Thrall Mature content No. 324 Published July 12th, 2022 9:44am pdt read ( words) Past entries "1029 and I am still spinning my wheels without direction. I put a load of laundry into the washer and did a bit of straightening to prepare for cleaning the kitchen and working in the office again. The icy whiskey is right next to me along with my beloved second show following along. God damn is the morning cocktail delicious. I’m considering taking a trip to the closest big-box electronics store to browse and learn what types of desktop machines may work for my purposes. Pretty much everything out there will be much more powerful than this, let alone my previous machine which was originally purchased during the cave period of eleven. That was a ‘home theater’ computer, whereas the next one will be more generic. I don’t need much because most of the time I use only a handful of applications, the heaviest of which is the IDE. Even my photo software is old. I’d like to go out and see what is available these days. Unfortunately, the likelihood of lamenting the three electronics stores that are deep in my heart is pretty high. I can’t seem to seek anything along these lines without memories cropping up. Those empires were the pinnacle of computer supply prowess, from selection to information. Another idea is to wait until I drive south and visit a specialty shop. There are several, yet nothing nearby. The drive and time commitment could be worthwhile, though. The shops that build and sell are often better choices than a straight retailer. Right now I don’t know which I might prefer, although the more local store may be good for research. I am not the type to order a machine on the Internet. 0655, Saturday. I finally have a decent cup of coffee next to me after visiting the little market last night. I picked up a few staples, creamer being the point of the trip. This morning I really needed some good coffee, too. The house ran into a little snag yesterday that I really did not wish to deal with. I went in the bath to take a shower and noticed a little bit of discoloration in the tub. Sure enough, my shower time saw the tub filling slightly rather than draining quickly. That meant the line which picks up both the tub and kitchen was stopped again. That was the second time in four years – which is not bad, honestly – meaning I had to drag out the drain machine and clear the line. As a result of everything, my kitchen sat idle all day. I’ll have to catch up on it later this morning. The drain machine is rather heavy and kind of a pain to operate sometimes, too. The stoppage was on my mind for a while before I finally tackled it during the afternoon. I kept putting it off, and such a fact has me thinking that I may actually be lazy rather than disillusioned. I know that is a bad word. I pushed toward the work and a trip to the market because I knew afterward I would feel good about myself. Once everything was complete, I began to make dinner and felt just that. Accomplished and more relaxed. I guess sometimes the only path for me to really think is sprouted by a trial. I did it, though. This morning I am still thinking about work and the way the last two years have affected me. This late date has me realizing that many things are different than when I was stagnant and in the workforce... Some good, some bad. One constant is having this free time every day. I still appreciate it most of the time. Eh, this may be a bad mood day. I’m not certain yet, but the feeling is beginning to form inside and there is probably nothing I can do about it. Some mornings I find the strength to squash the anger while during others I can’t seem to rise above feeling as if I am against everything and need to lash out in some direction. Today I am rather solemn, although right behind it is something akin to a fuse. One of the most frustrating circumstances at work inside my head is the fact that there is no one listening. The more I think about having been pushed into the current period by unfeeling actions and trauma, the more I need to demonstrate the effects upon me and how they have summed over time. I remember everything. This morning I have imagery inside that will not leave, meaning I have to be careful with both what I say here and how I allow the remaining hours to play out. I need to maintain control over my senses and not allow the past to derail my time like the last few weeks. Too much more of that shit and I’m going to flip out. One of the defining factors of my life is chewing on my brain almost daily. Not a day has passed in the last eleven years, eight months and two days without me being completely enthralled and frightened at the same time. And I know the reason. More recently, the imagery inside has resembled certain people from reality, none of which I want to be familiar with for the rest of my life, but they will not leave. Some I have known, and others I have not, yet all had some connection and/or influence upon me. There have been days filled with fear, wonder, desire and yearning, all of which accomplish nothing more than to make me angry. Right now I am on the edge of that anger manifesting itself in something tangible, so I have to keep it reined as much as possible, lest I do something I’ll regret. Well, there is little chance of that, anyway, because along with disdain and hatred I have become very intelligent over the years. I can keep a lid on the shit while accomplishing what I need to survive, imagery be damned. All that stuff does is piss me off, and to attach it to real-life situations through which I’ve lived, the outcome is my being less and less connected to the outside world. I wish it was 'demonthrall'. No such luck. I almost went back into the lion bullshit. That pull was damned powerful and I allowed myself to close my eyes and walk along a path set forth by another person and guided by trust. The trust went to hell very quickly, yet I remained right there all the fucking time and enthralled by beauty. Every fucking time I think about that period (or some others), I nearly have to throw something and destroy it. I am not proud of myself for being such a fucking idiot. Thrall is one thing. Stupidity and blind ignorance are different matters entirely. The shit with the lions will probably return at some point anyway, so gleaning here doesn’t matter in the least. There may be no avoiding something which has caused so much damage in my life. What? Trust? No more of that in this life. If a lack of trust in others causes me to be closed off so much that I miss out on some joy, well, I don’t care. I’m already miserable. Might as well demonstrate my dissatisfaction with the fact that a few individuals have ruined something wonderful and any possibility for people in the future to benefit from my caring and sensitivity. Nice, huh? Fuck you, too. Yeah, the mood is diminishing at an alarming rate due to more factors than I care to list right now. I suppose the lions and imagery are quite enough. Once I’ve seen something and realize that it exists, the idea remains in my brain for all time and will not fucking go away. Believe me when I say I’ve seen the examples and cannot forget. The smiling faces and closet doors lend to the idea that an entire way of life may have come to an end, and such a thought contributes to my pissy fucking mood all the time. I just don’t understand why everything had to develop as it has. The last decade should be torched to ash. And no matter how angry I may become at times, nothing changes. One may believe that the productive and healthy choice is to simply let everything go and focus upon whatever is positive. That is a tall order for someone like myself. The rub is the idea that I cannot do anything about what is behind me. Now, if I can’t do anything about it, why dwell? The rub continues, though... Anything which seems impossible should be shoved aside, yet the fact that it IS impossible causes me to be upset. I have not made the ‘healthier’ choices in life for a very long time and the reason is people. I realize how convoluted this may sound. Everything important to me seems to be difficult or impossible. I’m not talking about the morning coffee or a nice lunch, either. I am referring to reasons for living. I’ve seen them. They will not go away. Imagery and memory are twin swords cutting me to ribbons. The more the current period feels dissatisfying, the more the recent and long past appear wondrous and beautiful. I’ve been there, and not just due to the smiling faces or closet doors. I made my own happiness. Now I barely know how. I am very clingy and need another person to fill the holes. That is bad and unhealthy and I don’t give half a blue fuck in the wind. This is the way I am due to the actions of others. Time and circumstance, remember? Let me say one thing which may seem out of character considering the nature of the site. I’ve been in therapy enough and am intelligent and knowledgeable enough to know that mental and/or emotional issues can cause physical problems. Some of what I discuss here has done just that almost daily. There you go. Today I have to get the kitchen back in order and probably continue my efforts in the office. The garage remains in good shape these days because I haven’t done much out there. Recently I mentioned a couple of boosts in the past. Those cannot return or repeat, but I’m thinking that once the office is finished and I am set up once again at the big desk, the feeling of that space may be its own boost. I fucking need something. Good Christ, Jamie’s face is a wonderland of everything I have EVER found attractive. It just never ends. Anyway, the office is one step with which I can move forward that has a positive end result. Combined with ridding myself of some crap I’ve held onto for years means the positive can be two-fold. Hopefully today will bear fruit. Moreover, if the sky remains overcast and the air cool, I’ll head to the back and remove more of the big shrub. There is always plenty to do. I just wish I had enough drive to work more than I have in recent months. My 'caring' for much of life is diminishing. There are now more than three hundred entries linked in the archive, and every one of them is in the same folder. That means I have difficulty going back and checking my work or re-editing and formatting when the framework changes. I would like to alphabetize the entries to split up the mass, but that means altering every fucking link in the archive. Lots of legwork. I do have the time, though, and last year I succeeded in separating the dated archives from the rest of the content, so reorganizing should not be a problem. Since there is no way to automate the process, I’ll just move a little at a time. Maybe I can start with continuing stories about the goblet and the fiction. That may be the best path. I am enthralled by three aspects of life and none of the three exists anymore. The passion could be a fourth, yet it is an inanimate object and something over which I will obsess without actually ever feeling as if I can attain it. The wristwatch doesn’t count here. The other three are going to cause my head to blow wide open, however. A portion of every single day has me longing and lamenting the first sentence of this paragraph. Unfortunately, the thrall is not just emotion or anything in my head, it is also related to something over which I have zero control... The past. Every fucking day the subject comes to mind due to any number of catalysts, from the simplicity of watching my programs to going out shopping and seeing a crippling form. When I say ‘thrall’, I mean I am absolutely tormented by the tiniest reference to the obsession, and then I fall down due to lacking any connection to the same. This is a fact of life which will never change. I’ve already been through years of questions and answers that add up to such a fact. I have also been told that the only solution is to remove the problem. As of yet, I haven’t considered that process as an option. I am intimately connected by both love and hate. Without certain parts of myself, there can be no chance of the validation I so badly need and have lived without for far too long. Oh, there were times when it was very close, however I do not believe I have ever explained to another person the sheer depth of my feelings and what they have done to me throughout the course of decades. I tried, though. I really did. Unfortunately, there is a part of my brain which disallows any truly detailed exposition in person. I just can’t do it. The last time I actually laid out everything was nearly nineteen years ago. Since then, only tidbits have come forth from my gaping maw. The whole thing is very sad. 1022 and I have my cocktail. The house is still quiet and half the routine is finished. I’ll be overjoyed to clean the kitchen without worrying about the drain, too. My gangster friends have been keeping me company all morning. I love them more than most real people. They do not judge, ever. As for the real people, I have to trust that they don’t judge, and trust is an aspect of my life that is shrinking as I type these words. I tried and failed. The connections cannot be a part of me anymore. Anyway, I have the rest of the day to work on whatever seems best, probably more chopping of the shrub and organization inside the house. I may or may not spend time in the garage with some music. Right now I am too angry for clear decisions. Curious, the four issues are constantly underlining what I place here, yet I have not referenced them directly or in detail for some time. Maybe I passed on the importance and just gave up trying. The heritage went by the wayside, too, and I now see that shit from last year as a big positive, believe it or not. I stopped trying to define myself through knowledge of my family’s history. Good or bad as my lineage may be, I am still me. No matter what happened in the past with regard to names, nationalities or the traditions to which I was exposed while young, I am my own person and will not bow to anything from knowledge of my origin. In short, that shit no longer matters to me because my life is in complete disarray for other reasons. Wow, that was a mouthful. As for the issues, they will always be fearful, but I don’t need to go on and on every day about each of them. Again... I am me, and I turned out this way regardless. Belaboring the point is tiresome anymore. I just remembered that I have the wireless MDRs charged. Perhaps I will travel back in time to eleven and embrace the disastrous genres of music while reshaping the shrub. Heh. I have been allowing the thrall to control me. Such a fact is not good, yet it is also governed by two past events that I cannot change. Life-changing events, to be sure. Grappling with things I cannot change is a part of the Serenity Prayer, right? Well, I am not going to meetings, meaning I cannot follow the rules set forth by other people. The mere fact that those events are in the past and unchangeable is a good portion of the problem. I can’t deal with an inability to fix them. I’ve spent many years troubleshooting electronics and there was always a solution, even if I had to throw money at the problem. That type of work has conditioned me to not accept anything that cannot be solved, hence all this fucking anger much of the time. Holy fucking shit, this is one of the scenes in which Jamie looks cuter than should be allowed on this fucking planet. God damn do I ever love her deeply. Fuck you, and call me what you will. I am so far out of balance that I no longer give a cold shit if someone close to me has a problem with how I feel about a fictional character. The only thing with the power to cease my gushing about Jamie is death. Would you like to come here and make it happen? Go ahead. I will not resist. Anyway, acceptance would probably improve my life ten-fold right now. For me, that word has been buried under too much soil to recover. I accept nothing. Fuck the Serenity Prayer. And fuck anyone who has an opinion. 