March 6th, 2022 9:25am pst

If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning.

Gral Semivivus

 read ( words)

"This is going to be one of those mornings. I can already feel the problems mounting. How my main concern became the early part of the day these last several years is beyond me. There was a discussion a while back but I've forgotten the gist. Fuck it. I'll be sitting here unhappy either way... Problems or otherwise. Today has just begun for me, too. 0654 with coffee and gangsters. The hours which follow will hopefully feel more rewarding due to yesterday's work. Much was accomplished.

0845. Miserable. I knew this would happen. The shape of days, weeks, months, and years to come. Pissed off. I have as of yet not allowed my declining mood to affect other people, although the truth is I've been fairly isolated in the house for nearly a week and a half. Aside from shopping for necessities, there is no reason to go anywhere, least of all for being sociable. I am becoming quite antisocial as a result of this condition and I do not see improvement on the horizon. The smiling faces are still there, which is a big negative. The positive is the girl up the street and a few others have faded dramatically. I don't need a rehash of that shit. The mood will keep me away from possible entanglements. As always, solutions elude. Seeing this as a permanent situation is not helping me to be a 'regular' person among the mass. Moreover, knowing of the causes tends to push me toward very negative thinking, skyrocketing the effort to keep it covered and come across as if things are peachy. The facade is different now. Beware of the imagery just beyond its perimeter. Miserable.

I've been trying to keep up with the shit storm in the east. As much as I can't stand the fucking news most of the time, I have to remain informed just in case life here becomes impacted. And I believe it will. The world is far too intertwined for events to remain isolated. Oh, if I only had some way of affecting what people are doing right now. Shit would change. And I realize I'm not the only individual thinking in such terms.

0637 on Wednesday. Another shot to the face from the television. I've seen it before. The shit from the other one, too. I can't explain, which is probably ok because I'm sure not one wants to hear it anyway. Another morning after a mostly good day, yet still I am on the edge of everything. The shape of the rest of time. No choice, no chances. Those moments -- fleeting or carrying -- are gone. Down the street or across the ocean, everything will be the same as I sit here and attempt to articulate the same fucking considerations with different words. Days, weeks, months and years.

'Inert flesh; a bloody tomb
A decoration splattered brightens the room
An execution, a sadist ritual;
Mad intervals of mind residuals.'

Today is looking a little better than yesterday if I go beyond the usual thinking and weigh possibilities for productive work. I had to go out a couple of times yesterday, one for shopping and the other to drop off a tool to my boss. Most of the afternoon was taken up by running around. No big deal. Due to the shopping being finished, I have this day at home. I can continue working with the cabinet which is now in the dining room and clean, and then perhaps begin the bedroom rearrangement. Plenty of time. That is the positive for right now. The other side is not so pleasant.

I guess I am not meant to understand some aspects of life. The lack does not push me to try learning, either. It sends me into angry territory which is laced with violent thoughts. No, not that type of shit. Don't be an idiot. I simply mean that at some point I'll be impossible to deal with. Everything I say or do eventually turns a corner and points right back to the beginning. Everything is filler for while and then the understanding becomes paramount once again. This is something I have never fully transmitted to another human being, as well. The depth of the fall is commensurate with the rise, not to return. Here I sit. I am not a person anymore. I am a 'product'. I tried and tried, sat here for thousands of days with the questions, suspicions, dreams... And finally realized that the filler has become everything and I am right in the middle of it. Nothing can come of this in a positive direction. Nothing.

Half dead. Doesn't matter. Pissed off all the time, anyway. That doesn't matter, either. Nothing I write, say or do adds up to shit. I have to remain here, though.

Hmm... Maybe today isn't looking better than yesterday after all.

0843. I straightened the lyrics on the page so they stand out. No one cares. Lots of effort here. I don't know if you knew that.

Jamie is tearful.

I don't know what to do now. My typical morning will probably begin when she leaves for the city... Cocktail, kitchen, whatever. I need to move some seldom-used items into the cabinet now that it's in place, and I can probably begin on the bedroom. At this moment though, nothing appears bright. I can't seem to shake this shit today. Usually by now I am either working around the house or at least in the garage doing something. Right now I can't imagine tying my fucking shoes. Maybe when I rise and walk away from this stupid fucking IDE I can throw some shit away. Minimizing is enjoyable sometimes. Anything to get me out of this morning rut and into a place where I can earn the evening. The smiling faces are going to kill me, sure as hell. I wish I knew from where they came.

