 1046. I have the routine finished and wound up back in the office with my morning glass of angry depressant. Prior to returning to this chair, I shut down the laptop and removed the batteries. THe machine is now running on line voltage as I mentioned yesterday. The feeling of sitting here after all these years is amazing. I fucking love this keyboard. The only rub right now is that the laptop is in front of the K740, meaning I don’t have the freedom of resting my forearms on the table. I have to use the arms of this chair instead. The positioning will probably force me into grabbing a desktop computer sooner than I had planned because I need the ergonomic setup to be comfortable. Years ago I may not have paid this much attention to comfort, but I am not getting any younger. And wow are some of the sixth-season dancers easy on the eyes. Ugh... A number of them in the first and second seasons are very hard to take. Just saying. Oh, God... Jamie. I need her to hold me so bad that I might just lose my shit today. I have to figure out a way to live inside her big, beautiful eyes. Maybe I will seek a huge poster so everyone thinks I’m off my rocker. Well, they don’t know because I’ve been clammed up for years. No one knows. I have a plan for tomorrow before shopping. We are going to take a look at a job across the Golden Gate – very unusual for us to travel such a distance for work – and then shop on the return trip. I am looking forward to seeing the house in question, too. It should prove well worth the drive. The imagery is trying to shoehorn its way into my brain right now. I may have to swing the hammer after lunch. The current scene crammed a thought into my head, one I cannot describe here at all. Sometimes I believe the desperate thinking that comes along so often is the result of too many years of dreaming. Not only that, but what I began to picture was completely out of balance. I don’t like being this way. Others are responsible, however. They truly are. The earlier image that came to mind is related and drove me insane. It stemmed from the damaging dreams – two of them in particular – and would not leave me no matter what I was doing. This is going to continue, as well, because there is nothing I can do about the dreams or where they may lead. I keep seeing her over and over and the shit enters my mind every fucking day regardless of my intentions or within whatever I may be involved at the time. Something reminds me of a random image and then my mind runs with it. I guess the fact that I want her so badly doesn’t help. More than anything, honestly. I have recently created fantasies of us being beyond the reach of anyone and buried deep in the type of comfortable atmosphere that I need almost as badly as her body all over me. I CAN’T FUCKING HELP IT ANYMORE. This will kill me, sure as hell. 1551. I love this keyboard. I finished everything I set out to do today and now have the comfort of the office, and I learned something wonderful. When I capture an image of the screen, the entirety of both displays is included, meaning I can freeze Jamie and edit a much larger image than every other attempt to grab her beauty from the video. Since everything I want and need is impossible anyway, I may as well stare at images of a fictional character from fourteen or fifteen years ago. Why not? Is there another way? 0619 on Friday morning. I have to leave soon to pick up my friend and then look at a job nearly an hour up the road. On the return will probably be the shopping. Oh, there is Emily. I’d like to... Never mind. My head has been influenced by yet another dream and I think the only way to extricate the desperate thoughts is leaving this morning. Nothing really helps, though. Heading out the door is akin to a temporary distraction. That girl is tattooed to my fucking brain. 1204. Well then, we traveled to the nice house, went over the remodel details with the general and homeowners, and then made a beeline back across the bridge to do some Christmas shopping. I was back home shortly after ten. Very nice. I took care of the routine and stocking goodies immediately thereafter, and now I have my quiet time in the office with my glass of medicine. I am going to try to avoid going on at length about the woman in the house this morning. The opportunities to stare at her lines were plentiful and I took advantage. I really don’t want to say any more right now. My head hurts. Moreover, there was Emily again. Fucking hell, anyway. The woman at the house was plenty. I really don’t need more imagery in my already broken head.