1048. Cocktail equals yummy comfort. Bad fortune is not so comfortable. I am centered within bad fortune right fucking now. I was confused (I cannot say more about it), and this subject is something that has been avoided for the life of the modern site (it began in twelve with the active server pages). Oh, I remember, too. I was up there on the balcony and looking down toward the alleyway behind the bar to see a few faces looking toward my position. That was the beginning. Not lions, though. Just circumstances. The lion was elsewhere. I don’t have a clue as to how things changed so quickly. Bad fortune plus bad decisions equals hell. And here I am, in a manner of speaking, pretty fucking far into the flames. There are few good aspects to this. There are also related terms... Blind, deaf, desperate, weak, you know. I placed myself in this position more than once. 0657 on Sunday morning. I’m glad this day has arrived. Yesterday there was a problem in the wine store and then one in the pet store, followed by a third at a restaurant. I had not been out to lunch for at least six months and figured the place would be quiet. I was right, but there were the pants from hell on the way out. The wine store? Asian pants, absolutely picturesque. The pet supply held its share of other issues. I was overjoyed to arrive back at home after that shit. One more little shit aspect of going out yesterday was my intention to browse computers. Well, the shit aspect is the store is in the process of a remodel and there is no in-store shopping. Splendid. At that, I drove back to town with a pause at the drugstore for a few items. Lunch was pretty elaborate, so dinner was very light. I can still see the little thing standing there behind the podium in the restaurant. I very nearly turned on my heel as we were leaving to backtrack and see more of her. Some of the staff there have caused me to dream at one time or another. Plus, there is history in that place. Some of it is in a very pointed entry from a few years ago. I believe the weather lately has forced the big airport to alter the takeoff pattern. Each morning I hear at least a dozen very low rumbles over the course of a couple of hours. The last several years had the noise mostly in the evenings. Interesting. Some people don’t like the sound of aircraft but I love it. The paragraph again. Those thoughts are directly related to what I saw yesterday. Well, they are related to the reason I was trying to see. I was enthralled at the time, but then rather solemn afterward because there is no way out of this. The paragraph employs a word in quotes that seems to be a point of contention in society. Sometimes good, other times bad. I placed the quotes around it because after all this time and so much exploration, I don’t even know what it means anymore. This has become something I cannot avoid during any day. Not even one fucking day can go by without my being reminded of the paragraph and a few questions within it. All the way back to the fucking nineties, too. Back then there was pressure on me of a type I could not easily handle. Years later, the pressure changed somewhat and then eased, yet that same word came up here and there and had me thinking deeply. The worst period has been the last several years, though, and two in particular. I never explained fully, either. I can’t. One of these days I’m going to snap. Whatever changed earlier this year is still apparent, and I believe I know most of the reason for the difference. Unfortunately, I cannot elaborate much further without spilling far too much. One wrong keyword and I am sunk. Anyway, this is not a good situation by any means. I don’t know how I made it this far into the present year, either. For whatever reason, I move forward a little each day. Everything is gone now. There are no promises or bright spots on the horizon. I am going to need to figure out a way to get through each day without becoming overly angry or hostile. This will take some time. The change is basically a stark representation of my position in life, and the gradient between where I am right now and where I have been. Believe me when I say I have been in some very comfortable places over the years. They likely add up to roughly two months of the last twenty years. Marvelous. I don’t see anything developing in the future due to my closed-off state. I don’t even know what to do anymore. Completely fucked. ‘There was a choice, but now it’s gone.’ Thanks Anthony. Yesterday I cranked the garage music for a little while and trimmed more of the shrub before we took off for the stores. The green can is once again full. This is good. I don’t want a week to go by without taking more of that tree out. As for the garage, there is not much to do out there because I’ve been leaving the area alone all week. It’s still nice and neat as I only go out there for laundry. Today is Sunday, so the garbage will have to go out in a little while. Afterward, maybe I’ll continue in the office. Things are shaping up nicely in there. There is fourth-season Jamie again, damn it. If only. Sometimes the accent on that French girl gets to me in a bad way. I would still fuck her in half, though. What a work of art. I can already feel the draw of beer and music because my head is in a place from which there is often no escape without a vulgar display of anger or power. I have no power, so anger is everything during these types of days. Frustration is one of those facts of life anymore. I can’t do anything about anything. No power. No options. No nothing. Fucking hell, anyway. The last time I actually flexed the anger and turned it into passion was many years ago. I exerted some fucking force for a change. That memory will never go away. I’ll need the embrace of the damned in a little while to ease the memory and put a face to my feelings. Or, a billboard announcing my dissatisfaction in general. Everything was there for a time and now it is all gone. It was there. Everything, meaning short of one specific action, nothing seemed off limits. I put a tool in each hand and went to town, sometimes with aggression, other times with tenderness. But it happened. I could count on something, at least. All gone. I could destroy everything and everyone. Believe me, if I could snap my fingers and watch them all burn, I would do it at the end of this fucking sentence. In the beginning I wanted to be alone due to the pandemic. And then I began to fear going out to shop or the idea of being near others. That faded after a while. Now? I do not want to be near anyone because of hatred. I will still be nice on the surface if the need arises – like those occasions having dinner at her parents’ or such things – but underneath there is nothing of the sort. Too much has been taken away from me or otherwise destroyed. As the months roll by, the past feels worse. Was my bourbon served in a juice glass? I realize the thrall is partly to blame for my current position. Stating otherwise would be a lie, and I am not in the custom of lying about anything, especially here. Yesterday is a good example of just how weak I have become through little fault of my own. The girl in the restaurant was a fleeting glimpse, and my instinct – powered by desperation – was to move myself in such a way so as to see more of her lines. That is not good. There is nothing wrong with gazing at an attractive person, either. The problem lies within what plays out in my brain during such a sighting. Nothing good, believe me. All those years of obsessing pile atop each other and drive me to seeing visions from the past as well as those horrible periods when I literally threw myself at more than one woman out of sheer desperation. I was immediately enthralled during those few seconds yesterday and fearful of two possibilities. One is that I may never be close to those lines again, and the other is what the weakness and desperation may drive in the future. The thoughts are fucking frightening. Whereas just two years ago I had been unsure of whether or not the vision of a beautiful woman carried with it a level of underlying physical desire, now I am certain. Not always, but it does happen from time to time. That desire sends me back in time to Ashley’s loving words floating beautifully into my ears. The girl at the pool, for example. I cannot deny the feelings. The thrall is very damaging and continues to plague me whenever I go out or see something on television. There is only one way to keep myself out of danger, and that is to shut off the television for good and never leave the house. I don’t see those as realistic possibilities, however. Neither is feasible or appealing in any way. I am sitting here as a product of many aspects of life, not the least of which is being too often enthralled by those elusive and beautiful lines. Every fucking morning, there is something driving my fingers and brain. Maybe I’ll be driven to destruction. 0920 and I need to hit the routine pretty quick. Yesterday’s work will ease what I need to do today, especially in the kitchen. There may be a few things in the refrigerator that need to go, so the lack of dishes will help me clean up fairly well. Afterward I will take care of most of the garbage. The writing I’ve done today is hurting me and I have to get away from it for a while. 1117 and the routine is finished. I have the house to myself for the next few hours, and at some point I am going to load the garbage with whatever I can. There is a wooden pot in the back which needs to be disassembled and then tossed, meaning I’ll break out the grinder to cut the steel straps so it can be compacted. I also have a few pieces of plywood that were parts of the speaker enclosure and slathered with silicone. They need to be trimmed and the wasted parts thrown away. The process will leave me with a tone of scraps, though. I can deal with them as they will take up less of my precious garage space. Let me say that all morning my head has been full of imagery and memories, thus contributing to my downtrodden state. I can work around the house and try to keep a mass of anger at bay, however. I’ve done it before. The truth is those subjects tattooed on my brain follow along no matter what I may be doing. Today is no different. In fact, earlier this morning I was reminded of my age and the inherent physical effects of the same. Nothing is improving except my plans for the house, and they typically take a far-back seat to the process of thrall and everything related. Those rare and beautiful circumstances have left me, possibly forever. The current period is causing very dangerous and desperate thinking. I’ve often said I am on a road with ‘no turns’, yet right now that seems a gross understatement. I have been routed in the worst possible way. My feelings are cumulative, and years of such a state are now forcing me to think in terms I never thought possible, from the damaging dream to the lines, and all the way out to ideas better left unsaid. Everything is gone. I stated as much back in seventeen with that fucking horrible essay. Little did I know, that was only the infantile beginning to something far more dangerous. 1440. The routine is finished, as is the garbage work. I also worked on the refrigerator a bit. In the garage, I took care of anything that can be tossed, including the wooden pot I mentioned earlier. I grabbed the grinder and cut the steel so everything fits in the gray can. We aren’t allowed to put certain types of wood in the compost bin. The music kept me company out there for a little while and inspired more design for my empire. I partially fabricated a mount for another colored strip above my bench where I have some items on display. This afternoon is going to be dedicated to some relaxation just like when I was working. The major plus to the current period is that I do not have the work hanging over my head like years ago. Monday morning is whatever I wish it to be – everything under my control, most importantly the time. I have spoken before about the way Sunday used to feel. I always had a cutoff time so there was time to relax in the afternoon and evening. I no longer need to worry about the clock. I’m very pleased with having the bulk of the Sunday business out of the way nice and early, though. Work can sometimes alleviate the feeling of being enthralled all the damned time. Today has helped a bit. Just a bit, though. ‘Ensign gorgeous’ was on the screen. There are so many, all due to my weakness and desperation. This is going to kill me, sure as hell. I am so sick of it. I wish I hadn’t seen that girl in the wine store. More visions of lines and imagination are only going to solidify my feelings. And considering how many times I’ve dreamed of some fucking Asian girl next to me who behaves as a machine, seeing such a dark form in reality only exacerbates my already crippling issues. This entire time period just fucking sucks out loud. The wonder of the glow is beginning to take a back seat to the memories of having been exactly where I needed to be during key periods of my life. I can already see the blinds closing on windows to the future. Jesus holy fuck in a Goddamned lace bra, Dey is so beautiful in this episode that I can’t even begin to understand why. She looks like the world’s cutest rabbit. Anyway, the girl at the wine store was a larger problem than typical due to having one of those forms nearly impossible to describe. I would have to create a database of numbers in order to illustrate exactly why her midsection and thighs were so fucking noteworthy. Yes, there was the long, black hair and features to match, but the root cause of the entire shitaree was the way those black yoga pants reveal every single radius and curve. Nothing is hidden by such form-fitting material. Add to that the disparity between her very narrow waist and hips and a distinct lack of body fat, and the entire picture is one matched but a few times in my travels. The server at the restaurant with an entry dedicated to her appearance and my feelings toward seeing such a woman is the closest match right now. I cannot get that type of body out of my fucking weakened brain most of the time. Well, the goddess was a match, but I cannot speak of her very much before falling down and wishing to put a gun to my head. The point is that what I saw is very rare in society. Believe me when I say that I did my damnedest to take in as much as is humanly possible regarding the only two close examples of such incredible beauty in recent years, and the only two with whom I was close. Both are gone now, and I am still trying to come to terms with destroying one of those relationships. Ugh... That is too much. I am an idiot but never intended to be. Thank fucking Christ I have a glass full of ‘crutch’. Onward. Henceforth the goddess will be capitalized. 0625 on Monday morning. My brain is full of something that took place a few years ago (twice, really, but the first was key), and I have yet to find the strength to push the dreaming away. I have morning business in half an hour, so hopefully I can make it through without completely falling down. Today marks the return of my flag-flying routine, meaning I went back to my morning ritual from before vacation last week. I switched one of the flags for the holiday weekend and then did not go back due to morning precipitation. Very exciting, eh? Flags. Wow. ‘Lotta action. Lotta action.’ My life is pretty fucking ridiculous, I must admit. All this time and not much accomplished in months. I suppose some of it is not pressing, though, so I can work at my own pace. And there are Allie’s big eyes on the television again. I have not watched the news for some days. I don’t know what this day has in store for me, but I’ll care for the usual this morning and go from there. Maybe I’ll finish the light bar I began yesterday. Right now I don’t know because my head is filled with imagery I’d rather forget in order to save myself. I have to go back a couple of years (maybe three or more) to recall what was going on when the circumstance became something important to me right out of the clear, blue sky. Prior to that day (or days), I did not consider the idea feasible, nor did I really dwell on anything along the same lines. I have not thought about the period in question for months, and I don’t know why this morning. The imagery just popped into my head and may have been driven by or related to a dream. I recall no dreams right now, though, so perhaps it was one of those that simply disappears upon waking. But? The damage is done. The pictures are in there. Time for the morning business. 0732 and the day is all mine. I still have the news on for whatever reason. Not the eyes. Preparing everything this morning helped to extract the imagery for a little while, but now it is back. I don’t know yet what this may mean to my day. There is a possibility I’ll drive over the hill in search of computer information, though. If so, the trip may help take my mind off this shit. I keep seeing pictures flipping like a Rolodex and feel helpless to stop the motion. I switched to the second show for a little while. My brain blew up, as well. Nothing helps, ever. 0808 and my last cup of coffee. The show carries forward regardless of my condition. That is a part of the reason it is up there every day. I do not expect anything good to happen. The distraction of recorded media is very important if I am to carry on like this. Having secured the streaming device and a few channels last year, I will not run out of programming, ever. I knew that situation was going to implode at some point. It was simply a matter of time. The highs were so fucking high at times that something inside me – possibly nothing more than a defense mechanism born of my time with Andrea – knew almost from the beginning that there were only two outcomes, one being my death. Sometimes I sit here and reflect upon the last ten or more years and I can’t believe what has transpired. I would estimate a total of three months of the highs interspersed throughout the lows. That is not bullshit, either. The level of distraction required to pull my attention away from the thrall, especially when I was working, is so fucking powerful that I rarely felt any freedom from turmoil. Right now, for example, I’ve already sent this morning right down the fucking drain, yet those images and memories continue to roll by like Satan’s passenger train all lit up for the holidays. The implosion has merely sharpened my senses and sensitivity to things like those which crossed my vision yesterday. I pay more attention now than ever before, partly due to having those fucking pants very close, too often. I suppose the self-defense mechanism kicked me in the head because I already knew everything would go to hell at some point no matter what my wishes may have been. I knew that fact early on, too. I could see it. Eh... I don’t know why I care enough to type. Maybe I have to fall back on the old axiom that the sound of the keys is the only draw here. Or maybe I am still searching. 