Every entry these days rolls along and ends up in a corner with a note of finality, yet here I am, as always, sitting in sentimentality mode and wanting to cause damage. And there is the scene again... The reason I broke out the camera to capture her face in clear resolution. Oh, well. I don't feel like getting off my ass and shooting right now. She will come around again, anyway. Jamie's character causes damage but the fault lies elsewhere.

0949, booze and part of the routine finished. The new cat litter seems to be helping with the amount stuck in their little paws after a visit to the boxes. Less dust, too. Very exciting, eh? This may work into a garage and music day once the house is mine. There is always something to do, and considering the fact that I already fucking failed this morning, anything which can assist with the anger is important. Entries going nowhere, the house going nowhere, my life going nowhere... Something must give soon or I'm going to flip the fuck out. Today the only certainty is the idea of remaining here for the duration. The bar visit yesterday only cemented the knowledge that heading over there much less in the future can help. Not that I don't like seeing certain people, only that all too often upon leaving I realize the time has been wasted.


I switched from the gangsters to the second show because it's deep in my heart. I vowed some weeks ago that while watching one of the five series' through, I would not skip any episodes, no matter how crappy. There is one, however, during season two of the fourth show that I will probably never watch again, but it has nothing to do with my difficulties. The story is very different than anything I find troubling, yet it probably should never have been written in the first place. That one hour of media is likely the most contested of the entire franchise. It has good points, but honestly the resolution goes against the original creator's vision and most of the fan base agrees with such an assessment. In short, no one likes it. There are 694 total episodes within the first universe of the franchise and only one that I avoid. That leaves plenty to keep me company. They are up there right now... My extended family. Perhaps I need to revisit that plead I posted to the message boards years ago. And to the point of not skipping anything, believe me when I say there are some episodes which are completely ridiculous.

Half dead.

0625 on Thursday, the third day of March. I keep looking at the updates on the invasion in the east. I'm hoping people are getting the hell out of there. Very bad. I'm sitting here in the quiet with coffee and the opposite of what is taking place over there.

I went through a bunch of stuff yesterday with the intention of thinning the office closet. Second show, a little something to drink, and lots of memories, some of which predate me living on this side of the bay. Way back there. Well, aside from simply reorganizing to make the space easier to navigate, I did not get rid of much. I'll be working in different directions today. The weather is helping. I realized yesterday that not everything in this house need be completely organized. And I can't arbitrarily toss things into the trash, either. So, I'll do my best to neaten some areas and take advantage of the cabinet space. The usual work, too. I am looking forward to the quiet in a little while. I need it.

0745 and the quiet has arrived. No sign of the sky outside, only fog nearly to the ground. Today may be spent in the house.

As of yet, I have not successfully removed any of the imagery or words from my head. They remain inside and right on the surface no matter what I am doing. The largest issue with such a condition is something I cannot discuss here, unfortunately. Well, that is the problem right there... Discussion. There is no one I can trust with anything these days. I'll be ridiculed and laughed out of the conversation quicker than you can slap a tick. The situation is completely fucked because the shit inside keeps piling while outside nothing changes. I do not see this current condition being eased anytime soon, if ever. Each of those big hearts to which I had been attached all understood to some extent, or at least in as much as I could explain. I don't honestly believe anything like that can happen again, however, meaning this is very likely a permanent circumstance for me. Not fucking nice.

Sometimes I think everything is fine and other times I am completely distraught over the tiniest issue. Back and forth, over and over.

0659 on Friday morning. Yesterday's production time was cut short because I went out to help assemble some large heaters. The work took the entire morning and a touch of the afternoon before I was able to return and care for the remainder of my usual set of tasks. We were cooped up in the bar with nothing more than sports news. No market, no bullshit. I am at this moment feeling the effects of the daily worry and dreams. Had I ventured into the store, the likelihood of a slap in the face would have doubled. I have to remain away from everything these days. Everything bothers me. I don't draw conclusions anymore, yet still there are those moments in which my comfort level or confidence can drop from the highest to the lowest in a matter of seconds, and then since I am on this tiny island with my thoughts all the worry turns to anger. This morning I am feeling the effects of remaining indoors yesterday and not placing myself in a position to be hurt any more than I already have. I don't understand. No one can help me understand. That leaves but one path in life. Today will be the same, except I do not need to leave the house. My work will progress slowly.