Julie
I know what was going on in there. I know. There was no doubt. I know what she was wearing, too. I know too fucking much. Years of this shit, and my feelings of depression and desperation predate the essay from more than five years ago. They really do. I wish I didn’t know what was taking place inside her clothing. At least I am very professional (but I don’t know how it happens). This office setup is really nice. The rest of the day is open, but I don’t know what to do. I was thinking about making enchiladas early and then throwing them in the oven later, but I don’t know. 1554. I wish I had not looked at her pants. Dinner preparations are finished. Making the meal will be very straightforward. I also put up two strings of icicle lights across the garage and over the porch. A little late, but better than nothing. All other work was put on hold in favor of a trip to the goddess market for a few items. Thankfully, the store did not hold up to such a moniker. The place was busy, too. Two days before Christmas I would expect nothing else. Oona is on the screen here in the office, all dark and soft. Good God, what I wouldn’t give to... Ugh. During this series, she is second only to Jamie herself. Jesus fucking hell, anyway. My world is so out of balance that I can’t believe it sometimes. Thank the maker I am home when I need to be. Anyway, I am looking forward to lighting the icicles in a little while. Those decorations look silly during the day but it all changes at night. I recognized everything. I knew what was there. Nothing could be seen, but her motions confirmed my deviant suspicions. Five-seven, perhaps, and the gait benefited greatly from long legs and their mechanical relationship with her waist. Even after all these years I still find it amazing the sheer amount of information I can record in the space of twenty minutes. Unfortunately, such a recording has been filed away with the rest. Her image is now nothing more than fuel. I recognize the effects. I’ve been here before. Almost time for the evening mood lighting. Another ornament arrived today, one with both lights and sound. It is on the tree with the other ships. Eight in total now, I think. One more will be coming next week. I am reminded of the glow when I look at three of them. The glow was apparent while attaching them to the strings, too. This part of the year is when I miss the glow the most. And those big family gatherings of which I have spoken at length? I miss them to the same degree. Some of the Christmas movies involve characters that have no family, and I have found that they are easier on my head than those full of family. There are good and bad points to both, although I believe sometimes the lines take everything and shove it aside. They did just that today, for example, and the vision of them was powerful. It immediately reminded me of the damaging dreams and their trail smoke which continues to this very second. I do not need any more of that. When I say ‘damaging’, I mean the worst sort of daggers plunging deep into my brain. I still don’t understand their origin, yet the correlations between the first dream and incidents in reality have been numerous. Maybe I was destined to feel this way. I do not have the emotional education to warrant a guess. The current situation is worsening by the day. My thoughts have become derailed so many times – much like today when I gazed at an amazing example of just how skewed I have become – that to sit here and attempt articulation of my thoughts is now more of a battle than it was five years ago when first addressing the barren nature of my life. You want verisimilitude? Go back to the beginning in seventeen and re-read all two million words. Thank Christ this office setup is proving to be wondrous and comfortable. Everything else is just shit. I have become the recognizer, all gray and distorted. 0719 on Saturday morning. Christmas Eve, actually. This is the first Christmas in years in which I am all set up for tomorrow in advance. There will be no running around. Well, I may have to grab a lemon or two at the little market. Other than that possibility, I am here for the duration. My game is on just after one, as well. This is one of those long mornings when I can truly relax and think, and then later I’ll have some hours to myself and then I can carry on through to another morning just like this one. Hours. I am in the office with the vampires and the wired MDRs for posterity. The long morning is therapeutic, and sitting here as I did all those years ago helps me to consider all those periods staring out windows in different locations and dreaming of being ‘somebody’. Plus, we have some inclement weather coming toward this area during the next few days which will put a smile on my face and further reinforce the past Fridays at our computer while looking east toward the hills. The only difference between that locale and my present home is three stories of building. The apartment was on the top floor – the ‘fringe’ of the complex – and the big glass door faced the Altamont. Rain or shine... I was there looking for something inspiring. Now? I have a window in front of me for the second time that faces out toward the hills. I’m not going to go into the in-between period when I had a view of the ocean. That was without a doubt sixteen months of the most ridiculous, reckless and ill-advised behavior I could ever imagine, and I sit here at this very moment ashamed of myself for having lived it. This window dates to the time of my mighty desktop environment and the beginning