1058 and the routine is finished. Icy whiskey next to me. The drink kept me company while I was cleaning, along with my surrogate (really?) family on two television screens. I love them more than almost every real person in my life. The morning was a complete fucking failure prior to my work, so perhaps I can rise from here. Perhaps. From this point forward, I haven't a clue as to what can fill my time. I do need to go to the cigarette store in a little while, and then a visit to the market for a few items, but other than those two destinations, I am wide open. The morning is weighing heavily on my mind right now. The thrall took me in hand and drove my consciousness into the cold ground. Rising from the realization that I have little control over myself is going to take time. Lots of time. Forty fucking years later, I still see this situation as a combination of weakness and shame. I’m sure society had a hand in grooming my beliefs, though. Everything sensitive and beautiful is trivialized and eventually subsequently ruined by society. Everything. Make no mistake, you may be assisting the process of slicing the world’s beauty to ribbons right now. I am not fucking kidding, either. I’ve seen those closest to me and people I’ve absolutely cherished sit and speak their minds. The result is the gleaning that there is not one fucking living soul out there who is above their own pathetic gain through the demeaning of others. I have seen it and lived it. Much of the reason that I am so closed off is that there may not be another person out there who is worthy of my concerns. I’ve tried, though. I really have. Opening the door a bit allows me to reflect and study the reaction and try to determine whether or not the information is going to be brushed aside and/or disregarded. As of this moment, I recall TWO individuals with whom I would actually speak again without much worry. The subject within the topic sentence of this paragraph has two facets; one is the idea that it must remain inside, and the other is the knowledge that if it has spread to another person, they will eventually fail and become nothing more than a fucking target. Read that again. The situation is such that I become easily preoccupied quite often and cannot carry out the day’s activities without falling down over and over. I think about society and events of the past far too much these days, but I can’t fucking help it. I am still in the middle of that very same society, as shitty as it may be. Weakness and shame have combined to become a way of life. This paragraph has been brought forth as a symptom of thrall. 1359. I went over the hill to shop at a few places and then changed my mind. There was also a thought for some nice lunch spot, but alas my better sense kicked in and I returned to town and headed for the market. I ran into my old boss in the parking lot and we caught up a bit. In about twenty minutes I am going to head over to the bar, believe it or not, so we can talk more. I didn’t realize the weight of my absence for so many months until I saw him. Anyway, there was nothing of note while out other than the typical references to the damaging dream. The weather is clear and warm here on the south end of town, so lots of people are out. I shoved aside the concern over that dream due to feeling such loss. The stores I’ve mentioned several times, remember? Just one of them could have been an excellent and very useful destination. Unfortunately, that entire electronic way of life may be coming to an end as similar stores disappear. I am feeling the loss more acutely now than months ago because of my plans to set up another desktop computer. Damn. 0651 on Tuesday. The visit yesterday turned into hours. Some of the time was nice, other aspects not so great. The entire trip now appears as nothing more than a waste of money. Maybe that sounds harsh. I don’t know. What I do know is that this morning already feels very rewarding. The morning business will commence in about twenty minutes. Afterward, I plan to take it easy for hours. I probably won’t leave the house at all today. And she is on the screen again. The one who could be Andrea. Seconds of a side-view of her face is enough to send me into a tailspin. The only face to rival Jamie. I still can’t explain the entire lower-face thingy, either. I see it from time to time but after many years there is no way to describe one of the most stirring features I’ve ever seen. I did not feel this way prior to meeting Andrea. Something changed during that trip. I was talking about my plans today and ended up derailed yet again by something unreal and unattainable. Thankfully, the bouncing breasts were not bartending yesterday. All I ended up seeing over there were a few very difficult examples of the damaging dream. Nothing else in several hours. The examples took their toll. Jesus, there she was again. Seeing her face reminds me of first arriving in Florida after Andrea and I visited the goblet for a few days and the idea popped into my head to show her some sights. Eight nights later, we headed back to the goblet. That was one of the craziest periods of my life. Sometimes the entire trip – as well as one other – seems completely unreal. But I did it. Three times, honestly. There were more insane decisions over the years, but the main two take the cake. I am definitely going to take it easy, at least during most of the morning. Reflection is sometimes good and other times not good. This morning I’ve been thinking about that fucking dream and what it has done to the way I see society. When I say ‘damaging’, I mean it. There can be no forgetting or going back, so moving forward means it’s inside me all the time and sometimes it will affect my mental and emotional stability. I also need to try freeing my mind of those lavish trips all over the place. Flying around the country and living on high can only last so long before something implodes. I am sitting here right now as a product of said implosion. Everything looks bad these days. 0757 and the morning business is out of the way. Those memories have complicated the gradient I deal with all the time. The thrall has pulled me from different directions over the years, like the way Andrea’s face resembled a very excited expression on another face from just a few months earlier, most definitely the way the woman looked when she first curled up into the Slipper and tapped her knuckles on the glass roof. One hand to her mouth, which was one of the most unique and defining factors in how I felt about her face. Andrea performed that same gesture after blurting that we would ‘love’ to have dinner with the swinging squareheads. She knew I did not approve yet tossed me into the fire anyway just to make me squirm, bless her gorgeous face. She could have thrown me from the fucking train and I would have still gushed. Anyway, the point is that sitting here every day is forcing those periods from the past to become illuminated like never before, not even when I was trying to write about each. Jesus fuck, was Walker ever gorgeous. I’ve never found anyone else closer to Andrea’s face. Ugh. All gone, and right in the thick of the glow, too. Damn. This morning is quite nice so far. Quiet and peaceful. The sun is shining and I can see that the fog is just peeking over the top of the hills to the south. The pressure will probably keep that blanket from covering this area until sundown. I’m sure by then the house will be very warm. I’ll have to remain conscious of the interior temperature as the hours pass. The last of the thrall – aside from those hundreds of forms and ‘whatevers’ out there in the world – was not so long ago. A close thrall, to be sure. A pull like so many others. Now I am bereft of everything important, and some things dire. This is not good because I can’t shove those thoughts away no matter the effort. I keep seeing Andrea walking along the bridges on South Las Vegas Boulevard, Juliette’s hair flowing all over the place in the wind, and so many other details of the past... Ashley jumping on my back as I awaited her arrival in front of the Tropicana, Ellie taking the initiative and kissing me unexpectedly just up the boulevard in that beautiful Mirage bar, and too many others. The last of the thrall was close, yet so fucking far detached that I probably can’t even describe the feelings. It was close in just one way, yet I’d be lying if I said there was not a mass of thrall from time to time due to something I did not expect years ago. Now the only thrall is generated by things unreal. I cannot get some of those images out of my head most of the time. I believe the visit to the bar yesterday and some conversation about the past when we used to arrive early, clean and set up all the furniture. That was when I had been feeling the Vegas trips very deeply and began to jot down some notes to assist in writing stories. The last of the long tales sent the calendar straight into eighteen, and head-first toward one of the most difficult summers in memory, even worse than the previous year when I wrote that scathing essay about being at the mercy of destiny (or whatever you wish to call it). Anyway, I am fast approaching the same type of angry desperation as I did when everything seemed to come to a head in eighteen. Every day is a reminder of my position in life and the path which brought me here. I spent many years allowing the thrall to control and dictate my direction of travel on so many occasions that I can barely recall a handful right now. As I said already, there will probably be no more of it. The last one really caught me upside the head and I simply can’t have that again. I’d love for the ability to confront and destroy, although I’m sure others are out there somewhere saying the same things about me. Being reminded of the many months I spent trying to adequately describe the time with the angel and doll and others is just not helpful right now. My mental condition was unstable at that time, and heading in the exact same direction right fucking now. I have to once again make myself scarce when it comes to the bar. I don’t need any more reminders. Maybe I deserve to be in pain all the time. I don’t know. 0915. I had a little visit from the boss. We discussed possible part-time work in the next few weeks. Part-time is good because I’m not capable of much anymore, although doing some work and being somewhat uncomfortable for a little while will help me feel better physically and push my time at home back up to where it had been at the beginning of this. He knows I’m not as strong as I was a few years ago while working daily. Last cup of coffee, second show again with one of the universal goddesses beyond denial (and belief) as a central character. She is as close to a machine as possible, within the story, that is. She is utterly unbelievable. That type of woman could likely make the issues fade away for good. Eh... Like everything else I so badly need, she is an impossibility. Another notch, nothing more. I certainly hope this is not the status quo for all time. If so, the level of anger inside me is going to continue to climb. I’ve dealt with the thrall for a very long time (going back nineteen years very soon), and the more recent issues with it years ago have painted an image of me I had never imagined." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Thrall Mature content No. 324 Published July 12th, 2022 9:44am pdt read ( words) Past entries "1029 and I am still spinning my wheels without direction. I put a load of laundry into the washer and did a bit of straightening to prepare for cleaning the kitchen and working in the office again. The icy whiskey is right next to me along with my beloved second show following along. God damn is the morning cocktail delicious. I’m considering taking a trip to the closest big-box electronics store to browse and learn what types of desktop machines may work for my purposes. Pretty much everything out there will be much more powerful than this, let alone my previous machine which was originally purchased during the cave period of eleven. That was a ‘home theater’ computer, whereas the next one will be more generic. I don’t need much because most of the time I use only a handful of applications, the heaviest of which is the IDE. Even my photo software is old. I’d like to go out and see what is available these days. Unfortunately, the likelihood of lamenting the three electronics stores that are deep in my heart is pretty high. I can’t seem to seek anything along these lines without memories cropping up. Those empires were the pinnacle of computer supply prowess, from selection to information. Another idea is to wait until I drive south and visit a specialty shop. There are several, yet nothing nearby. The drive and time commitment could be worthwhile, though. The shops that build and sell are often better choices than a straight retailer. Right now I don’t know which I might prefer, although the more local store may be good for research. I am not the type to order a machine on the Internet. 0655, Saturday. I finally have a decent cup of coffee next to me after visiting the little market last night. I picked up a few staples, creamer being the point of the trip. This morning I really needed some good coffee, too. The house ran into a little snag yesterday that I really did not wish to deal with. I went in the bath to take a shower and noticed a little bit of discoloration in the tub. Sure enough, my shower time saw the tub filling slightly rather than draining quickly. That meant the line which picks up both the tub and kitchen was stopped again. That was the second time in four years – which is not bad, honestly – meaning I had to drag out the drain machine and clear the line. As a result of everything, my kitchen sat idle all day. I’ll have to catch up on it later this morning. The drain machine is rather heavy and kind of a pain to operate sometimes, too. The stoppage was on my mind for a while before I finally tackled it during the afternoon. I kept putting it off, and such a fact has me thinking that I may actually be lazy rather than disillusioned. I know that is a bad word. I pushed toward the work and a trip to the market because I knew afterward I would feel good about myself. Once everything was complete, I began to make dinner and felt just that. Accomplished and more relaxed. I guess sometimes the only path for me to really think is sprouted by a trial. I did it, though. This morning I am still thinking about work and the way the last two years have affected me. This late date has me realizing that many things are different than when I was stagnant and in the workforce... Some good, some bad. One constant is having this free time every day. I still appreciate it most of the time. Eh, this may be a bad mood day. I’m not certain yet, but the feeling is beginning to form inside and there is probably nothing I can do about it. Some mornings I find the strength to squash the anger while during others I can’t seem to rise above feeling as if I am against everything and need to lash out in some direction. Today I am rather solemn, although right behind it is something akin to a fuse. One of the most frustrating circumstances at work inside my head is the fact that there is no one listening. The more I think about having been pushed into the current period by unfeeling actions and trauma, the more I need to demonstrate the effects upon me and how they have summed over time. I remember everything. This morning I have imagery inside that will not leave, meaning I have to be careful with both what I say here and how I allow the remaining hours to play out. I need to maintain control over my senses and not allow the past to derail my time like the last few weeks. Too much more of that shit and I’m going to flip out. One of the defining factors of my life is chewing on my brain almost daily. Not a day has passed in the last eleven years, eight months and two days without me being completely enthralled and frightened at the same time. And I know the reason. More recently, the imagery inside has resembled certain people from reality, none of which I want to be familiar with for the rest of my life, but they will not leave. Some I have known, and others I have not, yet all had some connection and/or influence upon me. There have been days filled with fear, wonder, desire and yearning, all of which accomplish nothing more than to make me angry. Right now I am on the edge of that anger manifesting itself in something tangible, so I have to keep it reined as much as possible, lest I do something I’ll regret. Well, there is little chance of that, anyway, because along with disdain and hatred I have become very intelligent over the years. I can keep a lid on the shit while accomplishing what I need to survive, imagery be damned. All that stuff does is piss me off, and to attach it to real-life situations through which I’ve lived, the outcome is my being less and less connected to the outside world. I wish it was 'demonthrall'. No such luck. I almost went back into the lion bullshit. That pull was damned powerful and I allowed myself to