There is so much bad stored in my head right now that I can't imagine living any other way, like free of this shit. Did I ever have such a life?

Several helpful aspects of living have been thrown in the trash or otherwise made to disappear. Alone, all the time. Thoughts come and bother me to the point of nearly leaving me bereft of hope, and then they fade a bit and allow me to complete one day and head toward the next, only to do it all over again. Not just the morning, either, but all day sometimes. Had I kept one or two of those helpful parts of life I may not be as bad right now. I have become a walking, talking paradox because of the views and standards which are inescapable for any person with a shred of compassion or sensitivity. They rule over everything and I can't do anything about it. Take this morning, for example. I am unhappy and uncomfortable, writing what I can reveal, and then intend to stay indoors hidden away from everyone and everything. That means I am in this position but others do not know. No one does. So... What can I do that matters? Do I matter? The work? I have nothing, produce nothing, and sit here isolated from the world. There are absolutely zero expectations that anything can ever change or improve. There is no one else. Not a soul. Just me. I remember standing upon Beal Road and recording video of myself out there in the desert, alone. A complete circle in the wind. That's how I feel sitting here right now. In a few minutes I will get the morning business finished and then return to this worthless shit soon after. There is no point in writing or doing anything else which seems productive, yet I can't cease the action of the work because I have nothing else waiting. Worthless. I have zero impact within the world. I just keep thinking and then keep it all inside because of the island. And yes, I still need to understand, yet the avenues leading to the same have disappeared.

0839. Morning business finished. I've been trying to keep up with developments in the east just in case anything dramatic begins to affect the west. My typical moratorium on the news has been suspended for the time being. I must remain informed right now.

Alone has two facets.

I believe the idea to remain indoors today is the key to making it all the way through to my evening without a hitch. There is plenty for me to do. I have the second show on again with the intention of letting it run all the way through to the end without interruption. They are my other family. Some of the moments remind me of happy times and situations from many years ago. Lately they haven't hurt me as much as the previous several months.


A while back I mentioned that issue two is death, not 'dead'. There is no way of clearly defining the feelings now, though. The fact is I cannot forget every single fucking moment when something came along to slam me like a wrecking ball. None of it goes away and I am left to wonder, although often I've stated that I already know what's going on anyway. I cannot know everything, so whatever may be out there waiting to strike STILL makes me fearful even though I am completely alone. The words and images just will not fucking leave me alone, and before you say it, I am aware of the fact that much of the trouble is inside me and nowhere else. The two seems to hang on no matter what may be taking place in life. So, 'death' is the word. Issue two is the death of my ability to rise above and succeed. There you go. The other issues are just fucking ridiculous anymore. That is the reason I rarely mention them. But the two... That will eventually combine with other problems and destroy everything in the world. All outlets are gone, all lights are red, all signals have disappeared from vision.

Circumferential attitude. Minimal aspect. Propagation of the worst. I can't fucking do anything.

But I do have ideas. They must remain in the dark, though, or I will end up in much trouble. Anyway...

Very gray outside, much like this text. I do not expect to see the sun at all today, meaning the indoor work is that much better an idea. The show will follow. I am actually a little sore due to building the big heaters yesterday, too. Didn't expect it, although lately I have not engaged in much physical activity beyond the norm, so feeling this way is not completely surprising. Maybe writing so much is not the best idea day after day. I just sit here. Not good. Sometimes, but not for hours at a time.

'All things dead must rise again when twilight's blanket falls
Splattered red you'll find my den, blood dripping from the walls.
Dreams born of desire
Shaped and forged within the fire
Twisted, warped, deranged I see
The world's corrupt insanity.'

Very unsettled these days. I keep typing and reaching inside for something, yet by the time I rise to care for the house, I end up empty and bereft of hope. The work does help to a point, though. No denying that fact. My shows, chores around the house, little improvements here and there... Those seem to be the only 'ups' anymore. I do still strive to feel that the relaxing evening is deserved, too. I cannot simply sit here and do nothing or I'll lose it completely, yet the compulsion to find what I need does not let up for a second no matter what may be taking place. Right now, for example, I am completely torn in half between failing and falling or trying. Eventually the failing will happen, unfortunately, and will leave me a ball of disappointment over everything which has led to this day, just like so many others.