of the site change nearly eight years ago. That led to much more of the same – changes and adjustments to the way I considered and interacted with people – and some of the most cutting ideas ever. This morning I am beginning to feel the return of that mass of disdain and disgust with the world. I recognized the voice and the words. Her inflection is always the same and about as adorable and stirring as one voice can be. I recognized it immediately and fell down on the inside. She is amazing to see and hear. I need more. Unfortunately, I have no control over any of it, nor can I do as I please. All I have is the time to wait until something else happens – be it in my dreams or in reality – and then sit here in my little world and write the words that no one will understand. As soon as I heard that voice my heart leaped and I did not know what to do for a time. I was fairly busy yesterday, but there is nothing in the world with the ability or power to hold my attention when I think of that voice or the incredibly adorable person attached. I am going to lose my shit later. I know it. The issue was nothing more than a single fucking word, too. One word. The way it sounds lights a fire inside me and I cannot extinguish it for hours, if at all. I could recognize her voice in a crowd of a thousand or more. I am enamored with more than her physical appearance, believe me. This is currently the largest issue being pulled by the locomotive. I heard that one word and flipped the fuck out for a few minutes. All of the imagery that I could recall from those three dreams returned to my head as if they were jacketed and shot into me by a .220 Swift. I pictured a large number of situations in a very short time period and had to shove it all away in order to continue with my evening stuff. There is not a single detail of ANY of this shit that I can put here on the site, the mature content warning notwithstanding. Not a word. Believe me, I would be gazed upon much differently than I probably already am. I have to stop typing about that voice and the dreams. The feeling with which I am so pleased is not necessarily hours in the morning, but just the idea that I can move along at my own pace and think about everything as needed. Right now, for example, I can care for whatever I need without interruption or distraction (unless I hear that adorable voice) and return to this machine as necessary for furthering this analysis. I recognized the feeling from years ago when I only had two days per week to sit here during the morning. No sooner did I hit the power on this computer once everything was in place and I was immediately reminded of those quiet, downtrodden periods after tough weeks of work; the only time I could actually put things into perspective. Now I am in near-complete control of my time and fully intend to exert whatever force may be necessary in order to maintain this important atmosphere.
Jaw-dropping
Honestly, the only true way to keep my thoughts locked up is just that... Don’t speak to anyone, don’t write anything on paper or on the computer, and never let loose a single syllable that could connect me with anything on the other side of the front door. I speak about those on television and must continue within the same vein, or else. The actors are all well-known and what I think doesn’t matter anyway. When it comes to those in reality, the story is very different. I am in a precarious position but remain closed off. This is the only way. I do not wish to be recognized. Ugh. I can already see that an hour or so in this chair and I will need to stretch and move around. I had thought the interval might be two, but honestly sitting here for too long (or anyone who works on these machines daily) is not a good idea for more reasons than the one I mentioned. This will help me to balance my time. The sofa was never a good thing. In the beginning, though, I found much comfort there during the early mornings with my friends on the television. Now, however, the office brings back too much from the past. This will become the status quo once the new machine is in place, hopefully soon. Within that long entry – the last to be published for the foreseeable future – I stated that I want her very badly most of the time. I am not speaking of ‘her’, but her. Well, a movie the other night reinforced such desire and sent me straight to the browser in order to seek images of the girl in question. Damn, this is not something I envisioned in the past, but I do know how it happened. Those fucking dreams derailed whatever had been foremost on my mind at the time and created an entire world within which I felt more strongly than for even the gorgeous actors of which I speak so often. That sentence is convoluted. I can’t fix it. Anyway, splayed across the big screen was another example of what took place upon awakening after the first damaging dreams. I saw lines unlike any other woman in years of watching Christmas movies. Should I still be viewing them? Probably not. Unfortunately, that image is now burned into me and caused yet another search for things I still do not understand. I will keep looking and deal with whatever mass of fallout results from such a weak-minded endeavor. Splendid. I have been forced into this overwhelmingly desperate situation by circumstances far beyond my control, and situations that will likely resonate for years to come. Nothing will happen, of course, because I have become a master of hiding everything, even when struck by something right before my eyes. I recognized her voice. Such a fact is not so unusual, I believe, as people know others’ voices by heart much of the time. In me? The beautiful sound shot arrows into my heart and conjured images from the dreams for the umpteenth time. Oh, and images that have not and will not happen in reality. Boy do I need them, though. Bad. I am fucked up. Remember the smiling faces? I need her to smile in the same way. What a fucking dream. Nothing else in the world, nor anything that will come along in the future, will compare. 