close my eyes and walk along a path set forth by another person and guided by trust. The trust went to hell very quickly, yet I remained right there all the fucking time and enthralled by beauty. Every fucking time I think about that period (or some others), I nearly have to throw something and destroy it. I am not proud of myself for being such a fucking idiot. Thrall is one thing. Stupidity and blind ignorance are different matters entirely. The shit with the lions will probably return at some point anyway, so gleaning here doesn’t matter in the least. There may be no avoiding something which has caused so much damage in my life. What? Trust? No more of that in this life. If a lack of trust in others causes me to be closed off so much that I miss out on some joy, well, I don’t care. I’m already miserable. Might as well demonstrate my dissatisfaction with the fact that a few individuals have ruined something wonderful and any possibility for people in the future to benefit from my caring and sensitivity. Nice, huh? Fuck you, too. Yeah, the mood is diminishing at an alarming rate due to more factors than I care to list right now. I suppose the lions and imagery are quite enough. Once I’ve seen something and realize that it exists, the idea remains in my brain for all time and will not fucking go away. Believe me when I say I’ve seen the examples and cannot forget. The smiling faces and closet doors lend to the idea that an entire way of life may have come to an end, and such a thought contributes to my pissy fucking mood all the time. I just don’t understand why everything had to develop as it has. The last decade should be torched to ash. And no matter how angry I may become at times, nothing changes. One may believe that the productive and healthy choice is to simply let everything go and focus upon whatever is positive. That is a tall order for someone like myself. The rub is the idea that I cannot do anything about what is behind me. Now, if I can’t do anything about it, why dwell? The rub continues, though... Anything which seems impossible should be shoved aside, yet the fact that it IS impossible causes me to be upset. I have not made the ‘healthier’ choices in life for a very long time and the reason is people. I realize how convoluted this may sound. Everything important to me seems to be difficult or impossible. I’m not talking about the morning coffee or a nice lunch, either. I am referring to reasons for living. I’ve seen them. They will not go away. Imagery and memory are twin swords cutting me to ribbons. The more the current period feels dissatisfying, the more the recent and long past appear wondrous and beautiful. I’ve been there, and not just due to the smiling faces or closet doors. I made my own happiness. Now I barely know how. I am very clingy and need another person to fill the holes. That is bad and unhealthy and I don’t give half a blue fuck in the wind. This is the way I am due to the actions of others. Time and circumstance, remember? Let me say one thing which may seem out of character considering the nature of the site. I’ve been in therapy enough and am intelligent and knowledgeable enough to know that mental and/or emotional issues can cause physical problems. Some of what I discuss here has done just that almost daily. There you go. Today I have to get the kitchen back in order and probably continue my efforts in the office. The garage remains in good shape these days because I haven’t done much out there. Recently I mentioned a couple of boosts in the past. Those cannot return or repeat, but I’m thinking that once the office is finished and I am set up once again at the big desk, the feeling of that space may be its own boost. I fucking need something. Good Christ, Jamie’s face is a wonderland of everything I have EVER found attractive. It just never ends. Anyway, the office is one step with which I can move forward that has a positive end result. Combined with ridding myself of some crap I’ve held onto for years means the positive can be two-fold. Hopefully today will bear fruit. Moreover, if the sky remains overcast and the air cool, I’ll head to the back and remove more of the big shrub. There is always plenty to do. I just wish I had enough drive to work more than I have in recent months. My 'caring' for much of life is diminishing. There are now more than three hundred entries linked in the archive, and every one of them is in the same folder. That means I have difficulty going back and checking my work or re-editing and formatting when the framework changes. I would like to alphabetize the entries to split up the mass, but that means altering every fucking link in the archive. Lots of legwork. I do have the time, though, and last year I succeeded in separating the dated archives from the rest of the content, so reorganizing should not be a problem. Since there is no way to automate the process, I’ll just move a little at a time. Maybe I can start with continuing stories about the goblet and the fiction. That may be the best path. I am enthralled by three aspects of life and none of the three exists anymore. The passion could be a fourth, yet it is an inanimate object and something over which I will obsess without actually ever feeling as if I can attain it. The wristwatch doesn’t count here. The other three are going to cause my head to blow wide open, however. A portion of every single day has me longing and lamenting the first sentence of this paragraph. Unfortunately, the thrall is not just emotion or anything in my head, it is also related to something over which I have zero control... The past. Every fucking day the subject comes to mind due to any number of catalysts, from the simplicity of watching my programs to going out shopping and seeing a crippling form. When I say ‘thrall’, I mean I am absolutely tormented by the tiniest reference to the obsession, and then I fall down due to lacking any connection to the same. This is a fact of life which will never change. I’ve already been through years of questions and answers that add up to such a fact. I have also been told that the only solution is to remove the problem. As of yet, I haven’t considered that process as an option. I am intimately connected by both love and hate. Without certain parts of myself, there can be no chance of the validation I so badly need and have lived without for far too long. Oh, there were times when it was very close, however I do not believe I have ever explained to another person the sheer depth of my feelings and what they have done to me throughout the course of decades. I tried, though. I really did. Unfortunately, there is a part of my brain which disallows any truly detailed exposition in person. I just can’t do it. The last time I actually laid out everything was nearly nineteen years ago. Since then, only tidbits have come forth from my gaping maw. The whole thing is very sad. 1022 and I have my cocktail. The house is still quiet and half the routine is finished. I’ll be overjoyed to clean the kitchen without worrying about the drain, too. My gangster friends have been keeping me company all morning. I love them more than most real people. They do not judge, ever. As for the real people, I have to trust that they don’t judge, and trust is an aspect of my life that is shrinking as I type these words. I tried and failed. The connections cannot be a part of me anymore. Anyway, I have the rest of the day to work on whatever seems best, probably more chopping of the shrub and organization inside the house. I may or may not spend time in the garage with some music. Right now I am too angry for clear decisions. Curious, the four issues are constantly underlining what I place here, yet I have not referenced them directly or in detail for some time. Maybe I passed on the importance and just gave up trying. The heritage went by the wayside, too, and I now see that shit from last year as a big positive, believe it or not. I stopped trying to define myself through knowledge of my family’s history. Good or bad as my lineage may be, I am still me. No matter what happened in the past with regard to names, nationalities or the traditions to which I was exposed while young, I am my own person and will not bow to anything from knowledge of my origin. In short, that shit no longer matters to me because my life is in complete disarray for other reasons. Wow, that was a mouthful. As for the issues, they will always be fearful, but I don’t need to go on and on every day about each of them. Again... I am me, and I turned out this way regardless. Belaboring the point is tiresome anymore. I just remembered that I have the wireless MDRs charged. Perhaps I will travel back in time to eleven and embrace the disastrous genres of music while reshaping the shrub. Heh. I have been allowing the thrall to control me. Such a fact is not good, yet it is also governed by two past events that I cannot change. Life-changing events, to be sure. Grappling with things I cannot change is a part of the Serenity Prayer, right? Well, I am not going to meetings, meaning I cannot follow the rules set forth by other people. The mere fact that those events are in the past and unchangeable is a good portion of the problem. I can’t deal with an inability to fix them. I’ve spent many years troubleshooting electronics and there was always a solution, even if I had to throw money at the problem. That type of work has conditioned me to not accept anything that cannot be solved, hence all this fucking anger much of the time. Holy fucking shit, this is one of the scenes in which Jamie looks cuter than should be allowed on this fucking planet. God damn do I ever love her deeply. Fuck you, and call me what you will. I am so far out of balance that I no longer give a cold shit if someone close to me has a problem with how I feel about a fictional character. The only thing with the power to cease my gushing about Jamie is death. Would you like to come here and make it happen? Go ahead. I will not resist. Anyway, acceptance would probably improve my life ten-fold right now. For me, that word has been buried under too much soil to recover. I accept nothing. Fuck the Serenity Prayer. And fuck anyone who has an opinion. 1048. Cocktail equals yummy comfort. Bad fortune is not so comfortable. I am centered within bad fortune right fucking now. I was confused (I cannot say more about it), and this subject is something that has been avoided for the life of the modern site (it began in twelve with the active server pages). Oh, I remember, too. I was up there on the balcony and looking down toward the alleyway behind the bar to see a few faces looking toward my position. That was the beginning. Not lions, though. Just circumstances. The lion was elsewhere. I don’t have a clue as to how things changed so quickly. Bad fortune plus bad decisions equals hell. And here I am, in a manner of speaking, pretty fucking far into the flames. There are few good aspects to this. There are also related terms... Blind, deaf, desperate, weak, you know. I placed myself in this position more than once. 0657 on Sunday morning. I’m glad this day has arrived. Yesterday there was a problem in the wine store and then one in the pet store, followed by a third at a restaurant. I had not been out to lunch for at least six months and figured the place would be quiet. I was right, but there were the pants from hell on the way out. The wine store? Asian pants, absolutely picturesque. The pet supply held its share of other issues. I was overjoyed to arrive back at home after that shit. One more little shit aspect of going out yesterday was my intention to browse computers. Well, the shit aspect is the store is in the process of a remodel and there is no in-store shopping. Splendid. At that, I drove back to town with a pause at the drugstore for a few items. Lunch was pretty elaborate, so dinner was very light. I can still see the little thing standing there behind the podium in the restaurant. I very nearly turned on my heel as we were leaving to backtrack and see more of her. Some of the staff there have caused me to dream at one time or another. Plus, there is history in that place. Some of it is in a very pointed entry from a few years ago. I believe the weather lately has forced the big airport to alter the takeoff pattern. Each morning I hear at least a dozen very low rumbles over the course of a couple of hours. The last several years had the noise mostly in the evenings. Interesting. Some people don’t like the sound of aircraft but I love it. The paragraph again. Those thoughts are directly related to what I saw yesterday. Well, they are related to the reason I was trying to see. I was enthralled at the time, but then rather solemn afterward because there is no way out of this. The paragraph employs a word in quotes that seems to be a point of contention in society. Sometimes good, other times bad. I placed the quotes around it because after all this time and so much exploration, I don’t even know what it means anymore. This has become something I cannot avoid during any day. Not even one fucking day can go by without my being reminded of the paragraph and a few questions within it. All the way back to the fucking nineties, too. Back then there was pressure on me of a type I could not easily handle. Years later, the pressure changed somewhat and then eased, yet that same word came up here and there and had me thinking deeply. The worst period has been the last several years, though, and two in particular. I never explained fully, either. I can’t. One of these days I’m going to snap. Whatever changed earlier this year is still apparent, and I believe I know most of the reason for the difference. Unfortunately, I cannot elaborate much further without spilling far too much. One wrong keyword and I am sunk. Anyway, this is not a good situation by any means. I don’t know how I made it this far into the present year, either. For whatever reason, I move forward a little each day. Everything is gone now. There are no promises or bright spots on the horizon. I am going to need to figure out a way to get through each day without becoming overly angry or hostile. This will take some time. The change is basically a stark representation of my position in life, and the gradient between where I am right now and where I have been. Believe me when I say I have been in some very comfortable places over the years. They likely add up to roughly two months of the last twenty years. Marvelous. I don’t see anything developing in the future due to my closed-off state. I don’t even know what to do anymore. Completely fucked. ‘There was a choice, but now it’s gone.’ Thanks Anthony. Yesterday I cranked the garage music for a little while and trimmed more of the shrub before we took off for the stores. The green can is once again full. This is good. I don’t want a week to go by without taking more of that tree out. As for the garage, there is not much to do out there because I’ve been leaving the area alone all week. It’s still nice and neat as I only go out there for laundry. Today is Sunday, so the garbage will have to go out in a little while. Afterward, maybe I’ll continue in the office. Things are shaping up nicely in there. There is fourth-season Jamie again, damn it. If only. Sometimes the accent on that French girl gets to me in a bad way. I would still fuck her in half, though. What a work of art. I can already feel the draw of beer and music because my head is in a place from which there is often no escape without a vulgar display of anger or power. I have no power, so anger is everything during these types of days. Frustration is one of those facts of life anymore. I can’t do anything about anything. No power. No options. No nothing. Fucking hell, anyway. The last time I actually flexed the anger and turned it into passion was many years ago. I exerted some fucking force for a change. That memory will never go away. I’ll need the embrace of the damned in a little while to ease the memory and put a face to my feelings. Or, a billboard announcing my dissatisfaction in general. Everything was there for a time and now it is all gone. It was there. Everything, meaning short of one specific action, nothing seemed off limits. I put a tool in each hand and went to town, sometimes with aggression, other times with tenderness. But it happened. I could count on something, at least. All gone. I could destroy everything and everyone. Believe me, if I could snap my fingers and watch them all burn, I would do it at the end of this fucking sentence. In the beginning I wanted to be alone due to the pandemic. And then I began to fear going out to shop or the idea of being near others. That faded after a while. Now? I do not want to be near anyone because of hatred. I will still be nice on the surface if the need arises – like those occasions having dinner at her parents’ or such things – but underneath there is nothing of the sort. Too much has been taken away from me or otherwise destroyed. As the months roll by, the past feels worse. Was my bourbon served in a juice glass? I realize the thrall is partly to blame for my current position. Stating otherwise would be a lie, and I am not in the custom of lying about anything, especially here. Yesterday is a good example of just how weak I have become through little fault of my own. The girl in the restaurant was a fleeting glimpse, and my instinct – powered by desperation – was to move myself in such a way so as to see more of her lines. That is not good. There is nothing wrong with gazing at an attractive person, either. The problem lies within what plays out in my brain during such a sighting. Nothing good, believe me. All those years of obsessing pile atop each other and drive me to seeing visions from the past as well as those horrible periods when I literally threw myself at more than one woman out of sheer desperation. I was immediately enthralled during those few seconds yesterday and fearful of two possibilities. One is that I may never be close to those lines again, and the other is what the weakness and desperation may drive in the future. The thoughts are fucking frightening. Whereas just two years ago I had been unsure of whether or not the vision of a beautiful woman carried with it a level of underlying physical desire, now I am certain. Not always, but it does happen from time to time. That desire sends me back in time to Ashley’s loving words floating beautifully into my ears. The girl at the pool, for example. I cannot deny the feelings. The thrall is very damaging and continues to plague me whenever I go out or see something on television. There is only one way to keep myself out of danger, and that is to shut off the television for good and never leave the house. I don’t see those as realistic possibilities, however. Neither is feasible or appealing in any way. I am sitting here as a product of many aspects of life, not the least of which is being too often enthralled by those elusive and beautiful lines. Every fucking morning, there is something driving my fingers and brain. Maybe I’ll be driven to destruction. 