'I don't know. I don't even want to think about any of this shit.' -- Tony

My efforts do not provide comfort, nor does embracing anger and lashing in whatever direction seems best. Not a damned thing makes any difference. Half dead. Perhaps more. I am running out of reasons. My only current drive is keeping updated on the eastern situation. Checking the news flow several times per day has become the norm. I'm hoping the conflict is resolved soon for the sake of innocent people.

1220 and I am at a dead end, like most days. Not much lunch. The routine is finished and I successfully extricated all other damaging thoughts from this morning. I used the booze as a deterrent, which honestly may not be the best path right now. But? It works most of the time. The new issue which has arisen just this year seems to be flourishing regardless of anything I may or may not understand, meaning there is one less item on my list of 'norms'. I don't know the reason, nor do I know why this must take place during the single most difficult period in memory. That's right, kids, the present has smashed everything I went through in eleven. Believe it. The remainder of my day will be worthless. No bar, nothing in the garage, leaving only the dinner work and dark, quiet evening. Unfortunately, anything in the kitchen is still hours away.

Zero seven was the trip to Maui. It may have been a red-letter trip, too. I recall walking along the promenade between the resorts and beach just after having lunch inside one of the open-air restaurants. We were walking slowly and trying to think of where to go when I was struck by something wonderful and terrible at the same time. Nothing was said, I maintained my composure, and we went on with our day as if nothing happened. After the trip, I discussed the encounter with a person at work who had been familiar with some of my difficulties on the subject of beauty. The woman we passed was the red letter. Eh... This doesn't matter. The damage is done one way or another. Lately I have been realizing that regardless of whatever I've understood, the sources no longer matter and I will worsen over time. I still see that woman walking in the opposite direction, too. I should not have the ability to recall much of it. I believe I am as desperate right now as I was when that encounter first played out. No detail, though. A description is unnecessary.

Sitting here for hours today is a product of my condition. Lately I have found myself idle and then pushed hard against it by performing some work around the house, however such effort is all but impossible this afternoon. The clock is displaying 1336 and I have done absolutely nothing since my last mark of time. Nothing. This is due to any activity appearing fruitless no matter the possible benefits. In short, I can't fucking move. The only focus has been reading here and there about the eastern conflict and related developments. That is all.

The news is tough, however. Red news, blue news, 'independent' news... Which is reporting fully, unbiased, and clearly? No one can know. All I can do is gather information and formulate my own stance. Part of it is simple, being the idea of innocent people being hurt or worry over what may develop elsewhere in the world depending upon levels of involvement. I won't go into detail because I am just one more person with an opinion, and from where I sit the whole world is made up of the same; some good and some bad. Anyway, more information is better than less, whatever I can do with it. Maybe nothing. I'll keep gathering.

I might need to force the issue today. Currently, I have little memory of being this fucking stagnant for such a long period of time and I don't like it. Unfortunately, there are several little knives stabbing and interrupting my thought processes.

1728 and I did just that... Forced the process. Some shipments arrived, meaning I took time to restock one of our consumables. I also gained an internal card reader for this machine. That provides some protection for the flash memory from the camera when I am transferring data. Very nice. I do not like the external doors open, even while at home. The last item which arrived is a dust blower for my two lens filters. They almost never come off the lenses, and the duster can help when the caps are off for shooting. The big car show is just a few weeks away. I'd like to be ready as the thought of being 'in the lens' once again while in the field is more enticing than ever. I now have everything necessary for capturing while remaining portable. Lugging the entire bag around the fairgrounds is not fun. All the while this afternoon I've glanced at the news updates to see if anything dramatic is taking place. I may be sitting here thousands of miles from the conflict, but still it worries me, as I am sure many others.


Ah... There is James Sloyan on the screen. All the respect for that actor. Absolutely awesome. Yep, still the second show, mid third season. Wow, he just turned eighty-two last month. Holy shit. Perhaps not many know this, but he was the voice of Lexus from the brand's inception in eighty-nine and for the following twenty years. What a voice on that guy. Love. It.

The wind outside has prevented anything substantial in the garage or yard. Right now my roof indicator is displaying one degree below fifty, the wind chill being much lower. I've been inside as much as possible as a result. Almost cocktail time.