0927 and I am still sitting here. I took two breaks and realized my suspicion of moving around roughly once per hour will help nicely. Returning to the chair and my friends on the second display feels equally rewarding. Had I known months ago that this setup was going to be so wondrous, perhaps I would have accepted work earlier in the year and procured everything sooner. Well, this is not bad. The desktop will happen in the next two months or so, and then my office will once again become a place of exploration and wonder (and tons of shit). My hands are cold despite the furnace keeping the house warm. Maybe a shower will help. Dishes, too. Soon. Looking out at the hills from that top-floor apartment brought a sense of adventure almost every time I sat there. Dreams of the forest were a daily occurrence. My nephew and I had a connection through music, one which brought forth pictures of a radically different, ancient lifestyle; a world unlike anything in existence. The forest was key back then, and I told him that once two aspects of the apartment disappeared, I would equally vanish. The first was the phone (landline). We needed the house phone because it enabled visitors to contact us to open the gate of the parking area. During one of our gatherings near the pool and within the fantastic outdoor kitchen and barbecue area, I strolled into the leasing office – and yes, there was Michelle with her huge eyes and equally oversized chest all round and yummy – and asked if the gate contact could be changed to my cellular phone. Yep. I was told the gate connection could be attached to any local phone number, landline or otherwise. Once I made the switch, our house phone was turned off and eliminated. That was step one toward the forest. The real forest, that is. Step two was my deep need for a big television screen combined with high definition programming. I made it clear to my nephew that once the cable television and Internet went away, so would I. The cancellation of our cable account never took place while living in the apartment, nor was it shut off at any time in the house once we moved there. I never had a plan in the first place because the very idea – wondrous and enticing as it was – became too much of a change considering the sheer level of physical comfort surrounded by my favorite technology. I’ve gone over that fact in the past. The point of all that was the chair and my ability to look across the horizon from three floors above the ground. Three may not sound like much, but the view was sprawling in that town due to a lack of tall buildings. I would sit and write about disgust with society and its inherent and unending apathy, all the while dreaming of separating myself from the herd and living in a location where other people simply would not attempt to reside, ever. That feeling deep inside has returned somewhat, and I suspect it will grow for two key reasons. One, the dream of being the hell away from society had only been suppressed rather than alleviated, and two, my feelings of late have been strongly influenced by the damaging dreams and will only worsen if I remain here for many years. I recognize the need to be somewhere I cannot, as well as lavishing within a situation that is completely impossible. The only difference between my present dreaming and that which took place from the apartment on that top floor is the deviant desire which has recently grown out of fucking control. I mentioned a correlation between the woman with whom I spoke some weeks ago and someone else who resides in my heart. There is actually another, believe it or not, and the second is in my garage; a woman I stood next to and exchanged a number of words with a few years ago. I am going to scan her beautiful image and work with it here. Perhaps the quality of the scan will allow me to include her unreal and unique beauty in an essay. Hopefully, anyway. I will not name either of the two, however. I can’t. 0732 on Christmas Day. I am glad that yesterday came to an end because it was one of the toughest in memory. Just... Shit everywhere. On the sidewalk in front of my house, all over the television programming and commercials, and during the game. Oh, and in my brain. I was fed up with this shit more than five years ago and probably shouldn’t be sitting here right now. At least I am glad that the calendar changed to Sunday. I don’t need a repeat of what I saw and dreamed about yesterday. It was all too much, honestly. No smiling faces, either. Just some other visions that would not let go of me. And some of the biggest eyes I have ever seen on the television combined with tons of dark hair and beautiful lips. That caught me off guard, I tell you. I have rarely seen the likes of that woman. The movie last night had me dreaming of the glow and all that shit from the nineties again. My family, too. The big gatherings on the television reminded me of my own experiences and how they helped to shape my perception of the holidays. End of line."
This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
legal
about
clodmaster
archive
home