0920 and I need to hit the routine pretty quick. Yesterday’s work will ease what I need to do today, especially in the kitchen. There may be a few things in the refrigerator that need to go, so the lack of dishes will help me clean up fairly well. Afterward I will take care of most of the garbage. The writing I’ve done today is hurting me and I have to get away from it for a while. 1117 and the routine is finished. I have the house to myself for the next few hours, and at some point I am going to load the garbage with whatever I can. There is a wooden pot in the back which needs to be disassembled and then tossed, meaning I’ll break out the grinder to cut the steel straps so it can be compacted. I also have a few pieces of plywood that were parts of the speaker enclosure and slathered with silicone. They need to be trimmed and the wasted parts thrown away. The process will leave me with a tone of scraps, though. I can deal with them as they will take up less of my precious garage space. Let me say that all morning my head has been full of imagery and memories, thus contributing to my downtrodden state. I can work around the house and try to keep a mass of anger at bay, however. I’ve done it before. The truth is those subjects tattooed on my brain follow along no matter what I may be doing. Today is no different. In fact, earlier this morning I was reminded of my age and the inherent physical effects of the same. Nothing is improving except my plans for the house, and they typically take a far-back seat to the process of thrall and everything related. Those rare and beautiful circumstances have left me, possibly forever. The current period is causing very dangerous and desperate thinking. I’ve often said I am on a road with ‘no turns’, yet right now that seems a gross understatement. I have been routed in the worst possible way. My feelings are cumulative, and years of such a state are now forcing me to think in terms I never thought possible, from the damaging dream to the lines, and all the way out to ideas better left unsaid. Everything is gone. I stated as much back in seventeen with that fucking horrible essay. Little did I know, that was only the infantile beginning to something far more dangerous. 1440. The routine is finished, as is the garbage work. I also worked on the refrigerator a bit. In the garage, I took care of anything that can be tossed, including the wooden pot I mentioned earlier. I grabbed the grinder and cut the steel so everything fits in the gray can. We aren’t allowed to put certain types of wood in the compost bin. The music kept me company out there for a little while and inspired more design for my empire. I partially fabricated a mount for another colored strip above my bench where I have some items on display. This afternoon is going to be dedicated to some relaxation just like when I was working. The major plus to the current period is that I do not have the work hanging over my head like years ago. Monday morning is whatever I wish it to be – everything under my control, most importantly the time. I have spoken before about the way Sunday used to feel. I always had a cutoff time so there was time to relax in the afternoon and evening. I no longer need to worry about the clock. I’m very pleased with having the bulk of the Sunday business out of the way nice and early, though. Work can sometimes alleviate the feeling of being enthralled all the damned time. Today has helped a bit. Just a bit, though. ‘Ensign gorgeous’ was on the screen. There are so many, all due to my weakness and desperation. This is going to kill me, sure as hell. I am so sick of it. I wish I hadn’t seen that girl in the wine store. More visions of lines and imagination are only going to solidify my feelings. And considering how many times I’ve dreamed of some fucking Asian girl next to me who behaves as a machine, seeing such a dark form in reality only exacerbates my already crippling issues. This entire time period just fucking sucks out loud. The wonder of the glow is beginning to take a back seat to the memories of having been exactly where I needed to be during key periods of my life. I can already see the blinds closing on windows to the future. Jesus holy fuck in a Goddamned lace bra, Dey is so beautiful in this episode that I can’t even begin to understand why. She looks like the world’s cutest rabbit. Anyway, the girl at the wine store was a larger problem than typical due to having one of those forms nearly impossible to describe. I would have to create a database of numbers in order to illustrate exactly why her midsection and thighs were so fucking noteworthy. Yes, there was the long, black hair and features to match, but the root cause of the entire shitaree was the way those black yoga pants reveal every single radius and curve. Nothing is hidden by such form-fitting material. Add to that the disparity between her very narrow waist and hips and a distinct lack of body fat, and the entire picture is one matched but a few times in my travels. The server at the restaurant with an entry dedicated to her appearance and my feelings toward seeing such a woman is the closest match right now. I cannot get that type of body out of my fucking weakened brain most of the time. Well, the goddess was a match, but I cannot speak of her very much before falling down and wishing to put a gun to my head. The point is that what I saw is very rare in society. Believe me when I say that I did my damnedest to take in as much as is humanly possible regarding the only two close examples of such incredible beauty in recent years, and the only two with whom I was close. Both are gone now, and I am still trying to come to terms with destroying one of those relationships. Ugh... That is too much. I am an idiot but never intended to be. Thank fucking Christ I have a glass full of ‘crutch’. Onward. Henceforth the goddess will be capitalized. 0625 on Monday morning. My brain is full of something that took place a few years ago (twice, really, but the first was key), and I have yet to find the strength to push the dreaming away. I have morning business in half an hour, so hopefully I can make it through without completely falling down. Today marks the return of my flag-flying routine, meaning I went back to my morning ritual from before vacation last week. I switched one of the flags for the holiday weekend and then did not go back due to morning precipitation. Very exciting, eh? Flags. Wow. ‘Lotta action. Lotta action.’ My life is pretty fucking ridiculous, I must admit. All this time and not much accomplished in months. I suppose some of it is not pressing, though, so I can work at my own pace. And there are Allie’s big eyes on the television again. I have not watched the news for some days. I don’t know what this day has in store for me, but I’ll care for the usual this morning and go from there. Maybe I’ll finish the light bar I began yesterday. Right now I don’t know because my head is filled with imagery I’d rather forget in order to save myself. I have to go back a couple of years (maybe three or more) to recall what was going on when the circumstance became something important to me right out of the clear, blue sky. Prior to that day (or days), I did not consider the idea feasible, nor did I really dwell on anything along the same lines. I have not thought about the period in question for months, and I don’t know why this morning. The imagery just popped into my head and may have been driven by or related to a dream. I recall no dreams right now, though, so perhaps it was one of those that simply disappears upon waking. But? The damage is done. The pictures are in there. Time for the morning business. 0732 and the day is all mine. I still have the news on for whatever reason. Not the eyes. Preparing everything this morning helped to extract the imagery for a little while, but now it is back. I don’t know yet what this may mean to my day. There is a possibility I’ll drive over the hill in search of computer information, though. If so, the trip may help take my mind off this shit. I keep seeing pictures flipping like a Rolodex and feel helpless to stop the motion. I switched to the second show for a little while. My brain blew up, as well. Nothing helps, ever. 0808 and my last cup of coffee. The show carries forward regardless of my condition. That is a part of the reason it is up there every day. I do not expect anything good to happen. The distraction of recorded media is very important if I am to carry on like this. Having secured the streaming device and a few channels last year, I will not run out of programming, ever. I knew that situation was going to implode at some point. It was simply a matter of time. The highs were so fucking high at times that something inside me – possibly nothing more than a defense mechanism born of my time with Andrea – knew almost from the beginning that there were only two outcomes, one being my death. Sometimes I sit here and reflect upon the last ten or more years and I can’t believe what has transpired. I would estimate a total of three months of the highs interspersed throughout the lows. That is not bullshit, either. The level of distraction required to pull my attention away from the thrall, especially when I was working, is so fucking powerful that I rarely felt any freedom from turmoil. Right now, for example, I’ve already sent this morning right down the fucking drain, yet those images and memories continue to roll by like Satan’s passenger train all lit up for the holidays. The implosion has merely sharpened my senses and sensitivity to things like those which crossed my vision yesterday. I pay more attention now than ever before, partly due to having those fucking pants very close, too often. I suppose the self-defense mechanism kicked me in the head because I already knew everything would go to hell at some point no matter what my wishes may have been. I knew that fact early on, too. I could see it. Eh... I don’t know why I care enough to type. Maybe I have to fall back on the old axiom that the sound of the keys is the only draw here. Or maybe I am still searching. 1058 and the routine is finished. Icy whiskey next to me. The drink kept me company while I was cleaning, along with my surrogate (really?) family on two television screens. I love them more than almost every real person in my life. The morning was a complete fucking failure prior to my work, so perhaps I can rise from here. Perhaps. From this point forward, I haven't a clue as to what can fill my time. I do need to go to the cigarette store in a little while, and then a visit to the market for a few items, but other than those two destinations, I am wide open. The morning is weighing heavily on my mind right now. The thrall took me in hand and drove my consciousness into the cold ground. Rising from the realization that I have little control over myself is going to take time. Lots of time. Forty fucking years later, I still see this situation as a combination of weakness and shame. I’m sure society had a hand in grooming my beliefs, though. Everything sensitive and beautiful is trivialized and eventually subsequently ruined by society. Everything. Make no mistake, you may be assisting the process of slicing the world’s beauty to ribbons right now. I am not fucking kidding, either. I’ve seen those closest to me and people I’ve absolutely cherished sit and speak their minds. The result is the gleaning that there is not one fucking living soul out there who is above their own pathetic gain through the demeaning of others. I have seen it and lived it. Much of the reason that I am so closed off is that there may not be another person out there who is worthy of my concerns. I’ve tried, though. I really have. Opening the door a bit allows me to reflect and study the reaction and try to determine whether or not the information is going to be brushed aside and/or disregarded. As of this moment, I recall TWO individuals with whom I would actually speak again without much worry. The subject within the topic sentence of this paragraph has two facets; one is the idea that it must remain inside, and the other is the knowledge that if it has spread to another person, they will eventually fail and become nothing more than a fucking target. Read that again. The situation is such that I become easily preoccupied quite often and cannot carry out the day’s activities without falling down over and over. I think about society and events of the past far too much these days, but I can’t fucking help it. I am still in the middle of that very same society, as shitty as it may be. Weakness and shame have combined to become a way of life. This paragraph has been brought forth as a symptom of thrall. 1359. I went over the hill to shop at a few places and then changed my mind. There was also a thought for some nice lunch spot, but alas my better sense kicked in and I returned to town and headed for the market. I ran into my old boss in the parking lot and we caught up a bit. In about twenty minutes I am going to head over to the bar, believe it or not, so we can talk more. I didn’t realize the weight of my absence for so many months until I saw him. Anyway, there was nothing of note while out other than the typical references to the damaging dream. The weather is clear and warm here on the south end of town, so lots of people are out. I shoved aside the concern over that dream due to feeling such loss. The stores I’ve mentioned several times, remember? Just one of them could have been an excellent and very useful destination. Unfortunately, that entire electronic way of life may be coming to an end as similar stores disappear. I am feeling the loss more acutely now than months ago because of my plans to set up another desktop computer. Damn. 0651 on Tuesday. The visit yesterday turned into hours. Some of the time was nice, other aspects not so great. The entire trip now appears as nothing more than a waste of money. Maybe that sounds harsh. I don’t know. What I do know is that this morning already feels very rewarding. The morning business will commence in about twenty minutes. Afterward, I plan to take it easy for hours. I probably won’t leave the house at all today. And she is on the screen again. The one who could be Andrea. Seconds of a side-view of her face is enough to send me into a tailspin. The only face to rival Jamie. I still can’t explain the entire lower-face thingy, either. I see it from time to time but after many years there is no way to describe one of the most stirring features I’ve ever seen. I did not feel this way prior to meeting Andrea. Something changed during that trip. I was talking about my plans today and ended up derailed yet again by something unreal and unattainable. Thankfully, the bouncing breasts were not bartending yesterday. All I ended up seeing over there were a few very difficult examples of the damaging dream. Nothing else in several hours. The examples took their toll. Jesus, there she was again. Seeing her face reminds me of first arriving in Florida after Andrea and I visited the goblet for a few days and the idea popped into my head to show her some sights. Eight nights later, we headed back to the goblet. That was one of the craziest periods of my life. Sometimes the entire trip – as well as one other – seems completely unreal. But I did it. Three times, honestly. There were more insane decisions over the years, but the main two take the cake. I am definitely going to take it easy, at least during most of the morning. Reflection is sometimes good and other times not good. This morning I’ve been thinking about that fucking dream and what it has done to