The earlier troubles have been suppressed like always by this hour. At least that is one positive, the fact that I am able to get up and care for whatever seems best while at the same time leaving difficulties behind for a bit. Today? About three hours' worth. There will probably be few issues with which to deal between now and tomorrow morning. I'll be slammed in the head again but at least I have a grace period.

0743 on Saturday morning. All quiet for a few hours. Ooh-fa, this type of morning is actually helpful, with the preparations and consideration of safety yesterday still fresh in my mind. I have one eye on the news feed (and remember that news on the Internet is very subjective; one must be careful what to believe) and the other on my routine along with whatever may come after. The safety is right there behind everything else I will do today. I can't help but think about 'what ifs' as the situation develops. We had a discussion last night about the conflict and possible fallout, eventually forcing me to realize I was becoming emotional and had to shut it the hell off. I will not let that happen again. Care must be taken, lest I degrade into a raving idiot. Anger is always first. As I sit here this morning, I can see the day progressing in a decent manner, the usual stuff first and then more organization. Still very windy and cool outside, though. Nothing much in the garage.

Difficulties did not flatten me this morning, either. I don't know why. Perhaps being angry over a seemingly unchangeable situation may be leading my head in other directions out of a sense of self-preservation. I can't be certain, however. Maybe everything is being shoved aside by the massive geopolitical shit hitting the fan this past week. Whatever the case, I have not fallen down for a few days. Nothing leaves, though. Nothing. It's merely diminished right now and will definitely return soon enough. I am compartmentalized like never before, with a small ever-changing main priority section in reserve in case a more dire situation arises. I suppose one has done just that.

0914 and I am feeling the routine pushing me to leave this alone for a while. I may be half dead, but still the responsibilities exist. I must maintain quality of life here no matter how down I feel.

One enormous overarching issue right now is the idea that I constantly feel compelled to speak with someone about everything taking place inside my head, yet I already know the entire affair will eventually go bad. I know it as sure as the sun will set and rise. On the one hand, if I keep everything to myself there is no danger. On the other? No possibility of improvement or solutions. There was an ear, and then there was another, and now there are zero. I do not see this changing at all. I mean, how could it change? Too closed off, too fucked up, and far too angry. Allowing a person into my brain is about as likely as that watch being strapped to my wrist. That's right... THE model. Mornings like this have me split, though. Still. Honestly. Split between gushing in search of anything and separating myself from everyone even more than I already have. No one knows me. Not really, anyway. I've been very careful since the beginning of eleven when I began to open doors in regard to one person, soon after realizing that serious issues inside me became punch lines due to the worst fucking insensitivity imaginable. I am now scarred because of that shit. Do you see why I have hesitated to open anything in recent years? I swear to Christ, if the opportunity arises and I actually let some things go and then find myself in the same position, I will fucking destroy whatever is on the receiving end. Read that again. And that is only one part of my remaining this way. Just one.

I hate this shit. I fucking hate it.

Like the images? No one cares.

I still have not made a move toward the routine. Soon, I suppose. On the other side of it, I'll have to keep busy like yesterday. Little things, I guess. The alternative is so shitty if I can't move along through the day with some effort. I end up feeling like nothing is worthwhile anymore. Not good at all. I can't have that today. I can't move into my Sunday believing that Saturday failed, either. That is worse. Hopefully I can spend the next several hours caring for the small stuff once my routine is finished. Right now I don't know, but this paragraph seems to be talking me into remaining upright all day so the evening is nice and tomorrow has a head start. My head is pretty fucking bad if I have to sit here and 'talk' my way into doing anything. Believe me, the work around the house is never difficult. My brain is difficult.

1115. Routine finished, news still flowing, second show on both televisions in favor of the gangsters. I don't need to be distracted right now, and the science fiction helps to keep my head clear, unlike the other shows. The fact that I finished the routine without incident or interruption feels good. This may be an indication of a renewed sense of priority and drive due to the shit on the other side of the world. I just read that the US has an aircraft carrier (I don't believe it is a carrier 'strike group' because there is but one escort) in the Aegean Sea with aircraft running missions over Romania. That is standard procedure, yet the idea of our presence so close to the conflict makes me believe that eventually this nation will be physically involved. Not good, but I do understand. If it was a strike group, there would be no doubt. The flow of information from that area is grabbing at my attention quite often and keeping at least one part of my head out of everything else. The morning bullshit has been squashed completely by priority. At this hour, and considering the close proximity of our forces with those of the asshole's forces, I do not see a problem keeping my head on straight for the remainder of the day. Of all the motivational tools out there, a war is not my first choice, yet I am sharpening due to the same. If the conflict so far away draws more powerful weaponry, the blanketing of the rest of the world is only a matter of time. And we will not even know it. Believe me, my dad's work in the defense industry for more than forty years has instilled a clear understanding of the way things work, and sometimes I wish I did not have such knowledge.

The military training never leaves my head. It is kicking into high gear right fucking now. Of all the shit with an innate ability to press the issues to the rear, war is at the top of the list. Yep, even higher than that elusive understanding of which I dream at any given fucking moment. Physical survival trumps everything in existence. As soon as I leave the IDE again, my work will be focused two-fold on what began yesterday. I need to know certain items are in order and ready to go at a moment's notice. The planned power outage a few years back helped us to organize everything and maintain a level of readiness. There is unrelated work to be performed on the power distribution network next week, meaning all of the portable shit will be gone through again. The conflict is but one motivator out of several.


Everything continues to escalate. Lunch finished, and I performed a bit more light organization in the garage with accompanying loud music. Not bad.


Now I don't really know what to do aside from little things here and there. The breeze outside is precluding me from continuing efforts outside, so the same type of work in the house may carry on just as yesterday. Also, we are slated to make an appearance at a birthday party this evening but I don't know if I will feel up to it. Those occasions are few and far between lately, beginning with the show two months ago in which I ended up completely alone because everyone else who stated they would attend did not show up. Not even one. Now I tend to be leery of anything happening at night over there. If we do go, it will be in the evening and for a very short time. A visit would not be framed for my enjoyment, only that of others. During the next few hours I'll have to weigh the idea of it being worth my time.

The problems inherent in living through each morning have been shoved back pretty damned far this afternoon. That is not to say they will not come back and slam me in the head tomorrow, yet the feeling today is different somehow, as if I have some sort of precognition that being concerned for world events and what they could mean if the situation becomes out of control is already helping me to shift focus. Priorities I did not expect, although given the choice I would gladly reset everything and go back to the morning shit rather than knowing people are being harmed. Tomorrow will be my typical long morning, which up to this point has been a real pain in the ass. Right now I am sitting here unconcerned, though. This is different. Not used to it.

I've done very little in the last hour or more. This guy's hood on the show resembles the roof of the Sydney opera house in Australia. Heh. Whatever.

I am now thinking that remaining home tonight will be in my best interest. The possibility of seeing something at the party and then carrying it home attached to my brain would be counterproductive. The world events are removing one type of worry in favor of something much more important, and I don't want to create a war in my brain between the two. On top of that usual concern, I am feeling much less sociable than I was when first learning of the gathering, plus the bands these days don't usually begin playing until right around my bedtime. Sundays are precious. I can't have tomorrow fucked up because of a party I really could care less about. That is that. Home means comfort and security. Home also means habit, and right now is not the time to be changing anything. 'Creature'.

I can keep my head out of where it should not be. I can.

1648 and the time matters little anymore. I take note of it because it was going to turn into something else a while back but never did. Now I am accustomed to the numbers down the pages.

0753. The evening ran a little long, but not bad. Only an hour from the usual, so this morning is fine. We did not go to the bar, either. Remained home. I am very pleased about not allowing the 'pressure' to be in the group during certain events to affect me. I need to be here almost all of the time. The Sunday business, quiet time, options throughout each day... All of it. I used to feel it was important to make an appearance due to the subject or something else, yet now I don't see it hardly at all. Life here these days is vastly different than four or five years ago. Plus my age, I believe. The afternoons often have me considering how I will be feeling the following morning if I decide to go outside the usual evening routine. No more of that staying up half the night bullshit. I can't have the mornings messed up. They've become that important. An hour past the usual bedtime last night was fine. No big deal. Plus I was able to flex the audio for a little while.

Sunday. That means garbage along with my other stuff. Perhaps more fortification and consideration of the emergency supplies and kits. Those items are on my mind throughout each day lately due to the shit over there in the east. I can't help it, just like any other situation which puts me a little on edge and the military training switch flips to the 'on' position. It's been as such for days now. In and around all the other stuff today I'll be ensuring we have some necessities in good order. She will be heading to the city like always, meaning in just a few hours I'll have the place to myself. My mood has not improved in the grand scheme, but there are still small positives. Have I mentioned any pants lately? The camera has not moved, either.