the way I see society. When I say ‘damaging’, I mean it. There can be no forgetting or going back, so moving forward means it’s inside me all the time and sometimes it will affect my mental and emotional stability. I also need to try freeing my mind of those lavish trips all over the place. Flying around the country and living on high can only last so long before something implodes. I am sitting here right now as a product of said implosion. Everything looks bad these days. 0757 and the morning business is out of the way. Those memories have complicated the gradient I deal with all the time. The thrall has pulled me from different directions over the years, like the way Andrea’s face resembled a very excited expression on another face from just a few months earlier, most definitely the way the woman looked when she first curled up into the Slipper and tapped her knuckles on the glass roof. One hand to her mouth, which was one of the most unique and defining factors in how I felt about her face. Andrea performed that same gesture after blurting that we would ‘love’ to have dinner with the swinging squareheads. She knew I did not approve yet tossed me into the fire anyway just to make me squirm, bless her gorgeous face. She could have thrown me from the fucking train and I would have still gushed. Anyway, the point is that sitting here every day is forcing those periods from the past to become illuminated like never before, not even when I was trying to write about each. Jesus fuck, was Walker ever gorgeous. I’ve never found anyone else closer to Andrea’s face. Ugh. All gone, and right in the thick of the glow, too. Damn. This morning is quite nice so far. Quiet and peaceful. The sun is shining and I can see that the fog is just peeking over the top of the hills to the south. The pressure will probably keep that blanket from covering this area until sundown. I’m sure by then the house will be very warm. I’ll have to remain conscious of the interior temperature as the hours pass. The last of the thrall – aside from those hundreds of forms and ‘whatevers’ out there in the world – was not so long ago. A close thrall, to be sure. A pull like so many others. Now I am bereft of everything important, and some things dire. This is not good because I can’t shove those thoughts away no matter the effort. I keep seeing Andrea walking along the bridges on South Las Vegas Boulevard, Juliette’s hair flowing all over the place in the wind, and so many other details of the past... Ashley jumping on my back as I awaited her arrival in front of the Tropicana, Ellie taking the initiative and kissing me unexpectedly just up the boulevard in that beautiful Mirage bar, and too many others. The last of the thrall was close, yet so fucking far detached that I probably can’t even describe the feelings. It was close in just one way, yet I’d be lying if I said there was not a mass of thrall from time to time due to something I did not expect years ago. Now the only thrall is generated by things unreal. I cannot get some of those images out of my head most of the time. I believe the visit to the bar yesterday and some conversation about the past when we used to arrive early, clean and set up all the furniture. That was when I had been feeling the Vegas trips very deeply and began to jot down some notes to assist in writing stories. The last of the long tales sent the calendar straight into eighteen, and head-first toward one of the most difficult summers in memory, even worse than the previous year when I wrote that scathing essay about being at the mercy of destiny (or whatever you wish to call it). Anyway, I am fast approaching the same type of angry desperation as I did when everything seemed to come to a head in eighteen. Every day is a reminder of my position in life and the path which brought me here. I spent many years allowing the thrall to control and dictate my direction of travel on so many occasions that I can barely recall a handful right now. As I said already, there will probably be no more of it. The last one really caught me upside the head and I simply can’t have that again. I’d love for the ability to confront and destroy, although I’m sure others are out there somewhere saying the same things about me. Being reminded of the many months I spent trying to adequately describe the time with the angel and doll and others is just not helpful right now. My mental condition was unstable at that time, and heading in the exact same direction right fucking now. I have to once again make myself scarce when it comes to the bar. I don’t need any more reminders. Maybe I deserve to be in pain all the time. I don’t know. 0915. I had a little visit from the boss. We discussed possible part-time work in the next few weeks. Part-time is good because I’m not capable of much anymore, although doing some work and being somewhat uncomfortable for a little while will help me feel better physically and push my time at home back up to where it had been at the beginning of this. He knows I’m not as strong as I was a few years ago while working daily. Last cup of coffee, second show again with one of the universal goddesses beyond denial (and belief) as a central character. She is as close to a machine as possible, within the story, that is. She is utterly unbelievable. That type of woman could likely make the issues fade away for good. Eh... Like everything else I so badly need, she is an impossibility. Another notch, nothing more. I certainly hope this is not the status quo for all time. If so, the level of anger inside me is going to continue to climb. I’ve dealt with the thrall for a very long time (going back nineteen years very soon), and the more recent issues with it years ago have painted an image of me I had never imagined."
Thrall
Mature content No. 324 Published July 12th, 2022 9:44am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"1029 and I am still spinning my wheels without direction. I put a load of laundry into the washer and did a bit of straightening to prepare for cleaning the kitchen and working in the office again. The icy whiskey is right next to me along with my beloved second show following along. God damn is the morning cocktail delicious. I’m considering taking a trip to the closest big-box electronics store to browse and learn what types of desktop machines may work for my purposes. Pretty much everything out there will be much more powerful than this, let alone my previous machine which was originally purchased during the cave period of eleven. That was a ‘home theater’ computer, whereas the next one will be more generic. I don’t need much because most of the time I use only a handful of applications, the heaviest of which is the IDE. Even my photo software is old. I’d like to go out and see what is available these days. Unfortunately, the likelihood of lamenting the three electronics stores that are deep in my heart is pretty high. I can’t seem to seek anything along these lines without memories cropping up. Those empires were the pinnacle of computer supply prowess, from selection to information. Another idea is to wait until I drive south and visit a specialty shop. There are several, yet nothing nearby. The drive and time commitment could be worthwhile, though. The shops that build and sell are often better choices than a straight retailer. Right now I don’t know which I might prefer, although the more local store may be good for research. I am not the type to order a machine on the Internet. 0655, Saturday. I finally have a decent cup of coffee next to me after visiting the little market last night. I picked up a few staples, creamer being the point of the trip. This morning I really needed some good coffee, too. The house ran into a little snag yesterday that I really did not wish to deal with. I went in the bath to take a shower and noticed a little bit of discoloration in the tub. Sure enough, my shower time saw the tub filling slightly rather than draining quickly. That meant the line which picks up both the tub and kitchen was stopped again. That was the second time in four years – which is not bad, honestly – meaning I had to drag out the drain machine and clear the line. As a result of everything, my kitchen sat idle all day. I’ll have to catch up on it later this morning. The drain machine is rather heavy and kind of a pain to operate sometimes, too. The stoppage was on my mind for a while before I finally tackled it during the afternoon. I kept putting it off, and such a fact has me thinking that I may actually be lazy rather than disillusioned. I know that is a bad word. I pushed toward the work and a trip to the market because I knew afterward I would feel good about myself. Once everything was complete, I began to make dinner and felt just that. Accomplished and more relaxed. I guess sometimes the only path for me to really think is sprouted by a trial. I did it, though. This morning I am still thinking about work and the way the last two years have affected me. This late date has me realizing that many things are different than when I was stagnant and in the workforce... Some good, some bad. One constant is having this free time every day. I still appreciate it most of the time. Eh, this may be a bad mood day. I’m not certain yet, but the feeling is beginning to form inside and there is probably nothing I can do about it. Some mornings I find the strength to squash the anger while during others I can’t seem to rise above feeling as if I am against everything and need to lash out in some direction. Today I am rather solemn, although right behind it is something akin to a fuse. One of the most frustrating circumstances at work inside my head is the fact that there is no one listening. The more I think about having been pushed into the current period by unfeeling actions and trauma, the more I need to demonstrate the effects upon me and how they have summed over time. I remember everything. This morning I have imagery inside that will not leave, meaning I have to be careful with both what I say here and how I allow the remaining hours to play out. I need to maintain control over my senses and not allow the past to derail my time like the last few weeks. Too much more of that shit and I’m going to flip out. One of the defining factors of my life is chewing on my brain almost daily. Not a day has passed in the last eleven years, eight months and two days without me being completely enthralled and frightened at the same time. And I know the reason. More recently, the imagery inside has resembled certain people from reality, none of which I want to be familiar with for the rest of my life, but they will not leave. Some I have known, and others I have not, yet all had some connection and/or influence upon me. There have been days filled with fear, wonder, desire and yearning, all of which accomplish nothing more than to make me angry. Right now I am on the edge of that anger manifesting itself in something tangible, so I have to keep it reined as much as possible, lest I do something I’ll regret. Well, there is little chance of that, anyway, because along with disdain and hatred I have become very intelligent over the years. I can keep a lid on the shit while accomplishing what I need to survive, imagery be damned. All that stuff does is piss me off, and to attach it to real-life situations through which I’ve lived, the outcome is my being less and less connected to the outside world. I wish it was 'demonthrall'. No such luck. I almost went back into the lion bullshit. That pull was damned powerful and I allowed myself to close my eyes and walk along a path set forth by another person and guided by trust. The trust went to hell very quickly, yet I remained right there all the fucking time and enthralled by beauty. Every fucking time I think about that period (or some others), I nearly have to throw something and destroy it. I am not proud of myself for being such a fucking idiot. Thrall is one thing. Stupidity and blind ignorance are different matters entirely. The shit with the lions will probably return at some point anyway, so gleaning here doesn’t matter in the least. There may be no avoiding something which has caused so much damage in my life. What? Trust? No more of that in this life. If a lack of trust in others causes me to be closed off so much that I miss out on some joy, well, I don’t care. I’m already miserable. Might as well demonstrate my dissatisfaction with the fact that a few individuals have ruined something wonderful and any possibility for people in the future to benefit from my caring and sensitivity. Nice, huh? Fuck you, too. Yeah, the mood is diminishing at an alarming rate due to more factors than I care to list right now. I suppose the lions and imagery are quite enough. Once I’ve seen something and realize that it exists, the idea remains in my brain for all time and will not fucking go away. Believe me when I say I’ve seen the examples and cannot forget. The smiling faces and closet doors lend to the idea that an entire way of life may have come to an end, and such a thought contributes to my pissy fucking mood all the time. I just don’t understand why everything had to develop as it has. The last decade should be torched to ash. And no matter how angry I may become at times, nothing changes. One may believe that the productive and healthy choice is to simply let everything go and focus upon whatever is positive. That is a tall order for someone like myself. The rub is the idea that I cannot do anything about what is behind me. Now, if I can’t do anything about it, why dwell? The rub continues, though... Anything which seems impossible should be shoved aside, yet the fact that it IS impossible causes me to be upset. I have not made the ‘healthier’ choices in life for a very long time and the reason is people. I realize how convoluted this may sound. Everything important to me seems to be difficult or impossible. I’m not talking about the morning coffee or a nice lunch, either. I am referring to reasons for living. I’ve seen them. They will not go away. Imagery and memory are twin swords cutting me to ribbons. The more the current period feels dissatisfying, the more the recent and long past appear wondrous and beautiful. I’ve been there, and not just due to the smiling faces or closet doors. I made my own happiness. Now I barely know how. I am very clingy and need another person to fill the holes. That is bad and unhealthy and I don’t give half a blue fuck in the wind. This is the way I am due to the actions of others. Time and circumstance, remember? Let me say one thing which may seem out of character considering the nature of the site. I’ve been in therapy enough and am intelligent and knowledgeable enough to know that mental and/or emotional issues can cause physical problems. Some of what I discuss here has done just that almost daily. There you go. Today I have to get the kitchen back in order and probably continue my efforts in the office. The garage remains in good shape these days because I haven’t done much out there. Recently I mentioned a couple of boosts in the past. Those cannot return or repeat, but I’m thinking that once the office is finished and I am set up once again at the big desk, the feeling of that space may be its own boost. I fucking need something. Good Christ, Jamie’s face is a wonderland of everything I have EVER found attractive. It just never ends. Anyway, the office is one step with which I can move forward that has a positive end result. Combined with ridding myself of some crap I’ve held onto for years means the positive can be two-fold. Hopefully today will bear fruit. Moreover, if the sky remains overcast and the air cool, I’ll head to the back and remove more of the big shrub. There is always plenty to do. I just wish I had enough drive to work more than I have in recent months. My 'caring' for much of life is diminishing. There are now more than three hundred entries linked in the archive, and every one of them is in the same folder. That means I have difficulty going back and checking my work or re-editing and formatting when the framework changes. I would like to alphabetize the entries to split up the mass, but that means altering every fucking link in the archive. Lots of legwork. I do have the time, though, and last year I succeeded in separating the dated archives from the rest of the content, so reorganizing should not be a problem. Since there is no way to automate the process, I’ll just move a little at a time. Maybe I can start with continuing stories about the goblet and the fiction. That may be the best path. I am enthralled by three aspects of life and none of the three exists anymore. The passion could be a fourth, yet it is an inanimate object and something over which I will obsess without actually ever feeling as if I can attain it. The wristwatch doesn’t count here. The other three are going to cause my head to blow wide open, however. A portion of every single day has me longing and lamenting the first sentence of this paragraph. Unfortunately, the thrall is not just emotion or anything in my head, it is also related to something over which I have zero control... The past. Every fucking day the subject comes to mind due to any number of catalysts, from the simplicity of watching my programs to going out shopping and seeing a crippling form. When I say ‘thrall’, I mean I am absolutely