The fact is I am trying to steer myself away from everything related to that word up there. The typical morning bullshit, the imagery on the television, whatever may be out there to draw my eyes out of my skull, all of it. This may be the only way to survive. And while I can admit that the eastern issues have pulled my attention quite a bit, the fact is my head is beginning to turn away again, just as it began to during the 'Foxes' period, except with much less disdain and dissatisfaction. I am a person, and as such should not allow any inanimate objects to affect so deeply. More and more I am yearning to be in the lens at the car show because once fully inside, the rest of the world melts away and I see nearly nothing save for my own field of view. Anger helps, too. No doubt there. My brain swung from being enamored with the girl up the street all the way in the opposite direction, which is angry because of my own weakness. I can't blame someone else. Not a bit. Years have done this, yet the simple truth is I have fucking control over my own damned eyes. The anger took away some of the power she had... Power I gave her in the first place. Maybe everything really is up to me but I don't see it sometimes. These last several days have had me focusing upon other parts of living, plain and simple.

Father sleepover just rang the bell.

0851 with coffee and you-know-who. I pulled the '20-year' anniversary image from the master because I'm fucking sick of considering the passage of time. Moreover, thinking of those periods -- either zero two when I first created the site or a few years prior when I created the site for our business -- presses me to realize that my hopes back then were not only dashed, but smashed. I had ideas and then did nothing, afterward seeing that other people had the same types of ideas and the resources to build on them. I did not. 'Grand adventures await those who turn the corner.' Yep, nada over here. Nothing. The anniversary image also brings to mind the overwhelming machinelike operation of the Internet in this age. Very little is actually being operated by people anymore. Robots and such are doing more work and have more of a presence than individuals. This site is still an example of one person with some space and running things manually, at the very least. Back when I first learned of the ways of building sites and moving information, everything was pretty new and exciting. Now, and as I have stated multiple times, 'new' is not 'new'. It is merely another advancement to send older technology into the recycle. That is all. No more 'exciting', either. Every advancement is almost expected. Streaming, flat clouds connected to people with the electronic opium right in their very hands. This just fucking sucks out loud and right down to the ground.


'Loathsome I've become.
A creature so undone.
Wretched and broken.
Cannot find my faith.
Any God will do.
Nothing said is new;
Nothing said is true.
Fly away my hope.'

I sure hope somebody comes along to pop that fuck a new asshole right in the forehead. Most of this shit would just go away. I doubt anyone would miss him aside from the fictional names on the fake ballots. Heh. I know I would sleep more comfortably knowing he's in pieces over there. Don't know who or what to believe these days, but I still try to get some information here and there. Am I doing the right thing? What IS the right thing? You tell me.

I wonder if anything would come of my expressing some insane, harsh political opinion here. Been thinking about such things for a while now, probably even before the pandemic. I generally stay away from anything over a line or three because I truly do not know what manner of machinations are at work behind the URL of this or any site. I have no clue as to what can be seen, drawn, or affected by some entity with a measure of power over the construction of the Internet. Even with the knowledge to build and operate what I have, the truth is my site is very simplistic when compared to the behemoths out there run by massive corporations and funded by endless cash. I don't have any of that. Just a person sitting here with a laptop and very little technical ability related to the Net. I have mentioned some thinking along the lines of the red cauliflower but refrained from going into detail for fear of who or whatever may be reading, and then at the same time I calculate this: Who in the hell would WANT to read this stuff? Nothing here is going to have any bearing on a single fucking opinion anywhere on the globe. I do own the domains and rent the server space, however I am not the type to go spouting all over the place. All I need is for some enterprising young mind to run across something here due to a keyword or other match and then relay something I've said to an authority. Freedom of what? What did you say? I don't need anyone fucking leaning on me, so most of what I believe or suspect remains inside my brain. I may be pissed off, but I'm not stupid. On top of all that shit, there is already a FUCKING HUGE MASS of individuals blathering all over the Net with their opinions and ideas, solutions and positions. One more is not going to make a fucking lick of difference, right? Unless, of course, my words about cleaning the kitchen with a cocktail in the morning have garnered some attention.

Half dead anyway. This one is finished.