tormented by the tiniest reference to the obsession, and then I fall down due to lacking any connection to the same. This is a fact of life which will never change. I’ve already been through years of questions and answers that add up to such a fact. I have also been told that the only solution is to remove the problem. As of yet, I haven’t considered that process as an option. I am intimately connected by both love and hate. Without certain parts of myself, there can be no chance of the validation I so badly need and have lived without for far too long. Oh, there were times when it was very close, however I do not believe I have ever explained to another person the sheer depth of my feelings and what they have done to me throughout the course of decades. I tried, though. I really did. Unfortunately, there is a part of my brain which disallows any truly detailed exposition in person. I just can’t do it. The last time I actually laid out everything was nearly nineteen years ago. Since then, only tidbits have come forth from my gaping maw. The whole thing is very sad. 1022 and I have my cocktail. The house is still quiet and half the routine is finished. I’ll be overjoyed to clean the kitchen without worrying about the drain, too. My gangster friends have been keeping me company all morning. I love them more than most real people. They do not judge, ever. As for the real people, I have to trust that they don’t judge, and trust is an aspect of my life that is shrinking as I type these words. I tried and failed. The connections cannot be a part of me anymore. Anyway, I have the rest of the day to work on whatever seems best, probably more chopping of the shrub and organization inside the house. I may or may not spend time in the garage with some music. Right now I am too angry for clear decisions. Curious, the four issues are constantly underlining what I place here, yet I have not referenced them directly or in detail for some time. Maybe I passed on the importance and just gave up trying. The heritage went by the wayside, too, and I now see that shit from last year as a big positive, believe it or not. I stopped trying to define myself through knowledge of my family’s history. Good or bad as my lineage may be, I am still me. No matter what happened in the past with regard to names, nationalities or the traditions to which I was exposed while young, I am my own person and will not bow to anything from knowledge of my origin. In short, that shit no longer matters to me because my life is in complete disarray for other reasons. Wow, that was a mouthful. As for the issues, they will always be fearful, but I don’t need to go on and on every day about each of them. Again... I am me, and I turned out this way regardless. Belaboring the point is tiresome anymore. I just remembered that I have the wireless MDRs charged. Perhaps I will travel back in time to eleven and embrace the disastrous genres of music while reshaping the shrub. Heh. I have been allowing the thrall to control me. Such a fact is not good, yet it is also governed by two past events that I cannot change. Life-changing events, to be sure. Grappling with things I cannot change is a part of the Serenity Prayer, right? Well, I am not going to meetings, meaning I cannot follow the rules set forth by other people. The mere fact that those events are in the past and unchangeable is a good portion of the problem. I can’t deal with an inability to fix them. I’ve spent many years troubleshooting electronics and there was always a solution, even if I had to throw money at the problem. That type of work has conditioned me to not accept anything that cannot be solved, hence all this fucking anger much of the time. Holy fucking shit, this is one of the scenes in which Jamie looks cuter than should be allowed on this fucking planet. God damn do I ever love her deeply. Fuck you, and call me what you will. I am so far out of balance that I no longer give a cold shit if someone close to me has a problem with how I feel about a fictional character. The only thing with the power to cease my gushing about Jamie is death. Would you like to come here and make it happen? Go ahead. I will not resist. Anyway, acceptance would probably improve my life ten-fold right now. For me, that word has been buried under too much soil to recover. I accept nothing. Fuck the Serenity Prayer. And fuck anyone who has an opinion. 1048. Cocktail equals yummy comfort. Bad fortune is not so comfortable. I am centered within bad fortune right fucking now. I was confused (I cannot say more about it), and this subject is something that has been avoided for the life of the modern site (it began in twelve with the active server pages). Oh, I remember, too. I was up there on the balcony and looking down toward the alleyway behind the bar to see a few faces looking toward my position. That was the beginning. Not lions, though. Just circumstances. The lion was elsewhere. I don’t have a clue as to how things changed so quickly. Bad fortune plus bad decisions equals hell. And here I am, in a manner of speaking, pretty fucking far into the flames. There are few good aspects to this. There are also related terms... Blind, deaf, desperate, weak, you know. I placed myself in this position more than once. 0657 on Sunday morning. I’m glad this day has arrived. Yesterday there was a problem in the wine store and then one in the pet store, followed by a third at a restaurant. I had not been out to lunch for at least six months and figured the place would be quiet. I was right, but there were the pants from hell on the way out. The wine store? Asian pants, absolutely picturesque. The pet supply held its share of other issues. I was overjoyed to arrive back at home after that shit. One more little shit aspect of going out yesterday was my intention to browse computers. Well, the shit aspect is the store is in the process of a remodel and there is no in-store shopping. Splendid. At that, I drove back to town with a pause at the drugstore for a few items. Lunch was pretty elaborate, so dinner was very light. I can still see the little thing standing there behind the podium in the restaurant. I very nearly turned on my heel as we were leaving to backtrack and see more of her. Some of the staff there have caused me to dream at one time or another. Plus, there is history in that place. Some of it is in a very pointed entry from a few years ago. I believe the weather lately has forced the big airport to alter the takeoff pattern. Each morning I hear at least a dozen very low rumbles over the course of a couple of hours. The last several years had the noise mostly in the evenings. Interesting. Some people don’t like the sound of aircraft but I love it. The paragraph again. Those thoughts are directly related to what I saw yesterday. Well, they are related to the reason I was trying to see. I was enthralled at the time, but then rather solemn afterward because there is no way out of this. The paragraph employs a word in quotes that seems to be a point of contention in society. Sometimes good, other times bad. I placed the quotes around it because after all this time and so much exploration, I don’t even know what it means anymore. This has become something I cannot avoid during any day. Not even one fucking day can go by without my being reminded of the paragraph and a few questions within it. All the way back to the fucking nineties, too. Back then there was pressure on me of a type I could not easily handle. Years later, the pressure changed somewhat and then eased, yet that same word came up here and there and had me thinking deeply. The worst period has been the last several years, though, and two in particular. I never explained fully, either. I can’t. One of these days I’m going to snap. Whatever changed earlier this year is still apparent, and I believe I know most of the reason for the difference. Unfortunately, I cannot elaborate much further without spilling far too much. One wrong keyword and I am sunk. Anyway, this is not a good situation by any means. I don’t know how I made it this far into the present year, either. For whatever reason, I move forward a little each day. Everything is gone now. There are no promises or bright spots on the horizon. I am going to need to figure out a way to get through each day without becoming overly angry or hostile. This will take some time. The change is basically a stark representation of my position in life, and the gradient between where I am right now and where I have been. Believe me when I say I have been in some very comfortable places over the years. They likely add up to roughly two months of the last twenty years. Marvelous. I don’t see anything developing in the future due to my closed-off state. I don’t even know what to do anymore. Completely fucked. ‘There was a choice, but now it’s gone.’ Thanks Anthony. Yesterday I cranked the garage music for a little while and trimmed more of the shrub before we took off for the stores. The green can is once again full. This is good. I don’t want a week to go by without taking more of that tree out. As for the garage, there is not much to do out there because I’ve been leaving the area alone all week. It’s still nice and neat as I only go out there for laundry. Today is Sunday, so the garbage will have to go out in a little while. Afterward, maybe I’ll continue in the office. Things are shaping up nicely in there. There is fourth-season Jamie again, damn it. If only. Sometimes the accent on that French girl gets to me in a bad way. I would still fuck her in half, though. What a work of art. I can already feel the draw of beer and music because my head is in a place from which there is often no escape without a vulgar display of anger or power. I have no power, so anger is everything during these types of days. Frustration is one of those facts of life anymore. I can’t do anything about anything. No power. No options. No nothing. Fucking hell, anyway. The last time I actually flexed the anger and turned it into passion was many years ago. I exerted some fucking force for a change. That memory will never go away. I’ll need the embrace of the damned in a little while to ease the memory and put a face to my feelings. Or, a billboard announcing my dissatisfaction in general. Everything was there for a time and now it is all gone. It was there. Everything, meaning short of one specific action, nothing seemed off limits. I put a tool in each hand and went to town, sometimes with aggression, other times with tenderness. But it happened. I could count on something, at least. All gone. I could destroy everything and everyone. Believe me, if I could snap my fingers and watch them all burn, I would do it at the end of this fucking sentence. In the beginning I wanted to be alone due to the pandemic. And then I began to fear going out to shop or the idea of being near others. That faded after a while. Now? I do not want to be near anyone because of hatred. I will still be nice on the surface if the need arises – like those occasions having dinner at her parents’ or such things – but underneath there is nothing of the sort. Too much has been taken away from me or otherwise destroyed. As the months roll by, the past feels worse.
Was my bourbon served in a juice glass?
I realize the thrall is partly to blame for my current position. Stating otherwise would be a lie, and I am not in the custom of lying about anything, especially here. Yesterday is a good example of just how weak I have become through little fault of my own. The girl in the restaurant was a fleeting glimpse, and my instinct – powered by desperation – was to move myself in such a way so as to see more of her lines. That is not good. There is nothing wrong with gazing at an attractive person, either. The problem lies within what plays out in my brain during such a sighting. Nothing good, believe me. All those years of obsessing pile atop each other and drive me to seeing visions from the past as well as those horrible periods when I literally threw myself at more than one woman out of sheer desperation. I was immediately enthralled during those few seconds yesterday and fearful of two possibilities. One is that I may never be close to those lines again, and the other is what the weakness and desperation may drive in the future. The thoughts are fucking frightening. Whereas just two years ago I had been unsure of whether or not the vision of a beautiful woman carried with it a level of underlying physical desire, now I am certain. Not always, but it does happen from time to time. That desire sends me back in time to Ashley’s loving words floating beautifully into my ears. The girl at the pool, for example. I cannot deny the feelings. The thrall is very damaging and continues to plague me whenever I go out or see something on television. There is only one way to keep myself out of danger, and that is to shut off the television for good and never leave the house. I don’t see those as realistic possibilities, however. Neither is feasible or appealing in any way. I am sitting here as a product of many aspects of life, not the least of which is being too often enthralled by those elusive and beautiful lines. Every fucking morning, there is something driving my fingers and brain. Maybe I’ll be driven to destruction. 0920 and I need to hit the routine pretty quick. Yesterday’s work will ease what I need to do today, especially in the kitchen. There may be a few things in the refrigerator that need to go, so the lack of dishes will help me clean up fairly well. Afterward I will take care of most of the garbage. The writing I’ve done today is hurting me and I have to get away from it for a while. 1117 and the routine is finished. I have the house to myself for the next few hours, and at some point I am going to load the garbage with whatever I can. There is a wooden pot in the back which needs to be disassembled and then tossed, meaning I’ll break out the grinder to cut the steel straps so it can be compacted. I also have a few pieces of plywood that were parts of the speaker enclosure and slathered with silicone. They need to be trimmed and the wasted parts thrown away. The process will leave me with a tone of scraps, though. I can deal with them as they will take up less of my precious garage space. Let me say that all morning my head has been full of imagery and memories, thus contributing to my downtrodden state. I can work around the house and try to keep a mass of anger at bay, however. I’ve done it before. The truth is those subjects tattooed on my brain follow along no matter what I may be doing. Today is no different. In fact, earlier this morning I was reminded of my age and the inherent physical effects of the same. Nothing is improving except my plans for the house, and they typically take a far-back seat to the process of thrall and everything related. Those rare and beautiful circumstances have left me, possibly forever. The current period is causing very dangerous and desperate thinking. I’ve often said I am on a road with ‘no turns’, yet right now that seems a gross understatement. I have been routed in the worst possible way. My feelings are cumulative, and years of such a state are now forcing me to think in terms I never thought possible, from the damaging dream to the lines, and all the way out to ideas better left unsaid. Everything is gone. I stated as much back in seventeen with that fucking horrible essay. Little did I know, that was only the infantile beginning to something far more dangerous. 1440. The routine is finished, as is the garbage work. I also worked on the refrigerator a bit. In the garage, I took care of anything that can be tossed, including the wooden pot I mentioned earlier. I grabbed the grinder and cut the steel so everything fits in the gray can. We aren’t allowed to put certain types of wood in the compost bin. The music kept me company out there for a little while and inspired more design for my empire. I partially fabricated a mount for another colored strip above my bench where I have some items on display. This afternoon is going to be dedicated to some relaxation just like when I was working. The major plus to the current period is that I do not have the work hanging over my head like years ago. Monday morning is whatever I wish it to be – everything under my control, most importantly the time. I have spoken before about the way Sunday used to feel. I always had a cutoff time so there was time to relax in the afternoon and evening. I no longer need to worry about the clock. I’m very pleased with having the bulk of the Sunday business out of the way nice and early, though. Work can sometimes alleviate the feeling of being enthralled all the damned time. Today has helped a bit. Just a bit, though. ‘Ensign gorgeous’ was on the screen. There are so many, all due to my weakness and desperation. This is going to kill me, sure as hell. I am so sick of it. I wish I hadn’t seen that girl in the wine store. More visions of lines and imagination are only going to solidify my feelings. And considering how many times I’ve dreamed of some fucking Asian girl next to me who behaves as a machine, seeing such a dark form in reality only exacerbates my already crippling issues. This entire time period just fucking sucks out loud. The wonder of the glow is beginning to take a back seat to the memories of having been exactly where I needed to be during key periods of my life. I can already see the blinds closing on windows to the future. Jesus holy fuck in a Goddamned lace bra, Dey is so beautiful in this episode that I can’t even begin to understand why. She looks like the world’s cutest rabbit. Anyway, the girl at the wine store was a larger problem than typical due to having one of those forms nearly impossible to describe. I would have to create a database of numbers in order to illustrate exactly why her midsection and thighs were so fucking noteworthy. Yes, there was the long, black hair and features to match, but the root cause of the entire shitaree was the way those black yoga pants reveal every single radius and curve. Nothing is hidden by such form-fitting material. Add to that the disparity between her very narrow waist and hips and a distinct lack of body fat, and the entire picture is one matched but a few times in my travels. The server at the restaurant with an entry dedicated to her appearance and my feelings toward seeing such a woman is the closest match right now. I cannot get that type of body out of my fucking weakened brain most of the time. Well, the goddess was a match, but I cannot speak of her very much before falling down and wishing to put a gun to my head. The point is that what I saw is very rare in society. Believe me when I say that I did my damnedest to take in as much as is humanly possible regarding the only two close examples of such incredible beauty in recent years, and the only two with whom I was close. Both are gone now, and I am still trying to come to terms with destroying one of those relationships. Ugh... That is too much. I am an idiot but never intended to be. Thank fucking Christ I have a glass full of ‘crutch’. Onward. Henceforth the goddess will be capitalized. 0625 on Monday morning. My brain is full of something that took place a few years ago (twice, really, but the first was key), and I have yet to find the strength to push the dreaming away. I have morning business in half an hour, so hopefully I can make it through without completely falling down. Today marks the return of my flag-flying routine, meaning I went back to my morning ritual from before vacation last week. I switched one of the flags for the holiday weekend and then did not go back due to morning precipitation. Very exciting, eh? Flags. Wow. ‘Lotta action. Lotta action.’ My life is pretty fucking ridiculous, I must admit. All this time and not much accomplished in months. I suppose some of it is not pressing, though, so I can work at my own pace. And there are Allie’s big eyes on the television again. I have not watched the news for some days. I don’t know what this day has in store for me, but I’ll care for the usual this morning and go from there. Maybe I’ll finish the light bar I began yesterday. Right now I don’t know because my head is filled with imagery I’d rather forget in order to save myself. I have to go back a couple of years (maybe three or more) to recall what was going on when the circumstance became something important to me right out of the clear, blue sky. Prior to that day (or days), I did not consider the idea feasible, nor did I really dwell on anything along the same lines. I have not thought about the period in question for months, and I don’t know why this morning. The imagery just popped into my head and may have been driven by or related to a dream. I recall no dreams right now, though, so perhaps it was one of those that simply disappears upon waking. But? The damage is done. The pictures are in there. Time for the morning business. 0732 and the day is all mine. I still have the news on for whatever reason. Not the eyes. Preparing everything this morning helped to extract the imagery for a little while, but now it is back. I don’t know yet what this may mean to my day. There is a possibility I’ll drive over the hill in search of computer information, though. If so, the trip may help take my mind off this shit. I keep seeing pictures flipping like a Rolodex and feel helpless to stop the motion. I switched to the second show for a little while. My brain blew up, as well. Nothing helps, ever. 0808 and my last cup of coffee. The show carries forward regardless of my condition. That is a part of the reason it is up there every day. I do not expect anything good to happen. The distraction of recorded media is very important if I am to carry on like this. Having secured the streaming device and a few channels last year, I will not run out of programming, ever. I knew that situation was going to implode at some point. It was simply a matter of time. The highs were so fucking high at times that something inside me – possibly nothing more than a defense mechanism born of my time with Andrea – knew almost from the beginning that there were only two outcomes, one being my death. Sometimes I sit here and reflect upon the last ten or more years and I can’t believe what has transpired. I would estimate a total of three months of the highs interspersed throughout the lows. That is not bullshit, either. The level of distraction required to pull my attention away from the thrall, especially when I was working, is so fucking powerful that I rarely felt any freedom from turmoil. Right now, for example, I’ve already sent this morning right down the fucking drain, yet those images and memories continue to roll by like Satan’s passenger train all lit up for the holidays. The implosion has merely sharpened my senses and sensitivity to things like those which crossed my vision yesterday. I pay more attention now than ever before, partly due to having those fucking pants very close, too often. I suppose the self-defense mechanism kicked me in the head because I already knew everything would go to hell at some point no matter what my wishes may have been. I knew that fact early on, too. I could see it. Eh... I don’t know why I care enough to type. Maybe I have to fall back on the old axiom that the sound of the keys is the only draw here. Or maybe I am still searching. 1058 and the routine is finished. Icy whiskey next to me. The drink kept me company while I was cleaning, along with my surrogate (really?) family on two television screens. I love them more than almost every real person in my life. The morning was a complete fucking failure prior to my work, so perhaps I can rise from here. Perhaps. From this point forward, I haven't a clue as to what can fill my time. I do need to go to the cigarette store in a little while, and then a visit to the market for a few items, but other than those two destinations, I am wide open. The morning is weighing heavily on my mind right now. The thrall took me in hand and drove my consciousness into the cold ground. Rising from the realization that I have little control over myself is going to take time. Lots of time. Forty fucking years later, I still see this situation as a combination of weakness and shame. I’m sure society had a hand in grooming my beliefs, though. Everything sensitive and beautiful is trivialized and eventually subsequently ruined by society. Everything. Make no mistake, you may be assisting the process of slicing the world’s beauty to ribbons right now. I am not fucking kidding, either. I’ve seen those closest to me and people I’ve absolutely cherished sit and speak their minds. The result is the gleaning that there is not one fucking living soul out there who is above their own pathetic gain through the demeaning of others. I have seen it and lived it. Much of the reason that I am so closed off is that there may not be another person out there who is worthy of my concerns. I’ve tried, though. I really have. Opening the door a bit allows me to reflect and study the reaction and try to determine whether or not the information is going to be brushed aside and/or disregarded. As of this moment, I recall TWO individuals with whom I would actually speak again without much worry. The subject within the topic sentence of this paragraph has two facets; one is the idea that it must remain inside, and the other is the knowledge that if it has spread to another person, they will eventually fail and become nothing more than a fucking target. Read that again. The situation is such that I become easily preoccupied quite often and cannot carry out the day’s activities without falling down over and over. I think about society and events of the past far too much these days, but I can’t fucking help it. I am still in the middle of that very same society, as shitty as it may be. Weakness and shame have combined to become a way of life. This paragraph has been brought forth as a symptom of thrall. 1359. I went over the hill to shop at a few places and then changed my mind. There was also a thought for some nice lunch spot, but alas my better sense kicked in and I returned to town and headed for the market. I ran into my old boss in the parking lot and we caught up a bit. In about twenty minutes I am going to head over to the bar, believe it or not, so we can talk more. I didn’t realize the weight of my absence for so many months until I saw him. Anyway, there was nothing of note while out other than the typical references to the damaging dream. The weather is clear and warm here on the south end of town, so lots of people are out. I shoved aside the concern over that dream due to feeling such loss. The stores I’ve mentioned several times, remember? Just one of them could have been an excellent and very useful destination. Unfortunately, that entire electronic way of life may be coming to an end as similar stores disappear. I am feeling the loss more acutely now than months ago because of my plans to set up another desktop computer. Damn. 0651 on Tuesday. The visit yesterday turned into hours. Some of the time was nice, other aspects not so great. The entire trip now appears as nothing more than a waste of money. Maybe that sounds harsh. I don’t know. What I do know is that this morning already feels very rewarding. The morning business will commence in about twenty minutes. Afterward, I plan to take it easy for hours. I probably won’t leave the house at all today. And she is on the screen again. The one who could be Andrea. Seconds of a side-view of her face is enough to send me into a tailspin. The only face to rival Jamie. I still can’t explain the entire lower-face thingy, either. I see it from time to time but after many years there is no way to describe one of the most stirring features I’ve ever seen. I did not feel this way prior to meeting Andrea. Something changed during that trip. I was talking about my plans today and ended up derailed yet again by something unreal and unattainable. Thankfully, the bouncing breasts were not bartending yesterday. All I ended up seeing over there were a few very difficult examples of the damaging dream. Nothing else in several hours. The examples took their toll. Jesus, there she was again. Seeing her face reminds me of first arriving in Florida after Andrea and I visited the goblet for a few days and the idea popped into my head to show her some sights. Eight nights later, we headed back to the goblet. That was one of the craziest periods of my life. Sometimes the entire trip – as well as one other – seems completely unreal. But I did it. Three times, honestly. There were more insane decisions over the years, but the main two take the cake. I am definitely going to take it easy, at least during most of the morning. Reflection is sometimes good and other times not good. This morning I’ve been thinking about that fucking dream and what it has done to the way I see society. When I say ‘damaging’, I mean it. There can be no forgetting or going back, so moving forward means it’s inside me all the time and sometimes it will affect my mental and emotional stability. I also need to try freeing my mind of those lavish trips all over the place. Flying around the country and living on high can only last so long before something implodes. I am sitting here right now as a product of said implosion. Everything looks bad these days. 0757 and the morning business is out of the way. Those memories have complicated the gradient I deal with all the time. The thrall has pulled me from different directions over the years, like the way Andrea’s face resembled a very excited expression on another face from just a few months earlier, most definitely the way the woman looked when she first curled up into the Slipper and tapped her knuckles on the glass roof. One hand to her mouth, which was one of the most unique and defining factors in how I felt about her face. Andrea performed that same gesture after blurting that we would ‘love’ to have dinner with the swinging squareheads. She knew I did not approve yet tossed me into the fire anyway just to make me squirm, bless her gorgeous face. She could have thrown me from the fucking train and I would have still gushed. Anyway, the point is that sitting here every day is forcing those periods from the past to become illuminated like never before, not even when I was trying to write about each. Jesus fuck, was Walker ever gorgeous. I’ve never found anyone else closer to Andrea’s face. Ugh. All gone, and right in the thick of the glow, too. Damn. This morning is quite nice so far. Quiet and peaceful. The sun is shining and I can see that the fog is just peeking over the top of the hills to the south. The pressure will probably keep that blanket from covering this area until sundown. I’m sure by then the house will be very warm. I’ll have to remain conscious of the interior temperature as the hours pass. The last of the thrall – aside from those hundreds of forms and ‘whatevers’ out there in the world – was not so long ago. A close thrall, to be sure. A pull like so many others. Now I am bereft of everything important, and some things dire. This is not good because I can’t shove those thoughts away no matter the effort. I keep seeing Andrea walking along the bridges on South Las Vegas Boulevard, Juliette’s hair flowing all over the place in the wind, and so many other details of the past... Ashley jumping on my back as I awaited her arrival in front of the Tropicana, Ellie taking the initiative and kissing me unexpectedly just up the boulevard in that beautiful Mirage bar, and too many others. The last of the thrall was close, yet so fucking far detached that I probably can’t even describe the feelings. It was close in just one way, yet I’d be lying if I said there was not a mass of thrall from time to time due to something I did not expect years ago. Now the only thrall is generated by things unreal. I cannot get some of those images out of my head most of the time. I believe the visit to the bar yesterday and some conversation about the past when we used to arrive early, clean and set up all the furniture. That was when I had been feeling the Vegas trips very deeply and began to jot down some notes to assist in writing stories. The last of the long tales sent the calendar straight into eighteen, and head-first toward one of the most difficult summers in memory, even worse than the previous year when I wrote that scathing essay about being at the mercy of destiny (or whatever you wish to call it). Anyway, I am fast approaching the same type of angry desperation as I did when everything seemed to come to a head in eighteen. Every day is a reminder of my position in life and the path which brought me here. I spent many years allowing the thrall to control and dictate my direction of travel on so many occasions that I can barely recall a handful right now. As I said already, there will probably be no more of it. The last one really caught me upside the head and I simply can’t have that again. I’d love for the ability to confront and destroy, although I’m sure others are out there somewhere saying the same things about me. Being reminded of the many months I spent trying to adequately describe the time with the angel and doll and others is just not helpful right now. My mental condition was unstable at that time, and heading in the exact same direction right fucking now. I have to once again make myself scarce when it comes to the bar. I don’t need any more reminders. Maybe I deserve to be in pain all the time. I don’t know. 0915. I had a little visit from the boss. We discussed possible part-time work in the next few weeks. Part-time is good because I’m not capable of much anymore, although doing some work and being somewhat uncomfortable for a little while will help me feel better physically and push my time at home back up to where it had been at the beginning of this. He knows I’m not as strong as I was a few years ago while working daily. Last cup of coffee, second show again with one of the universal goddesses beyond denial (and belief) as a central character. She is as close to a machine as possible, within the story, that is. She is utterly unbelievable. That type of woman could likely make the issues fade away for good. Eh... Like everything else I so badly need, she is an impossibility. Another notch, nothing more. I certainly hope this is not the status quo for all time. If so, the level of anger inside me is going to continue to climb. I’ve dealt with the thrall for a very long time (going back nineteen years very soon), and the more recent issues with it years ago have painted an image of me I had never imagined."
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